Tag Archives: Practicing Saxophone

Awareness In Playing Music: “Looking For” In Contrast To “Noticing”

To improve what you do as a musician, you must pay attention to things in sometimes extraordinary ways.

This is especially true if you aim to change any habits you might have of misdirected effort and energy. To find more ease and efficiency in your body as you play your instrument, you sometimes have to call things into question.

But consciously increasing the awareness of your postural and movement habits as you play your instrument can be a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, if you never become aware of these habits, you’re never going to be free of them (thereby limiting your growth as a musician).

On the other hand, focusing too much on these habits while you’re playing can actually make things worse rather than better.

So to improve what you do, you need to balance these two (sometimes opposing) forces.

When musicians come to me for Alexander Technique lessons, there is always some imbalance between “lack of awareness” and “hyper-awareness”. My job is to help my client explore, discover and cultivate the kind of dynamic (“dynamic”, as in always able to change) attention that will yield the best results.

Here’s a little experiment I sometimes use with the musicians I coach to get them aware, not only of themselves and their postural and movement habits, but of the quality of their own self awareness:

Experiment One-Scanning for Misdirected Effort/Tension/Energy

As you play your instrument, pay attention to a particular part of your body. Do this several times, each time changing the anatomical location of where you’re looking. While drawing your attention to each part, observe and ask yourself these three questions:

1 “What do I notice?”

2 “Am I free and available for movement here, or am I holding on more than I need to?”

3 “What could I let go of to play more easily?”

Don’t worry about being “right or wrong” as you ask these questions. Just observe. You can organize your observations toward the following areas of your body, starting and stopping each time you change the awareness of where it is you’re looking:

Head/jaw/neck
Shoulders/chest/upper back area
Arms/hands/fingers
Lower back/abdominal area
Buttocks and hips (front and rear of your pelvic area)
Knees/upper legs
Lower legs/ankles/feet

What do you notice when you do this experiment?

You might have noticed some unnecessary effort (i.e., “stiffness”, “tightness”, etc.) in one or more areas of your body. And that awareness can be a very good thing, enabling the possibility of change and improvement.

It’s also quite possible that in “looking for” this misdirected effort that you actually increased it.

(Take a moment to think about that.)

Too often when you look for “trouble”, you not only find it, but typically amplify it. (There are myriad reasons why that is with respect to how your neuromuscular systems function.)

So “looking” for it helps you become aware of what needs to change, but it doesn’t necessarily improve your coordination in that moment.

Okay, lets look at another experiment:

Experiment Two-Noticing Ease

This time as you play your instrument, pay attention to yourself in a more “global” (whole body) way, instead of the “segmented” way you did in the first experiment.

But this time, don’t “look for” anything in particular. Instead, as you bring your body gently and flexibly into your attention, simply take note of places in your body where things are already easy and free. Notice where you are already mobile, already in good balance, already dynamic, already poised…

In essence, notice the ease that is already there inside you.

That ease might be anywhere…your shoulders, hands, legs, back….in your breathing….

No matter how “tense” you might think you are when you’re playing, there is always some ease going on somewhere. It’s just a matter of being available in your attention to notice it.

To be clear, you’re not searching for something that is not there, nor are you trying to “create” ease. (Trying to do so would most likely invite unwanted/misdirected effort.)

Instead, you’re just opening your awareness to what is already happening unconsciously on its own.

And what do you do with this acknowledgment of ease?

Nothing at all. Don’t form any agenda with what you take note of.

Just let it be.

So what happens when you notice what is already “right” (easy, mobile, freely available, light) inside your body as you play your instrument?

How does this contrast to the quality in your body when you are “looking for” misdirected effort/tension/energy?

(Take some time to seriously ponder these questions.)

You just might find (as I do) that when you “notice ease” in your body, that this ease migrates and expands to other parts of your body. It’s kind of like a “virtuous circle”, perpetuating itself to inform you of the possibility of ease in the rest of your entire organism.

When I’m performing on saxophone, I never “look for trouble” in my body. Because if I do, things become worse rather than better.

But the instant something moves toward “wrong” with myself (in my body) as I’m playing, it comes easily into my attention, and I’m able to gently say “no” to it. (In Alexander Technique parlance, that’s known as “conscious inhibition”.) This is a skill that I cherish, and is one that helps me play with greater ease, efficiency, consistency and satisfaction.

