Tag Archives: Self-care for Musicians

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

2 Replies

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

The Importance Of Not Knowing

4 Replies

“In the mind of the expert, the possibilities are few. In the mind of the beginner, the possibilities are infinite.” -Ryo Suzuki

It is natural for us to want to know. It’s what fuels our growth, our curiosity and our inspiration. Without knowing certain things, life itself would become quite difficult, if not impossible.

But sometimes we don’t know something when we think we do, and that’s where problems can arise. We anticipate the outcome of certain things based upon our erroneous preconception of what we believe to be true. This often manifests itself in lots of misdirected energy.

I’m speaking specifically here about how you perceive yourself as you play music: how you anticipate, measure and dispense your energies in relation to the music making process.

One of the more interesting things that I notice when I return from vacation (after not playing my saxophones for a week or two) is how different that first day of practicing is. I often find myself being able to do things technically that I couldn’t normally do before. Why is that?

Well in the simplest sense, it’s because I “forgot” that I couldn’t do these things. It’s been a couple of weeks and my preconceived limitations have sort of slipped from my memory.

Many of my music students report a similar phenomena: that first day of practice after a vacation, where anything is possible. As many of these students also report, by the second day, the magic is usually gone, and they’re back to where they were before (or maybe even a bit worse, being “rusty” from missing a couple of weeks of practice).

But it doesn’t have to be that way. You can use this as an opportunity to observe the quality, and amount, of effort you use as you play music, and contrast this to what you do normally (habitually). What I and many of my students find is that we are creating far less muscular effort to play our instruments on that first day after vacation. (Again, probably because we’ve “forgotten” how much effort we need to play.)

Instead of having a knowing mind, we approach our instrument with an inquisitive (unknowing) mind. This is probably helped along by the fact that we are giving ourselves a chance to sound bad. After all, it’s been a couple of weeks, so no big deal if it’s not up to snuff. Often, having this kind of resignation has the effect of letting us let go of misdirected effort.

So when I come back to practicing after a brief hiatus, I use this phenomenon of not knowing to set a new benchmark for what is possible in my playing. I use it as an opportunity to observe my thinking. I notice, not so much what I am thinking, as what I’m not thinking.

As an example, I find myself not anticipating rapid passages with any sense of preparation (no unnecessary brain chatter). I’m just letting myself play. Same with playing in the extreme registers of the instrument. In essence, I stop “getting ready to play.” I simply play, and discover as I go along, how much effort, how much tension, how much energy I need.

And I aspire to carry this attitude into my playing each day, maintaining the my beginner’s mind.

Usually what I do at the start of my practice session is to produce a sound on the saxophone with as little effort as possible. This usually means that in the first few minutes I get no sound, other than the air going through the mouthpiece (not vibrating the reed.) As I begin to increase my energy, coupled with my intention, I gradually begin to get the reed to vibrate, and I learn how much effort is necessary in that moment, in that room, with that particular reed, to create a sound.

From there I continue to gradually increase my efforts until I’m getting a sound that pleases me. Just the right amount of effort to express my sound. All because I let myself discover, not knowing until I get there. I approach my technical work the same way. How little effort does it take?

One of the aims of the Alexander Technique is to help you learn how to gauge the appropriate amount of tension for an activity (musical or otherwise), by observing the relationship of the head, neck and back.

When there is too much effort, the neck usually tenses and shortens, which causes the back to narrow and stiffen, which then interferes with everything else (hands, breathing, mouth…you name it). Alexander called this head/neck/back relationship the primary control, as it is primary in conditioning the coordination of the entire organism. (Both my teaching and playing experience confirm this principle to be true without exception.)

In the Alexander Technique, you learn how to carry out your activities without this tension. As you do, you discover again. You discover over and over that you can do things with even less effort than you thought. It is a life long journey of discovery.

You never really know how little effort it ultimately takes to play your instrument (or do anything else, for that matter). You learn only that you can always do less, and that as you do less, you get so much more.

So whenever you have these instances of seemingly effortless playing, playing that is beyond what your normal limitations are, observe your thinking and your body. Notice how free your body is, how much less tension than normal you are bringing into the music making process. In particular, notice your neck, shoulders and back, see how freely they work together. Notice how easy, mobile and confident your balance is.

Then go back to noticing your thinking. How are your thoughts different than when you normally play. Make a real study of the differences. Keeping a practice log is especially helpful for this. The muscular effort you create in your body is a direct result of your thinking. Improve your thinking, liberate your playing.

Managing Performance Anxiety

7 Replies

Performance anxiety, whether mild or debilitating, is nearly a universal human condition. It is not only musicians who struggle with it. Anybody who has had to “deliver the goods”, on the spot, in real time, has probably experienced some anxiety. Performing artists, athletes, as well as business people, educators, (and just about anyone else) have all probably felt anxious before an important performance, presentation, or public appearance.

Many musicians are reluctant to admit to having performance anxiety. They see it as some form of weakness, or character flaw. I’m here to tell you that there is no shame in being anxious about a performance.

There might be a variety of reasons why you become anxious before a performance, but that all have one thing in common: your love for music. You want to put out the best musical expression you can. In short, you get anxious because you care. If you didn’t care you wouldn’t become anxious.

You probably wouldn’t perform that well, either. Because if you don’t care, you won’t play well. You must care. So if you do care, but have problems with performance anxiety, read on.

