Musicians come to me for Alexander Technique lessons for a variety of reasons, but typically it’s because they’re experiencing a lot of unwanted tension (and often pain, too) as they play their instruments. Since they know I’ve been successful in applying the Technique to solve my own problems as a musician, they invariably ask this question: “What does it feel like to play music without all that excess tension?”

They are often surprised (and sometimes annoyed) by my seemingly evasive answer: “I don’t really pay much attention to how it feels.”

Of course, they press me on this subject. “So you purposely ignore how you feel when you play?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. I easily sense what’s going on in myself and include this into my consciousness. But I don’t let the  feeling of what I’m doing guide my efforts. I realize that what I feel is a result of how I’m directing my thinking. So I want to stay with directing my thinking in such a way as to play my best, and that includes playing with much less tension and effort than I used to create habitually. I’ve learned to trust my thinking, and so I simply acknowledge and enjoy the feeling of playing my instrument.”

As they press me further, it becomes clear that what they really want is for me to describe what it feels like to play now, as opposed to my “pre-Alexander” self. Fair enough. This is the answer I give: “To play now it feels practically opposite of what I thought it would feel like to play freely and easily before I started taking Alexander lessons.”

Practically the opposite of how I imagined it.

This is an important thing to keep in mind when changing your habits.

F.M. Alexander said that, because we are so strongly guided by what our habits feel like, when we actually do something different, even though it might be better for our purposes, it will very likely feel wrong. He described this as having a faulty sensory awareness.

And it is for this reason that it’s not a good idea to be guided by what you feel when you are trying to change your habit. Instead, you’d be better served by being guided by what you can discern. Guided by your thinking, so to speak.

Musicians are strongly conditioned in their habits by their perception of what it feels like to be in control of their instrument. Yet sadly enough, the very efforts some musicians employ to control their instrument become the habit that makes control more difficult, if not impossible.

Then a vicious cycle begins. You start playing with too much tension in an effort to control your sound, time, technical facility, pitch, etc. You actually start having a harder time controlling these things (because of this tension), so you start misdirecting your energy further, adding even more tension and effort to playing your instrument. This takes you even farther from control and confidence.

After a time you begin to believe that you have to use all this effort to get control over your instrument. Yet the more you try, the worse things get. This begins to develop certain unhelpful, yet strong habits.

And the cycle continues, sometimes until pain and injury step in to tell you in no uncertain terms that it’s time to do something different.

Well, if you’re going to do something different with your playing habits, remember that you have to let go of being guided by what it feels like to be in control.

In my case, I would have perceived the feeling of actually being in better control over my instrument as being out of control. Too soft, too mobile, too flexible. This doing more work, that doing less work. This part moving, the other part being still, etc.  All wrong, if I were to be guided by the feeling of my habits. I would have never let myself feel that way, because it would have felt like I couldn’t even play the saxophone.

And this is where the Alexander Technique comes in. As I began to study and apply the Technique, I learned to be guided by reasoning and discernment instead of feeling. What is necessary and what is not to play my instrument. Never mind what it feels like. What am I actually doing (in contrast to what I think I’m doing) as I play? Is this helping me, or making things harder?

As time passed I began to greatly attenuate my habits of tension, and in doing so, began to gain real control over my instrument again. And of course, how it feels to play is much different from before. But as I said, I don’t pay much attention to that feeling. It doesn’t at all feel strange to play now, by the way. It actually feels quite wonderful: fluid, dynamic, easy and free. Because it actually is.

Where our habits are concerned, often what we want is not real change. We want to do the same thing the same way, but somehow with better results (that was Albert Einstein’s definition of insanity). We want it to feel the same way minus the excess tension and pain. That can never happen.

So realize that you probably have no idea what it feels like to play without all your habits of tension (nor should you care). That, in fact, it might feel quite wrong (even though your playing would be considerably better). Don’t  hold onto your preconception of feeling. Find yourself a good Alexander Technique teacher and learn to trust your thinking instead to find highly favorable, consistent results.

