Tag Archives: Jazz Improvisation

Choosing The Best Motivational Energy When Practicing (And Playing)

Love and Fear. These two emotions (and all their manifestations) are polar opposites in quality. When it comes to playing music, many people are motivated by both of these energies (in varied proportions).

But one is always superior to the other. Love ultimately triumphs over fear. Fear may have great urgency and intensity, but love has endurance and strength. (And yes, it has its fair share of urgency and intensity, too.)

I’ve known this on a cognitive level for many years, but it wasn’t until I began to study (and to teach) the Alexander Technique that I became so acutely aware of this truth. And most recently, the experiences I’ve been having with one client in particular have really brought this truth to the fore. So here’s what happened.

Some months back I began to give Alexander lessons to a well-known, highly respected brass instrumentalist here in the Los Angeles area. (Because of the nature of his condition, and his professional reputation, I won’t reveal his identity).

This student came to me because he was diagnosed with a neurological condition known as focal dystonia.

In essence, “task specific musician’s dystonia” is a condition in which the primary muscles involved in playing a particular instrument (in the case of my student, it is his “embouchure” muscles) tense in unpredictable (and hence, uncontrollable) ways only while playing the instrument.

This diagnosis of this condition has been viewed as a career ender for many musicians, as there is no known “cure”.

But that is beginning to change, as more and more musicians are finding their ways back from focal dystonia to performing well again (including me .)

I won’t go here into what these new treatment options are, but I can tell you one thing for certain: Every musician that is able to rid him or herself of focal dystonia (or at the very least, effectively manage it) does so because he or she fundamentally changes the attentional process involved in playing music. (That’s where the Alexander Technique can be helpful.)

Besides working with me, the student I mentioned above is also working with a wonderful brass pedagogy coach who is experienced in helping musicians with embouchure dystonia.

Both she and I ask our client lots of questions, so as to best understand his thinking. (After all, it is his thinking, in particular, his quality of attention while playing his instrument, that is possibly one of the causes of focal dystonia, and at the very least is most likely exacerbating his problems with the condition.)

In the case of my client, there was a period early in his career when he was playing music primarily from a place of love: Love of the sound of his instrument. Love of sharing his interpretation and expression through music. Love of his musical imagination. Love of the brilliance and beauty of great musical compositions, and the feeling of being a part of helping these compositions come to life.

During this period he practiced diligently, and achieved a good amount of professional success. But he was not quite where he wanted to be in his career, so he decided to go back to music school (graduate program at a highly respected institution) and intensify the study of his instrument.

That’s where things began to change.

In grad school the emphasis began to shift in regard to playing his instrument. It went from the joy, love and musicality mentioned above, to an almost purely athletic (physical) pursuit in order to gain consistency in brass playing.

A major aim of his post graduate training was to be made aware of all the potential “trouble spots” in various repertoire for his instrument, and to learn how to avoid them through specific training and “physical” brass pedagogy exercises.

On the surface this seems good. It certainly seems reasonable. But something came along with this kind of approach that was not anticipated nor wanted: Fear began to slowly obscure love in his music making process.

At first this new training seemed to serve him well. He cultivated a level of consistency that he needed to land him bigger, more challenging and prestigious jobs.

Unfortunately, that success came with a price, with some unintended consequences.

He began to develop certain beliefs about what was necessary for consistency on his instrument (many of them involved creating lots of excess muscular tension and effort). These beliefs put him into a very rigid place with his attitude about playing his instrument, and with his quality of attention as he played.

As time passed, his motivation to play gradually morphed from, “I love to play”, into, “I’m going to do what I need to do to avoid mistakes”. He moved from a love based music making energy, to a fear based music making energy.

To make a long story short, this is when the focal dystonia began to rear its ugly head. It was a gradual deterioration that eventually caused serious trouble for him.

But the good new is, things are improving dramatically for him these days. Between the excellent work he is doing with his brass pedagogy coach, and the skills he is cultivating through the Alexander Technique, he is finding an entirely new, constructive way to think about playing his instrument.

His brass pedagogy coach and I have one principle in common when interacting with him: shifting the emphasis from fear based playing to love based playing. It is a thrill for me to experience the joy and hear the beautiful expression of his love based playing.

