Tag Archives: Practicing Music

A Few Tips For Improving Your Sight Reading Skills

Being able to read music well at sight is a skill that just about any musician in any genre should aspire to. The really good sight readers I’ve played with not only play the music reasonably accurately at first sight, but also, they tend to be able to really make music out of it, really make the notes jump of the page.

In my work as primarily an improvising saxophonist, I wouldn’t say I devote the attention (both in work and practice) to sight reading that say, a pit orchestra musician might. But I do work on keeping my reading skills in decent condition. Even in my musical world it makes playing with others nicer for me and for them. I waste less time struggling with the notes, plus I’m able to find music in the notes more readily. Win/win situation.

So at the request of some of my students, I thought I’d offer some suggestions about improving your sight reading. Some of these suggestions are things that you need to practice, and others are things you can do immediately to improve your reading.

All this assumes you already have a good grasp of music reading fundamentals. If you don’t, take a class, find a book, find a teacher or get a friend to help you get started on you journey to becoming literate in the notated language of music.

IN THE PRACTICE ROOM

It probably comes as no surprise that those who read well spend a good deal of time reading. It’s as simple as that. So here are some suggestions about what you can practice to improve:

  • Become a master of time-Work with your metronome on very slow, easy pieces. Learn to really listen and feel the time. Wait for the time; don’t anticipate. Pay attention to yourself primarily, keeping your own ease, breathing and balance in mind as you do so. You cultivate great habits of reading in performance by doing so.
  • Become a master of rhythm-Keeping the rhythmic flow going as you read is of top importance. The best sight readers I know will sometimes play the wrong pitch, but rarely ever play the wrong rhythm. And if they do, they keep the whole thing flowing along, never being put off track by their mistakes. This rhythmic flow not only keeps the “illusion” of accurate sight reading, but also, it keeps you engaged in hearing and responding to the music in the most helpful way. Two very good basic books for improving your reading of rhythms are, Modern Reading Text In 4/4 Time, by Louis Bellson, and, Rhythm Reading, by Daniel Kazez. Working with, and understanding, polyrhythm and polymeter can also significantly improve your sight reading ability. (I have an eBook available that methodically introduces and explores polymeter, entitled  Essential Polymeter Studies in 4/4.)
  • Construct and practice from your own sight reading book-Put together a huge book, maybe an inch or two thick of things to sight read. Find pieces that run the range from exceedingly simple and easy, to more challenging, all the way to somewhat beyond your comfort zone (or even your ability), and organize them from easy to difficult. Make a commitment to play something from the book every day. Try to find pieces that are short, so even if you don’t have much time you can still play several pieces in various keys, time signatures, styles, etc. The internet is loaded with great resources for free, downloadable music in a multitude of genres.
  • Practice paying attention to the details-Find pieces that are fairly easy to play rhythmically pitch-wise,  but have loads of articulation, dynamic and form challenges (complicated road maps). Aim toward seeing and paying attention to these details with the same sense of priority you give to pitch and rhythm. Learn to cultivate the ability to see all the detail of the music at once.
  • Sing-Practicing sight singing is a great way to improve your instrumental music reading. It gets you to really absorb the material on the page and immediately turn it into meaningful sound. Not only will this help you with your pitch-reading accuracy, but also, it helps you sound confident and musical as you read.
  • Practice music that is not for your instrument-This is a great way to challenge your reading at less than ideal ends of your range and to address technically “awkward” movements on your instrument. I’ve seen some pretty decent readers fall apart the moment the piece starts spitting out a bunch of notes in the extreme range of their instrument. It’s not like they can’t play it. It’s just that they sort of “give up” trying to stay with this ocean of perceived “difficult” notes. Don’t let that stuff throw you off your game.
  • Transpose-If you play a transposing instrument, like saxophone, you have to be able transpose some things at sight. And even if you don’t it’s a great way to get your brain taking in and processing the information on the page at light speed. Do this everyday and discover how easy it is to read flurries of sixteenth notes that you don’t have to transpose. It works.