“In the mind of the expert, the possibilities are few. In the mind of the beginner, the possibilities are infinite.” -Ryo Suzuki

It is natural for us to want to know. It’s what fuels our growth, our curiosity and our inspiration. Without knowing certain things, life itself would become quite difficult, if not impossible.

But sometimes we don’t know something when we think we do, and that’s where problems can arise. We anticipate the outcome of certain things based upon our erroneous preconception of what we believe to be true. This often manifests itself in lots of misdirected energy.

I’m speaking specifically here about how you perceive yourself as you play music: how you anticipate, measure and dispense your energies in relation to the music making process.

One of the more interesting things that I notice when I return from vacation (after not playing my saxophones for a week or two) is how different that first day of practicing is. I often find myself being able to do things technically that I couldn’t normally do before. Why is that?

Well in the simplest sense, it’s because I “forgot” that I couldn’t do these things. It’s been a couple of weeks and my preconceived limitations have sort of slipped from my memory.

Many of my music students report a similar phenomena: that first day of practice after a vacation, where anything is possible. As many of these students also report, by the second day, the magic is usually gone, and they’re back to where they were before (or maybe even a bit worse, being “rusty” from missing a couple of weeks of practice).

But it doesn’t have to be that way. You can use this as an opportunity to observe the quality, and amount, of effort you use as you play music, and contrast this to what you do normally (habitually). What I and many of my students find is that we are creating far less muscular effort to play our instruments on that first day after vacation. (Again, probably because we’ve “forgotten” how much effort we need to play.)

Instead of having a knowing mind, we approach our instrument with an inquisitive (unknowing) mind. This is probably helped along by the fact that we are giving ourselves a chance to sound bad. After all, it’s been a couple of weeks, so no big deal if it’s not up to snuff. Often, having this kind of resignation has the effect of letting us let go of misdirected effort.

So when I come back  to practicing after a brief hiatus,  I use this phenomenon of not knowing to set a new benchmark for what is possible in my playing. I use it as an opportunity to observe my thinking. I notice, not so much what I am thinking, as what I’m not thinking.

As an example, I find myself not anticipating rapid passages with any sense of preparation (no unnecessary brain chatter). I’m just letting myself play. Same with playing in the extreme registers of the instrument. In essence, I stop “getting ready to play.” I simply play, and discover as I go along, how much effort, how much tension, how much energy I need.

And I aspire to carry this attitude into my playing each day, maintaining the my beginner’s mind.

Usually what I do at the start of my practice session is to produce a sound on the saxophone with as little effort as possible. This usually means that in the first few minutes I get no sound, other than the air going through the mouthpiece (not vibrating the reed.) As I begin to increase my energy, coupled with my intention, I gradually begin to get the reed to vibrate, and I learn how much effort is necessary in that moment, in that room, with that particular reed, to create a sound.

From there I continue to gradually increase my efforts until I’m getting a sound that pleases me. Just the right amount of effort to express my sound. All because I let myself discover, not knowing until I get there. I approach my technical work the same way. How little effort does it take?

One of the aims of the Alexander Technique is to help you learn how to gauge the appropriate amount of tension for an activity (musical or otherwise),  by observing the relationship of the head, neck and back.

When there is too much effort, the neck usually tenses and shortens, which causes the back to narrow and stiffen, which then interferes with everything else (hands, breathing, mouth…you name it). Alexander called this head/neck/back relationship the primary control, as it is primary in conditioning the coordination of the entire organism. (Both my teaching and playing experience confirm this principle to be true without exception.)

In the Alexander Technique, you learn how to carry out your activities without this tension. As you do, you discover again. You discover over and over that you can do things with even less effort than you thought. It is a life long journey of discovery.

You never really know how little effort it ultimately takes to play your instrument (or do anything else, for that matter). You learn only that you can always do less, and that as you do less, you get so much more.

So whenever you have these instances of seemingly effortless playing, playing that is beyond what your normal limitations are, observe your thinking and your body. Notice how free your body is, how much less tension than normal you are bringing into the music making process. In particular, notice your neck, shoulders and back, see how freely they work together. Notice how easy, mobile and confident your balance is.

