Tag Archives: Improving Musical Performance

Deepening Improvisation: Do This Every Time You Learn a New Melodic Pattern



Part of the work in studying improvisation is what I call “feeding” our ears and imagination. In essence, this involves learning and practicing new patterns and sequences.

These patterns can be anything from simple, diatonic melodic movements, to more harmonically complex polytonal statements that you’ve discovered in a jazz etude book, to very particular “licks” that you’ve transcribed from somebody’s solo.

All good.

And all things that will ultimately increase your improvisational vocabulary.

Whenever I give a lesson to any intermediate to advanced improvisers, I typically find that they are already practicing patterns on a regular basis. (I can hear it manifest itself as part of their improvisational “vocabulary”.)

Yet far too many of them are not  doing one very important thing each time they learn a new idea, lick or pattern:

They’re not singing it first,  before playing it.

As simple as that.

I begin to suspect this based upon what I hear in their playing, which in general, sounds like they are somewhat disconnected to the notes they are playing. In short, it sounds like they’re not playing so much from their aural imagination, as from mechanical memorization.

As I start asking questions, I often find that they also don’t do much singing in general as they practice improvisation.

And that’s where we begin to change their practice aims and procedures.

You see, there is a very good reason all the legendary jazz artists would learn so much of their vocabulary by ear (and why this learning tradition is carried on by today’s great artists and educators).

It all comes down to how you think and react.

When you think of a melodic idea in a mechanical  sense (such as, “root, to flat 5, to 4, to flat 3, to natural 3, to root”, for example), your brain organizes how  you’re going to play that idea (your reaction) in a fundamentally different way than if it emerged from your aural imagination.

When you practice patterns from this more “mechanical” organization, it not only takes a good deal of time to “get the notes under your fingers”, it also takes a long time to find its way into your natural, organic improvisational expression.

On the other hand, when you are able to hear clearly and precisely how a melodic pattern sounds, you will not only get the notes under your fingers in a shorter amount of time, but you’ll also be able to access the pattern more readily as you improvise.

And here’s the bonus part:

When you learn patterns primarily by hearing and imagining them, you become much more flexible with how you use them. This means that you easily learn to make variations on them in the moment when you improvise (which, in many ways, is the essence of improvisational variation).

By using you ears in this way you turn patterns into components of aural imagination and impulse. This becomes the fuel that privides energy and movement for your improvisations.

When you first start learning patterns by ear, it can seem daunting. It might take a lot of time to learn even the most rudimentary melodic patterns (like 1,4,5, 3 in major keys for example).

Keep in mind that you get better and better at doing this (meaning faster and more accurate) the more you practice it. And also keep in mind that you can start simple, building upon your skill.

But here’s the bottom line:

No matter whether you discover a new melodic pattern (or lick, or sequence, or idea, or fragment, etc.) that you want to learn from a recording, or from a notated source (such as a transcription or jazz etude book), get in the habit of doing this one very simple, very important thing:

Take the time to sing the pattern with 100% accuracy before  you take it to your instrument to work on it. Don’t just approximate the general “shape” of the pattern. Know it from note to note in its entirety.

Sing it in at least one key, but sing it until you have confidence that you imagine and hear it with vivid clarity. Let it go deep inside of you.

It is never time wasted.

And even if you’re practicing patterns from a book that presents a particular melodic pattern in all 12 keys, take time to sing the pattern in an iteration that fits within your vocal range. Then start wherever that is on the page and work each of the other keys of the pattern using your “singing key” as a starting point.

Doing this regularly will help you to play and absorb the pattern in the other keys more readily and more deeply.

It’s a matter of turning the somewhat abstract (the notes and sequence of the pattern, lick, etc.) into something a bit more concrete (your expression).

And when that happens, you’re on your way to expanding and personalizing your own unique improvisational voice.

