Here’s another way to explore and hear harmonic relationships over the shifting tonalities of the Coltrane Matrix. Take a look at the example below:
The main element of this melodic line is the 1-3-7 shape. To be clear, when I refer to “1-3-7” in this etude, I’m talking about the implied melodic shape itself, not the shape with respect to the actual notes of the chord symbols.
So in the first measure the line starts with a 1-3-7 shape that implies a B minor tonality. (In fact, by adding a fourth note to that shape in that measure, an F#, it spells out a B-7 chord.) The F# makes a chromatic connection to the F natural to spell out a Bb- (maj7) chord, which fits very nicely over the Eb7. The A natural then connects chromatically to the Ab in the second measure, then continues with a similar shape (1-3-7), but in a new key (Ab major). The fourth note added to that shape (D natural, which is the +11 of Abmaj7) then connects chromatically to the D# (the 3rd of the B7 chord). The rest of the notes over the B7 can be thought of as a fragment of the diminished scale, with the D natural functioning as the +9, and the C natural functioning as the -9.
The line continues in the 3rd measure with a 1-3-7- shape similar to the original one in the first measure, but with obvious alterations (specifically D# and A#), and the fourth note is a G#. The A# and G# imply a strong Lydian sound over the Emaj7 chord. The last four notes of the third. measure are also organized in a 1-3-7 shape, but again, with obvious pitch changes. The last two notes of the third measure (A# and G#) function as a +9 and-9 over the G7 chord, which then resolves to the 5th (G) of the Cmaj7 chord.
As you play through this, you’ll hear a kind of “descending chromatic” quality implied by the movement of the entire line. This is largely due to the similarities and slight variations between the 1-3-7 shapes. I strongly recommend practicing this etude with a backing track, so that you can hear the “surprises” as the 1-3-7 shapes unfold over the actual harmony. If you’d like to explore and learn more about the harmonic relationships, substitutions and novel ways of constructing melodic lines over dominant to tonic chord movement, please take a look to my e-book, The Coltrane Matrix: 40 Unique Melodic Ideas in All 12 keys.
Click on the link at the bottom to download a free pdf of this etude.
Around 25 years ago, I started noticing a deeply troubling change in my saxophone playing experience. Simply put, I would have days where I just couldn’t seem to get the fingers of my left hand to do what they could so easily and naturally always do before in order to express myself musically.
At first this was a phenomenon that seemed to come and go, but after about 5 years of this “come and go”, I fell rather immediately into a period of complete loss of control of the fingers of my left hand.
The strange thing was that my left hand worked just fine in any other activity…writing, using hand tools, cooking…activities that require a good amount of fine motor skill.
Yet the moment I even touched the keys on any of my saxophones, my fingers would curl up uncontrollably.
I got to the point where I couldn’t even hold the fingers of my left hand down onto the keys of the saxophone, much less play anything resembling music. I had to stop accepting any kind of work playing saxophone, as well as even just enjoying a rehearsal or jam session. I could no longer play. Simple as that.
To say that I fell into a deep despair would be an understatement.
It was after seeing a physician (a very good internal medicine doctor, whose specialty was in diagnosis), that I learned that I most likely had a form of focal dystonia. I went on to get a diagnosis from a neurologist to confirm this.
The term “focal dystonia” was something I’d never heard before. But the symptoms, this type of unexplained loss of skill specific to the act of playing music, was not unfamiliar to me.
I had encountered several other musicians over the years prior to the emergence of my condition who had similar experiences. In fact, one of my closest friends and musical colleagues, a highly skilled and highly accomplished trombonist, was experiencing this same phenomenon with his facial muscles and tongue.
So what is focal dystonia?
I think this definition by the Dystonia Research Foundation sums it up best:
“Dystonia is a neurological disorder that causes excessive, involuntary muscle contractions. These muscle contractions result in abnormal muscle movements and body postures, making it difficult for individuals to control their movements. The movements and postures may be painful. Dystonic movements are typically patterned and repetitive.”
Within the realm of focal dystonia, there are several sub-categories. For those whose dystonic symptoms only appear while engaging in a learned, skilled activity, the condition is referred to as task specific focal dystonia.
This includes things as common as “writer’s cramp” (though I suspect that lots of forms of writer’s cramp are not focal dystonia, but simply overuse, or misuse), to surgeons losing their “hand skills” only while performing surgery, to a condition in the sport of golf known as the “yips”, where the golfer shakes uncontrollably before a shot that is normally “easy” to make.
And within the of category of task specific focal dystonia, there is task specific musician’s dystonia, more commonly known as musician’s dystonia, or simply by its acronym, MD.
