Tag Archives: Self-care for Musicians

Advice For Improving The Speed And Accuracy Of Your Fingers

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In my experience teaching the Alexander Technique to pianists, string and woodwinds players, I often encounter a similar kind of counterproductive thinking concerning the hands and fingers. Specifically, too much attention is placed upon what the hands and fingers are doing.

Not only does this divide the musician’s attention, often cutting off the awareness of what’s going on in his/her body as the music is being played, but also, it interferes with hearing pitch, timbre, and perceiving time clearly.

And sadly, all this attention on the fingers doesn’t even make them work better. Quite the contrary.

Here are a few examples of the kinds of problems with hyper-awareness of the fingers that I’ve come across with my students:

  • A saxophonist who is consciously trying to keep his fingers very close to the keys (in an effort to not “waste” movement and play more “efficiently”). In doing so, he makes his entire body stiff and his fingers sometimes can’t move in response to the demands of the music. He’s stuck.
  • A pianist who stares constantly down at her hands as she plays, making sure her fingering is “correct” as she plays an unusually high percentage of wrong notes on a piece that she knows quite well.
  • A violinist who can’t keep his eyes off his fingers for fear of playing out of tune. (Ironically, as soon as he takes his eyes off his hands, his pitch improves dramatically.)

The simple truth is that if you want to improve how your hands work as you play, you have to leave them alone, so they can do the right thing without interference. To do this you have change your thinking. You have to replace the thought of your fingers “doing the right thing” with a broader kind of thinking.

First, start with the aim of being free in your body as you play. In particular, ask yourself for freedom in your neck, shoulders and back. This alone will not only change the quality and quantity of muscular tension as you play, but also, will calm and center your mind and improve your breathing.

Make this a top priority as you practice. The freer you are in your head, neck and back, the freer your fingers are to move and create the stability necessary to play your instrument.  This is something you’ll need to practice as you practice (yes, I meant to say that). Here’s a previous article I’ve written about practicing paying attention to help you with this.

Next, rather than trying to feel how (or what) you think your fingers need to feel, think instead of where your fingers need to go as you play from one note the next.

By taking your attention from what you feel to where you are going, you increase your spatial awareness (and improve your sense of time, as well). Your brain organizes the music making task in a fundamentally different way, allowing your fingers to move freely, easily and quickly. In the simplest sense, you get out of the way of your brain’s ability to organize and control complex movement, so it can do what it needs to do unimpeded.

This is something that can be practiced gradually, using simple visualization:

For example, if you’re a saxophonist, practice a very easy, familiar pattern (arpeggio, scale, intervals, etc.) at a slow tempo as you think, not of what your fingers are doing, but what keys need to be pressed and/or released as you go from note to note. Think ever so slightly ahead to the next note to be played as you land on each note. If you practice this regularly, you’ll learn that you can play rapid passages that you couldn’t play before with stunning ease and clarity. (Same general idea if you play piano, strings, etc. Think where on your instrument you want your fingers to land, not what your fingers have to do.)

Finally, replace the thought of fingers with tonal imagination. Practice singing passages or patterns that you find difficult on your instrument. First, sing the passage slowly and very precisely, making sure the sequence of pitches and the rhythms are crystal clear in your mind. Once you’ve accomplished that, play the passage by following your ear. Really hear the passage clearly in your mind, and don’t worry about what your fingers have to do.

Most of the chronic technical difficulties musicians struggle with are a result of tense anticipation. Hyper-awareness of the fingers is akin to driving a car on the highway at top speed with your eyes planted downward on the road in front of you. Scary and stiff. Same thing on your instrument.

So change how you think about your fingers. Practice consistently shifting your attention from your fingers to your broader senses, and you’ll be surprised how limber and accurate your technique becomes.

The Most Essential Constant In My Improvement

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This morning I found myself reflecting upon the many ways my approach to practicing music has changed over the more than 35 years I’ve been playing. Many of the things that I used to believe were absolutely essential to my improvement now lie by the wayside in the realm of tested, yet ultimately unhelpful, ideas and procedures.

When evaluating the cause and effect relationship of improving through practice, time is always a good indicator for what’s working and what’s not. At a certain point (if we’re fortunate and mindful) we realize something just isn’t helping, and we move on.

That’s a natural part of the learning process. It’s not a straight line, but instead, a journey of exploration and discovery. Even with the best teachers, the clearest intentions, it’s still a step into the unknown. Persistence, patience and passion are the fuel for this journey.

And in this journey, we discard those ideas and practices that clearly don’t help us. That’s not to say we’ve wasted time on these things; that’s just the reality of our own learning process. We have to experiment and be open and creative in attempting to solve our problems.

I have thrown away many more ideas, techniques, approaches, attitudes, procedures, and skills than I have kept.

But the one thing that I have kept,  the one skill that has most continually evolved and grown in relation to my improvement as a musician is this: the ability to stop. In particular, knowing when and how to stop.

In my previous posts I’ve written about the value of stopping. Today I’d like to talk more specifically about the ways this “when and how” stopping skill has helped me.