In the language of the Alexander Technique, performance anxiety occurs because of “end-gaining”. When end-gaining, you take yourself out of the present moment, and bounce back and forth between regretting what you’ve already played, and dreading the unknown outcome of what you will be playing. You stop paying attention to process, and place too much of your attention on expectations and results.

It’s important to realize that a musical performance, like all other human activity, is a step into the unknown. And the best way to step into the unknown is to remain in the present moment, always paying attention not only to what you’re doing, but also, to how you’re doing it.

You can’t control the unknown, but you can control to a large degree your reaction to the unknown. The first thing to do is to accept whatever feelings you have in the moment, whether it’s fear, worry, enthusiasm, anger, or anything else that might arise in you. That way you can observe the changes in your body as you react to those feelings.

Performance anxiety, which triggers a fear response, manifests itself as a series of challenges or obstacles that interfere with your ability to perform to your fullest potential. Some of these are:

Shallow and uncontrollable breathing
Overly tense muscles
Loss of balance
Unclear thinking
Dry mouth
Moist hands
Impaired sense of time
Trembling

The list could go on, I’m sure.

From a practical point of view, a primary interference in your ability to perform well is excess muscular tension. If you’re causing your muscles to become unduly tense and rigidly over-reactive, you seriously impair your ability to create the necessary movements to play music.

And when I say movement, I mean all movement, including the movements involved in breathing. If you’re interfering with your breathing, you face even more problems. (If you play a wind instrument or sing, I don’t have to tell you why that’s a problem.)

But even if you don’t play a wind instrument or sing, there is another equally serious problem that arises when your breathing is uncontrolled and shallow: Your thinking becomes unclear. When this happens, you forget important details of the music, lose touch with time and pitch, and make mistakes that you never made during practice. We’ve all been there before.

If you’re going to reach your potential as a performer, you must learn to prevent some of this excess muscular tension.

So what causes these symptoms of performance anxiety to arise in you? The answer is simple: your thinking does. If the thought of performing causes fear, a whole host of changes will take place in your body.

The good new is that you can also use your thinking to prevent (or at least attenuate) these conditions that arise in you that are counterproductive to performing at your best.

I’d like to offer some ways you can redirect your thinking to help you better prevent the negative manifestations of the fear reaction that accompanies performance anxiety.

I’m not telling you how to stop being afraid. Rather, I’m giving practical advice that will help you perform better, even when you are afraid and anxious. Though this might seem like a lot to think about, remember that most of these things can be thought of in an instant, and in that instant you can make a huge difference in how you perform.

Before the Performance:

Acknowledge your fear (as opposed to denying it), and notice how it specifically manifests itself in you physically. How is your breathing? Where are you tightening up in your body? This will give you an idea of what specific responses you wish to prevent.

Again, you might not be able to prevent the feeling of fear, but you can gain control over many of the tense response patterns you make because you are afraid. That in of itself will significantly improve how you play. As a bonus, when you consciously reduce your tension in this way, you gain an immediate kind of confidence that helps you regain your clear thinking.

If you have a chance before the performance, calm yourself by being relatively still and restful. Let yourself stay present with this stillness and restfulness. This is a great time for constructive rest. Also, some breath work (such as whispered “ahs”) is helpful not only to control your breathing by lengthening your exhalation, but to calm your nervous system as well.

At the Start of the Performance

Before you actually play that first note:

Bring your attention to your breath by noticing the air moving in and out of your nostrils, and see that your breathing is quiet (no gasping or sniffing).
Bring your attention to your head, neck, shoulders and back , noticing (and releasing) any excess tension
Check that your knees are not locked, and that your legs are not overly tense. Think of your knees as releasing away from your hip joints, and away one from the other. In other words, let your knees soften.
If you are standing, bring attention to your feet, letting your weight go completely through them so that you can release up and stay in balance. Think about your heels as releasing down into the floor, and let your toes spread out onto the floor. (Don’t curl your toes.)
If you are sitting, let your weight go through your sitting bones, letting your feet rest easily on the floor. Again, don’t curl your toes.
Let your arms and hands soften, releasing any unnecessary tension. You can think of your shoulders as releasing away one from the other.
Shift your emphasis from trying to play well, to using yourself well while you play, breathing and moving easily. Remind yourself to take your time.

As you perform, and as time and circumstances permit, refresh some of the above thoughts. The most important are:

Awareness of breath (allow it to move in and out quietly)
Head, neck and back, releasing unnecessary tension
Softening your knees.
Letting your heels release your feet into the floor
Letting your arms and hands soften
Return back to your breathing

This is something that needs to be practiced. After all, I’m asking you to pay attention to yourself primarily, as you perform music (not so easy at first). The great educational philosopher, John Dewey, called this “thinking in activity”, and it is what the Alexander Technique is specifically aiming for. You are developing a highly valuable skill.

I can assure you from my own experience, that when you learn to pay attention to yourself in this way as you play music, you will play better. You are the primary instrument. You make the music. Keep that in mind.

If you take advantage of each performance as a chance to practice some of these things, and develop this skill, you’ll greatly improve your ability to manage your anxiety (and will greatly improve the quality of your performance).

Check with yourself, asking a basic question: “Am I enjoying this or am I afraid of something?” Pay attention to your reaction to this question, and see if you can notice how your reaction might interfere with your ability to perform well. Be patient, evaluate yourself with kind discernment, and allow yourself to grow and explore.