And to subdivide even further, there are generally two types of musician’s dystonia:hand dystonia and embouchure dystonia (“embouchure dystonia” includes the facial muscles, tongue, jaw, soft palate, sometimes neck muscles, and even respiratory structures).
The first thing you are told if you are diagnosed as having musician’s dystonia, is that there is no cure. There are a few medical modalities that can be applied (medications, botox injections, etc.), that might lessen the symptoms. But I’ve yet to encounter a musician who became permanently “symptom free” from these interventions.
This is in part, because the “mechanism” of the condition is still largely a mystery to medical science, and hence any kind of “cure” is not to be found.
For most musicians who get medically diagnosed as having musician’s dystonia, the advice is often the same: Switch careers.
Well that’s just something that’s not easily accepted by many musicians. It certainly wasn’t easy for me. In fact, I refused accept it.
For “serious”, life-dedicated musicians (whether professional or amateur), the idea of not being able to express ourselves freely, authentically and skillfully through music is tantamount to losing an essential part of what defines us, and what gives deep meaning to our lives.
So I was faced with my only option: work at making my condition better so that I could restore this essential part of my life.
My path was (and continues to be) long, and the learning (and more important, the “unlearning”) process was not a straight line. At first I tried to improve my symptoms by practicing more. Much more.
But the more I practiced, the worst my condition became.
Then I went in the other direction, deciding to take a break from playing saxophone completely in order to see if I would “forget” the old dystonic patterns.
After not touching the instrument for many months (and being at the point where I just couldn’t stand being away from it any longer), I painfully discovered that nothing had changed. If anything I felt even more “dystonic” and disconnected to the saxophone than ever before.
I tried massage, stretching, exercise, change of diet…just about anything I could to try, to alleviate my condition. Nothing seemed to work even in the slightest.
It wasn’t until I discovered the Alexander Technique that things begin to change. It was in my Alexander Technique lessons that I learned three very important things:
First, musician’s dystonia (like any focal dystonia) is a “whole body/whole person” reaction. It is something that affects the coordination of my entire physical (or more precisely, “psycho-physical) organism. As my general “use” began to improve (my quality of movement, balance, posture, attention, etc.), my dystonia symptoms became noticeably fewer and less intense.
Second, a big part of learning to improve my overall “use” was in developing the skill of conscious inhibition, i.e., the ability to keep an unwanted reaction in check. I learned that by simply “giving myself permission to stop” whenever I felt the rise of a dystonic reaction while playing my instrument made an immediate and remarkable improvement in my symptoms.
Third, I learned the importance of accepting my symptoms just as they were in the moment. In short, I developed the ability to stop “reacting to how I was reacting”. I discovered that I could observe myself more discerningly, more objectively and dispassionately. This was an empowering realization, and became emblematic of my emerging skills with conscious inhibition.
(I was so impressed with the efficacy of the Alexander Technique, that I went on to train to become a certified Teacher, and have been teaching since 2006.)
As I applied this work, I also started doing lots of studying, from neuroscience, to kinesiology, to anatomy/physiology, and more. I formulated lots of exercises, explorations and activities based upon my studies, and spent a good deal of time working things out.
My progress often seemed “two steps forward, one step back”, but that was okay. I’ll accept that ratio. My daily practice sessions transformed from frustration, despair and discouragement, to curiosity, exploration, discovery and delight. The process of improvement itself became deeply satisfactory.
Since then I’ve continued to improve my condition to the point where I can play saxophone now with the skill, confidence, connection and authenticity that gives me joy and satisfaction.
So if you have musician’s dystonia (or suspect that you do), please get in touch with me. I always proceed from a place of love, understanding and safety in addressing this condition.
And if you know a musicians that is struggling with musician’s dystonia (whether with the embouchure or hands), please direct them my way.
I hadn’t given a music lesson to a beginner for almost 30 years, focusing my teaching on musicians further along the learning path. All this changed last Summer, when I decided to give my (then) nine year old daughter, Julia, saxophone lessons.
Mostly I did this just to give her something to work towards on a daily basis during the pandemic lockdown. Julia has always been deeply drawn to music…singing, whistling, clapping and dancing ever since she was a small toddler.
So when I asked if she’d be interested in learning the saxophone, her reply was a resounding “Yes!” We began working together about 4 or 5 days a week, for about 30 to 45 minutes at each session.
The whole process has been fun for me (and more than a little enlightening!) My approach to teaching her has been quite different than lots of the “conventional” ways that children take music lesson. This is mostly because I understand her learning style in great depth
But it’s also because I taught her in a way that seemed to make sense to me based upon what I’ve learned about practicing music over these many years. In essence, I taught her to play saxophone the way I wish I had learned to play.
