Tag Archives: Practicing Saxophone

One Of The Most Overlooked Elements Of Effective Sight-Reading

One of the absolute best sight readers I’ve ever had a chance to play with (a saxophonist by the name of David Hughes) had a saying about reading even the most difficult music at sight:

Sight-reading is as much an attitude as it is a skill.

And it is.

There is a good deal of agreement amongst highly skilled sight-readers that the most important thing to address as you read music for the first time is time and rhythm.

And I agree with this wholeheartedly.

If you play a few wrong notes, but “keep it going” (maintain that forward motion of the time as expressed through rhythm) you’re not only going to help the music along, but also, you’re going to increase your chances of playing the correct pitches.

Learning from a master

I can remember playing with David Hughes, as he would single-handedly hold an entire saxophone section (of good players!) together by his sheer will and his powerful sense of time.

But there was something else that he held in his attitude that made him such an effective and highly musical sight-reader.

It wasn’t so much what he did, as it was what he didn’t do when the rest of the saxophone section was struggling with a beastly new composition:

He didn’t interfere with the flow of his sound energy.

No matter how far he was stepping into unknown territory, no matter how daunting, no matter how complex (and even unfamiliar) the rhythms, no matter how dense the ink on the paper, he simply never lost the intention nor the intensity of his sound.

The rest of us, on the other hand, would sometimes just sort of fumble with our sound, lose the strength of our intentions, lose our presence. We would do this by interfering with the production and flow of our sound as we read the music.

We four saxophonists would shrink (so to speak) while we played, as David Hughes would continue to expand.

Now, don’t misunderstand. It’s not as if the bottom would drop out of our collective dynamic volume. Truth be told, there wouldn’t be that much of a noticeable change in volume.

No, it was more subtle than that. It would be as if the life force of our individual and collective sounds just became slightly imprisoned. As if all of a sudden it had lost its suppleness and color. Our collective sound became somewhat brittle.

It was the sonic manifestation of doubt, this doubt itself being manifested through our bodies.

Of course the sad irony here is that this doubt made the wrong notes and rhythms sound even more…well, “wrong”. Our mistakes became strangely amplified, whereas any mistake David would make became virtually insignificant. A beautiful illusion, of sorts.

How about you?

And that’s how your thinking can impact your functioning in any given moment, during any activity.

Whatever you do in your body as you play music (or do anything else, for that matter), is a result of your thinking. In the case of sight-reading, it’s your response/reaction to the thought of playing the music in front of you.

Learning how to change your response to better serve your wishes is at the heart of the Alexander Technique. A large part of my work when giving Alexander lessons to musicians is to help them notice their habitual reactions from moment to moment as they play.

As they learn to respond with clearer, more constructive choices, they simply play better (and feel better, too!), as they interfere less and less with their own sound energy.

To be clear, when I’m talking about “sound energy” I’m not talking only about “airflow”, as in the case of a wind instrumentalist or singer.

I see instrumentalists of all instruments reacting in ways that interfere with their sound energy as they fall into doubt: violinists who lose their luster; pianists who lose the warmth in their touch; guitarists who lose the color and resonance of their plucked strings.

And so on.

No matter what instrument you play, there is always something that happens, when you lose your sound energy: You begin to stiffen and tense yourself unnecessarily.

Sometimes this stiffening is strong and easily noticeable, but just as often, it is subtle and almost imperceptible.

But all your habits of stiffening, whether mild or violent, have one thing in common: They are some form of you holding on to yourself. Holding onto yourself instead of letting yourself be pliant, balanced, free and constructively responsive.

In holding on to yourself like this, you are also holding on to your sound, not letting it release into the air.

This “holding on” is the essence of what interferes with your sound energy, with your intention, and with your expression as you are reading something at sight.

So what can you do to address this?

Here are a few ideas/tips for you to consider:

Observe yourself-Notice how you respond when you are sight-reading something difficult. In particular, notice what you do with your neck, shoulders and jaw. No matter what instrument you play, if you tense and compress your head into your neck, narrow your shoulders and/or clench your jaw, you’ll interfere with not only your sound, but also, your technical facility. See if you can notice this pattern of tension as it manifests itself through your whole body.

Practice saying “no”-Once you’ve noticed your habits of tension, work on gradually attenuating them. Think to yourself, “As I play, I’m not stiffening my shoulders and neck. I’m allowing myself to be free and present.”

