Freedom To Choose

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Nothing has helped me more to improve as a musician than the Alexander Technique. By applying the principles of the work, I’ve been able not only to save my performing career, but also, find a means for continuous improvement as a musician.

Musicians come to me for lessons for a variety of reasons. Initially, most seek me out because of one main concern: pain. It might be a violinist with a stiff shoulder, a flutist with chronic jaw tension, a pianist with back issues, or a saxophonist with neck problems, etc. What often accompanies this pain is the worry of injury, and the sickening fear of not being able to enjoy the career that they love and have worked so hard for.

I know. I’ve been there myself. To be able to play music again without pain and dysfunction is a marvelous feeling. Pure optimism and joy. And if that were the only benefit of studying and applying the Alexander Technique, I’d be beyond satisfied.

Yet most of my students discover (as I have) that after studying the Technique for a good length of time, there are so many other benefits to be enjoyed.

Some of these benefits have little or nothing to do with playing music. (For example, one of my students is a professional guitarist who has greatly improved the quality and enjoyment of his daily recreational runs, thanks to applying what he’s learned from the Technique.)

But it is in the realm of music making where often the most surprising changes can take place. Better intonation. Better technical control. A richer, more powerful sound. Better time. Better sight reading. More spontaneous and flexible performances (whether of improvised or interpretive music). Greater rhythmic imagination for the improvising musician. And perhaps most important, a deeper connection to playing  music, and the enjoyment and satisfaction that comes with that.

All the benefits I’ve listed above become possible because of an acquired ability to solve problems of movement and coordination. This cultivates a more efficient and effective approach to musical practice.

And that brings me to what I think the ultimate benefit of the Alexander Technique is: The freedom to choose.

Musicians (like anybody else) are strongly guided by habit. Some of these habits are good, others, not so much. Without exception, the problems that all my students have playing music are problems of habit. They get stuck doing things habitually the same way, no matter how strenuous, harmful, inefficient or counterproductive it may be to do so.

They lose touch with their ability to choose. Stiff necks, tight shoulders, rigid hands, noisy breathing, locked knees…all beneath the realm of awareness, and thus not really what could be called a true choice. Habit.

The Alexander Technique goes right to the heart of habit. With the Technique you learn to become aware of your unnecessary patterns of tension, especially as they apply to how you function best as you carry out an activity. You become clear about what works (and more important, what doesn’t) and why. You develop a consistent, constructive approach to anything you do. You find the means for change and improvement.

You learn to say “no” to the things that interfere with your ease and efficiency. Then you’re free for something new to happen. Something good. Something surprising. You’re free to choose. And not just freedom from physical problems, but also, freedom to express yourself more deeply and authentically, the freedom to explore more of the creative possibilities in your music, the freedom to take chances. The freedom to be yourself.

Liberating yourself begins with your decision to be guided by choice instead of habit. It really is as truthful and simple as that.

I’ll leave you with this powerful quote from Holocaust survivor and psychotherapist, Viktor Frankl:

“In between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lie our growth and our freedom.”

Today is the day to choose.

Want To Improve Your Playing? Stop Trying

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“Trying is only emphasizing the thing we already know.”

F.M. Alexander

Musicians often struggle with their technique because they misdirect their energy. Put simply, they don’t always organize their efforts in the most constructive possible way as they play. Too much tension here, not  enough there. Over using one part of their bodies, while not engaging another adequately. This ultimately manifests itself as a roadblock in their technical development, limiting improvement.

The reasons for this can be many, but mostly come down to these three things:

  1. Erroneous misconceptions-Misunderstanding (or ignorance) of your anatomical structure and functioning can lead you blindly into doing the wrong thing. The same for not understanding the acoustic principles that govern your instrument (voice, too!) and how your anatomical structure and functioning impact (or interact with) these principles.
  2. Faulty sensory awareness-In the simplest sense, you’re often not doing what you think you’re doing. For example, you might be stiffening your head, neck and shoulders as you play (significantly interfering with the use of your hands), even though it doesn’t feel at all like you are. (In fact, it might feel to you that you’re “relaxed”.)
  3. Force of habit-When your habit is influenced by numbers 1 and 2 above, you develop very prominent (yet ultimately counterproductive, even harmful) habits. All your efforts in playing become guided by these habits.