Listening to Your Sound Differently: An Experiment in Perception

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There really is no such thing as truly hearing the “absolute reality” of your sound as you play. In part, that’s because your sound constantly changes as it is impacted by two fundamental things:

1. Environment

2. Perception

Environment has to do with such things as the acoustical qualities of the room you’re playing in, coupled with other variables, such as the other instruments you’re playing with.

Perception has to do with how you hear your sound.

More specifically, it has to do with how you pay attention  to your sound as you play. Your perception includes not only the environment in which you are playing, but also how you’re sensing the bony structures inside your head (and close to your ears!) as they vibrate in response to your playing.

Your perception of your sound both shapes the sound itself and influences your experience of it. Perception and experience being inextricably connected. (If you’ve ever played in a particularly good or particularly horrible acoustical setting, you’ve probably realized this.)

Whenever I teach the Alexander Technique to musicians, we do lots of explorations with how they hear their sounds, and how that perception influences their coordination. This is often a question not just of “how” they’re listening for their sound, but also “where” they’re listening for it.

If I’m working with a musician who has serious problems with loss of skill (focal dystonia, for example), I find without fail that the musician in question is listening to his/her sound in a very inflexible, internally focused way.

More specifically, the sound is being felt (kinesthetically) almost more than it is actually being heard in the external environment.

An overly internal focus of attention is often the very thing that leads these musicians to seek my help. This quality of attention tends to exclude and divide, as opposed to include and integrate.

The motor mechanisms of the brain don’t work optimally this way, and problems with tone quality, attack, time, articulation and technical control can arise as a result of such thinking.

Striking a healthy, dynamic balance between the internal (what’s going on inside of you) and external (what’s going on outside of  you) helps support optimal coordination and skill.

One of the tools I use to help musicians find this balance involves a very simple experiment with sound and perception. And even for musicians who don’t have any discernible problems, this little experiment can be eye-opening, and quite helpful. Here it is:

Choose something lyrical and highly familiar and enjoyable for you to play.

Then, play the piece (or passage, or whatever) as you make a conscious decision to hear your sound as close to you  as you possibly can.

So if you’re a wind instrumentalist or a singer, you’ll listen for the sound right inside your head: in your oral cavity, nasal passages, etc. If you play a string instrument, you’ll listen for the sound right where your bow or fingers make contact with the strings.

Play like this a couple of times, until you’re reasonably sure that you carried out your intention to hear your sound so closely.

Now, play the same piece, this time bringing your attention to the room itself. Listen for your sound to the very far corners of the room (no matter how large or small).

What do you notice?

Is there a contrast between one quality of attention and the other in terms of how you experience your sound? (quality, color, volume, resonance, control)

Is there a difference in your effort? (more tension, less tension, better coordination, worse coordination?)

Play the piece yet again, this time bringing most of your attention to the feel  of the sound inside the instrument itself (not in your body!) Take this attention to the feel of the sound in the instrument and with it, listen for your sound out into the far corners of the room.

How does this compare/contrast to the other two ways of paying attention? Which seems to help you most?

After experimenting this way a few times, giving yourself a chance to process and reflect upon the experiences, try doing all three experiments with some kind of recording device.

Do you notice anything different in your sound as you change your thinking? Resonance, volume, color, pitch? If you notice any differences, keep in mind that you’re noticing how your perception of your sound impacts its quality. (This reality can be very powerful, and working in accordance with it can be highly practical!)

You can also explore going back and forth from hearing the sound near you, and farther away all in the same piece (even in the same phrase).

So how do you typically listen to your sound as you play? Close to you? Away from you? (Somewhere in between?) Do you listen to yourself differently depending on the environment? The needs of the situation itself?

By becoming aware of how/where you listen to yourself, you can give yourself the opportunity to improve both your sound and your overall skill as you play.

Explore this process. See what you like. What seems to help most. What allows you to respond with the greatest availability and precision. Realize that, ultimately, your thinking can (and should) remain flexible and responsive, and generally be as outward oriented as is practically possible.

