Tag Archives: Practicing Saxophone

Tone, Imagination and Skill

After several remote consultations in the past few weeks with various wind instrumentalists, I’m reminded again about a pervasive misconception that many musicians who work conscientiously on growing and improving their sound tend to cling to. (I’m thinking most specifically about wind and string players, but this applies to any instrumentalist.)

Put simply, improving and cultivating one’s sound is a”physical” process.

I put the word physical in quotes in order to emphasize the way some musicians understand and approach the concept of tone production.

To be sure, there are many physical components that must be addressed to producing your best sound. But thinking of how to produce your sound in a way that is satisfying to you, expressing that which you wish to express, is much more than a mere physical process.

It’s a whole person process (or as we’d say in the Alexander Technique, a psychophysical process).

This means that acqiring the skills necessary to obtain your best sound involves all of you: body, mind and spirit. (Here, I define spirit as the “non-physical part of a person that is the seat of emotions and character”.) This whole you is one, functionally integrated being.

And in expressing your sound, it all begins with imagination.

If you were to ask the right questions to the best wind instrumentalists in the world about how they get their beautiful sounds, you might hear some conflicting answers, where pedagogy is concerned:

Do this with your soft palate (as opposed to that, which is what another great musician does to get his/her sound)

Do that with your tongue (as opposed to this, which is opposite of what another great musician says about getting the best sound)

And so forth…

But one thing all of these world-class instrumentalists can agree upon about producing their best sound is also the one thing they all have in common:

A vivid, detailed imagination of how they would like to sound.

The fine motor skills involved in producing a beautiful sound, with all the nuance, shading, subtleties, power and reliability is a response (which is cultivated over the long-term) to how you imagine your sound.

That’s how your brain works.

It’s not really that different from how a child learns, not only the words of his/her mother language, but also the prosody, pronunciation, accent, constituencies, etc.

The fine motor mechanisms of speech come into play to fulfill the child’s imagination and conception of of the sound qualities of language. He/she doesn’t need to consciously direct these mechanismsin order to make that happen.

One of the biggest stumbling blocks that I encounter as I coach musicians who have come to me for help in improving their sound, is that all the work to produce their sound has been reduced in their minds to a mechanical concept. For example:

Me: What do you think of as you aim to produce your sound?

My client (a French Horn player): I think of holding my corners in and starting the sound as if my tongue were connected to my diaphragm.

Me: What about the sound itself? How do you imagine it?

My client: I imagine it being supported by my breath and controlled by a clear, focused airstream.

These are all good things to wish for.

But I asked this particular client to consider them as being of secondary importance. Secondary in that they are things that should be in support of, and responsive to, how vividly she actually imagines her sound. What she wishes to express in the sound itself.

Because the truth of the matter is that though these things are vital, they in of themselves don’t produce her best sound, if they are not called into play by her imagination and desire.

(I’ve yet to encounter a musician who as sought my help in tone production related matters who isn’t markedly lacking in the kind of aural imagination I’m advocating here.)

Embouchure muscles, as well as the other muscular mechanisms involved in producing and voicing sound, can adapt much quicker than you might think they can (this is especially true where strength is concerned).

And you’ll have a much better chance of “strengthening” these muscles in the most specific way possible if you place your imagination first.

Here are few things to keep in mind to help with this:

Listen deeply-Spend lots of time listening to other artists who play your instrument whose sound you deeply admire. Not so much to copy what they do, but to really ignite your curiosity about what makes their sound so wonderful, what makes it touch you so deeply. Take this kind of listening into the practice room with you as you work on your own sound.

Imagine explicitly-If you spend lots and lots of time listening to great artists, see if you can hear and describe in detail the things you like about their sounds. The attack, the color, the release, the shading…put it into language that makes sense to you. Bring those words to mind as you wish for your own sound.

Transcribe-Find a recording of somebody that epitomizes the beauty in tone you aspire to (or are inspired by). Let it be something that is simple, lyrical, and clearly executed. Take out your instrument and aim toward emulating it one phrase at a time. Make it as specific a copy as you can. In learning to imitate another artist this way, you’ll learn tons about how to hear and produce the sound you imagine.