It’s important to keep in mind one of the most important objectives of a constructive practice session: to give yourself the experiences of control over your instrument and the elements of music. This might involve slowing tempos down, analyzing and deciding upon fingerings, directing breathing in a particular way, etc. To achieve these experiences, the pursuit of quality must be put squarely in front of the pursuit of quantity.

Yet it is often this pursuit of quantity that makes a practice session far less productive than it should be.

How often have you practiced something over and over again just to make the same mistake in the same way? Perhaps you practice a particular passage 25 times, and out of 25 times, you played it to your liking maybe twice (not a very encouraging percentage). And how often have you had the experience of practicing something difficult, and actually making it worse as the practice session continues?

In both these cases, the inability to stop has hamstrung your progress. Tension, frustration and dissatisfaction follow when this happens.

Whenever I’m having a less than productive practice session, it is more often than not because I’ve lost touch with my ability to stop and redirect my efforts. Fortunately for me, I can recognize this fairly early into my practice session and change course.

Here are some of the specifics of when and how I stop that help me the most:

  • In the moment-For a large portion of my practice time I give myself permission to stop at any moment and for any reason. It could be because I’m sensing an old habit of tension arising, which I’d like to prevent. It could be because I’m rushing the tempo in the same place in a particular passage. It could be because I just don’t like my sound in a particular passage. I allow myself to stop, investigate, and clarify my perception and intentions. (I also practice a certain amount without allowing myself to stop, which helps me deal with the flow and demands of a real performance.)
  • Between takes-Whenever I’m practicing a particular melodic pattern or exercise, I consciously stop between takes. I do this to use my awareness of how I might be tensing in my body, as well as to redirect my intentions and energy for the next take. This is most challenging when the quality of the take I just played is less than I’d hoped for. My impulse is to jump right back into “trying again”. Yet if I don’t pause, I tend to “try again” with the same misdirected efforts as before (which yields the same results and starts a downward spiral of frustration). By stopping for a moment, I hugely increase the odds that my next take will be even better.
  • Knowing when “enough is enough”-One of the most challenging decisions to make is when to stop working at a particular exercise, pattern, tune, etude, etc. I’ve grown rather cognizant of finding what could be called a “point of diminishing returns” with respect to the amount of time I spend in each practice session on a particular thing. It’s important to stop while I’m still on top (playing each take with the best quality possible), and to be able to peacefully step away from the work. By doing this, not only do I accumulate a large proportion of “correct experiences” (good quality), but also, I finish feeling optimistic and enthusiastic about approaching the work the next day.
  • Making rest an essential part of my practice time-I now make a calculated aim in determining the work/rest ratio of each practice session. I spend no more than about 15 minutes on any one thing without taking at least a 2 or 3 minute pause, maybe to stretch or have some water. For every 50 minutes I practice, I lie down in constructive rest for 5 or 10 minutes. This enables me to spend long hours at practice if I need to, with not only productive results, but also, feeling easy and comfortable. Avoiding anything that even remotely seems like fatigue is crucial to my decision making process with respect to my practice goals for the day. Stopping before I get tired.
  • Letting it go-After trying a particular idea, exercise, concept, approach, etc., for a particular, pre-determined period of time, I stop to assess the situation and make a decision about whether or not I’m helping myself with my choice. If there seems to be no improvement in a reasonable amount of time  (I’m talking weeks or months, here), I just stop practicing it, and instead, re-think/explore other options. I’m still perplexed by the amount of musicians I encounter who are practicing things (often for years!) that clearly are not helping them. Yet they can’t seem to let these things go. That becomes a constant hinderance to their growth.

So consider the idea of stopping more. It takes wisdom to know when. It takes a clear conviction to know how. (It starts with you simply making a decision that you stay with.)

You can shift your priorities. Don’t just “allow” yourself to stop. Make it a deliberate objective  of your practice. Instead of asking yourself, “How much did I practice today?”, or even, “How well did I play today?”, you can ask, “How successful was I at stopping today?” “How many times did I stop today where I might have not stopped before?”

If you cultivate the wisdom and skill in stopping, you’ll love what happens in your practice.

This Simple Shift In Attitude Can Yield Great Rewards

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I gave a lesson the other day to an excellent saxophonist who has been studying with me remotely for many months now. He was very pleased with the recent breakthroughs that he’d made in his playing, and expressed this profound change simply, but quite accurately:

“Before, I was anticipating; now, I’m responding.”

I was filled with joy when I heard him say this, because I knew that he had discovered, through his own experiences, a shift in thinking that was showing him significant gains.

I could easily hear this change in attitude in everything, from the quality of his sound, to his breath control, to his time, to his expression. All freer, more flexible (yet precise), more spontaneous and powerful.

I could also see this change in attitude as it is manifested in his body: calm, expansive, mobile, easy, balanced. In fact, I would say that I heard and saw the same things. Everything integrated into the present moment.

