Tag Archives: Practicing Music

Jazz Improvisation: To Metronome, Or Not To Metronome?

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.

Warming Up: Integrating The Internal With The External

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Playing music is largely an internal process. Tonal conception, rhythmic conception, pitch and expression are all things that begin inside your imagination as you play (if you’re improvising, perhaps even more internal impulses and decisions are at work).

Yet ultimately these internal stimuli manifest themselves in the external environment in order to make the music that you and the rest of the world can hear. From conception to physical expression. From internal to external.

And of course, you’re getting feedback from this external world, which constantly informs ands conditions your internal world as you play. You hear your sound, pitch, tempo, dynamics…as well as any of the other musicians with whom you’re playing. All this information is going back to you to affect your internal world.

In my experience teaching the Alexander Technique to musicians, I often find either an imbalance, or a disconnect between the internal and external. This is the source of many difficulties for these musicians.

Everything from excess strain, to chronic injury, to focal dystonia, can be caused by (or exacerbated by) this disintegration. (The condition of focal dystonia in particular can usually be traced to an over-emphasis of the internal.)

I see the greatest amount of evidence of this problem with my students as I observe (and ask questions) about what they do to warm up. I’ve found that it is this “warm up” habit that sort of sets the stage for many of their other problems.

These musicians see the warm up as an almost exclusively “physical” activity:

“I’m getting the muscles loose and the blood flowing.”

“I’m waking up my fingers.”

“I’m opening up my breathing.”

“I’m setting my up embouchure .” And so on. (You’ll notice that these things are mostly internally experienced.)

Now, to be clear, certainly part of the warmup is about something physical (blood flow, muscles, etc.) A good warm up can help you avoid injury, and can also help create the conditions for you to play with greater efficiency and less strain.

But the warm up is not just a physical activity. As F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) might say, warming up is a psycho-physical activity. It involves the whole self: thought and movement integrated together.

The students I encounter that are struggling with their playing tend to focus too much attention on one aspect of the internal. This mostly involves trying very hard to re-capture the feeling (or the memory of that feeling) of what it is like to play well. Their energy is going inward almost exclusively. Often they’re not hearing themselves nearly as well as they could.

And of course, because they’re not hearing themselves as well as they could, the troubles begin. Pitch, tone color, projection, time, breath control…Coordination in general begins to suffer. They can sense and even hear that things aren’t quite right, yet they continue to go inward to try to feel the right thing. (This creates a downward spiral of frustration for many musicians.) The more disconnected they become from the external, the more deeply internal they go.

This over-focus on one aspect of the internal also cuts them off from other crucial information in their internal environment. Specifically, the attempt to recapture the feeling of playing well tends to create lots of excess physical tension, especially in the neck, jaw, shoulders, ribcage and legs (not to mention hands and fingers!)

Often this excessive tension is below the consciousness of these musicians. It simply becomes part of the “memory” (distorted as it my be) of playing well. Yet this tension is making it even that much more impossible to play well (to play at an optimum level).

So what to do? First, change your perception of what you’re trying to accomplish in your warmup.

In my own practice as a saxophonist, I’ve radically re-designed my warmup. I’ve shifted my aim from merely “warming up the muscles” to “integrating the internal with the external.”

Here’s what I do:

I start my practice session by lying down for a few minutes in constructive rest. This gives me a chance to quiet myself and bring a gentle awareness of what’s going on inside my body as I stay connected to my external world.

Next, I pick up my instrument, and sort of freely improvise for a moment or two as I begin to wake up my senses. I notice the resistance of the reed and mouthpiece, the movement of my breath and fingers (my internal world).

As I’m doing this, I’m also hearing my sound by actively listening to the walls resonate in my practice room (my external world). That is, I’m not trying to feel what my sound is (or even hear it come out the bell of the instrument), but to actually hear it.

From there, I begin to do some slow work with the metronome (playing very simple melodic patterns that I know very well). I do this because it brings my attention to an external time source, and is a way to integrate my internal perception of time with the external reality of the metronome.

As I’m paying attention to the clicks of the metronome, I’m beginning to expand my attention. I start to notice and direct the release of my neck and shoulders. I sense the easy, elastic expansion of my torso as I breathe. I become aware of the vibrations in my face as I play, and more.

All of this as I am actively listening to my sound in the room and the clicks on the metronome. (Sometimes I’ll rhythmically displace the melodic pattern with the metronome clicks so that I must listen even more actively.)

After a few moments, I begin to increase the tempo of the metronome, all the while paying attention to the other things I’ve mentioned above. It is so easy to do this, and within minutes I’m fully ready to play anything. Psycho-physcially ready. My muscles are warm, my mind is calm and alert, and I’ve now easily integrated the internal with the external to create one thing: my consciousness in playing music.