WHAT YOU CAN DO IMMEDIATELY TO IMPROVE

Whether in the practice room, playing a gig, or sitting in at a rehearsal, here are some ways to help you work optimally:

  • Pay attention to yourself-Really. Always aim to play with ease and balance, and as you read music, don’t let yourself be pulled away from that ease and balance. In particular, avoid tensing your neck, shoulders and back, and make sure that your breath is flowing readily. This will help you to maintain a state of psycho-physical well-being which keeps you in the best condition to deal with the unknown (the music!)
  • Scan the music before you play-Make it a habit of looking carefully (as time permits) at the music before you play it. Notice the fundamentals first: key signature and time signature (and if they change!), repeats, road maps (D.C., Codas, etc.), dynamics, etc. Then see if you can notice any potentially tricky passages and give yourself a few seconds just to take the information in. You’ll be pleasantly surprised at how this transforms your confidence and execution when the group starts actually playing the piece.
  • React differently to your mistakes-When you do make the inevitable mistakes, try not to lose your good balance (see above). Remember to be easy with yourself, let your neck, shoulders and back stay free, as well as your breath. By not flinching every time you make a mistake, you allow yourself to keep the musical flow. Very important. This is also something you can begin to apply in the practice room. When you learn to let your mistakes go, you play better.
  • Trust your judgement-Don’t assume that the player next to you is right and you’re wrong when you enter at different times in the piece, or otherwise seem like your not in sync. This is where some fairly decent readers sort of fall apart. Their confidence is turned inside out. Remain close to your reasoning and discernment, and don’t be afraid to be right.
  • Stay in touch with your sound and pitch-Often you can tell when somebody is reading simply because their sound becomes strange and tentative. Allow your sound flow out with confidence and self expression. Let those wrong notes be supported by a beautiful tone and good intonation. You’ll be amazed at the difference that makes in how you sound.

So there you have it. A few of the key things I put in practice to make me a better sight reader. I think they can help you, too.

An Important Thing To Keep In Mind When Changing Your Habits

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.

The Possibility Of Change Lies In Every Moment

Happy New Year! Since this is my first post of the year, I’d like to talk about something specific to the topic of the coming of the new year: making resolutions.

It has become quite a tradition to sit down and think about what we could be doing better in the coming year, whether it’s practicing music more, eating more fresh fruits and veggies, or even deciding to finally take Alexander Technique lessons.

And of course these are all good things. But is there a drawback to making New Year resolutions?

My brother-in-law, Celio, never indulges in this tradition. He tells me, “Anything I wish to change in myself, I can start changing in this moment. I don’t have to wait for an arbitrary marker in time  like the New Year to begin.”

If you ask Celio what’s wrong with making these kinds of resolutions, he says, “Because it takes you out of your responsibility for the present moment. It stops you from realizing that you have the power of choice in every moment.”

Just to be clear, I like New Year resolutions (I actually think Celio does, too; I think he’s mostly speaking from principle.) These kinds of resolutions usually reflect values and ideas that we’ve been pondering for a good while, and the ritual of making a “resolution” is like a making a ceremonial commitment to carrying out our wishes.

Some resolutions are things that really do require planning and a great deal of reflection, things that can’t (or shouldn’t!)  be done in the moment.

For example, if you are a completely deconditioned, overweight person with a history of knee injuries, whose New Year resolution is to run a marathon, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go out for a 5 mile training run without first checking in with your doctor, finding a good running program/coach, etc. You need to think first and take action later.

But how many other types of resolutions do people make that could be started in any moment? I’d like to be kinder to my work colleagues. I’d like to be more available to my children. I’d like to eat only whole foods. I’d like to improve my ear musically.

These are decisions you can make in any moment to begin to take action to achieve your goal. You don’t have to wait for anything.

In fact, if you were to take the marathon running example from above, you could even start planning in that very moment. I’ll call my physician’s office right now to set up and appointment. I’ll do some research to find a good running program.

As I examine my own unfolding urge to improve and grow as a musician, I sometimes find myself waiting for certain points in time to take action. Whenever I catch myself doing so, I ask this simple question: Why am I waiting?  

Often I’m surprised by my own answers to this question. Sometimes the answers make sense. After all, for example, it’s a good idea to commit a reasonable amount of time gaining mastery over one simple component of a more complex musical exercise, before plunging right into the complex part. You have to put the horse in front of the cart, so to speak.

But more often than not, my answers don’t make much practical sense. They simply reflect a habit of avoidance and procrastination.

And that’s good news for me. Because once I realize my habit, I’m free to change it. (That’s an essential principle and value of the Alexander Technique.)

So in my music practice, I let myself to begin anew at any moment. I stay willing to alter my course, drop my agenda, step into the unknown, even open a can of worms if need be. I really need to improve my facility in altissimo. Start now. I really need to feel more comfortable improvising in unusual meters. Start now. I’d really like to learn how to get a darker sound in the upper register of my saxophone. Start now.

Begin the entire process of change in this very moment.

Some of the music students I encounter are waiting for something to happen. In doing so they get stuck into the rut of their routine. With jazz musicians it’s sometimes spending too much time learning the language of other  jazz artists before exploring and developing their own language. Start now, I tell them. Don’t wait to find your voice. Discover and develop your language as you learn the language of others.

