Tag Archives: Alexander Technique

Body Awareness And Music Making: Learning To Reinterpret Your Senses

One of the aims (and benefits) of studying the Alexander Technique is an improved sense of awareness. Without exception, my students gain measurable improvements, not only in their kinesthetic (body) awareness, but also, in their overall awareness through their other senses, as they play music. They learn to hear more vividly, perceive time more accurately, and notice subtleties in themselves (and the music) more readily.

Yet, most of the musicians I teach already come to me with a more acute awareness of their bodies than the average person. It is not difficult at all to get musicians to notice what they’re doing with themselves as they play. Here’s a typical exchange between me and one of my students in a first lesson:

“What do you notice about your shoulders as you bring your hands to your instrument?”

“I lift them up.”

“What do you notice about your head and neck when you to that?”

“I kind of scrunch my head down into my shoulders.”

“Can you see how that could have a negative impact on your playing? Maybe interfering with the freedom in your arms and hands?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. Sure.”

In contrast, when I give a first Alexander Technique lesson to the average person who doesn’t play music, it is usually not quite like the above exchange. We may be working on a simple activity, like rising from a chair, or beginning to speak. As I ask the same questions about the head, neck and shoulders, it is most typical for my student to draw a blank. (My job starts here by helping them become aware.)

But as I continue to ask my musician students in their first lesson about noticing things as they play, it becomes clear that it is not their inability to do so that’s causing the problem (prompting them to seek me for help in the first place).

So what is causing the problem?

In the simplest sense, it’s not a lack of awareness, but a misinterpretation of bodily sensation. You see, it’s not that most musicians have difficulty noticing these things (once they’re pointed out), it just that they often don’t perceive of these things as misdirected effort  (the very thing that is causing their problems as they play!)

Instead they think of what they do is part and parcel of what it takes to play music. It’s a kind of “over-efforting” that not only feels right, but even seems necessary in order to play their instrument. Becoming aware of these tense gestures is the first step.

The next is to reinterpret them for what they actually are: unnecessary habits of misdirected  tension. That’s not always an easy thing to do, as many musicians are quite attached to the physical sensations of playing their instrument. It’s not unusual for a musician to want to feel that they’re working hard (even though it’s creating difficulties). This sometimes becomes almost an addiction, an affirmation that they’re playing “well”.

And to make matters more complicated, my students will often have an almost religious reverence for certain points of pedagogy taught to them that they believe to be virtually indisputable (usually dispensed to them by another excellent musician/teacher).

My job is to connect the new experiences of playing without the excess effort, to my student’s reasoning, and (ever-increasing) knowledge. This is a matter of re-education: helping them to better understand the actual acoustical demands and principles of playing their instrument as it relates to the way their bodies can best accommodate these demands and principles.

I encourage my students to not believe what I say because I say it, but rather, because it can be tested and found to be true. I want them to know why they choose to do (or not do) something with themselves as they play. They need to own it. They gain this ownership through direct experience.

The next step in this process (once they’ve clarified their misconceptions about their bodies) is to learn how to play without going into their habit. This is where the real work (and real value!) of the Alexander Technique comes into play.

By design and necessity, this happens gradually. But the changes that take place can be absolutely remarkable.

Here’s the good news

Because you’re a musician, you already have the skill set to be able to notice many subtle (and not so subtle) things about yourself as you play. This is a HUGE advantage, and can really speed up your progress if you wish to change your habitual tension patterns. Whether you have problems with chronic pain, and/or coordination, being able to pay attention to yourself as you play gives you a definite leg up.

If you find a good, AmSAT certified Alexander Technique teacher, you can find how quickly you can learn to interpret what’s happening in your body in an accurate and more helpful way. You’ll learn that all that extra effort with your head, neck, back and shoulders, your locked knees, tense feet, noisy breathing and squinting brow don’t help you one bit when it comes to making music.

And of course, always feel free to contact me if y0u need help. I would be my honor and pleasure to do so!

Playing music can be much easier than you perhaps thought. Use your skills of awareness to help you discover how much easier it can actually be.

You, Your Instrument, Space And Movement

There is a fundamental error that I see many musicians make when positioning their instruments in preparation to play. It usually begins seconds before the first note is produced. It might seem like a small thing, but it can have big consequences.