In essence, cultivating this skill (of integrating and balancing the internal and external) has been the very thing that has saved my career as a saxophonist. My playing continues to improve and grow.

So how is your warmup? Are you expanding or narrowing your attention? If you practice expanding your attention, you’ll effortlessly play with a nice balance between the internal and external. And that’s where you’ll find the great music that’s already inside of you.

A Potentially Bad (Yet Highly Popular) Bit Of Advice About Your Fingers

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“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

-Mark Twain

The words above are especially true when it comes to musical pedagogy. There are lots of myths out there (often in the form of simple advice) that are based on a misunderstanding between cause and effect. These myths often prevail because they seem, on the surface, quite logical.

And that’s where the problems begin.

The one I’m talking about here specifically is this: To play a woodwind instrument (though I’ve read/heard the same thing about string instruments and piano, as well) with optimum speed and efficiency, you must train your fingers to stay close to the keys.

On the surface this seems logical. For you to play passages rapidly and with control, there needs to be an efficiency of movement. Ideally your fingers need not move any more than necessary to open and close keys.

And more often than not, if you witness a musician playing with great speed and control, this is what you’ll notice in the fingers. Like a well-trained athlete…economy of motion.

Lately I’ve seen several videos online where very good saxophonists are advocating this idea, even giving specific instruction on how to train the fingers in this manner. As much as I respect these musicians, I don’t at all agree with their advice in this area.

Here are four reasons why not:

First, there is a misunderstanding of what actually leads to the efficiency of your fingers. When you see somebody playing with the fingers flapping up and down like crazy while playing, what you are witnessing is excessive muscular tension. The fingers are going too high, for example, because the player is tensing them (over-extending) to bring them there. As they come back down to the keys they often do so with a thud (again, too much tension as the fingers flex).

You see, efficiency of the fingers (staying close to the keys) is a result of the balance between tension and release. The fingers flex lightly to come toward the keys, and release to come off of the keys. As they release they don’t move very far. Sometimes they even keep in light contact with the keys. So get rid of the excess tension, and the fingers do no more nor less than what they need to do.

Second, by trying to hold the fingers close to the keys and limit their movement, you’re mostly replacing one type of unnecessary tension with another. (Please note that the operative word here is “hold”, as in “hold the fingers and not let them be free to respond and move“.)

Third, this over emphasis on one part (the fingers) divides and disintegrates your attention as you play. It also takes away from your ability to sense how each part is related to the whole. For example, if you see a saxophonist playing with stiff and high flying fingers, you can also notice that there is a chain of habitual muscular tension on display: stiff fingers connected to stiff arms, connected to stiff and narrowed shoulders, connected to a stiff neck. This whole pattern really needs to change in order to support economy of motion in the fingers.

Fourth (and perhaps most important), this kind of practice (trying to hold the fingers closely to the keys) can lead to other troubles for some musicians. As an Alexander Technique teacher, I’ve had students come to me with three specific types of problems that have been exacerbated by their obsession with over-managing their fingers as they play: Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, Elbow Tendonitis and Focal Dystonia. Part of what I help these musicians with is to strike a balance in their attention as they practice in order to expand and include more of themselves (and their external environments) into their music making habits.

I have no doubt that the saxophonists I refer to above sincerely believe that they have been helped by their approach and their specific remedies (everything from holding pencils between the fingers while playing, to attaching the fingers to the keys with rubber bands).

To them I would say this: you play very well despite doing that. And to be honest, as I watch them play, I don’t see a huge amount of unnecessary tension in the rest of their bodies (thought I certainly see areas that could improve!)

But I don’t know what they were doing with themselves before they started to practice this way, so it’s impossible for me to know the improvements (and potential harmful habits) that have been gained.

I do know this, however: Your fingers move most efficiently when you leave them alone to do so. If you have clear intentions about the music, a good sense of time and a nice balance of tension and release in your body as you play, your fingers will do the right thing easily, without self-concious effort.

So if you notice your fingers moving “too much” as you play, stop and observe. Are you raising them through release or tension? If you notice that you’re tensing your fingers, trace that to what your arms, shoulders, head and neck are doing. If you’re finding lots of tension in these areas, it just might be the right time to find a good Alexander Technique teacher 😉 You’d be amazed at how much more efficient and effortless the entire music making process can be.

The Technique That Has Helped Me The Most

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I’ve been playing, composing and teaching music for nearly 40 years. In that time I’ve come across many different approaches to improving what I do. Nothing has come close to helping me as effectively and as completely as the Alexander Technique.