If these above obstacles are not dealt with, frustration eventually sets in. And when that happens, you might do what many musicians do in order to break through the barrier: try harder. Seems obvious, doesn’t it?

But does trying harder help? Well, if trying harder means (as quoted by Alexander, above) that you are “only emphasizing” the thing you already know, then, I can tell you from personal experience (both as teacher and performer) that it doesn’t.

As a very wise person once said, “If you keep on doing what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always gotten.”

Instead of trying harder, you need to simply proceed differently. A shift in your thinking about the problem has to occur. You have to go from the “known to the unknown”, as Alexander would say. You have to start becoming what I call “constructively curious”.

Instead of trying, you have to start asking questions. Then you can implement a strategy for change. Here are some guidelines to help you:

  • Start by stopping-If you’ve tried some technically difficult passage 53 times in a row with no success or improvement, don’t try it a 54th time. It’s only going to make things worse. Instead, stop what your doing so that something different can happen. Then, use the procedures below.
  • Identify the problemI-Once you’ve stopped, you can take some time to analyze what the problem is. Try to understand clearly what has to happen (both acoustically/mechanically, and with your physical structure) to become successful in your attempts. The more you understand about how your body functions best (an Alexander Technique teacher can really help here) and the acoustic principles of your instrument, the more constructively you can think. Take time to educate yourself. You’ll never look at that as time wasted. Never.
  • Observe yourself to find the cause of the problem-Once you become clearer about what has to happen in yourself to get the best results musically, notice your habits. Especially notice the tension in your head, neck, shoulders and back. Notice your breathing. See if you can make the connection between what has to happen to get the best results, and the habits you might have that interfere with these results. (Again, you can be significantly helped with this by a skilled Alexander Technique teacher).
  • Consciously prevent yourself from going into your habit-Once you’re clear about your habits, you can make a conscious decision to prevent those that interfere with your ability to play your best.
  • Shift your emphasis-To change, it is most important that you do something differently. (Actually, it’s most important that you stop doing your habit.) Therefore, you should shift your emphasis from “playing the passage up to tempo”, for example, to “playing the passage without my habit”. Every time you play without your habit, you weaken the habit, and free yourself. When this happens, you’re on the road to improvement.

So what do you notice about yourself regarding your practice? Where do you get stuck? If you shift your aim from trying, to asking (with a healthy dose of stopping to help it all along),  you’ll find something excitingly different. And perhaps you’ll discover for yourself the most constructive method to address your own technical challenges with your instrument. Consistent improvement will follow.

F. M Alexander was in good company as far as this is concerned. I’ll leave you with this quote by Albert Einstein:

“No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it.”

Let me know what you think.

Deepening Your Improvisational Expression By Slowing Down

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Ellery Eskelin and Warne Marsh are about as different from each other as can be, both as tenor saxophonists, and as improvising artists. But they share (or shared, in the case of the late Warne Marsh) one practice discipline in common: improvising very slowly.

They and many other great improvising artists engage in this discipline because it deepens the connection between what they think and feel, and what they play as they improvise. In essence, it helps to make their playing more intentional. More personal (and therefore unique).

If you’re a student of improvisation, you know that the challenges are many. You have to spend a great amount of time learning (and eventually transcending) a great deal of material, concepts and skills.

And if you aspire to the highest level of expression as an improviser, you face this challenge in particular: to play fluently, in real time, without resorting to stereotyped (whether somebody else’s or your own) patterns. Generating original ideas immediately without a safety net. It takes tremendous discipline, tenacity, honest self-evaluation and time to develop the necessary skills at this level.

You must be able to step into the unknown without relying exclusively upon your habits. No small feat.