Then go back to noticing your thinking. How are your thoughts different than when you normally play. Make a real study of the differences. Keeping a practice log is especially helpful for this. The muscular effort you create in your body is a direct result of your thinking. Improve your thinking, liberate your playing.

Some years back, after I’d been studying the[ for a couple of years, a friend of mine, George McMullen (a highly accomplished trombonist), came to hear me play saxophone at a concert in West Los Angeles. He hadn’t heard me play in quite a while (since before I started studying the Alexander Technique).

After the concert ended, George came to talk to me and said, “You’re sounding great, but very different from the last time I heard you play. What are you doing differently?”

I remember answering him, spontaneously and without hesitation, “The real difference in my playing is not because of what I’m doing. It’s because of what I’m not doing.”

And that’s about as truthful as I could be. You see, what I wasn’t doing anymore was playing with all my old habits of tension: I wasn’t tightening my neck as I pulled my head back and down into my shoulders. I wasn’t tightening my left shoulder as I pulled my arms in toward my rib cage. I wasn’t thrusting my pelvis forward. I wasn’t locking my knees. I wasn’t clenching my jaw to produce my sound.

I was playing well, playing better than before, because of the sum total of what I wasn’t doing. F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) said, “If you can stop doing the wrong thing, the right thing will do itself.” This turns out to be especially true in the act of playing music.

By playing my saxophone without my habits of tension, I become free to play in such a way that is in concert with my human design. I Become free to direct my energies most efficiently toward the act of producing a sound, and otherwise playing my instrument. And the results, as my friend could hear, are palpable.

And as I continue to teach the Alexander Technique I’m rewarded with seeing remarkable improvements in musicians as they learn the art of non-doing. Practically any musician, on any instrument (including voice) can improve how they perform by following this principle.

An example that comes to mind most recently is my experience teaching a young violist who plays in the local youth symphony. He came to me (as do an alarmingly growing number of young musicians) because of chronic tension and pain. His condition was worsening to the point that he couldn’t practice more than a few minutes without experiencing rather significant pain and muscular exhaustion.

As I observed his playing in our first lesson, I could see the manifestations of the tension that was causing his problems: stiff neck with his head pulled forcefully downward onto his instrument; left shoulder being pulled tightly upward and inward (impinging the muscles at the shoulder joint); breath being held; torso being twisted and held rigidly too far back; knees locked as his legs stiffened.

Though these are different things to observe, they’re all really part of one entire pattern of tension that is brought about by my student’s reaction to the thought of playing his instrument.

So I proceeded to help him the same way I helped myself (through the principles of the Alexander Technique). I helped him to become aware of all the unnecessary “doing” he was bringing into his playing (tension!), then I taught him how to change his thinking so he could stop doing so much (playing without so much tension and misdirected effort).

This is a process that takes persistence and time to make lasting changes. (But lasting changes are made!) He has to keep coming back to his tendency to go into his habit of tension, then make a conscious decision to not indulge in his habit as he proceeds to play his instrument. Simple in principle, but not always immediately easy to carry out. Again, persistence and time.

It’s been a few months since I started working with this student, and already things are much better for him. No more shoulder pain. No more neck pain. No more exhaustion. And what makes it all even better, is that his sound, intonation, technique and even his artistic expression have all noticeably improved.

So at our last lesson, in which my student was playing particularly well (easily, expressively, joyfully), I asked him if he could tell me what is different about how he was playing now in contrast to how he played before taking lessons with me. He, too, without hesitation answered with a list of things he wasn’t doing anymore: “I’m not scrunching my neck; I’m not pinching my left shoulder; I’m not twisting my body downward; I’m not locking my knees…” And so on.

He (like I was/am in my Alexander learning process), was very clear about why he improved, and that improvement had a great deal to do with non-doing. When he stops doing the wrong thing, beautiful, expressive, easy music is free to come forth.

And that’s the way it always is with musicians (and non-musicians) who study the Alexander Technique. They become very clear at why they are improving, at what they’re not doing anymore.