I came to study the Technique after struggling with some serious coordination problems that were threatening my career as a saxophonist. I was so impressed with how I’d been able to help myself with the work, that I decided to commit to the three-year training program necessary to become qualified to teach (completing my training in 2006). It was easily the best decision I’ve ever made in my musical life.

Everything I do in my musical practice is informed by the Alexander Technique. I would even say that I approach composition and improvisation with the Alexander principles very close at hand. And of course, the Technique is at the heart of what I teach when I’m teaching musicians.

So what is the Alexander Technique?

In the simplest (and most practical) sense, the Alexander Technique is a way to learn to recognize and prevent unnecessary (and potentially harmful) muscular tension in any activity. (This alone is quite helpful for musicians!)

But I would also say that it is a a way to more effectively connect thought with action. Clear intention combined with efficiently directed muscular energy leads to a highly satisfying musical experience in both practice and performance. This clarity between thought and action also makes me a more effective, and more authentic composer and improviser.

The Alexander Technique is the technique I apply to all other musical techniques, whether I’m working on tone, articulation, velocity, reading, or improvisation. Anything, really. My brother-in-law, Celio (who’s also an Alexander Technique teacher), calls it the “pre-technique” to any activity. I couldn’t agree more.

Here are eight ways the Alexander Technique helps me the most in my work:

1. It provides a lens through which to evaluate good coordination. In Alexander slang, we talk about the primary control, which is the working relationship of the head, neck and back. This head/neck/back relationship conditions the quality of everything we do in our movements: breathing; using the mouth, lips, tongue and jaw (as well as the other vocal mechanisms); using the arms, hands and fingers; sitting standing and walking; the eyes…as I said, everything.

The primary control is the lens through which I discern and evaluate all my (and my students) movement habits as they pertain to playing music. By learning to stop interfering with the natural coordination of this primary control, I (and my students) play with greater ease, efficiency and control.

2. It places the emphasis on the quality of the process. Rather than aiming only for specific results (with no consideration to how best to attain them), the Technique helps me grow my faith in working by principle, using reason and discernment, always aiming for a good use of primary control (see above). This not only helps me play better, but also, keeps me from harming myself as I play. As long as I take care of the quality of the “how” in what I do , the end takes care of itself.

3. It helps me to improve by doing less. This is perhaps the most important principle I’ve learned. I’m playing better than ever not because of what I’m doing, but rather, because of what I’m not doing (my old habits of excess tension) as I play. Addition by subtraction, as the cliche goes. I see far too many musicians making their playing more difficult by adding yet more things to “do” in a forced and unnatural way (breathing and embouchure are prime examples). No need for this added effort.

4. It teaches me when (and how!) to stop. To me, this is the most essential skill for a musician to have during a practice session. Learning to strategically stop and redirect my thinking has helped me improve more than anything. By doing so I prevent myself from reinforcing the habits that are interfering with my playing, and give myself the means and opportunity to truly change.

5. It provides tools for self-care. Constructive rest, breath work, taking care of how I use myself (in all my activities) have helped me significantly to practice music without pain or worry of injury.

6. It helps me maintain a better balance between the internal and the external. I’ve greatly improved my ability to stay connected to internal things as I play, like sensing time, imagining pitch and tone color, following my creative impulses, and what’s going on with my body; with external things like hearing my sound, hearing the other musicians, and my visual and spatial senses. This balance of attention (rather than the imbalance of over-focusing on certain things at the expense of ignoring others) has deeply enriched my musical experience. (It has also improved my pitch, sound, time and creativity.)

7. It helps me observe and improve my thinking. If I’m facing a particular challenge as I play, I immediately go to my thinking. When I ask myself, “Where are your thoughts going as you play this?”, I usually find that my thoughts are not supporting what I’m trying to do as I play. So I simply redirect my thinking. Improvement always follows. As an improvising musician, this has been especially helpful.

8. It clarifies my understanding of cause and effect. There is plethora of useless, even harmful, pedagogical information out there for instrumentalists and singers (much of it disseminated by highly respected musicians with limited knowledge of anatomy and physiology). By understanding how I work best in nature (again, see primary control, above), I can easily filter out the bad information, and stay with what truly works. I get a clearer idea of how “A” influences (or doesn’t influence!) “B”, so I can more accurately answer the question: Am I playing well because of what I do, or despite what I do?

Besides these eight, there are even more ways the Alexander Technique has helped me. I just wanted to list a few of the ones I personally consider most essential. By staying with the Alexander principles, I continue to develop a set of tools that I can use with confidence and consistency.

I’ve also enjoyed the privilege of teaching the Technique to a variety of musicians, from jazz artists, to Indian classical musicians, to musical theater performers, to principle players in symphony orchestras and more, with measurable benefits. It is remarkable work. I encourage you to find a good teacher and give it a try.

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.