He is rediscovering the very things that motivated him to begin playing music in the first place. He’s also rediscovering how effortless it can be to play music beautifully and expressively. (This is one area in particular the Alexander Technique helps with.)

But the bottom line is that he is reconnecting to the love, and leaving the fear behind. If he stays with the motivation of love, things will continue to get better. No doubt in my mind.

You need muscles to play music, and love speaks to your muscles in a fundamentally different way than fear:

Love is expansive. Fear is contractive.

Love accepts and discerns. Fear rejects and judges.

Love breathes easily. Fear gasps and holds its breath.

Love is curious and playful. Fear is narrow-minded and deadly serious.

Love is thankful. Fear is ungrateful.

Love finds possibilities. Fear places its concern on what is not possible.

Love forgives. Fear holds grudges.

Love looks at the unknown as an adventure. Fear looks at the unknown as a threat.

Love is flexible and yielding. Fear is stiff and rigid.

Love welcomes opportunities to serve. Fear sees service solely as an obligation.

Love asks. Fear demands.

Love reaches out. Fear withdraws.

And so on….

So what motivates you primarily when you practice and play music? It’s a good idea to remember what thrills you about playing. Stay with that. You have the power to choose. Choose love.

Rhythm, Coordination And Technique

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One of the most common misconceptions about gaining technical fluency on a musical instrument is that it is mostly about being able to move quickly. Fast fingers, fast hands, fast tongue, etc. (depending on which instrument you play).

And for sure, when you see a musician displaying stunning technique, you are going to see various body parts moving rapidly.

But technical skill is more than just speed. It’s control. It’s the coordination between intention and execution. And that’s where time and rhythm come into the picture.

When I teach the Alexander Technique to musicians I’m always reminded of this. Without fail, every technical limitation (whether in the moment, or chronic) that my students demonstrate can be traced to a lack of rhythmic clarity. This lack of clarity manifests itself as an uncoordinated technical effort: unsteady tempo (rushed or dragged notes within a single phrase), missed notes, uneven color, uneven attack, etc.

But here’s where it gets interesting, because often the poor rhythmic clarity is being exacerbated by poor overall coordination. This is mostly a manifestation of habitual, excess muscular tension: stiff necks, shoulders, arms, hands and rib cages; locked knees, noisy breathing and more.

And (as anyone who has ever taken lessons would tell you) this is what the Alexander Technique is especially helpful for. You learn how to recognize and prevent these unhelpful habits.

As I get farther along teaching the Technique (and applying it to myself as a saxophonist) I develop a deeper understanding of this inseparable relationship between rhythm and coordination:

As my sense of time improves so does my technical skill. As I improve my overall coordination, my sense of time and rhythm improve. One hand washes the other.

Alexander Technique teacher and cellist, Pedro de Alcantara, in his excellent, highly practical book, Integrated Practice, speaks at great length about the connection between bodily coordination and rhythm. One of his talking points is that musicians need to aspire to not only play rhythmically, but also, to live rhythmically (i.e., in a well-coordinated way). I couldn’t agree more.

This morning I was giving a lesson to a fine professional guitarist here in Los Angeles. He’s been studying with me for nearly two years, and has considerable skill applying the Alexander principles to playing his instrument.

He was working on a very fast bluegrass style piece in his lesson with me, and was having difficulties on one particular passage. As we took time to workshop the tricky part, I asked him, “What are you noticing here in this part compared to how you’re playing in the rest of the piece?”

As he took time to investigate, he answered, “Well, I notice two things: First, I’m tensing my left shoulder a bit in anticipation of the ‘hard part’. Second, my conception of the time and rhythm is not as clear as it is in the rest of the piece. It’s almost like I loose my imagination of the pulse and the groove that I had going into this part.”

So, he simply reminds himself not to tense his shoulder (and to let his neck be free), then slows down the tempo a little on the piece to clarify and reintegrate his rhythmic conception with his new coordination. He practices it a few times with this new thinking.

When he is confident that he is keeping his tension in check, and that he has a uniform rhythmic clarity throughout the entire piece, he brings it back up to tempo. And…problem solved.

You see, it’s not that my student needed to move his fingers and hands faster to play this fast passage; it’s that he needed use his hands in such a way as to have them serve his rhythmic imagination. In essence, he was lacking evenness in playing the passage. He was lacking coordination.