So if you notice yourself playing with great effort, notice yourself stiffening up as you play, feel blocked expressively, feel unstable as you make music, or lack confidence in your playing, consider the idea of non-doing. Notice what kinds of tension you begin to create in yourself as you go to play, and simply ask yourself if it helps you play better, or interferes with your playing.

Understand that all the the necessary skills to play your instrument well are already there, waiting latently. All you have to do is stop doing the things that interfere with this skill.

Of course, you can be greatly helped with this by a skilled Alexander Technique teacher. Consider taking a series of lessons from a qualified teacher. Allow yourself to discover the value of non-doing, and experience the possibility of positive change.

“There is no such thing as a right position, but there is such a thing as a right direction.”

F.M. Alexander

One of the traps that many thoughtful musicians can fall into is that of trying to recreate physically what it looks like to play efficiently. They see a musician perform who is playing with what appears to be “effortless efficiency”, and they aspire to imitate that musician’s physical gestures: postures, hand and arm positions, placement of the facial muscles, placement of the fingers on the instrument, etc. But what they are doing, in essence, is confusing cause and effect.

They’re looking for the “right positions”, as Alexander mentions above.  Keep in mind that the thing that always precedes physical expression, is thought. Alexander described the thinking that precedes and maintains an activity as being an individual’s direction.

So what you’re really seeing when watching a masterful, effortless musician perform is that musician’s direction. You’re witnessing the physical manifestations of his or her thinking during the music making process.

Much of this is a result of good training for sure, but it is also a reflection of the attitude of the musician. Anticipated effort brings forth effort.  Anticipated ease invites ease (and confidence!) This anticipated ease usually has certain identifiable gestures, many of which appear as a sort of efficient stillness: No excessive jaw movement, no fingers flying all over the place, no raised shoulders, and so on.

But if you go directly for trying to look this way without examining the thinking that supports it,  you run this very serious risk: Creating excessive effort in an attempt to appear effortless. (Yes, I did mean to say it that way.)

If you’re a saxophonist, for example, and were to watch many of the great technical masters of the instrument, from Charlie Parker, to Michael Brecker, to Marcel Mule play, you’ll notice that their fingers appear to hardly move at all from the keys (in fact their entire bodies seem to hardly move as they play). So you might say, “Aha, to get that great kind of speed and control I need to keep my fingers close to pearls.”

But what often results from trying to keep the fingers “close to the pearls” is a huge amount of tension and unnatural playing gesture. When saxophonists go after this directly, I often see them holding their fingers into place at the expense of tightening their necks, arms, wrists and backs. (These are sometimes the musicians who come to me for help because of the “mysterious” physical pain they are experiencing from playing their instrument.)

When you see really efficient, effortless saxophonists play, you’re seeing an interdependent chain of gestures that are the result of a clear and helpful thought process. There is no holding of anything in place. Just letting things move the way they need to move to support the best results. Lengthening and widening (through release) of their physical structure as they play. Good direction.

So of course the fingers aren’t flying all over the place. That would be inefficient, tense movement. Of course you won’t see the shoulders tightening up around the neck. That, too, would be tense and inefficient movement. (Not exactly lengthening and widening of the physical structure, if you know what I mean.)

If you were to trace this chain of events it might be something like this: Fingers staying relatively still and connected to the keys because the hands are staying soft ,supple and responsive; because the hands are being supported by arms that are freely balanced and releasing out of the back; because the neck is remaining free and mobile allowing the head to balance on the spine.

Fingers, to arms, to back, to head and neck…all determined by the quality of thought that precedes and supports it. Again, good direction is the cause. The effect are the physical gestures. (And do you notice that these gestures primarily involve release and mobility, not tension and position?)

There is a stark difference in quality between dynamic, efficient stillness, and stiff, self-conscious and limiting control of movement. No matter if they appear the same at first glance.

So if you want to play like the masters, don’t try to look like they do. Don’t go after their gestures directly. Instead, emulate how they think (their direction): ease, efficiency, expansion, mobility, balance, lightness, confidence and joy. Get clearer about your habits of tension, and work toward lessening them. Get to know what helps you and what doesn’t.

By better understanding the relationship between thought and gesture, you better understand the kind of cause and effect relationship that leads to continuous improvement.