Find your weak spots-What kinds of things make you tense up most when you sight-read? Complex rhythms? Extreme ends of your range? Awkward and/or unfamiliar keys? What are the kinds of reading challenges that invite you to “go wrong” in your reactions? Find out what they are and work systematically to improve. By doing so, you’ll weaken the temptation to react unconstructively.

Work on your sound energy everyday-No matter which instrument you play, conscious work on tone production is essential daily practice. Long tones, slow, melodic phrases, overtones, etc. Your ability to get your most resonant and expressive sound needs to become second nature, without any thought to how it is done mechanically.

Practice sight-reading everyday-As obvious as this sounds, I’m still amazed at the amount of musicians who seek my help with this who do the vast majority of their sight-reading while playing in ensembles. While this experience is excellent, spending time every day reading something new is absolutely essential, not only for your ability to read the notes, but also, so you can direct yourself in such a way as to keep your habitual tension in check. Here are some specific things you can do to improve your sight-reading.

Practice keeping your sound energy front and center as you sight-read-Besides working on long tones, etc., also practice reading simple to moderately difficult music every day as you shift your focus to your sound energy.

By noticing your response, by being intimate with your sound, and by developing strong time and rhythm, you’ll help transform you attitude and your ability as a sight reader. Instead of shrinking when you step into the unknown, you can learn to expand. I’ll leave you with another quote by sight-reader extraordinaire, David Hughes:

When in doubt, shout it out!

Let me know what you think.

Something You Do When You Practice That Is Always A Good Use Of Your Time

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If you practice patience in one moment of anger, you will escape one hundred days of sorrow.

-Chinese Proverb

Serious, daily musical practice is something that is loaded with speculation and second-guessing. Lots of “should’ve, would’ve and could’ve”, as my father would say.

Whenever I’m giving a practice coaching session to a musician, the topic of practice efficiency is always punctuated with concerns of “wasted time”:

“Maybe I should’ve spent more time on this, instead of that.”

“If I would’ve done this, instead of that, I could’ve achieved my goal sooner.”

And so on…

And this is a fair concern to have, for obvious reasons. Aimless, misdirected practice neither satisfies nor improves a dedicated musician.

But practice efficiency is, in of itself, a lifetime quest. It’s not something you master. It’s something you just get better and better at (if you’re dedicated to improving your process).

I would say that I practice with a high degree of efficiency these days: clearly defined goals, with an effective prescription and implementation of work to attain these goals. I can accomplish a good deal in a relatively short time during my practice session.

Yet I still occasionally find myself, if not “wasting my time” on certain things, at the very least, not working as efficiently as I could and would like to.

Having said that, there is one thing I do in every practice session that is always a good use of my time. I do this many, many times during any given practice session, yet I still don’t do it often enough.

What is it I do?

I stop.

Yes, I simply stop. I pause.

I practice (as the Chinese Proverb above states) being patient.

Now, to be clear, I don’t hesitate. I pause. There’s a difference.

Hesitation is not a choice. Pausing is. Hesitation is usually accompanied by doubt, tension and restriction. Pausing is accompanied by clarity, release and freedom.

What do I do when I pause? Mostly, I redirect my thinking. This redirection can take shape in a variety of ways.

Sometimes, I just need to take the saxophone out of my mouth, and to put my entire self back into neutral for a moment.

I do this when either:

I sense myself accumulating more tension than I’d like to have as I practice a particular thing. Or, when I’ve lost the clarity of purpose, the clarity of thinking, that I know is necessary for me to gain something useful from whatever I’m practicing.

Just letting go of the instrument, letting my arms fall lightly to my sides and asking for my shoulders and neck to release back into length. Very simple.

It’s absolutely amazing how easily I can get back on track, and get right back to constructive, mindful effort during my practice segment by taking time to do this.

So how long to I stop for? However long it takes. Usually it’s a matter of just a few seconds.

But whenever I choose to stop, I always keep the promise I made to give myself time. To not jump right back in without redirecting myself. To bring myself back to choice, instead of reaction.

I’m not talking about taking breaks here in your practice routine. You know, 20 or 30 minutes of practice, punctuated by 5 or 10 minutes of rest. That’s all good, too. And that is a big part of my practice strategy/process.

What I’m talking about is the ability to pause many, many times during, let’s say, a 20-minute practice segment.

As an Alexander Technique teacher, learning to stop and choose is a fundamental skill that I encourage and teach to all my students. It’s essential for change.

