Tag Archives: Alexander Technique for Musicians

Improving Technique: It’s More Than Simply Exercising Muscles

There is a common, often disconnecting, conception many musicians carry with them when they first seek my help as an Alexander Technique teacher:

In essence, they believe that the very problem that brought them to me is of a purely physical nature. Put more precisely, an issue of muscle function.

I call this a “disconnecting conception” because not only is it untrue, but it also tends to harmfully divide and separate them from themselves as whole beings.

You see, in truth, nothing you do when you play music is “purely physical”. Thought (both conscious and unconscious) impacts all of the physical manifestations of your music making.

Now, to be sure, most of the specific fine motor skills you’ve acquired as a musician can be called upon with minimal thought, or even below consciousness. (Some folks refer to this as “muscle memory”, a not particularly accurate description of the phenomenon.)

But these motor skills can be modulated significantly for better or worse (in the moment!) just by changing your thinking. (You’ve no doubt experienced this countless times.)

F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) had a more complete term to describe not just musical performance, but all human activity: psychophysical.

In dealing with his own rather serious issue of losing his speaking voice during performances (he was a stage actor), Alexander came to realize that the physical manifestations of his problem (excessive misdirected bodily tension) were inextricably linked to how he thought about using his voice while acting.

It wasn’t simply a “matter of muscle”, so to speak. It was a matter of mind and muscle, the relationship between thought and action. (Hence, the term “psycho-physical”.)

This isn’t such a foreign concept to grasp for most musicians, as “focus” and “intention” both play a significant role in success in both performance and practice.

Yet, I’m still surprised at the amount of rather highly skilled musicians who have a tendency to reduce the acquisition of technical skill to purely physical, muscular exercise.

For example, I’ve encountered brass instrumentalists who routinely practice long tones while watching television to “bulid strength”. Or woodwind players silently practicing fingering exercises (without blowing) as they listen to music to cultivate “muscle memory”.

This practice habit, in my experience both as teacher and as musician, is inefficient, and only marginally helpful (at the very best!)

At worst, it can also be counterproductive, and sometimes even harmful. This is because it is an invitation to develop unconscious patterns of inefficient bodily use and sub-optimal coordination. Often these patterns become gradually ingrained into what the musician thinks it should “feel like” while playing.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blog posts, strength and coordination are inextricably linked, but coordination takes precedent over everything.

Mindless, repetitive actions might build a certain amount of muscular strength specific to the particular technical challenge you’re addressing on your instrument, but strength without coordination is functionally useless.

That’s a simple truth for any activity.

So rather than exercising muscles as you work on improving your technique, think instead of exercising your coordination. And not just the coordination of your fingers (and lips, tongue or any other part of you that is directly involved in playing your instrument), but the coordination of your entire self.

See that you aren’t compressing yourself as you play. (Avoid pulling your head down into your spine, stiffening your shoulders, locking your knees, etc.) Take time to notice this misdirected tension and energy and work toward gradually reducing it. Integrate that awareness consciously into your intentions to improve your technique.

Notice where your attention goes, both when you’re playing well, and when you’re not playing so well. As you notice the shift in your attention, you can also notice how your entire body changes (see above).

Give yourself a chance to stop and redirect your efforts. Make sure you’re clear about what you want (your sound, execution, etc.) and just as important, how you are “using yourself” to get what you want.

And, of course, make it musical. Give whatever you practice some sort of musical intention and imagination, each moment you practice it.

If you work each day to observe and more effectively integrate your thinking into your playing, you’ll find that not only do you improve more steadily, but that you don’t even need as much time as before making mindless repetitions in order to build “muscle memory”.

A few moments of mindful work will always take you further toward your goals than an hour of mindless “exercise.” It always works this way for me and my students, and mostly likely will work this way for you. Give it a go!

Practice Strategies: Keeping the End in Mind in the Present Moment

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I’ve had the good fortune of being able to teach the Alexander Technique to some very highly skilled and highly accomplished musicians, including various members of world-class orchestras and chamber ensembles, as well as some of Los Angeles’ finest studio musicians.

Though all of these artists are diverse and unique with the skills they possess, I can’t help but notice certain commonalities they seem to share. I’ve grown to believe that some of these traits are at least partly responsible for their success.