What is it?

It’s in how musicians bring their instruments to themselves to play.

Notice I said, “bring their instruments to themselves.” In a sense this is a misnomer. Because in truth, the real problem is that rather than bringing the instrument to themselves, many musicians bring themselves to the instrument. And they often do so in such a way as to compromise their balance, flexibility and coordination.

Allow me to clarify.

The other day I was giving a first Alexander Technique lesson to a violinist, who came to me because of unresolved chronic neck pain. We spent a good part of the lesson exploring and clarifying her natural balance as she sat, and as she stood. 

(We do this in order to bring her most basic postural and movement habits to light. More specifically we’re looking at how her habits might be interfering with the way she moves, balances and maintains positions with respect to her bodily structure, and how that structure work best with gravity.  How she might be unconsciously “fighting herself”.)

Once I was reasonably sure that my student was aware of (and at least somewhat able to prevent) the most obvious habitual interferences to her balance and coordinatin as she sat and stood, I then asked her to play her instrument.

What I saw was a habit that is common to many musicians: She was there, sitting in fairly good balance (based upon our brief work). But as she brought the violin up to her chin, she (simultaneously) began to pull herself downward (and somewhat sideward) into the chin rest.

So once the violin was in position to play, my student had lost the easy, elastic and flexible balance she had, and had replaced it with a rather stiff and inflexible “position”. (This is all driven, of course, by habit; and that’s where our real work begins.)

It took a significant amount of intention and conscious direction for her to stop this from happening. (This goes to show how powerful the habit of “position and posture” can be to a musician.) But she has made a step in the right direction. (She’s also going to re-consider the height of her shoulder rest, to see if it’s “inviting” her to pull downward.)

And I see such similar habits with so many instrumentalists: I see saxophonists (playing with the neckstrap adjusted too low) pull their heads down into the instrument (not good for your airstream or the freedom of your jaw and tongue); I see trombonists pulling their heads (like the violinists) down and sideways into the horn. I see guitarists hunched over an instrument that is too far (or sometimes, too close) to themselves. And so on.

It’s almost as if there is a fixed perception of where the instrument needs to be in space. And that perception demands that you distort yourself into position to meet the instrument.

So here’s a very simple bit of advice: Bring your instrument to you. Find balance first, as you sit, or stand.

In brief, this means letting your head balance on top of your spine freely as it is poised over your pelvis, with widening shoulders and unlocked knees, letting your weight travel evenly through your body to your sitting bones (if you’re sitting) or through your feet (if you’re standing).

Then practice bringing the instrument to you in such a way that you interfere with this natural balance as little as possible.

If you have to rotate (say, to play flute or violin), see if you can do so by “thinking upward” so you’re not pulling downward into tension and imbalance. Let your neck be free and your eyes be lively and engaged as you allow your breath to flow naturally and easily. Then allow your head and eyes to lead your body fluidly into rotation.

Practice this in front of a mirror (highly recommended!) if possible. Do it lots of times, until you feel reasonably confident that you can keep the awareness and intention up as you play.

Then work on bringing your instrument to yourself to play one note (just one!)

Again, do this with the aid of a mirror. Think of maintaining your internal space (so you’re not contracting and twisting) as you move the instrument toward yourself. 

If you practice this enough, it will become part of who you are as you play your instrument. Not only will you find less tension and more balance and flexibility in your body as you play, but also, you’ll breathe better and will be more accessable emotionally and creatively to make your best music. Give it a go!

Three Misconceptions About Your Hands That Might Be Holding You Back


Many musicians who come to me for Alexander Technique lessons do so because they have problems with their hands: chronic pain and/or coordination issues (these two can be very closely related).

Medical conditions like carpal tunnel syndrome and elbow tendonitis, as well as general discomfort and fatigue when playing can be, are often caused (or made worse), in part, by a misunderstanding of the structure/location and function (anatomy and physiology) of the hands, fingers and arms.

The same goes for coordination. I’ve lost count of the musicians I’ve encountered who are stuck at a certain level of technical proficiency (no matter how much they practice and how hard they try) because of the mechanical disadvantages they bring upon themselves through their habits (with their hands, arms, neck and back) as they play.