I too often observe musicians making a mistake (or another unwanted response) as they are practicing something, and then jump right into again without any change in thinking. When this happens, they tend to just do the same thing they did before that led to the unwanted result.

Einstein’s definition of insanity comes to mind here:

Doing the same thing over and over again, the same way, but expecting a different result.

As you can discern, that’s not exactly the most efficient use of time and effort.

Whenever you pause to release unnecessary tension, to refresh your thinking, to reaffirm your intention, you are cultivating the conditions in yourself that are most ideal to learn and to play music. You are moving back into the heart of practice efficiency.

I’ve never gotten to the end of a practice session and said to myself, “I shouldn’t have stopped so much.”

But I do sometimes get to the end of a practice session and say to myself, “I probably should’ve stopped more.”

Often when I stop, I realize, too, that I’ve done enough work for the day on the particular thing I’m practicing, and that it’s time to move on. It’s safe to say that as I get better at stopping, I make fewer and fewer repetitions of any particular exercise. I wouldn’t be able to realize this without giving myself the choice to pause and check in with myself.

And it’s not unusual for me to observe a new client practice for the first time and see all the unnecessary, mindless repetitions that are being made.

Rather than 20 or 30 unclear tries at an exercise in order to develop the elusive (and often misleading) idea of “muscle memory”, replace 30 inefficient, mindless tries with 5 clear and well-directed tries. Not only will you save time, but also, you’ll optimize your efforts.

But a big bonus for me is that all the work I’ve done in getting better at stopping has significantly impacted how I improvise.

Just knowing somewhere in the background of my consciousness that I can stop at any moment if I wish, fundamentally changes my phrasing, as well as my note choices. I discover the music as it flows through me, instead of trying to force it to go somewhere. This always allows me to find surprise and delight as I improvise. A beautiful thing, indeed.

So give yourself a chance to pause more. Work on it consciously. Make it a skill that you dedicate yourself to developing. It’s always time well spent. Let me know what you think!

The Invisible Obstacles To Self Improvement

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“The things that don’t exist are the most difficult to get rid of.”

-F.M. Alexander, founder of the Alexander Technique

Serious musicians are typically filled with very strong beliefs. Beliefs about their pedagogy, beliefs about their equipment, and beliefs about themselves.

Part of my job as an Alexander Technique teacher is to gently and respectfully question the validity of some of these beliefs.

The easy part of this is calling into question things they happen to believe that are contrary to the physical principles of nature, such as what their diaphragm actually does, or about various acoustical elements involved in producing a sound.

Once I explain and demonstrate the science, they become clearer and usually discard their misconceptions.

But the more insidious type of belief that my students carry isn’t so easily discarded: what they believe about themselves.

For the musician, it usually manifests itself in three closely related components:

1. Physical necessity (“I need to do this to play well.”)

2. Learning style (“This is the best way for me to learn/practice to play well.”)

3. Potential (“This is what I’m ultimately capable of doing.”)

I say they’re closely related, because number one will have a significant impact on number two, which will then impact number three.

Now, to be clear, I think it’s wonderful when musicians have a good understanding of themselves, their own learning styles, and their potential. (In fact, its’ something that I aim to help my students improve through the work with the Alexander Technique.)

It’s just that if a musician goes on thinking something about him or herself that just isn’t true, it’s very difficult to change things for the better.

Let’s take for example the, “I need to do this to play well.” Even after I demonstrate the physical reality of erroneously conceived ideas about anatomy/physiology as it applies to pedagogy (as mentioned above), musicians sometimes respond with a bit of a disconnect.

It’s as if they’re thinking, “Yeah, I can see that it works that way in nature, but it doesn’t necessarily apply to me.” Unless I can bridge that disconnect (and I usually can) they will continue to play with much more strain and effort than they think they need.

But it’s the learning style component that can be more difficult to penetrate.

Thinking things like, “I need to practice it exactly this way to get the best result” can turn into a prison of sorts for some musicians.

On the one hand, it comes with an element of truth: You do, to a certain degree (perhaps a large degree), have a good understanding of how you learn and practice best. This understanding has helped you produce some good results.

But you are not yet an authority. Nobody is (including me!)

“Learning how you learn” is a lifelong, ever unfolding, dynamic process. I don’t know exactly how I learn best. Instead, I’m always consciously aspiring to become a better learner.

And I can say with confidence that I’m a better learner today than I was two years ago (but not as good a learner as I will be two years from now).