One of these common values has to do with practice strategies. More particularly, how their practice strategies relate to their musical vision and ultimately, their goals.

Here’s something one of my Alexander students (a highly accomplished brass instrumentalist) said about this topic:

“I knew from a fairly early age that I loved playing music and this was what I was going to do with my life. From that point on, I had a clear, very specific vision of the kind of musician I wanted to be. And it was from that point on that everything I practiced I chose specifically to bring me toward that vision. “

Think about that for a moment.

It sounds simple, and it is. Yet it has deep implications.

My student went on to say:

“It’s for that reason that I never practiced too many of those ‘seemingly generic fundamentals’ on a daily basis, which some of my fellow musicians were doing religiously. Sure, I worked on fundamental things like my sound, and technical challenges specific to my instrument. But even with these things it was always with two specific questions in mind:

“How does practicing this lead me to my particular, ultimate artistic goals?”

“What can I measurably accomplish (or at least aim to accomplish) when practicing this today?”

And if you ask him, that’s one of the key ingredients of his success.

When I consult as a practice coach, I often encounter musicians who are frustrated with their progress. A good deal of this frustration is because they don’t have the kind of clarity about practicing that my Alexander Technique student describes above.

Many of these musicians are spending a much too large percentage of their practice time on these “seemingly generic fundamentals”, with no specifically detailed end in mind.

(Now, to be clear here, I am very much a big fan of practicing the ‘fundamentals’. But without specificity, fundamentals turn into a proverbial “ocean” of misdirected energy.)

With some of these musicians, it seems to be an act of blind faith: “As long as I do this everyday, good things will magically happen in my musical progress.”

But it takes more than that:

“It takes the ability to stay present each moment with what you’re doing when you practice, always being vigilant that it is moving you toward your goals in a measurable, progressive manner”, to once again quote my Alexander student.

And this is the fundamental skill and strategy I help these musicians with.

As I ask them questions about their practice, I hear very little talk of certainty, direction and precision in what they choose to practice. Lots of ‘generic’ things, often more mechanical than artistically practical (such as running up and down scales in the same rhythmic patterns day after day, month after month).

They often can’t give me a compelling reason for why they do what they do, other than saying that it’s “fundamental”, and/or, that “so and so” (well-respected musician) “recommends doing it every day.”

There are two qualities missing in their practice strategies: Clear intention (their ultimate goals) and curiosity. The clearer you are about what you want as a musician, to more curious you become about what you need to do to get it.

So if you feel that you are drifting in this ‘ocean’, maybe it’s time to reassess what you’re doing, and redirect your efforts. Here are a few things to consider:

Be willing to change. It has to start here. To paraphrase Einstein, “No problem has ever been solved by the same consciousness that created it.” Get ready to do things differently, perhaps even uncomfortably so (at least at first).

Become clear about the kind of musician you wish to become. Have a vision. Dream big. It’s fine if this vision changes (likely that it will, a bit), but at least you have something to inform your practice and study efforts. Allow time to reflect upon this.

Ask yourself what specific skills you would need to realize your vision. Think about it for a good amount of time. Make a very detailed list.

Assess your current skills and current practice routine with respect to your list. What are you already doing that’s helping you reach your goals? What are you currently practicing that isn’t leading you toward those goals in a more specific way? (In other words, what can you eliminate from your daily practice routine?)

Develop a strategy. Set small, attainable goals. Break the big things down into smaller things. Be methodical, progressive and persistent.

Organize your efforts. Keep a practice journal. Use it daily, review it weekly. Keep a record of not only what you practice, but why. Include your thoughts and feelings about what you practiced. Make it an ongoing, dynamic dialogue with yourself.

Reassess frequently. Your practice journal will help you keep it real here. What’s working? What’s not? What do you need more of? Less of?

Constantly redirect your efforts. Not only on a weekly and/or monthly basis, but even within your practice day, and even within an exercise you’re practicing. Be present, clear and vigilant about your immediate goal and your ultimate goals.

Seek help where you need it. An experienced, skilled outside source can really be a huge benefit. If you’re getting frustrated, don’t know where to start, or are confused, find somebody who can help. (I’ve helped lots of musicians find their way!)