It is a skill that has been (and continues to be) cultivated by “scanning” myself while practicing (Experiment One).

But I had to learn early on as a student of the Alexander Technique to balance the “looking for trouble” part with “noticing ease” as it applies to playing my instrument.

And as I’ve said above, the “looking for it” part can be a useful tool in the practice room when used wisely. (The “looking for it part” is a good place to visit from time to time, but not a great place to live all the time.)

Nowadays, for sure, I notice ease more readily and naturally. And that ability to notice what is already there, what is already helping me, continues to enhance my coordination and skill as a musician.

And I hope it can enhance yours, too! So give this two-part experiment a go. See what you discover. Be kind with yourself, (and curious, persistent and patient, too). And please always feel free to contact me if you need help. Helping musicians do what they do better is my passion!

A Fun (And Challenging!) Way To Improve Your Time And Expand Your Rhythmic Imagination

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Pulse, rhythm, meter and feel. These are the essential components of time that musicians utilize to create music.

I’ve been nearly obsessed with exploring and better understanding how our perception of time impacts our music (including going deep into the science of how our brains perceive time). Even our most basic movement skills are coordinated through our sense of time.

Without time, there is no coordinated movement. None. And without coordinated movement, there is no music.

In every practice session I’m working on things that challenge and expand my sense of time. Again: pulse, rhythm, meter and feel. (I’ve even composed two eBooks with exercises in polymeter and multiple time subdivisions that document some of my explorations.)

One of the “staples” of my work with time is using multiple, simultaneous pulses; i.e., working with more than one tempo at a time (no pun intended). I usually do this either with metronomes and/or with drum grooves (I really like the Smartphone app Drum Genius for this!)

I’ve been working this way for several years now, and I continue to reap wonderful benefits from my efforts. If you haven’t practiced with multiple time sources, I highly recommend that you do so. Here’s why:

The three most palpable skills that you will cultivate from practicing with multiple tempos are:

1 Improved “precision” in your perception of pulse (steadier, more reliable sense of time)

2 Improved flexibility and adaptability in changing tempos (finding the “groove” more immediately and solidly; not getting “stuck” in certain tempo ranges)

3 The ability to actively and accurately “imagine” tempos nested within tempos (this is especially useful for improvising musicians!)

As you work this way you will also find that your technique becomes cleaner and more precise as well (though without losing the musical flexibility that is so important to expressive and dynamic playing).

Here’s a simple way to get started:

Begin by using two metronomes that have slightly different sounding clicks (this makes it easier for you to perceive of and integrate the two pulses).

Set one metronome at half notes, around 60 bpm. Set the second metronome at 2/3 the tempo of the first. So in this case, half notes at 40 bpm.

Find a simple scale or melodic pattern to practice, composed of quarters and/or eighth notes (again something simple). Start at the faster tempo and play the pattern a few times to embody the tempo as you “notice” the click of the slower metronome.

At a certain point, jump over to the slower metronome and play the same pattern at the slower tempo. Aim for embodying the new tempo as soon as possible. Once you feel that you’ve locked in the new tempo, switch back to the original tempo, and so on, moving back and forth between tempos.

Whichever tempo you are in, see that you are “hearing” (but not necessarily “listening to” the other metronome clicks).

The aim here at first is not so much being able to conceive of both tempos simultaneously, but rather that you can easily and readily switch between tempos.

Once you’re comfortable with all these activities, add another challenge. Perhaps it is to play a particular piece (etude, solo transcription, etc.) as you move back and forth between tempos. Or you can also add more rythmic complexity the original scale pattern you started with, using triplets, quintuplets, syncopation, etc.

If you’re an improviser, the next challenge could be improvising with the two metronomes. First, just improvise over a mode, scale, or simple riff, something devoid of a specific time/harmonic form. Once you feel solid doing that, improvise over a short, familiar harmonic form (maybe the blues?) And so on, again, adjusting the time/harmonic form to fit the new tempo.

When you get to the point where you’re able to function well in these two tempos, decrease the differences in time between the two metronomes. Maybe set one at half note at 60 and the other at half note at 45. You can continue to lessen the tempo differences until you get both metronomes at nearly similar tempos (say 60 bpm at one and 55 bpm at the other).