Listen outside of your instrument-This ties into the other processes of listening mentioned above. Learning to recognize, describe and imitate tonal beauty in an instrument other than your own not only grows your imagination, but it also deepens and clarifies the concept you already have of your own sound.

Sing-To sing you must first hear and imagine clearly. To paraphrase the great improvising pianist and music educator Ran Blake, “…when you hear a singer, you are hearing the purest form of their aural imagination…” So practice actually singing the kind of sound you’d like on your instrument. It will help in a multitude of ways.

Hear and accept-No matter where you are in your journey with your sound, accept it and love it for what it is. Just like your own child, you already love them as they are, even though you know they will continue to grow and develop. Be the same with your sound.

So continue to work on the mechanical components of getting your best sound, but put imagination first, and see how your brain and body (all of you, actually) come into play to serve your desire.

Physical Efficiency in Playing Music: A Question of Economy

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Many highly skilled and accomplished musicians have lots to say about efficiency in playing their particular instrument.

Whether it is about what the hands/fingers should (or shouldn’t do), or the arms and legs, or how any particular part of the oral mechanism involved in playing functions optimally, there seems to be no shortage of opinions about how to play without “wasting effort”.

And I have my opinions, too, of course, which are based upon my experience teaching the Alexander Technique to musicians, coupled with my growing knowledge and explorations of anatomy and neuroscience.

One of the ideas that can cause considerable problems for some of the musicians who come to me for help, is “economy of movement”.

In playing saxophone, for example (the instrument I play), there are those who advocate this concept: “To move your fingers with the greatest amount of speed, you need to move them as little as possible to raise and lower the keys.”

On the surface, this seems like a good idea. It’s kind of variation on the “shortest distance between two points is a straight line” concept. It obviously takes less time to move a shorter distance than a longer one, all other things being equal.

I describe this concept (in reference to what I’ve written above) as “economy of movement”.

So what are the potential problems with this?

Well, for many musicians, this attempt to limit movement can often begin to manifest itself as stiffness and rigidity.

Not just stiffness and rigidity in the specific parts of the body involved in carrying out the movement, but in the entire organism itself: stiff neck, shoulders, jaw, knees, ribs and more.

And with this comes yet another form of “stiffness and rigidity” as well. Specifically, in the cognitive functioning of the musician.

I describe this as the “deer in the headlights” syndrome. In the focus to “limit” the movement often comes the narrowing of the focus of attention in general. Not a good thing, as this tends excludes and disintegrate (rather than include and integrate) the various experiential elements necessary to play optimally.

So instead of thinking “economy of movement“, I encourage the musicians I work with to begin to think more in terms of “economy of effort“.

Now, to be clear, I’m not necessarily advocating less effort (as that in itself can have the same negative unintended consequences of “less movement”).

More specifically, what I am advocating is the “optimization of effort”. That simply means that the effort applied to the task of playing is directed in a way that is most conducive to the task itself.

It means that the effort you use to play your instrument is best directed when it’s based upon what you want (sound, time, articulation, etc.) in cooperation with design.

Design includes your human structure (and how it optimally functions), the acoustic principles of your instrument, as well as how your brain works to bring it all together to make music.

Playing with optimum effort means not forcefully using your neck muscles to do the work most suitable for your arms, for example. Or to not strain your jaw in doing the work better suited for your soft palate (when playing a wind instrument).

And sometimes you actually have to let something move more than you might think it needs to in order to optimize effort. Try walking sometime as you limit the movement of your ankles, and you’ll immediately realize that less movement isn’t always better movement. (This is analogous to not allowing your “MP”, or, “knuckle” joints to bend the way they need to if you try too hard to limit the movement of you fingers.)

One of the things I love most about the Alexander Technique is that it employs a clear set of principles that teach you how to recognize misdirected effort as you play music, or do anything else.

As you learn to recognize and prevent your habitual pattens of misdirected effort, you simply play better (and feel better, too!)

So consider replacing the idea of “economizing the movement” with “optimizing the effort”. Really explore the contrast between these two concepts. In doing so, you’ll open up a marvelous new world of possibilities for yourself.

Improving Technique: It’s More Than Simply Exercising Muscles

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There is a common, often disconnecting, conception many musicians carry with them when they first seek my help as an Alexander Technique teacher:

In essence, they believe that the very problem that brought them to me is of a purely physical nature. Put more precisely, an issue of muscle function.