In my experience, envisioning, planning and reassessing are never a waste of time where practice is concerned. As my brother (a highly skilled woodworker) says, “It’s always better to measure twice and cut once.” Give yourself some time to reflect and to dream and to modify what you do. You’ll find a whole new level of meaning, inspiration and satisfaction in your daily practice.

Breathing: Avoid This Misconception About “Moving the Air”

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Whereas most of my blog posts are written with all instrumentalists in mind, this particular post is aimed exclusively towards wind instrumentalists and singers. It addresses a common misconception about how you manage the movement of the air on the exhalation as you play or sing.

The idea has to do with the concept of the “velocity” of the airstream.

As you know, you must use your respiratory mechanism in an extraordinary way when singing or playing a wind instrument. You are not simply breathing in a completely passive way. You are using your breath with an energetic purpose that serves both function (physiological and mechanical) and self-expression.

And of course, the “working part” of the breath cycle is the exhalation. In large part, this kind of management of the exhalation involves changing the velocity of the airstream.

Yet, what you do with yourself to manage those necessary changes in air speed can significantly impact not only your breathing, not only your sound, but also the coordination of your entire body and ultimately, your skill.

One of the ways that air is “sped up” is by “compressing” the airstream. (In short, everything else being equal, a narrower airstream means “faster air”.)

And there’s where the problems sometimes begin.

I once watched a video of a highly skilled, fairly well-known trumpet player talking about the importance of “compression” when using the airstream.

In fact, it was something that he encouraged his viewers to do consciously each time they began to play a note or a phrase.

Now, he was talking about doing something with the airstream, but it was interesting for me to see what he was doing with his whole self as he carried out the instructions he advocated.

His entire body went into a state of “compression”.

Specifically, his head was pulled down onto his spine, his ribs were pulled downward with great force toward his abdomen (which was actively involved in distorting his pelvis), and his shoulders became rigid and narrow. I couldn’t see his lower half, but I imagine that was affected as well.

In essence, as this very fine trumpet player compressed his airstream, he simultaneously compressed and shrunk himself. (For the record, I’m not here to criticize this musician, only to call into question some of his ideas. I’d say he plays very well, despite what he’s doing with himself.)

But here’s the truth:

For you to compress your airstream you don’t need to compress yourself.

Really. You don’t.

You certainly need to use a considerable amount of muscular energy to move the air, especially at high velocities.

But this muscular energy doesn’t need to involve shortening your three-dimensional stature.

Here’s why.

First, because of the way your ribs attach to and move with your spine, the natural, structural tendency of your spine is to lengthen on the exhalation.

It will do so, even with tremendous muscular energy, if you let it.

Second, by forcefully pulling your ribs downward into your abdomen, you are interfering with two things: The full excursion of the diaphragm and the full excursion of the ribs.

The movement of the ribs in concert with the diaphragm is essential to optimal breathing.

Third, by compressing your respiratory mechanism in this manner as you exhale, you signficantly impact the coordination of the following inhalation, again limiting the excursion of the ribs and diaphragm.

It is these reciprocal excursion patterns between the ribs and the diaphragm (and other parts of you, as well) that are essential to all breathing, both natural and task-specific.

So what to do instead?

Mostly, subtract a few things.

First, subtract a noisy, forced inhalation (which often carries with it a tense jaw). Instead, aim for a free, energetic and expansive reflexive inhalation.

Second, don’t pull your head down into your spine. If you need more muscular energy, direct it upwards, as you ride the wave of your naturally lengthening spine. Allow your neck and jaw to be supple and responsive.

Third, avoid pulling your ribs down forcefully on the exhalation. Imagine your ribs (including the muscles between them) as being in an active, but gentle state of opposition to your upward moving spine. As your ribs slowly descend, your spine gently lengthens, as you move the air into your instrument at the most optimal velocity.

Fourth, allow your abdominal muscles to respond to the needs of moving the airstream, as opposed to a preconceived set amount of tension. If you work with this idea a while, you’ll learn to trust that your intention with your sound (range, color, pitch, etc.) will inform your neuromuscular system to do the right thing with your abs (and all the other muscles involved in supporting your airstream and sound). This “response” I’m talking about will take place instantly, optimally and organically. Naturally, if you will.