I won’t go into full detail here about how the hands relate to the arms, which relate to the back, which relates to the balance of the head on the spine. (Although this is of prime importance, and I’ve mentioned it before in several other articles).

Rather, I’m going to briefly talk about the three most common misconceptions (in my teaching experience) that most musicians have about the hands, wrists and lower arm. I’m also going to share some videos that will be highly useful in helping you to better visualize and understand how your hands, wrists and lower arms function.

So what are the three misconceptions I’m talking about here?

1. The location of your knuckles. Many musicians imagine their knuckle joints (metacarpophylangeal, or “MP”  joints, as they are commonly called) as being in the location where their fingers connect to their palms (looking at the hand palm-side up). But in truth, these joints are lower than that. If you look at the topside of your hand and bend your fingers at the knuckle, while at the same time keeping them straight, you’ll see exactly where that joint is.

Now, bend your fingers the same way and look at the palm-side of your hand to see how much farther down those joints are from that fleshy place where your fingers meet your palms. If you play your instrument by trying to bend your fingers at this imaginary joint (where the fingers meet the fleshy part of the palm), you’ll create a signficant amount of excess tension and compression in your entire hand.

2. The joints of your thumb. Your thumb has three joints, not two. Many musicians think of the thumb has  having one joint at the knuckle and the other joint at the fleshy location of where the thumb connects to the palm (an accurate, but incomplete understanding). But if you take the tip of your thumb (again, do this palm-side up) and touch the tip of your small finger with it, you’ll see how your thumb rotates from the bottom/middle part of your hand (from a third joint).

If you don’t allow for this movement when you play, you’re going to get a great deal of fatigue in you entire hand, and you’ll measurably interfere with the freedom and coordination of your other fingers. (I see this often in how woodwinds players use their right hands.)

Here’s a video excerpt from a DVD that I very highly recommend, called  Move Well, Avoid InjuryThis video not only illustrates my points about the knuckle joints and the thumb more completely, but also, offers a more constructive way of thinking about them:

3.How your wrist rotates. You have two bones in your lower arm (the ulna, which is on the small-finger side of the arm; and the radius, which is on the thumb-side of your arm). When you rotate your wrist at the elbow (let’s say, for example, what your left hand does as you play flute), the bones cross one another. (This movement is called pronatation and supination.) The most efficient way for this to happen is to allow the pivot point to be on the small-finger side (the ulna), so that the thumb can sweep radially into rotation (hence the name, radius).

If you try to rotate your wrists from the thumb-side, you’ll create a good deal of strain in your entire lower arm, as well as your hands and fingers. Your elbow joint, in particular, will be negatively impacted. This movement habit is what can lead to elbow tendonitis, among other things.

Here’s another video clip from Move Well, Avoid Injury to help illustrate this and suggest more helpful ways of thinking about it:

So whether you play, piano, guitar, saxophone, trumpet, drums (or any instrument where your hands are involved), by clarifying these three things you can play with greater freedom, less strain and more pleasure.

Tempo, Perception And Tension

Some months ago I wrote an article about how coordination was inextricably linked to the perception of time and rhythm. But just recently, I realized another aspect of this connection while giving an Alexander Technique lesson to a bassist.

This student could not seem to play a particular technical passage beyond a specific tempo without the entire passage falling completely apart. I began to suspect that he was thinking about the tempo in such a way as to create problems for himself as he played.

As it turned out, his self-imposed obstacle wasn’t a lack of clarity of tempo (he wasn’t dragging or slowing), nor of rhythmic conception (he demonstrated to me that he could sing the rhythms of this passage quite accurately).

Instead, it was his subjective reaction to what he defined as a “fast” tempo.

I discovered this after asking him a few things about how he was thinking:

“Why does it always seem to fall apart there?”, I asked.

“I’m not sure. It’s actually quite easy to play at a slower tempo. It just seems to get tricky when I try to play it at a fast tempo.”, he replied.

“What is a fast tempo?” I further enquired.

“When I’m practicing at home, it seems like it gets fast at about quarter note equals 138.”, he responded.