In a short period of time the two of us found a beautiful, playful daily practice rhythm. In our interactions I began to notice the kinds of things that seemed to make the music come alive inside of her so easily.
So I thought I’d share some of the most essential concepts that helped Julia have a richer, more complete (and if a dare say, a more “natural and comprehensive”) experience in learning to play the saxophone than I did when I started. Here they are:
Begin with curiosity. We would start each session with me asking, “What would you like to play around with and explore today?” This gave her a chance to begin with her own interests and inspiration. From there it was very easy to engage her, keeping her attention lively and flexible. This “curiosity” would be her “warmup” for the day, always a sort of meditation on the very thing that she felt compelled to explore. It also became nicely holistic and comprehensive, as if following her curiosity was the most efficient path to improvement and growth.
Let your ears lead everything. Julia spent the first several months playing 100% by ear. This included singing everything she played. Lots of children songs, simple beautiful melodies…even scales and melodic patterns…all of this started with her internal, aural imagination (and this imagination included many details of the actual musical expression, including color, dynamics and articulation). In Julia’s words: “If I can sing it, I can find the notes on the saxophone.”
Music is movement. And this movement is a “whole body experience”. For Julia, this meant bringing a gentle attention to how she was “using herself” (quality of movement, posture, balance, breathing, etc.), as well as realizing that her entire body was involved in the process of expressing the music. She learned that she was the “instrument”, just as much as the saxophone was (perhaps more so!)
Time and rhythm are (nearly) everything. And speaking of music as movement…there can be music without pitch, but there really isn’t any kind of music without clearly expressed time. Julia learned that lots of the “letting her ears lead” part meant being precise, yet flexible, with time and rhythm. We would play rhythmic games every practice session, chasing and mirroring each other, fooling each other, clapping, “speaking in rhythm”, and even practicing conducting patterns. These rhythmic games really made whatever music she was playing on her saxophone come alive in an immediately expressive way.
Sound quality is (nearly) everything. Because of all of her work by ear, Julia learned early on that the quality of her sound began with her aural imagination. We talked minimally about “embouchure” and “voicing”, and talked more about “How would you like to sound on this song?” It was wonderful to see that things like “support”, “resonance”, “color” and even pitch, all came together quite easily if her imagination was informing the “motor coordination” part of her nervous system.
Improvising is a natural activity, suitable for musicians at any skill level. From day one in our sessions, Julia began to effortlessly and joyously improvise. Even when she could only produce about four different notes, she found a way to “speak” with these notes, using rhythm, dynamics, tone color, melodic voice leading, and the element of surprise. She discovered that music was alive insider her, as long as she was willing to listen to it and allow it to come outside. These improvisational skills profoundly impacted her “interpretive” skills, as well. It’s all music.
We are all composers. Just as in improvising, all of us can “listen” to our muse and find those melodies that are lying there in wait. Even fairly early on in our work together, Julia got to the point where I’d hear her humming an unfamiliar (to me) melody as she sat in her bedroom, reading a book or drawing. I’d come in and ask her what she was humming , and she’d answer that it was something that just “came to her”. So I’d have her find it on the saxophone, then I’d transcribe it (notate it) for the sake of posterity. She came up with some lovely, cogent, highly singable melodies, reminding her yet again that the music lives insider her imagination (not to mention a reverence for the efforts of other composers, and recognition of form in musical composition).
Challenge yourself every day, but bring things into reach. One of the greatest qualities Julia has cultivated over this saxophone learning process is the strength and efficacy of her will. Each day she would come face to face with something she’d like to do on the instrument, but didn’t quite have the skills to make happen. So she learned to be persistent, yet patient and flexible. And the most practical tool she learned was the ability to digress something that was slightly “out of reach” and bring it “within reach”. This allowed her to trust in her efforts and in her process. Nearly any musical challenge becomes possible if we can break it up into bit-sized pieces.
Reading comes last. As I mentioned above (“Let your ears lead everything”), we played together for a long time (several months) before we began to look at any notated music. When Julia began to read, I noticed two important things: First, reading came to her very quickly and easily, as it was clear to her that the notes were just a “map” to what she could hear/imagine; Second, everything she read turned immediately into meaningful, intentional music. In hindsight, part of me wishes I had let her play much longer before introducing notated music. After all, the notation is just an abstraction of the composer’s ideas and the performer’s imagination.
Let kindness color everything. This is perhaps the most important lesson of all. Julia and I approached each practice session with humor, curiosity, creativity, playfulness and self-expression. And never did the process of learning music have anything to do with her “value” as a human being. (That value is in of itself sacred.) Self kindness is the supple energy that cultivates curiosity, enjoyment, growth and satisfaction.