In sum, aim towards separating the concept of air compression from bodily compression. To be clear, I’m not talking about using less muscular effort, so much as avoiding misdirected muscular effort.

Allow yourself to move freely and energetically (always aiming upward), with a three-dimensionally expanding organism. You might be surprised at how much easier and more efficiently you can “move your air” to create the sound you wish for. And as a bonus, you’ll avoid some of the patterns of misuse that often lead to fatigue and injury. Win/win.

Two Main Reasons Inefficient Practice Advice Gets Perpetuated

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One of the things I usually discover early on when teaching the Alexander Technique to musicians, is that part of the problem that led them to seek my help has to do with counterproductive pedagogy.

With a wind instrumentalist, for example, I might observe what appears to be a forced, tense, noisy, unnatural-looking inhalation before playing a note or phrase.

When I ask about this breathing habit, as often as not, I learn that it’s something that has been deliberately cultivated. In other words, it is something that they do consciously as they play.

When I ask, “So why do you do it that way?”, the answer is usually something like, “Because that’s the way ‘so and so’ (insert name of highly respected musician here) says it should be done.”

Then I ask a second question: “Why do you think he/she does it that way?”

The answer that follows usually falls into one of two categories:

Either:

They don’t know why this great musician does it that why, but it obviously works best for them.

Or:

They “know” why this great musician does it that way, but the explanation they provide isn’t in accordance with the acoustical principles of the instrument and/or with the design of the human mechanism.

And so yet more misinformation by well-meaning experts gets perpetuated. Some of it benignly inefficient, some of it downright harmful (and everything in between).

So why/how do these “myths” get perpetuated?

Two reasons:

Trusting without testing.
It works (to a certain degree).

Let’s look at this first one, trusting without testing:

No matter what we might think about how our bodies work, or about how our instruments work, there are certain solid, measurable, scientific realities about how they really work.

As a serious musician, it is your responsibility to continually improve and broaden your understanding of these things.

The more clearly you understand the real “hows and whys” of your organism (including how your thinking impacts this organism!), the better your sense of cause and effect becomes when being introduced to any new pedagogic principle and/or procedure.

If you comprehend the science behind playing your instrument, you’ll see that “some musicians do well (in part), not because of what they do, but despite what they do.” (All of my students, and some of my readers, will recognize this as one of the recurring themes in my teaching.)

It is not enough to trust and expert. You must also build a solid faith in the efficacy of a particular pedagogic element because it stands the test of actual, measurable fact. Cause and effect.

The second reason these inefficient practice ideas get perpetuated sounds contradictory to the point I’m trying to make here:

They work (to a certain degree).

It’s the “certain degree” part that opens the door to trouble. The reason for this is actually fairly simple.

Let’s go back to my earlier example about inhaling when playing a wind instrument. If you believe that you need to noisily suck in air as you try to force the air down into your abdominal region, in order for you to get a sufficient breath, you are simply working against nature.

You can’t put air “down into your gut”, because you have no lungs there. (And don’t talk about pushing the diaphragm outward to “make space for the air”; it doesn’t work like that, either.)

Yet the noisy, gasping, overly energetic breathing often accomplishes one thing: It creates a more “active” inhalation that engages more muscles (not necessarily in the most efficient way, mind you!), and that does seem to draw in more air than when you inhale in a more passive, unintentional way.

But there is some unwanted baggage attached to this way of breathing.

To begin with, all this effort creates undue strain in your jaw, glottis and facial muscles. Not to mention the strain it puts on the rest of your body. I’ve had musicians come to me for help with chronic neck and back pain that is clearly related to these poor breathing habits.

Equally important, you lose touch with what it is like to have a free, naturally reflexive inhalation.

It’s the free movement of the ribs, the diaphragm, the pelvic floor, and other muscles in the body that creates the kind of necessary expansion to draw in a deep breath. Combine this with the intention of the musical phrase and expression, and you’re good to go.

Yet, as long as you need to “feel” this forced inhalation as a “complete and full breath”, you will continue to work in this inefficient way.

And unfortunately, you’ll likely pass this advice onto your students. In Alexander Technique slang, we sometimes say that this is a case of “specifically focusing on a part, while neglecting the whole”.

So stay clear about these two things as you practice, explore and expose yourself to new ideas about playing your instrument. You’ll be better off (and so will your students!)