It is too often that an improviser becomes fluent at the expense of losing spontaneity, deep exploration, and genuine “in the moment” creativity. Practicing slow improvisation can help you develop to bridge the gap and find the balance between spontaneity and fluency.

By improvising slowly you can:

  • Become aware of your habits-Do you find yourself playing a limited amount of similar sounding ideas in certain keys or on certain forms, or at certain tempos? Do you find that your rhythmic conception becomes somewhat predictable? Slow improvisation can bring you deeply aware of your stereotyped expressions.
  • Prevent yourself from hardening your habits-Once you’re aware of your habitual patterns, you can choose to modify them or to even give them up altogether.
  • Direct yourself into new territory-When you’re free of your habitual choices (“responses” is more like it) when improvising, you’re also free to find all kinds of new ways to play with and explore the elements of music. You’re free to surprise yourself. This openness to surprise translates into a highly consistent fluency when improvising.

I’ve been devoting a healthy amount of my own practice time (20-40% of my practice time) to daily slow improvisation for many years now. The rewards are huge, and the satisfaction always immediate (I never tire of this practice). Here’s what I address as I practice this way:

  • What I hear– I spend a certain amount of time dedicated to playing each improvisational impulse note-by-note, only changing notes as I hear in my imagination the next note. Besides greatly improving my ear, this also helps me cultivate a deep and fluent connection between my ear and my instrument.
  • What I think-Some of my time is devoted exclusively to thinking about new ideas and new material. In this case, I might consciously work with a particular harmonic substitution I’ve been practicing, for example, over a standard song or harmonic cycles. This gives me the chance to turn the material I’ve practiced (the new harmonic substitution) into melodic expression. It also helps me in hearing the new material as I play it, so that when I play only by ear (see above) I’m able to call upon this material naturally and sincerely.
  • What I feel-The rest of my slow improvisation practice time is just playing what I feel. No trying for anything. I don’t think about harmonic ideas or melodic patterns. I don’t worry about what I hear in my imagination (or don’t hear). I don’t judge. I just play, trusting and following my muse. This is how I wish to approach improvisation in real life, on the bandstand with other musicians. This practice puts me into a deep meditative state, and it is where I find my true self expression.

I apply this practice to playing over tunes, improvising modally,  with melodic shapes, triad combinations, etc., as well as thematic open-ended improvisation and completely free open-ended improvisation. It works well in any context.

So how slow is “slow”? I usually set the metronome at anywhere from 40 to 75 beats per minute (some days I might go as high as 80 bpm, depending on what I’m working on). At these tempos I’m primarily starting with a “single time” eighth note based rhythmic approach.

Of course, as I go along, I broaden my rhythmic expression, incorporating triplets, sixteenth notes, quintuplets and other polyrhythmic and polymetric elements. But I never add velocity to anything that I can’t control and fully hear, choose and understand. I’m also sometimes aiming to play very lyrically at these slow tempos, almost if I were singing instead of playing saxophone.

I address the time/pulse in one of three ways. Either by:

  • Playing completely out of time-I do this as I do my “ear only” practice, as well as to connect ideas and work out new concepts (what I “think”).
  • Playing in time, allowing myself to stop and go out of time-This is sort of the “in between” phase between working on new concepts and material out of time to actually put them in time. I also might stop just because I’m hearing something in my imagination that I just can’t quite find, or if I come up with a new idea about working with the harmonic, melodic or rhythmic materials.
  • Playing in time slowly with no stopping-I do this to help me to crystalize new concepts, shapes, harmonic material, etc., in real time. I also play this way when I’m just playing what I feel, letting the muse unfold. Here it’s just a matter of committing completely to the creative process. This is always the pinnacle of joy for me, where I find surprise and delight in what I play.

I prefer to use the metronome, but play-along tracks are fine, too. Sometimes I’ll use just a slow bass line, or maybe a drum and bass track (instead of a full rhythm section), or even just a drum loop. Whatever you use, make sure that you stay in the slow tempo range I’ve mentioned above. You can also work with different feels (swing or straight) and different articulations. Explore!