With many other musicians (including jazz musicians) it’s sometimes procrastinating dealing with habit. One of these days I’m going to start really paying better attention to how much strain and effort I bring into my playing. I sometimes feel blocked when I play. Start now, I tell them. Use this moment to notice, to decide to change. And then continue from there.

So make your resolutions for the New Year (as I have), but let me offer you this as a possible resolution: I’m going to look at every moment as an opportunity to change. You’ll be surprised at how liberating this can be, and how positively productive as well as satisfying it can be, as well.

To quote the great artist, Charlie Parker, Now’s the Time.

Wishing you all the Best Year yet….

Think More And Play Less To Optimize Your Practice Time

I’ve been reflecting lately on how the structure and quality of my saxophone practice has evolved over the years since discovering the Alexander Technique. I think every serious musician can look back and notice the change in process and approach to their practice routine. Much of this evolution takes place because of edification (refining or eliminating ineffective efforts) , some of it because of change in perceived need (taking on new musical challenges, styles, interests, etc.)

Though the particulars of my practice continue to change to serve my ever emerging aesthetic impulses, the biggest change in my practice has been in approach. In any given amount of practice time, I’m simply playing less than I used to. Way less.

So what am I doing (if not playing) when I practice? I’m taking time to really think about what I’m doing.

This manifests itself in the following ways:

I stop much more frequently than I used to. This is key to all my improvement. I do this to give myself a chance to process what I’m doing, and to make sure that I am doing what I think I’m doing. By always allowing myself to stop at any point in my practice (mid-note, mid-phrase, mid-exercise, or?) I keep myself in a constant state of receptive fluidity and flexibility. It gives me a sense that I am always in control of what I’m doing. That I’m acting out of choice, and not simply habit.

I listen carefully to what I’m hearing in relation to what I’m thinking. It’s easy to get stuck into either hearing yourself at the expense of not noticing what’s going on in your body, or paying too much attention to what’s going on in (usually) one part of your body at the expense of not really hearing yourself. The idea is to integrate what you hear with what you sense in your body as a whole, integrated process. For me this means to always “observe my thinking” as I listen to the music I’m making. What am I thinking when I play well? When I’m not playing so well? Am I doing what I think I’m doing?

I rehearse things mentally before I play them. There are huge gains to be made by just taking a moment to mentally rehearse something before playing it. It gives me a chance to experience the thought process necessary to best produce the music. I can pre-bulid the neuromuscular pattern without any habits of tension that I might bring into the actual execution of the music. This becomes a natural process in thinking that I bring into all my performance and practice.

I rest much more. In a one-hour time period, I will probably take 3 or 4 mini-breaks (1 to 4 minutes) completely away from my instrument. I seem to do this every 10 to 15 minutes. If I’m practicing multiple hours in a row, I’ll also take a 5 to 10 minute break every hour to lie down in constructive rest. Besides helping my avoid injury and strain, it keeps me feeling receptive and present (fresh!) for the entire practice period. I’m able to really absorb things much more effectively this way.

Some of the smaller details of my approach show up as things like: really listening to the metronome to internalize the tempo before I start playing; pausing between key changes when I’m working out a particular scale or arpeggio pattern; taking time to imagine my pitch before I play my long tones or overtones; stopping completely between one exercise and the next to check in with myself and redirect my efforts and intentions.

Less playing, more thinking. Time well spent.

When a musician comes to me for Alexander lessons, I always want to observe his or her practice process. So during one lesson I’ll ask them to just practice they way they normally would for about 15 or 20 minutes as I observe without interrupting them.

What I usually see is nonstop playing, divided thinking, and escalating effort. If it’s a string player there usually isn’t even a pause. If it’s a wind instrumentalist there is usually lots of gasping going on as they jump right back into the fray over and over again, each time with ever increasing tension. (Keep in mind that many of these students have come to me because of chronic pain from playing their instruments.)

So one of the first things I get them to do is to learn how to stop (not always an easy thing for some). Once they’ve learned how to stop, they can learn when to stop. And this starts the process of positive, lasting change. Not just in the area of pain and tension management, but aesthetically as well. They learn to really hear themselves deeply as they play, and connect what they hear with their entire selves, body, mind and spirit. They replace habit with choice.

So how do you practice? How much do you pause to think, to really listen, to really understand what you are doing with yourself as you play your instrument? Do you feel exhausted, or exhilarated after a typical practice session? How much silence is there during a one-hour practice period?

I know that it might seem counterintuitive to stop so much during your practice, but that’s the beauty of it. It takes you out of the real time demands of performance to give a chance to think, to notice, to assess, to, well…practice.