At whatever two tempos you’re working with, take some time to sit and listen (without playing) to how the two tempos eventually converge and make a singular, simultaneous click. Try to conceive of and anticipate this occurrence. Find the pattern.

And of course, you can also play around with different drum loops, perhaps exploring not only multiple times, but multiple feels and metered subdivision. For example I like working with the metronome clicking on half notes, while I add a drum groove in 4/4 that is subdivided into four, 3/4 patterns (12 beats over three measures).

If you’re truly brave and adventurous, you can add a third (or more?) time source.

If you continue to work this way, you will learn (as I have) to actually “hear and imagine” more than one tempo and subdivision simultaneously. As I’ve stated above this will not only make you a “stronger” musician (better reader, time keeper, etc.), but will open up amazing roads as an improviser, allowing you to create an abundance of rhythmic tension and release.

So give it a try. Have fun with it! Explore, learn. And grow as you do so!

New E-book: Encyclopedia of Triad Pairs

Clarifying A Common Misconception About “Tension” In Playing Music

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On the first day of the semester in each of my classes at the performing arts college where I teach the Alexander Technique, I often ask this “trick” question:

“Is it possible to perform (music, acting, dance, etc.) free of tension?”

Typically, the majority of the class answers with a resounding “yes” (as they’ve come to believe that’s what they want, that’s why they’re taking my class).

But the answer to this question is simple: No.

It is impossible to move, maintain balance, breathe, or otherwise function on even the most basic level without some sort of muscular tension. This is not a matter of “opinion”. It’s a matter of fact. It’s part of our human design.

Even when you’re feeling completely “relaxed” there is a certain, necessary amount of postural tone in your body to help you counter gravity (even when you’re lying down.)

So why do so many of these students, themselves aspiring performing artists, answer “yes” to this question?

It’s simple. They think that “tension” is their enemy.

They think that all the problems they have with their movement, posture, breathing, voice, etc., would simply vanish if they could somehow eliminate “all the tension” in their bodies.

But it’s not as simple as that.

It’s not a matter of being “free of tension”, but rather, of recognizing and preventing what I call misdirected effort. It is this “misdirected effort” that is too often perceived and labeled generically as “tension”.

It is this misdirected effort that makes playing music (or engaging in any kind of performance activity) seem “difficult”, “tense”, “stiff”, “stuck”, “rigid”, “unnatural”, “labored”, “self conscious”, “unsure”, “unsatisfactory”, etc.

Okay, so what’s the problem trying to avoid any kind of “tension” when playing your instrument?

The most fundamental problem is that doing so can make you reluctant to sense and accept even the well-directed muscular effort that is necessary to play your instrument.

So as a musician, what might “misdirected effort” be for you?

I’d say it’s anything that you do habitually as you play your instrument that is not only unnecessary to the act of playing that instrument, but also interferes with your natural coordination and your skill.

It is working against the reality of your human design, rather than working in harmony with it.

Let’s look at this example of a fairly common habitual pattern of misdirected effort you might have if you were a pianist:

Whenever you move up or down the keyboard playing a rapid and/or powerful passage, you narrow and raise your shoulders while pulling your head down into your spine.

Now, you might still be able to play just fine doing that, but not because of what you do. That pattern of “effort” (raising/narrowing your shoulders, etc.) doesn’t help you to carry out your wish to play the passage.

In fact, all this misdirected effort in your head/neck/shoulders has a tendency to be an obstacle to the freedom necessary in your arms and hands to play the passage skillfully and expressively.

So in this case, you’re able to play the passage despite doing that (your habitual pattern of misdirected effort), not because of it.

But no matter which instrument you choose, the more you recognize and prevent patterns of misdirected effort, the easier it gets to play that instrument. (Not to mention safer, more consistent and more satisfying!)

So you can observe yourself with this simple question: “What am I doing that is not necessary to the act of playing my instrument in this moment?”

This question (simple as it is) is something that should never be answered definitively. and completely Rather, it is a way for you to explore and discover continual improvement and growth as a musician.

After all, something that seems “necessary” today might not seem so necessary after some days of exploration. Calling what you do into question as you practice is not that same as “doubting” yourself or your technique. It’s just a tool to open up possibilities.

Another good question to ask as you explore and call into question something that might seem like an habitual pattern of misdirected effort is: “What’s it like when I don’t do that?”

And as you ask that question, you might come up with other questions, like:

“Can I still get the sound that I want when I don’t do that?” (if not, why not?)