This involves the underlying assumption on my part that there is always a better way for me to learn something, and hence, a more effective way to practice. I just need to stay curious, inquisitive, discerning (as objective as possible), organized and vigilant.

My false learning beliefs manifest themselves into lots of misdirected practice energy. Far too much time spent on the wrong things, not enough time on the right things.

When this is the case, my desire to improve is not optimally supported by my practice efforts. Simple as that.

Every time I let go of a false belief about how I learn, I move closer to my potential as a musician.

And that brings me to the belief about potential. To be truthful, I don’t know what mine is. I have a good sense of my strengths and weaknesses, my desires and discipline, but this gives me lots of room for possibility.

However, I do have an ever-increasing faith in my potential to to continue to learn, grow, and more clearly express myself musically.

As I let go of previously held misconceptions about my body, about acoustical principles, about what (and how) I need to practice to optimize my efforts, I move ever closer toward whatever my potential may be.

I describe these false beliefs about myself as invisible obstacles, carrying with them a self-fulfilling prophecy that limits my growth. My work with myself is to question them, to bring them into the light.

How about you? What are your invisible obstacles? Until you can bring them into the light, you will continue to be powerfully shaped by them.

Start by questioning things that you perhaps accept as the absolute truth.

Strive to more clearly understand yourself and your bodily structure and human design. Study some basic anatomy as it applies to playing your instrument.

Take an Alexander Technique lesson in order to learn how to use your body in such a way as to optimize your practice efforts.

Study the acoustics of your instrument. Understand your physical role in relationship to these acoustical principles.

But most of all, be ever flexible, curious, open-minded and humble about how you learn. You really have no idea of how far you can go. And that’s a good thing.

Ask Yourself These Four Questions To Make Your Practice Time More Effective

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One of the things that many highly accomplished musicians have in common is the ability to practice in an efficient and effective manner. This is a skill that is cultivated and improved upon over a lifetime.

As a practice coach, my main aim is to connect my client’s desires with their actions. In other words: “What kind of musician do you wish to become?”, needs to be connected to, “What are you doing every day to become that kind of musician?”

As simple as this sounds, I’m still struck by the number of very good musicians who’ve come to me for help who aren’t as clear as they need to be about this. Some are quite frustrated that they’re spending lots of time practicing, but don’t seem to be getting anywhere through their efforts.

Effective and efficient practice comes down to two simple things: prescription (what you choose to practice), and implementation (how you practice what you’ve chosen).

Though there are many variables to consider here, I’ve come to realize that virtually any musician’s practice can become more effective if she/he keeps four simple questions in mind. Here they are:

1. Why am I practicing this? It’s not uncommon for me to ask this to one of my clients and have them struggle to find an answer. This should never be the case. You are either practicing something because of a short-term, “closed-ended” goal/obligation (I need to have this piece ready by next Thursday), or a long-term, “open-ended” one (I’d like to improve my sound). Of course, most of the problems with respect to this lie in the realm of long-term, open-ended goals.

Whatever you’re practicing, make sure you have the end in mind. In the short-term, this is not too difficult (mastering the piece, the chord changes, etc.). In the long-term this means that you need to be always mindful of the musician you are aspiring to become (in as specific detail as possible) and that everything you’re practicing is clearly leading you toward that goal. This means lots of self-reflection, assessment and modification.

2. What would I like to achieve today as I practice this? Have a clear aim in mind every time you set out to practice something. For example, “Today, I want to be able to play this at quarter note equals 142 with the precision and clarity that I know I’m currently capable of.”

Bear in mind that you might not achieve your goal. And that’s absolutely fine. Don’t feel bad about aiming low, either. It is okay to have small, easily attainable goals in your practice session (in fact, I prefer it). Giving yourself a chance to improve in even the smallest degree on a daily basis , not only encourages you, but also, helps you keep things under control and at the highest quality.

3. How am I practicing this? This goes to the core of the Alexander Technique principles of “use”. What are you doing with yourself as you practice this particular thing? Are you allowing your neck and shoulders (and the rest of yourself) to be free and mobile? Is your breathing mobile, expansive and quiet? Are you letting the floor (or chair) support you as you let your neuromuscular system suspend you lightly upwards? The more efficiently you use yourself as you practice, the more effective the thing you practice becomes. It’s a matter of good overall coordination supporting fine motor skills.