I call this a “disconnecting conception” because not only is it untrue, but it also tends to harmfully divide and separate them from themselves as whole beings.

You see, in truth, nothing you do when you play music is “purely physical”. Thought (both conscious and unconscious) impacts all of the physical manifestations of your music making.

Now, to be sure, most of the specific fine motor skills you’ve acquired as a musician can be called upon with minimal thought, or even below consciousness. (Some folks refer to this as “muscle memory”, a not particularly accurate description of the phenomenon.)

But these motor skills can be modulated significantly for better or worse (in the moment!) just by changing your thinking. (You’ve no doubt experienced this countless times.)

F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) had a more complete term to describe not just musical performance, but all human activity: psychophysical.

In dealing with his own rather serious issue of losing his speaking voice during performances (he was a stage actor), Alexander came to realize that the physical manifestations of his problem (excessive misdirected bodily tension) were inextricably linked to how he thought about using his voice while acting.

It wasn’t simply a “matter of muscle”, so to speak. It was a matter of mind and muscle, the relationship between thought and action. (Hence, the term “psycho-physical”.)

This isn’t such a foreign concept to grasp for most musicians, as “focus” and “intention” both play a significant role in success in both performance and practice.

Yet, I’m still surprised at the amount of rather highly skilled musicians who have a tendency to reduce the acquisition of technical skill to purely physical, muscular exercise.

For example, I’ve encountered brass instrumentalists who routinely practice long tones while watching television to “bulid strength”. Or woodwind players silently practicing fingering exercises (without blowing) as they listen to music to cultivate “muscle memory”.

This practice habit, in my experience both as teacher and as musician, is inefficient, and only marginally helpful (at the very best!)

At worst, it can also be counterproductive, and sometimes even harmful. This is because it is an invitation to develop unconscious patterns of inefficient bodily use and sub-optimal coordination. Often these patterns become gradually ingrained into what the musician thinks it should “feel like” while playing.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blog posts, strength and coordination are inextricably linked, but coordination takes precedent over everything.

Mindless, repetitive actions might build a certain amount of muscular strength specific to the particular technical challenge you’re addressing on your instrument, but strength without coordination is functionally useless.

That’s a simple truth for any activity.

So rather than exercising muscles as you work on improving your technique, think instead of exercising your coordination. And not just the coordination of your fingers (and lips, tongue or any other part of you that is directly involved in playing your instrument), but the coordination of your entire self.

See that you aren’t compressing yourself as you play. (Avoid pulling your head down into your spine, stiffening your shoulders, locking your knees, etc.) Take time to notice this misdirected tension and energy and work toward gradually reducing it. Integrate that awareness consciously into your intentions to improve your technique.

Notice where your attention goes, both when you’re playing well, and when you’re not playing so well. As you notice the shift in your attention, you can also notice how your entire body changes (see above).

Give yourself a chance to stop and redirect your efforts. Make sure you’re clear about what you want (your sound, execution, etc.) and just as important, how you are “using yourself” to get what you want.

And, of course, make it musical. Give whatever you practice some sort of musical intention and imagination, each moment you practice it.

If you work each day to observe and more effectively integrate your thinking into your playing, you’ll find that not only do you improve more steadily, but that you don’t even need as much time as before making mindless repetitions in order to build “muscle memory”.

A few moments of mindful work will always take you further toward your goals than an hour of mindless “exercise.” It always works this way for me and my students, and mostly likely will work this way for you. Give it a go!

My Main Objective When Practicing Something Difficult

Practice Strategies: Keeping the End in Mind in the Present Moment

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I’ve had the good fortune of being able to teach the Alexander Technique to some very highly skilled and highly accomplished musicians, including various members of world-class orchestras and chamber ensembles, as well as some of Los Angeles’ finest studio musicians.

Though all of these artists are diverse and unique with the skills they possess, I can’t help but notice certain commonalities they seem to share. I’ve grown to believe that some of these traits are at least partly responsible for their success.

One of these common values has to do with practice strategies. More particularly, how their practice strategies relate to their musical vision and ultimately, their goals.