One of the marvelous results over the long run when practicing this way (as counterintuitive as this might sound) is that improvising at very fast tempos becomes easier and easier. It does so because I’m able to stay highly connected to what I feel, think and hear. I still have to practice improvising at fast tempos as well (to give my brain a chance to process things at a higher velocity) but the heavy lifting is definitely done at the slower tempos.

So aim your metronome downward, and give it a go. It will help you to imagine, hear, enjoy and trust what you improvise. If you’re patient and persistent, you’ll be thrilled with the results. I’d love to hear about your own experiences with this practice, or any ideas you might have about it.

Play Better While Standing By Following This Simple Principle

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The other day as I was giving an Alexander Technique lesson to a saxophonist, I noticed something in my student that I often see in other musicians who stand as they play. Specifically, my student wasn’t allowing the weight of his body to pass through his feet into the floor as he played.

I could see him bringing his weight to the outsides of his soles as he played, stiffening his neck, back and legs as he did so. He did this especially as he perceived some kind of “effort”, such as playing into the altissimo register, or articulating a very rapid passage. Put simply, he was pulling himself out of balance in an attempt to play his best.

It was as if he were refusing to let himself be on the floor, trying to defy the laws of gravity as he played his instrument.

I won’t digress here as to how I approached his issues (that’s for another article), but I can tell you that for him to stop the habits of tension in his feet, he had to start with thinking about the stiffness in his head and neck as he played. (In Alexander terminology, the relationship between the head, neck and torso is called the primary control; it’s called so for a good reason, as it conditions what we do with the rest of ourselves in any activity.)

Instead, I want to talk a bit about a very simple principle to help you play better as you stand: For you to be in good balance as you stand (mobile, flexible, light and easy), you must allow the weight of your body to pass through your legs into your feet and into the ground (or floor, as the case may be).

To help you understand this principle, it might be helpful to explain a little about how your feet bear weight most efficiently. You can think of your foot as a three-legged stool. One of the “legs” being your heel, another leg at the base of where your big toe meets the rest of  your foot, and the third leg being at the base of where your small toe meets your foot.

You can think of each of these “legs” as the  most essential points of contact between you and the ground. Between each of these points an arch is formed. You actually have 3 arches in each foot: one between the base of your large toe and your heel; another between the base of your small toe and your heel; and a third between the base of your large toe and your small toe (see image above).

It is the dynamic relationship between these arches that help you stay in balance. Whenever you interfere with this relationship, you interfere with your balance, ease and coordination. The most common ways this interference occurs is by placing your weight too far forward, or by pulling your feet up off the floor from either side.

When you stand in natural balance, your head is poised on top of your spine in an upward release, and the rest of you is sort of stacked underneath all the way down to the ground. No tense shoulders. No thrusting hips. No locked knees. No stiff feet or toes.

The weight of your body is free to pass directly downward through your spine, into your pelvis, through your legs into your ankles and then very slightly into your heels (one of the legs of your “stool”) as you allow your feet to spread toward your large and small toes (the other legs of your stool).

When you allow yourself to stay grounded this way, you’ll find that you play better:

  • You’ll have more stability, so your hands, arms and fingers move more easily and accurately.
  • You’ll breathe better.
  • You’ll maintain a better sense of time. (Really! So much of your rhythmic perception is based upon your balance. Notice what happens to your balance the next time you rush the tempo.)
  • You’ll have greater access to your creativity and expression. (For the same reasons mentioned above.)
  • You’ll feel so much better and experience less fatigue as you play.

Whenever you can, play without shoes. Letting your feet connect directly to the floor helps you access all the receptors of the nerves in your feet to keep the delicate dance of balance alive. When I practice I never wear shoes. I advise all my students to lose the shoes whenever possible. (It’s okay to wear socks.)

So notice what you do with your feet as you practice. Remember to let your feet do their work. Allow your weight pass through them into the floor as you direct your thoughts upward. Please let me know how it goes!

Why It’s A Good Idea To Look For Trouble

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“You are not here to do exercises, nor to learn to do something right, but to be able to meet a stimulus that always puts you in the wrong and to learn to deal with it.”