Take these “tools of thinking” into your practice, rehearsal and performance, honing your attention to best serve your intention and your expression.

Healthy and Efficient Practice: Aim for Wanting This at the End of Each Session

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Part of my work as practice coach is in helping musicians clarify their wishes. This involves suggesting ways to reframe what they want in a manner that is most conducive to actually getting it.

One of the most fundamental desires I encourage my clients to cultivate has to do with how they feel at the end of a practice session. I typically tell them something like this:

At the end of your practice session, aim at having enough energy so that you feel like doing a little more. You should really look forward to practicing again the next day.

It sounds like a simple thing (and it is), but it is not always so easy to carry out.

You see, many serious musicians too often end their practice sessions feeling either one of two things:

1. Utterly exhausted

2. Utterly frustrated

(And of course, sometimes the practice session ends with feeling both exhausted and frustrated!)

Let’s examine both of these things.

If you end each session feeling exhausted (physically and/or mentally), you run the risk of  either:

Developing an overuse issue, which could lead to various types of repetitive strain injuries. Or…

Cultivating habits of coordination (movement and posture) that are a potential hinderance to your continued growth.

If you leave each session feeling frustrated, you run the risk of either:

Slowly smothering your inspiration (and pleasure) in making music, which can lead to burnout. Or…

Gradually diminishing your curiosity about how  you do what you do, which is also a hinderance to you continued growth.

To be clear, I’m not talking about the kind of frustration that is a result of simply not having enough time to practice. (That’s a topic for another blog post.)

I’m talking about having a reasonably sufficient amount of time to practice, yet feeling frustrated with the progress (or lack thereof) in the session itself.

If you regularly  end your practice session feeling frustrated, the first thing you need to do is to seriously examine and call into question how  you’re doing what you do. It may be that you are simply misdirecting your efforts.

Aim for a better understanding of the problem (specifically, how things actually work acoustically, and how your bodily design can cooperate with this acoustical reality) instead of carrying out the same, misdirected efforts. (A good teacher can help with this.)

And there is a need for finding satisfaction  with the balance between the quality  and the amount  of work you do in each session. I’ve coached a fair amount of musicians who use the feeling of being exhausted as the benchmark of a good practice session.

It is often the misplaced desire to feel  this way that causes some of the very problems that lead these musicians to seek my help in the first place. (I say misplaced desire, because that feeling is not what is leading them to what they actually desire most: efficient, effective practice and continued progress.)

When the criteria of practice shifts to quality of process  (as opposed to a preconceived notion of sufficient quantity), the need to feel exhausted begins to diminish.  It gradually becomes replaced with the desire to continuously explore and clarify. That’s what leads to progress. And satisfaction.

So how do you feel at the end of a typical practice session?

Do you feel sore and dull, or energized and inspired? Do you feel like the quality of your work is as good as it was at the beginning of the session. Do you feel curious? What worked, and what didn’t? What would you do differently tomorrow? How could you do what you did even better than today?

And you don’t have to figure it all out in one sitting. Instead, let yourself “live in the mystery”. Let your curiosity be your guiding light.

When I studied with the great multi-woodwinds artist and Los Angeles recording studio legend, Bill Green, he told me something that fundamentally changed how I continue to approach practice to this day. (Bill Green was well known for practicing prodigiously, always gaining greater mastery on all of the saxophones, clarinets, flutes, as well as double reeds.). I’d like to pass it on to you what he told me:

Practicing music is like enjoying fine food. No matter how good it is, you’ll always enjoy it to the fullest if you leave the table feeling mostly satisfied, but leaving room for just a bit more.

So let yourself be just a tiny bit “hungry” each day as you end your practice session. You’ll stay healthy, curious and always growing.

Skill and Coordination (They’re Not Necessarily the Same Thing)

One of the aims of the Alexander Technique is to improve coordination.

And I would say more specifically for musicians, the aim of the Technique is to improve the quality of  overall  coordination that you use to implement your music making skills.