Here’s something one of my Alexander students (a highly accomplished brass instrumentalist) said about this topic:

“I knew from a fairly early age that I loved playing music and this was what I was going to do with my life. From that point on, I had a clear, very specific vision of the kind of musician I wanted to be. And it was from that point on that everything I practiced I chose specifically to bring me toward that vision. “

Think about that for a moment.

It sounds simple, and it is. Yet it has deep implications.

My student went on to say:

“It’s for that reason that I never practiced too many of those ‘seemingly generic fundamentals’ on a daily basis, which some of my fellow musicians were doing religiously. Sure, I worked on fundamental things like my sound, and technical challenges specific to my instrument. But even with these things it was always with two specific questions in mind:

“How does practicing this lead me to my particular, ultimate artistic goals?”

“What can I measurably accomplish (or at least aim to accomplish) when practicing this today?”

And if you ask him, that’s one of the key ingredients of his success.

When I consult as a practice coach, I often encounter musicians who are frustrated with their progress. A good deal of this frustration is because they don’t have the kind of clarity about practicing that my Alexander Technique student describes above.

Many of these musicians are spending a much too large percentage of their practice time on these “seemingly generic fundamentals”, with no specifically detailed end in mind.

(Now, to be clear here, I am very much a big fan of practicing the ‘fundamentals’. But without specificity, fundamentals turn into a proverbial “ocean” of misdirected energy.)

With some of these musicians, it seems to be an act of blind faith: “As long as I do this everyday, good things will magically happen in my musical progress.”

But it takes more than that:

“It takes the ability to stay present each moment with what you’re doing when you practice, always being vigilant that it is moving you toward your goals in a measurable, progressive manner”, to once again quote my Alexander student.

And this is the fundamental skill and strategy I help these musicians with.

As I ask them questions about their practice, I hear very little talk of certainty, direction and precision in what they choose to practice. Lots of ‘generic’ things, often more mechanical than artistically practical (such as running up and down scales in the same rhythmic patterns day after day, month after month).

They often can’t give me a compelling reason for why they do what they do, other than saying that it’s “fundamental”, and/or, that “so and so” (well-respected musician) “recommends doing it every day.”

There are two qualities missing in their practice strategies: Clear intention (their ultimate goals) and curiosity. The clearer you are about what you want as a musician, to more curious you become about what you need to do to get it.

So if you feel that you are drifting in this ‘ocean’, maybe it’s time to reassess what you’re doing, and redirect your efforts. Here are a few things to consider:

Be willing to change. It has to start here. To paraphrase Einstein, “No problem has ever been solved by the same consciousness that created it.” Get ready to do things differently, perhaps even uncomfortably so (at least at first).

Become clear about the kind of musician you wish to become. Have a vision. Dream big. It’s fine if this vision changes (likely that it will, a bit), but at least you have something to inform your practice and study efforts. Allow time to reflect upon this.

Ask yourself what specific skills you would need to realize your vision. Think about it for a good amount of time. Make a very detailed list.

Assess your current skills and current practice routine with respect to your list. What are you already doing that’s helping you reach your goals? What are you currently practicing that isn’t leading you toward those goals in a more specific way? (In other words, what can you eliminate from your daily practice routine?)

Develop a strategy. Set small, attainable goals. Break the big things down into smaller things. Be methodical, progressive and persistent.

Organize your efforts. Keep a practice journal. Use it daily, review it weekly. Keep a record of not only what you practice, but why. Include your thoughts and feelings about what you practiced. Make it an ongoing, dynamic dialogue with yourself.

Reassess frequently. Your practice journal will help you keep it real here. What’s working? What’s not? What do you need more of? Less of?

Constantly redirect your efforts. Not only on a weekly and/or monthly basis, but even within your practice day, and even within an exercise you’re practicing. Be present, clear and vigilant about your immediate goal and your ultimate goals.

Seek help where you need it. An experienced, skilled outside source can really be a huge benefit. If you’re getting frustrated, don’t know where to start, or are confused, find somebody who can help. (I’ve helped lots of musicians find their way!)

In my experience, envisioning, planning and reassessing are never a waste of time where practice is concerned. As my brother (a highly skilled woodworker) says, “It’s always better to measure twice and cut once.” Give yourself some time to reflect and to dream and to modify what you do. You’ll find a whole new level of meaning, inspiration and satisfaction in your daily practice.