I teach my students to work with themselves the same way I do as I work on technical challenges. Always aiming to bring my bodily coordination into sync with my rhythmic imagination, and vice versa. I’m pleased with the results.

So here’s a few things to work with and/or keep in mind to help you with this:

Check your tension-Where are you holding? What are you doing that you don’t need to be doing as you play? Check your neck, jaw, and shoulders. Are you stiffening in anticipation. How are you doing in your legs? Are you knees free or locked? Give yourself a moment to consciously let go of some of that unnecessary tension.

Clarify your rhythmic imagination-Make sure you’re “pre hearing” the passage you’re going to play as vividly as you can. Slow it down if you need to. (If you’re improvising, it’s not quite as simple as this, but that’s the subject of another blog article). Sing the passage. Using spoken words (for example, “hippopotamus” can be used as a verbal representation of a quintuplet; “wonderful” is a good one for triplets, etc.) is great for helping you strengthen and clarify your conception. (In Indian classical music rhythms are learned and memorized vocally, by using specific syllables.) Make up a list of words that you can use to help yourself.

Be clear on the pitches-Is the sequence of notes clear both in your ear and your mind. Take some time to know it well. Again, don’t hesitate to slow the tempo to do so. (Singing the sequence is very helpful here.)

Listen to what you’re actually playing-Try not to get caught up into what you think it should feel like to play. Notice where you lose the continuity of your rhythmic conception. Is it in certain range of your instrument? Is it when rhythms shift (e.g., going from triplets to sixteenth notes)?

Connect your imagination to the outside-Use a metronome. Listen to the metronome very carefully, especially as it relates to your internal sense of time. This is also a part of listening (see above).

Investigate-When you find yourself getting stuck on a particular technical passage (whatever the tempo), take time to make sure that you haven’t lost your rhythmic conception. (This is a good time to use your words.) Also, see that you’re not tensing up again. Keep refreshing the thought (the wish) to remain free and easy. Trust in this process to address your problem.

So if you want to increase your dexterity, velocity and technical control, work on cultivating the connection between what you imagine (rhythm, pitch, time, expression) with what you’re doing in your body. Best wishes!

Jazz Improvisation: To Metronome, Or Not To Metronome?

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There are a variety of opinions out there on the value (and the pitfalls) of using a metronome when you practice jazz improvisation. The great pianist, Paul Bley, for example, thought using the metronome was a bad idea, something that limited the natural ebb and flow of real, human time feel. Whereas the great saxophonist and improviser Warne Marsh used it regularly in practice. (Both were absolute masters of time and rhythm.)

I’d like to offer some of my ideas and experiences in using the metronome for practicing improvisation. Specifically, why, when and how I use it.

Let me start by saying what the metronome is not. It is not your time feel. Your time feel is part of your internal creative process. Your imagination, if you will.

One of the objections that Paul Bley, Mike Longo and many other musicians (all of whom I deeply respect) have voiced about using the metronome is that it can create a false, rather stiff time feel.

And I would agree that if you’re using the metronome as a time feel source, you’re robbing yourself of the opportunity to develop your internally generated time feel, which is crucial to your free self expression.

One of the more controversial topics with respect to the metronome is how to use it when playing a swing feel in 4/4 time. There are many who recommend setting the metronome at the half note to click on beats 2 and 4 (the “backbeat”). The primary reasoning behind this is that it emulates and strengthens the swing feel.

Then there are those who adamantly oppose setting the metronome on beats 2 and 4 when playing a swing feel. They would say that the great jazz players are not thinking in this “back beat” kind of way, but rather, are thinking more about the time in a different, sometimes broader way.

Some are thinking of beats 1 and 3, so as to always know where the time/form really is. Others like the idea of thinking just about the downbeat of “one” in each measure.

And yet others think even more broadly than that (thinking/feeling multiple bars at a time). This, they claim, gives them more freedom with the time and the feel, as well as better control of their ideas. (Im my experience, I completely agree.)

I don’t like the idea of trying to “cultivate” the swing feeling from the metronome (I doubt that you can, actually). I think the best way to do that is by listening to the music. A lot. Your swing feel (or any other stylistic feel) is developed internally (again, it’s part of your imagination) largely through listening. Listening to (and possibly emulating) the great masters of jazz will do so much more than a metronome could ever do to teach you to swing.