“How does not doing that affect my sense of time?”

“What changes favorably in my body as I don’t do that?” (or unfavorably?)

“Do I feel ‘undernergized’, perhaps ‘unable’ to play when I don’t do that?”

“Do I rely upon feeling this misdirected effort to ‘believe’ that I’m playing my instrument ‘correctly’?”

And so on…

Some of the more basic things to examine as you explore are:

Your head/neck/jaw relationship. (Is it rigid or free?)

Your shoulders/arms. (same as above)

Your knees (free to move, or “locked”?

Your breathing (noisy and “forced”, or dynamic but “easy and available”?)

Your eyes/gaze (fixed or mobile/dynamic?)

Your balance/connection to the ground (light and expansive, or heavy/compressive?)

(And again, as I mentioned above, anything you notice in your observations can be addressed with that first question: “What am I doing that’s not necessary…?”)

So in the end, “tension” is neither your enemy, nor your friend. It is simply something that takes place between your thoughts and your body. As F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) stated:

“You translate everything, whether physical, mental or spiritual, into muscular tension.”

Tension is necessary for you to live, and for you to play music. Misdirected effort is not.

The Value Of Having (But Not Always Following) A Daily Practice Plan

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“If you make a mistake, you might want to play that…”

-Miles Davis

I’ve been teaching the Alexander Technique since 2009 at AMDA College of the Performing Arts in Los Angeles.

For every class that I teach, I always arrive with a fairly well detailed lesson plan. In my 10 years of teaching I’ve never once stuck to my plan.

Yet I still continue to formulate a plan and bring it with me to every single class.

And every day for the past many years (too many for me to remember), I start each of my daily saxophone practice sessions with a fairly well detailed practice plan. In all these years of practicing, I’ve never once stuck to my plan.

Yet I still continue to formulate a plan and bring it with me into the practice room.

Why (you might ask) would I do this? Why would I expend time on something that, ultimately, I won’t use?

Well, the truth of the matter is that I always use my plans.

Just because I don’t stick to them doesn’t mean they’re not of great value to me, both in teaching and in learning.

So let’s go to the more fundamental questions here:

1. Why make a plan in the first place?

2. Why don’t I adhere to my plan?

Why make a plan in the first place?

Because making a plan clarifies and details my intentions. These intentions are drawn from what it is that I’d like to accomplish/address. This is always based upon my experiences from the pervious session (whether in the classroom or practice room).

So I begin each session without ambiguity, without hesitation. I immediately start my work efficiently and purposefully. Minimal “wasted” time/energy, optimal engagement/presence.

All good, yes? So then…

Why don’t I adhere to my plan?

In a word: flexibility. As important as my intentions are, I must remain ever vigilant to what is actually needed in the present moment. And that requires an ability to be open to the possibilities of altering my previously intended course of action.

This, to be sure, involves balancing on a fine line. It means staying committed to doing the thing that is most helpful, whether this falls inside or outside of my plan.

It means staying always mindful of my plan (my experience-based intentions), but being willing to let go of some (or all!) of it, too. It means, sometimes, that I come up with an entirely new course of action right there in the moment.

If you’re an improvising musician, you probably already see this attitude as being analogous to improvising music. There is form, perhaps even some kind of a planned sequence of events.

But often, the real magic happens when we deviate from the plan.

Yet this deviation could never occur without a plan in the first place. (I actually think the reason jazz musicians enjoy improvising over standard songs, in part, is to have a “plan to push against”.)

So when you practice do you have a plan? If so, what is it based upon? Are you flexible with it? If not, why not?

And if you don’t have a daily plan when you practice, consider changing that habit. You can always alter (or even abandon) the plan. But you will start each practice session with clarity, curiosity and accountability. You will work toward your goals in a conscious and onstructive manner, always building collectively from previous experience.

Work toward making your plan as detailed as is most optimal for you. Too much detail (or too many tasks)? Simplify. Prioritize and let the things go that seem least essential. What seems to work? What doesn’t?

Not enough detail? Start filling in some blanks. Add more tasks. Ask more questions:

“What do I want? What do I need to work on to get that? What is standing in my way right now?” What can I let go of?”

Take time to formulate and write out tomorrow’s plan at the end of today’s practice session.

Get to know yourself and your music ever more intimately. And enjoy the process!