So I broke out the metronome. And sure enough, he was fine until that “breaking point” of 138. Then I had him play it at 132 and everything was fine: accurate, beautiful, lively, clear.  I asked him his perception.

“No problems. Like I said, it’s not difficult to play at slower tempos. And I thought to myself, “132 isn’t that much slower than 138.” But what I observed as he played at this slightly slower tempo helped shed light on the real problem.

The most significant thing I noticed as he played it at this “easier” tempo was how differently he was using himself as he played. His eyes looked calm, yet lively. His neck and shoulders looked more spacious and elastic. He looked more mobile and fluid, less “planted” and rigid. In Alexander Techique slang, we’d say that he was using his primary control (head/neck/back) in a more constructive, helpful way.

I had him notice how free and easy he was as he played. (Being a good Alexander student, he could notice this quite readily.)

Then we brought the tempo back up to 138. And everything changed.

His eyes became fixed, almost fierce looking as he knitted his brow. His shoulders began to narrow as his neck stiffened slightly. I asked him to notice this. (Again, being the good Alexander student that he was, he could do so readily.)

“Why do you think you change how you’re using yourself so noticeably?”, I asked.

His reply: “Because now I think I’m playing fast. And the thought of playing fast seems to tempt me to do certain things.” He just solved the mystery.

So we began to work toward getting him to react differently to the thought of playing “fast” in this particular passage.

The first thing he did was to redirect his thinking as he played in such a way as to prevent himself from physically responding in his “fast tempo” habitual way (no tense neck and shoulders; no glaring eyes and knitted brow).

In the Alexander Technique, we call this ability to consciously prevent unwanted tension  inhibition. It is a skill that is cultivated over time by studying and applying the Technique, and this particular student has developed his ability to “inhibit” quite well.

This redirected thinking made a noticeable difference in the outcome. Much less tension, better precision in execution of the passage.

But then we did something else. We started playing some games with the metronome to “trick” him about his perception of the tempo.

For example, I had him play the passage (continous sixteenth notes in 4/4 meter) as if they were eight note triplets. We started at quarter note equals 130 and gradually moved the metronome tempo upwards. The passage felt to him very easy and clear when approached as triplets. Before long he was playing the passage at quarter note equals 180 with considerable accuracy.

He didn’t have time to do the math to realize that he was actually moving the notes faster than he was able to do before.

I immediately had him go to quarter note equals 138 and play the passage as it was originally (in sixteenth notes). He was able to play easily and consistently at this tempo. Laughing, he said, “The tempo feels slow now. If feels like I have time to think.”  (He laughed because he realized that he just tricked himself in a good way).

This change in his perception of the tempo helped him to get out of his habitual thinking, and helped support his wish to keep the excess tension in check as he played.

In truth, there is no “fast” or “slow” when it comes to tempo. “Fast” is just an opinion (an adjective of judgement, if you will), as is “slow”. There is no absolute measurement for either. All there is is the objective measurement of beats per minute. There is just relativity between tempos.

So when you’re practicing or performing, don’t think, “Here comes the fast part.” All you’ll probably do is tense up unnecissarily and create unhelpful conditions in yourself to play the passage.

Think instead, “I have time.” That will help (if even a little bit) to keep you from going into tense anticipation of the music. It’s this tense anticipation that not only creates mechanical disadvantages in your body as you play, but also, puts your brain into an unclear state of a mild “panic”.

Let go of the idea of “fast” or “slow” and replace it with the more objective and measureable “clicks per minute” on the metronome (or whatever source you’re using to establish tempo).

And by all means, start using the metronome in such a way as to keep you thinking differently in how you perceive tempo and rhythm every day. Using your body well as you play and being flexible in your perception will reward you with measurable benefits.

The Positive Power Of Saying “No”

The word “no” often gets a bad rap, especially in the realm of self-improvement. Saying “yes” opens and expands the possibilities goes the conventional wisdom, whereas saying “no” closes or limits them.

I’d say that’s mostly true.

Except sometimes saying saying “no” opens up unexpectedly wonderful possibilities.

As a teacher of the Alexander Technique (and as a musician who applies the Technique to my practice and performance) the ability to effectively say “no” is the most powerful tool I  know of to make profound and lasting changes.