F.M. Alexander, founder of the Alexander Technique

The quote from above represents what I think to be the essential value of studying the Alexander Technique. I came to study this work because, as a saxophonist, I was not able to meet a stimulus that was putting me “in the wrong”. As a result, I had significant dysfunction in my hands that had stopped me from making music.

Today, thanks to using what I’ve learned from the Technique, I’m playing better than ever (enjoying it more than ever, too!) I’ve also had a complete shift in how I approach the problems of playing music. This is something that has significantly aided me in helping the musicians who come to me for lessons.

Before I came to discover the Alexander Technique, I always struggled with consistency in playing the saxophone. If everything was “just right”, then I played very well…freely, expressively, openly, skillfully, joyfully…

But the problem was that often everything wasn’t just right:  Not the ideal reed. Not the best acoustic environment. Not hearing my sound the way I’d like to. Not being completely okay with what the drummer was playing.  Not liking the dynamics and intonation choices of the trumpet player.  Not feeling the thing I think I needed to feel. Not loving every single note I played when I improvised. Not….well, you get the idea. I could find all kinds of things that put me in the wrong.

And when things were less than ideal, I would react differently to playing than when things were better. I’d pull myself into all kinds of distorted positions, amplifying effort, becoming rigid and self-conscoius, thoughts running rapidly through my head like a constant commentary on how I was doing. Lot’s of misdirected energy as I tried “even harder” to play well. Of course, none of this reactive effort did anything but make me play worse.

So to make a long story short, I had to learn to react differently to the thought of playing the saxophone in general, but particularly when conditions seemed less than perfect. And so I have learned to react differently (and am continuing to do so!)

It’s very easy to look outside of yourself and say why you couldn’t perform your best. Unfortunately, you can’t always control what’s outside of yourself. But you can, to a very large degree, learn to control how you respond to what’s outside of yourself.

One of the things I’m often looking for as I teach is how I can “lead my student into temptation.” I want to find the things that put this particular musician in the wrong, then teach her or him how to react differently. How to “deal with it” as Alexander would say.

When my students are doing particularly well during their lessons I jokingly tell them “Okay, that’s going great. Now let’s go look for some trouble.”  We always manage to find something. Then my student has a chance to apply the principles that best address whatever the problem is.

Not only does this bring continuous improvement, but equally important, it cultivates confidence in their ability to help themselves. Thats huge. I proceed in the same way in my own musical practice.

So what puts you in the wrong as you play? Here are a few of the things in general that put many musicians in the wrong:

  • Tempo-whether very fast or challengingly slow.
  • The acoustic environment-dead, to live, noisy.
  • Tactile and kinesthetic sensations-things don’t “feel” like your use to them feeling.
  • Reaction to less than ideal conditions of your equipment.
  • Challenging registers of the instrument.
  • Challenging passages in the music.

Make a list of things that put you in the wrong. You can be as specific as you like. Once you’ve made your list, see if you can notice how you react when you encounter these challenging stimuli. Do you:

  • Stiffen up, particularly in your neck and shoulders? Your jaw? Perhaps your legs and feet as well?
  • Hold your breath or otherwise interfere with your breathing?
  • Feel hurried? Are your thoughts unclear and racing? Do you become hyper-critical? Where does your attention go?
  • Feel like you can’t hear yourself?
  • Feel angry? Frustrated? If so, how does that impact your breathing and body tension? (See above)

Once you become aware of your reactions, see if you can notice how these reactions negatively impact your ability to play your best.  Then modify your thinking a bit to change things, to lesson the tension. If you shift your thought from “how am I doing?” to “what am I doing?” (from judgement to discernment), it can really begin to open some important doors to your self-improvement. This is where a skilled teacher can really be of help, showing you how to become better aware, and able to prevent these habitual reactions.

Playing music can be a joyful experience virtually all the time. Really. So don’t be afraid of trouble. Go looking for it, learn how to deal with it, and rediscover this joy.