I’ll leave you with a quote from F.M Alexander, the founder and developer of the Alexander Technique:

If I went to a man to take singing lessons, it wouldn’t matter what he taught me, he couldn’t injure me.

Rethinking Long Tones

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One of the staples of practicing a wind instrument or a string instrument is holding sustained tones. The initial aim of practicing “long tones” is to improve sound, intonation and (for some musicians) endurance.

Yet I’m still taken aback at the amount of musicians I encounter who view long tone practice as a mindless activity that “builds strength”. A necessary evil, of sorts, that is part of the obligatory price of admission to the more interesting parts of the practice session.

It’s not unusual for me, when coaching brass instrumentalists, for example, to find out that they often regularly practices long tones while watching television, or engaging in some other kind distracting activity.

I find that unfortunate.

This kind of mindless practice, at the very best, helps these musicians maintain a certain amount of endurance (and so-called “muscle memory), but not much else.

At the worst it acts as a breeding ground for cultivating unnecessary and unwanted habits of tension. In my teaching experience, a good amount of repetitive strain injuries for wind instrumentalists can attributed, in no small part, to this kind of practice.

But even if no physical problems arise from practicing this way, there is so much that musicians are missing out on by not taking a more conscious approach to this tried and true practice activity.

The ultimate value of practicing long tones is in giving you a chance to develop a more intimate experience with the most intimate, personal component of your musical expression: Your sound.

One of my Alexander Technique students, himself an excellent Horn player, describes his long tone work as sound meditation.

I like that description a lot. It resonates with the way I approach long tones. (I actually look forward to this part of my daily routine with great relish!)

Sound meditation. What that means is that each time you practice a long tone there are at least two things in place before the note even starts:

A crystal clear and detailed aural conception of how you want the note to sound.
Attention to how you can best use yourself to get the sound you want.

Allow me to elaborate on these two things.

First, your conception. Your sound starts “between your ears”, in your imagination. When you are clear about the details of how you want something to sound, your brain has the best chance of carrying out your wishes. In holding long tones, some of the details of your sound are: attack, color, pitch, dynamic, spread (and center), vibrato, shading, release, etc.

Lots of details.

If you spend time being conscious of these details, they will show up more readily (and more naturally) when you actually play music. They become a seamless extension of your self-expression as a musician.

Now you’ll of course notice that various components of your own playing mechanism (e.g., your lips, soft palate, tongue, jaw, respiratory muscles, etc.) have to come into play a certain way to get the sound qualities you want.

One of the aims of long tones should be for you be conscious of how these mechanical components work together, but not to get stuck putting too much of your attention on them. Once you get what you want by “directing your mechanism”, bring your attention to the sound itself and allow the mechanism to follow your wishes. Let your imagination lead your coordination.

In other words, wish for a “round, dark sound”, not for your “jaw to come forward” as you go after that sound. As you practice this way, you also learn to more vividly “feel” your sound inside the instrument as you hear it outside in the room.

Now let’s look at your use. When I’m talking about your use, I’m not just talking about the mechanism that is mostly responsible for producing your sound. I’m talking about what you are doing with your entire self as you produce your sound.

As you start your sound:

Do you stiffen your neck, maybe compressing your head down onto your spine? Do you arch your back? Pull your shoulders down? Lock your knees? Pull your feet off the floor? Stiffen your arms (and hands)? Knit your brow tightly? Gasp in loudly to take a breath?

(I could go on naming these unnecessary habits of tense reaction…)

Part of your long tone practice should be about improving not only how you are using yourself, but also about developing and improving upon your ability to constructively pay attention to yourself as you play.

Again, if you work towards this kind of inclusive attention, it becomes a natural part of your technique and expression as a musician.

So start by making a decision to make your long tone practice a real sound meditation. Turn off the television. Rid yourself of distractions. Discover more and more details and subtleties about your sound. Find intimacy with your sound. Discover pleasure in doing so.

It doesn’t matter if you’re playing dynamically static single sustained tones, or if you’re working with crescendo and diminuendo, or if you’re playing slowly moving melodies with an expressive vibrato.

As long as you bring consciousness and clearer intention to what you do, you’ll not only play with less effort, but with greater depth of expression and enjoyment.