So what is the metronome? It’s an external time source, one that is (although adjustable) completely unresponsive and unyielding. It simply expresses tempo, measured in “beats per measure”. Nothing more.

Contrast the experience of playing with a metronome to that of playing with other musicians. You still have to listen for (and respond to) an outside time source (the other musicians). But the difference is that it is being created from moment to moment (and you’re part of it). Everybody you’re playing with is putting their “tempo/feel imagination” out there into the collective sonic whole.

If you’re playing with good musicians, there is a sense of give and take between you (the improviser) and the rhythm section (in both tempo and feel).

And even if you’re playing with bad musicians, you still have to deal with how your perception of tempo and feel lines up with theirs.

Either way, you’re in a constant state of balancing the internal (your impulse/imagination) with the external (the collective tempo and feel of the ensemble).

To do this well you must be able to listen and respond effortlessly. That’s where the metronome comes in handy as a practicing tool. The metronome is constantly challenging you to deal with what you generate in your imagination with the reality of its clicks. It doesn’t much matter that the time is rigid. It’s just time. It’s not your swing feel.

Of course, If you don’t like to use a metronome, you can instead use backing tracks (which are very affordable, practical and decent sounding these days).

I do use backing tracks from time to time, but I find myself doing the bulk of my improvisational practice with just the metronome. Why? Because the metronome also challenges me to use my tonal and harmonic imagination that much more.

For example, if I’m improvising over a standard song form, I must imagine and feel the form of the tune, the harmonic colors and contrasts, voice leading, the melody and more. By using the just the external stimulus of the metronome’s click (no chordal instruments, no bass), I’m having to bring these other thing to life internally. By doing so my imagination becomes richer and freer.

I tend to use the backing tracks after I’ve spent lots of time on a particular tune with only the metronome. I’m always pleased with how clearly and vividly I can imagine and hear what I’m playing in relationship to the the rest of the “band”. This establishes a kind of confidence that encourages me to play with much more risk and adventure when I play with other musicians.

I use the metronome in a variety of ways, often changing where the click is in relation to the time and form. Here are some of my favorite settings for improvising over standards and other chord based forms:

On the first beat of each measure-I probably use this the most. I’ll do this in 4/4 and in odd times as well. It’s a great way to feel time in a broader sense. This is especially helpful at fast tempos (it makes them feel much slower, calmer and clearer).
On the first and third beat of each measure-I do this most particularly on tunes or chord changes with which I’m not very familiar. It helps to really solidify the time/harmonic form.
On the second, third or fourth beat-I’ll intentionally displace the click in order to challenge my sense of the harmonic form. (I do this after I’m very familiar with a tune or set of changes.)
On the upbeats-I think of the click as being not the downbeat, but the upbeat (usually I think of it as the up beat of 1 or the upbeat of 3). This strengthens and clarifies my sense of the downbeat. (Again, this is something I do when I’m very familiar with the form).
On the second and fourth beat-Yes, I enjoy the playing with the “hi hat”, too. It’s fun. Plus, practicing way this at very fast tempos insures that I won’t “turn the time around” when playing with a rhythm section (no matter how fast the tempo may be).
Playing intentionally in front of or behind the click on any of the above mentioned metronome settings-This isn’t easy to do, but it sure frees up my time feel and rhythmic imagination, as well a clarifying my internal time sense.
Without the metronome-And of course, it’s great to play without an external time source. I’ll either play in time (my own perception of time), or rubato. Both are essential to developing my skills as an improviser.

The most fundamental information I want with respect to using the metronome is to always know where the downbeat of beat one is. If I know and can anticipate that clearly, both my time and my feel are solid.

Also, as a rule, the fewer clicks the better. For example, if you can easily improvise over a tune at half note equals 80 (whether clicking beats 2 and 4 or 1 and 3), change the setting to whole note equals 40. And so on. Doing so helps broaden and strengthen your time perception. (I virtually never set the metronome to click on each beat, no matter how slow the tempo is.)

So how much do you (or should you) use your metronome when you’re practicing improvisation? If you find that you struggle to improvise with good, clear time when playing with other musicians, you probably need to spend more time with the metronome.

On the other hand, if you regularly use a metronome (or other time source, like a backing track) when you practice improvisation, see how you do without it. If you find it difficult to play with the same freedom of expression and confidence, then you might consider spending less time with it.