A misapprehension that many musicians have is that skill and coordination are one and the same thing.

Though they are certainly closely related, they’re not exactly  one and the same.

How so?

Allow me to clarify by offering my  working definitions of the two terms.

Your skill is your ability to carry out your desired task (for our purposes, playing music). It is manifested in tangible, sonic results: pitch, time, articulation, tone color, technical control, expression, etc.

Your coordination is what you do with your entire self  to carry out your skill. It is manifested in muscular effort, or more specifically, the quality of movement you apply to the task. (This includes balance, posture, breathing….everything you do!)

So it is possible to be a highly skilled musician (and yes, this does mean having highly cultivated  fine  motor coordination skills), yet have less than optimal overall, gross  motor coordination.

You can witness this in many instances, if you take time to notice.

Some musicians make it look easy, don’t they?

Truth be told, for most of these musicians, it is  easy. They typically appear effortless because their efforts are so singularly integrated into the skill of their performance. Virtually nothing they do interferes with their artistic intentions, with their desire of self-expression, nor with the acoustic and physiologic components involved in playing.

(I look upon classical pianist Artur Rubinstein as a glowing example: free neck, strong and flexible back and arms, moving easily, fluidly and naturally with the music. It is this beautiful, efficient coordination that is at the service of his skills.)

And I think we’ve all seen/heard virtuosic musicians who look like they’re fighting an imaginary foe as they play music: head compressed into the neck, raised (stiff) shoulders, rigid ribs and back, hard narrowed gaze, noisy breathing.

Yet they still deliver the goods. They still play devastatingly beautiful music. (No, I won’t point my finger at any one musician here, as a gesture of respect. But I so easily could!)

So should these musicians even bother with improving their overall coordination? Should you?

Yes. And for three main reasons:

1. Your overall coordination impacts your skill. When you are working in a less than optimally coordinated way, you are interfering with your brain/body’s ability to carry out your skill in the most efficient manner. In essence, you’re working against your human design, and not in accordance with it.  You might be able to do so. But you do so despite of, not because  of, your coordination. Improving your overall coordination invites greater skill. Or, as F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technque) said, your improved coordination creates “the ideal conditions” for your skill to manifest itself through your bodily mechanism.

2. By improving your overall coordination, you reduce your risk of injury (and fatigue). This is why many musicians seek my help as an Alexander teacher in the first place. I have volumes of stories of very highly skilled musicians I’ve encountered who have career-threatening health issues that are related to the poor coordination they apply to their skill. As their coordination improves, so does their health, comfort, endurance and satisfaction.

3. By improving your overall coordination, you open yourself up to other expressive possibilities. This is the hidden gem of all this. As you improve your overall coordination, you also discover different ways to experience the music you play. You become less stereotyped (less “stuck”) in your interpretive choices, which, believe it or not, are highly conditioned by your bodily reactions. (This is especially true for improvising musicians!)

Our tendency as musicians is to sometimes become overly concerned with the parts that seem most pertinent to playing our instruments at the expense of neglecting the rest of ourselves. (For example, a flutist thinking perhaps too  much about the formation of the embouchure at the expense of not noticing neck and shoulder strain.)

If this sounds even remotely familiar to you, consider including  the quality of how you “use” your entire self (your overall coordination) into the consciousness of  playing your instrument.

Let your head be poised freely atop your spine (and of course, let your jaw be free). Let your shoulders release and widen. Soften your gaze. Let you knees unlock. If you’re standing, let your ankles be free and mobile (feet, too!) as you permit the ground to support you. Let your breathing be elastic, easy, reflexive and expansive.

Think balance, mobility and expansion, instead of position or  posture. A nice, lively, upward organization of your whole organism is the wish. Notice how these things impact your skill.

And of course, if you need any help in this area, consider finding a skilled Alexander Technique teacher. Allow your coordination to support your skill, and your expression.

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:

  1. Trusting without testing.
  2. 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.