How could that be?

Let’s start with what it is I’m saying “no” to.  With saxophone in hand, the moment I think about playing a single note, my brain readies me for the task. It does so by “pre-firing” the muscles involved in playing the saxophone. I’ll call that my habitual response. (And yes, we do need habit to play music or to do just about anything else, for that matter.)

In the past my habitual response would be to tighten my neck, pull down into myself, stiffen my shoulders and suck air in noisily to inhale. I would also narrow my focus and shift my attitude into an almost warrior-like fashion, cutting myself of completely from anything except the thought of playing.

Much of that “pre-fired” pattern of muscular response was not only unnecessary to playing my instrument, but also, inefficient and harmful. 

What also came along with this habitual response was trouble. Besides the neck, shoulder and back pain I was getting, I was also developing some serious coordination issues that threatened my playing career.

Then I discovered the Alexander Technique. I immediately realized that for me to change these now debilitating habits, I had to learn to effectively say “no” to my habitual response to playing the saxophone. To make a very long story short, I have learned, and my playing has not only dramatically improved, but I continue to be edified and continue to cultivate my artistic expression by going deeper into the power of no.

You see, when you say “no” to your habit, you say “yes” to the possibility that something different will happen. You actually expand the possibilities.

When I learned to say “no” to all the tension and struggle I was bringing upon myself, I became free to play more in accordance with my imagination and intentions (and I continue to cultivate this freedom).

I teach classes in the Alexander Technique at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy in Los Angeles (part of a BFA and conservatory program for singers, actors and dancers). In one of the first class sessions, I have the students explore the power of no by playing a simple children’s game, called Simon Says.

As you probably know, Simon Says is a game in which “Simon” (in this case, me) gives various commands that you must carry out (like raising a hand, for example). But you can only carry out Simon’s command if he precedes it by saying “Simon Says”. If you carry out the command without Simon saying “Simon Says” you lose.

I’ve become very good at being Simon, and can usually stump an entire class of 12 students in no time. Then we talk about why the lost and we begin again. After playing two or three more times, I can’t stump anybody. They’ve all mastered the winning principle of the game.

And this winning principle is to stay in a constant state of saying “no” to oneself until the time is right, until Simon says. (In Alexander Technique jargon, we call this  conscious state of “no” inhibition.)

The most interesting thing to me as I play this game is how the students appear differently from start to finish. In the first round, their eyes are focused and narrow. Their shoulders and necks are tense. Lots of breath holding, too. They’re all in what I call a “hyper-reactive” frame of mind.

By the time we get to the third round (mind you, I stop between each round and give them some guidance) they look completely different. Soft faces, calm eyes, easy breathing, freer necks and shoulders. They look poised.

I tell them, “Now you are in a state of true readiness. You’re calm but alert. This is a great state to be in when you perform.” For many of them that’s a revelation. Performance mode has always been a hectic, tense scramble. Now it is anything but.

I usually have one or two of them perform right after this. The results are often stunningly different. Easy, powerful, authentic performances. This becomes the door that we use to explore performance for the rest of the semester. Saying “no” begins to have a powerfully positive meaning to these students.

As a jazz artist, I can usually hear (and see, if it’s a live performance) when an improviser is in this “no” state of mind. Certainly Miles Davis was in this state most of the time when he played, as was Lester Young.

To be clear, it’s not a dead and passive state of mind. It is an active state of mind that allows you to say “yes” to good things that might happen. Yes to joyful surprise. And that’s good for both artist and listener.

I’d say that when I’m in finding good flow as I’m playing (when I’m in the zone) that I’m in a perpetual state of no. It’s as if I’m waiting patiently for the music to come through me. It’s a beautiful thing.

So notice how you react as you go to play your instrument. Do you prepare to play that first note by tensing up and narrowing your focus? What happens to your shoulders and neck? Do you stiffen your legs? Your arms? Does your attention narrow or expand? What happens to your breathing?

If you find that your starting with too much tension, practice saying “no” to yourself as you begin again. See if you can reduce that tense response even a little bit. If you’re persistent in this endeavor, you’ll be delighted in how you can improve.