Research has shown that to learn something,  it is not simply a matter of how many times the thing is repeated so much as the quality of attention used to practice the thing. Perhaps this is why many of the great virtuosi practice less than  many of us might think.

I remember reading about the great trumpet virtuoso, Rafael Mendez. In an interview, towards the end of his still brilliant playing career, the interviewer asked, “Do you still practice 5 to 6 hour a day?” He answered, “No, I only practice half that amount these days, but I really listen to myself.” Playing less, thinking more.

Want To Improve Your Jazz Playing? Take A Style Vacation

The language of music. The language of improvisation. The language of Jazz. The language of Bach. The language of Lester Young….What does it mean exactly when we refer to something in music as a language? It certainly means different things to different people.

To some it implies something immediately distinguishable, yet flexible and changing. To others it might mean an exact codification of patterns, harmonic ideas and melodies…”licks”, as it were. I think we use the language metaphor because in music, as in speech, we are hoping to express ourselves, and be understood by others in a clear manner.

It seems natural for anybody studying a particular genre or style of music to spend an extraordinary amount of time studying, listening to, transcribing and analyzing music particular to that genre or style. And for sure, this is a reasonable place to start in order to absorb the so-called “language” and “logic” of the music.

But one of the wonderful things about the modern, living, continuing-to-unfold jazz tradition, is that there is so much room to absorb new languages. Jazz has a rich tradition of this.

Think back to the many different stylistic elements jazz has absorbed: gospel music, field hollers, rural blues, broadway show tunes, modern classical composition, Latin music (everything from Afro-Carribean to South American and beyond), Rock and Roll, Gypsy music (and other ethnic folk musics), just to name a few.

Something that the vast majority of modern jazz innovators have in common was (is) their deep and active interest in music outside of the jazz idiom. Artists such as Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Charles Mingus, Lennie Tristano and Ornette Coleman listened to and studied a vast array of music outside of anything that could be called jazz: from Bach, to Bartok, to West African folk music, to Chinese opera, to Indian classical music, to…

And all of this study and listening added to the uniqueness and expansiveness of their artistic output. It is partly why we find them so unique, so compelling.

So If you have a fairly good handle on the basic elements of jazz improvisation, such as rhythmic control, playing comfortably over chord changes, knowing some standard repertoire, etc., here’s something to consider to make your improvisational language richer, more distinctive and personal: Take a style vacation.

Take a few weeks or even months getting away from actively listening to jazz. Completely. Find some another type of music that lights you up, and spend some serious time with it.

It doesn’t matter what that music is, as long as it is something that really speaks to your heart and mind.

But don’t just listen to the music, study it. Transcribe pieces and solos, and analyze them. Improvise from these pieces as well. Find musical ideas you like and put them in all 12 keys. Absorb the language of articulation, time, Harmony (where applicable) and feel of the music you’re studying. In essence, do what you did (or are continuing to do) with your jazz studies.

I also suggest taking a vacation from practicing jazz. Instead, practice learning to improvise in your newly chosen idiom. Don’t worry, your jazz playing won’t get worse. In fact, it will get ultimately much better. Here’s why:

  • You are still engaging your brain in the process of improvisation. The “imagination-to-ear-to-sound” skills are still being called upon in a big way.
  • You are developing a different way of thinking about note organization. Again, this is a brain skill that you will bring into your jazz playing with (what I predict) surprisingly good results.
  • You are learning to hear music in a different way. If you transcribe, as I’ve suggested, your ears will get huge.
  • You are expanding your conception of rhythm and articulation.  Though at first it may seem foreign to your jazz playing, it will ultimately enrich and expand it. You will absorb this new time/articulation feel into your jazz playing, and make it a part of your personal language.
  • You are learning new forms to improvise over. Whether you are working with closed-ended bar forms, open-ended forms, such as modes, or just free, thematic improvisation, you’ll really broaden your jazz concept by becoming fluent improvising in your new idiom.
  • You are learning to imagine your jazz improvisational language in a broader context. Remember that you’ll be bringing your improvisational skills as a jazz musician into a new idiom. This in itself will help you to think differently about how you play.

I have spent various periods in my practice career taking these kinds of diversions, these “style vacations”. Amongst them studying: Balkan folk music, the music of Charles Ives, Cajun folk music, the music of Bela Bartok, Astor Piazzolla and Hank Williams.

I’ve looked at these different kinds of music deeply, with real passion and curiosity. I’ve never consciously tried to apply a single idea or element I’ve absorbed from studying this music, but I always notice how richly different my jazz playing becomes when I return to my jazz studies.

So give yourself a break from your continuous pursuit of the jazz language and style. See what emerges. You might be very pleasantly surprised.