Well, though we can’t go back in time, you and I both have the freedom to decide how we would like to practice and continue to learn (and teach!) music right now. We can aim toward turning our daily practice and teaching into a “whole person” experience, a form of meditation, a playground for curiosity, and a dynamic and gentle refuge for our muse and our growth. Enjoy!
Here’s an easy way to use the rich contour of the melodic minor scale to organize melodic material into 4ths moving from dominant to tonic. Take a look at the example above.
In the first measure I create two four-note shapes based upon the diatonic 4ths found in both a C major scale, and in a D melodic minor scale. You’ll notice there is no C# in this measure (the 7th degree of the D melodic minor scale, which is a strongly “defining” note). But the first note in the 2nd measure is a Db, which both sonically and functionally implies the D melodic minor. It also is the first note of a new scale, Ab melodic minor. (So the Db functions as a common “pivot” tone between both scales.)
Of course it is the Ab melodic minor that is rich in altered harmonic tensions over the G7 chord (specifically, -5/#11, +9, -13, -9). Yet this scale is organized into 4ths, as well, in order to continue the general shape and direction of the melodic line. Again, there is a common “pivot” note in measure 3 (the B natural, which also functions enharmonically as Cb, the third of the Ab melodic minor scale).
In the 3rd measure the shape changes slightly, with a descending version of the C maj7 chord. Then the 4ths emerge again (with a little variation between the F# and G) until the end. The general color of the line is a bit on the “modern” side because of the 4ths, but has enough familiar harmonic elements in it so that it can function quite well in a bebop or post bop context.
I often ask the following “trick” question to my students on the first day of class at the college where I teach the Alexander Technique:
“If one of my students is staring out the window with her eyes glazed over as I’m speaking to the rest of my class (who all seem to be engaged in the topic of conversation), would it be truthful to say that that particular student is paying attention?
Of course most of the students answer with a resounding “No”.
But I always seem to have that one deep-thinking student that disagrees. It’s always something like this:
“Oh she’s paying attention to something. She’s just not paying attention to what you’re saying.”
And that is entirely true.
Or as I often phrase it (if you’ll forgive my use of a “double negative”), “Whenever we are awake, we are never not paying attention.”
You see, as far as the functioning of you brain is concerned, as long as you’re awake, you’re paying attention to something. Always.
So during your practice session:
When you “daydream”, you’re paying attention.
When you’re wondering what you’re going to have for lunch, you’re paying attention.
When you remember something funny that happened yesterday, you’re paying attention.
When you get “distracted” by something (or “blank out” and forget that next phrase you should be able to play by memory), you’re paying attention…
So when you’re practicing your instrument, the question isn’t “Am I paying attention?”
The question is “What am I paying attention to right now?”
And perhaps a more important and constructive question would be, “How can I direct my attention right now to optimize my practice efforts?”
This might be a “where” question, as in “Where am I ‘placing’ my attention?”
Or it could be a “quality” question, as in “How would I describe the quality of my attention?” (Is it “narrow”, “diffused”, “focused”, “scattered”, “calm”, “agitated”, “disengaged”, “playful”, “curious”, to name a few…)
If your attention seems “focused”, you could further inquire, “Is my attention ‘exclusive’ and narrow, or ‘inclusive’ and expansive?”
In other words, is your attention broad enough and flexible enough to easily include noticing what you’re doing with yourself as you practice?(your balance, mobility, ease, breathing etc; what we refer to as your “use” in Alexander Technique jargon)
Or does your tendency to “focus” exclude your sense of what you’re doing with yourself?
Because if you can’t notice how you’re “using” yourself, you run the risk of developing habits of inefficient and even harmful movement patterns you’ll bring into your music making.
On the other hand, does your “focused” attention have you placing too much of your consciousness on the parts of your body that you think are most relevant to playing your instrument? (e.g., wind instrumentalists focusing almost exclusively on the embouchure)
If that’s the case, you might be interfering with the movement and postural mechanisms that work best with a little less direct conscious attention (not to mention making yourself less available to your expressive impulses with the music).
It’s all a matter of balance, isn’t it?
Too much, too little, too broad, too, narrow, too specific, not specific enough…
The key thing to remember is that the way you pay attention impacts how you react. How you react impacts how you learn, experience and express the music. (When I refer to “reaction”, I’m talking about posture, movement, balance, sensory perception, use of time and more.)
And most important of all, you have a choice in how you direct your attention.
So give a bit of your attention to “how you pay attention” as you practice, and discover and develop the attentional qualities that work best for you.