Also, you need to give yourself ample time and opportunities to stop. Stop and redirect your thinking. Bring it back to your intention and to your more conscious, improved use of yourself. I’ve seen far too many musicians jumping right from one attempt to the next as they practice a particular thing, with no chance for redirecting their efforts. This tends to bring them within the realm of Einstein’s definition of insanity: Doing something the same way over and over, but expecting a different result. Get better at stopping. You’ll be glad you did.

4. Have I finished practicing this? This is the one that most of my clients struggle with the most. When have you done enough work in this practice session to move on to the next thing? It’s time to move on either because: you’ve reached your goal for the day; or, you’ve done as well as you can reasonably expect for the day.

Learn to move on when the time is right. If you find yourself getting more and more frustrated as you practice something, it’s time to stop and redirect your thinking (see number 3, above). Regress the challenge of whatever your practicing to bring it back into your reach. All you need are a few good experiences each day with a particular skill to improve it. You don’t need to repeat that same scale pattern thirty times over and over in one practice session. Aim for four or five (or even fewer) good, consciously directed takes on a particular piece, then move on.

The clearer your aims are, and the more conscientious you are as you go after them, the more likely it is you’ll improve. These four simple questions can help keep you on track.

Teaching And Learning Music: A Built-In Problem In Exhanging Information

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The longer I teach the Alexander Technique to musicians, the more frequently one particular issue arises: the lack of clarity between cause and effect where practice and technique are concerned. Below is a brilliant description of this potential obstacle to progress:

The players/teachers do what they do; they tell the student what they think they do; the students think they heard what the teachers said about what they think they do; the students then try to do what they think the teachers said about what they think they do.

-Denis Wick, Retired Principle Trombonist, London Symphony Orchestra

Let’s look at this quote in detail.

“The players/teachers do what they do;” Yes, they do. For better or for worse. Truth be told, there are a number of very fine musicians who play well despite what they do. In other words, their misdirected efforts or sub-optimal overall coordination are obstacles that they’ve overcome well enough to let their skills shine through.

“they tell the student what they think they do;” This is often where the confusion begins. It’s a matter of causality versus coincidence. Just because something happens while getting a specific result doesn’t meant that it was the cause of the result. For example, if you do this “thing with your tongue” every time you take a breath to play a wind instrument or sing, it doesn’t mean that “thing” you do is helping you produce an optimal breath. As a matter of fact, it might be even interfering with your breathing.

“the students think they heard what the teachers said about what they do;” So maybe you try to describe this “thing you do with your tongue” to your students, but because of their sensory perceptions/experiences, and how they take in your words, they completely misapprehend what you’ve explained to them. (In essence, they’ve misapprehended your misapprehension.)

“the students then try to do what they think the teachers said about what they think they do.” And the confusion continues. Because the students now “know” what to do, they try to carry it out, no matter how far it is from the original understanding/intention of the teacher, nor no matter how far it is out of accordance with their human design and/or with acoustics.

So now, this “thing with your tongue” that your teacher taught you not only doesn’t help you with your breathing, but also, it’s not even what your teacher thinks it is in the first place.

And this is how a good deal of misinformation is passed on from teacher to student. Some of these students themselves becoming teachers to further perpetuate misconceptions.

So how do you counter this tendency?

1. Question things. Try to understand the cause and effect relationships between specific efforts and results. Doing something a certain way just because a master musician says to do it that way may not necessarily guarantee success. Become a respectful, but healthy skeptic (like some of my favorite students). Same thing if you’re on the teaching side of things. Question why, and understand why, you do the things you do as you play (especially before you tell your students to do likewise).

2. Study the science. The more you understand your design (more specifically your musculoskeletal anatomy and physiology), the easier it is to filter out (or at least re-frame) counterproductive advice. Same with understanding acoustics. If something is acoustically impossible or flies in the face of anatomical reality, you can simply discard it. Aim, as scientists do, to understand the “mechanism” of how and why something works they way it does. (This also applies to the point above about “questioning things”.)

3. Improve your sensory perception. This is where the Alexander Technique comes in handy. You’re often not doing with yourself exactly what you think you’re doing. Part of the study and application of the Alexander Technique is bridging this perceptual gap between what you think you’re doing, and what you’re actually doing.

4. Be wary of words. There can be so much flexibility in the meaning of even the most carefully chosen words. What you read, or are told, may not at all reflect the intention and understanding of whomever read or spoke them. When it comes to teaching and learning highly skilled activities, words without a direct and clear kinesthetic experience can often be misleading for both teacher and student.

So whether you are learning, are teaching, or doing both, staying cognizant of these potential communication gaps between teacher and student can significantly improve results.