Whichever the case may be, keep in mind what the metronome is, and how you can best use it.

The Technique That Has Helped Me The Most

Practice, Growth And Love

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As I’ve become better at parenting (I have a 17 year old son and a 2-and-half year old daughter), I’ve also learned some important lessons about my attitudes about my musical progress and development.

Notice that I said, “as I’ve become better at parenting”, meaning I’ll never really perfect that skill. I’ll just continue to learn and improve and grow as a parent, mistakes, setbacks and all. And I’m perfectly fine with that.

I can say the same thing about my skills as a musician.

Before having children, I had a very harsh and unbalanced way of assessing my musical skills and perceiving what I needed to improve my playing. Never for a moment satisfied with what I could already do, I had rigid and unrealistic expectations of what I should be able to do.

But since having children what has changed is that I’ve learned to approach and respect my musical growth, potential and development in the same manner I do with my children’s growth, potential and development.

I would never talk to my children the way I used to talk (think) to myself when I was frustrated or unhappy with my musical progress. That would be cruel (lots of thoughts about “wasting your time trying”, “lacking fundamental ability and talent”, “you’re playing horribly”, or simply, “you just don’t have what it takes.”) Hurtful language, indeed.

Yet I encounter many musicians who carry such hostile thinking with them into the practice room. (I can tell you from experience, both as musician and teacher, this kind of thinking ultimately doesn’t help.) If you are such a musician, I offer you this advice: Treat yourself and your musical pursuits with love, in the same way you would a loved one in your life.

And if you have any experience as a parent, treat your musical growth as you would your own child. Allow me to explain.

I would like for my children to be able to reach their fullest potentialities. But I also love and accept them just where they are in their development. I’m satisfied with them. I take great delight in seeing what they can already do. Time, guidance, resourcefulness, discipline and love will lead them in the direction of growth and improvement. Same with me and my music.

So yes, of course, I want my 2-and-half year old daughter, Julia, to learn to read. But I don’t find anything “fundamentally lacking” with her right now because she can’t. She’s right where she needs to be. (I could go on forever here about what she can do that I find so amazing.)

This doesn’t mean that I never get upset, frustrated, or angry with my children. (I do, from time to time; that’s part of the parenting experience.) It’s just that I give my children the respect for their sense of self-worth that they deserve. I’ve since learned to give myself the same respect with regard to my musical practice. I encourage you to do so, too.

If you know that you’re a bit harsh and negative with yourself, and never satisfied with your progress as a musician, here are a few thoughts to keep in mind that might help:

It’s okay to want to more than what you have now (more sound, better technical control, greater improvisational skills…whatever), but it’s not okay to berate yourself for where you are in your development.
It’s okay to recognize and celebrate the skills you already have. You have to find joy along the way in your pursuit of excellence. It’s not being lazy or arrogant to say to yourself, “That sounds good. I like how I played that.”
Be mindful of your self talk. Learn to soften your tone and to encourage yourself, the same way you would a beloved child. Keeping a practice journal can be very enlightening and helpful in this regard.
Strive to continually clarify and understand your potentialities as a musician. Avoid comparing your natural abilities and talents with others. It’s all about striving towards realizing your potential, not somebody else’s.
Hold yourself to high standards. Just make sure they are your standards, based upon your abilities and talents. Expect the best from yourself, and apply discipline (fueled by passion) to keep you aiming high and working hard.
Love and fear are strong motivators. In my experience, love is the more powerful, expansive and durable of the two. Motivate and energize yourself from a place of love and inspiration, not fear.
It’s okay to be on the “wrong path” from time to time in your musical pursuit. Progress is virtually never a straight line. And no, you didn’t waste your time on that wrong path (perhaps trying a new technique or approach that ultimately turned out to be unhelpful). You simply strengthened and illuminated your conception of the “right path”.
Cultivate gratitude. Just like it’s a blessing to be a parent, it’s a blessing to be able to play music. Please never forget that.

So in your practice, I wish for you to approach yourself and your growth with compassion, joy, acceptance, curiosity, humor, and love. Just like my children have taught me. I continue to improve my skills and expressive capabilities as a musician. But I’m happy with what I have, and find satisfaction and joy each day as I practice.