Anticipating versus responding. Let’s look at this with respect to what my student was doing (and what many musicians do) that was causing some of his problems:

  • Anticipating posture-His back arched, chest lifted, eyes fixed, neck stiff, legs rigid.
  • Anticipating  jaw position, embouchure formation-His jaw held rigidly without enough energy being directed toward the reed; his facial muscles around his mouth working more than they need to.
  • Anticipating note voicing-Creating a strain everywhere in his body, as he tried to “place” the air “just right” into the mouthpiece/reed.
  • Anticipating breathing-Never allowing the actual demands of the music to inform his breathing; instead, sort of “holding on” to his breath, never really letting it release to balance itself against the resistance of the mouthpiece/reed.
  • Anticipating sound-Having a somewhat fixed idea of his own sound (not only what he wants to hear, but how it should feel), sometimes to the point of not fully hearing and realizing his sound as it actually is.

As you might imagine, all of these habits of anticipation were inviting strain, loss of coordination and artistic dissatisfaction to my student. With his somewhat rigid ideas of how it should be, he was closing himself off to the possibility of how it could be. Specifically, he was keeping himself from responding to the actual needs (in the moment) of what was necessary to play his instrument.

Through our work together using the Alexander Technique principles, he began to allow himself to explore the possibilities of playing without many of his habitual preconceptions. He began to discover, through direct experience, that there is a natural way to respond to the demands of playing his instrument.

He began to think about balance instead of posture. He realized that he could let his jaw be free to respond to the resistance of the mouthpiece/reed. He learned that (just as we do with our own voices) his internal embouchure (soft palate, tongue position, etc.) will effortlessly and dynamically respond to voice the note clearly and powerfully.

He also discovered that his sound could inform his breathing, integrating both breath and sound into one responsive, dynamic, flexible and controlled, whole entity.

And oh, how his sound changed! It went from generically good,  to highly personal and expressive. Beautiful! This to me was the biggest thrill to experience. It was like I was hearing his true voice for the first time.

All of this largely due to a shift in his attitude. A shift from rigid beliefs about what it takes to play, to trusting his ability to respond constructively.

I should point out here that anticipation itself is a form of response. (In truth, it is the reaction to the thought of playing, rather than the response to the needs of the act itself.) But too often, it is a response that carries lots of misdirected energy. Suffice it to say, that most of your habitual tension and strain as you play your instrument is from this kind of anticipation.

It is easy to get stuck in anticipation mode. Maybe you do so from unconscious habit, advice given to you, anatomical or acoustical misunderstanding…even fear. But whatever the reason, shifting your attitude from expectation to exploration can help you play better, easier, more expressively and joyfully.

Start by noticing your own thinking and the habits that come along with it. What do you do to prepare as you play your first note? What are you doing that is not necessary to produce that note (tension, gesture)? What would it be like if you played without those habits of anticipation?

Give yourself a chance to explore these questions. I think you’ll be surprised by what you discover. And please, let me know.

Clarify A Few Misconceptions About Your Body To Make Better Music

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In my experience as an Alexander Technique teacher, I find that a significant contributing factor to many musician’s problems is a misunderstanding of how their bodies work with respect to playing their instrument.

I’ll see, for example, flutists who strain as they try to bend fingers where there are no joints. I’ll see pianists trying to use their necks to lift their arms. I’ll see brass players trying t0 “push the air from the diaphragm” even though this is physically impossible (the diaphragm, which is a muscle,  releases on the exhalation).

These are examples of what F.M. Alexander (founder of the Alexander Technique) would call erroneous preconceived ideas about the use and the functioning of the body.

Your brain actually creates a representation of the size, structure and functioning of the muscles, bones and joints in your body.  One thing that many postural scientists assert is that this representation always trumps reality.

In essence, this means that you will try to move in accordance to how you believe your structure works, whether that belief is based upon truth or fallacy. (Again, you’ll strain trying to bend at joints that don’t exist, for example)

Of course, much of this “belief”  (or misunderstanding) is on an unconscious level, and has been cultivated by a lifetime of habit. Equally unfortunate,  some of this belief is conscious, due to misinformation. Too many times I see musicians creating excess strain as they try to carry out some bad (anatomically counterproductive, if not impossible) advice given to them by their music teachers.

But whether below the level of consciousness or not, the unfortunate truth for musicians is that this misconceived sense of self, multiplied by thousands of repetitive movements everyday (practice),  leads to strain, injury, poor coordination and inconsistent technique.

The good news is that you can change your misconceptions about how your body works. You can learn to move more in accordance to the design of your structure as it relates to gravity.

How? Start by gaining some knowledge. Get a basic understanding of the structure and functioning of your musculo-skelatal system. Look at pictures from anatomy books and study the structures. Experiment with your own body to find where your joints are and how they work.

I’ve come across a tool that is highly useful for helping you to gain a clear and accurate understanding of how your body functions as you move and maintain posture. It is a marvelous DVD produced by Barbara Conable (edited and narrated by Amy Likar) entitled Move Well, Avoid Injury: What Everyone Needs To Know About The Body.

Barbara and Bill Conable are both Alexander Technique teachers,  and have developed a method they call Body Mapping to help musicians (and non-musicians alike) to gain a practical understanding of how their bodies work in movement and stillness. Amy Likar is an Alexander Technique teacher and a professional flutist.

This clearly narrated, logically organized presentation has 2 hours of absolutely essential information. Each chapter has lively animations and images that give you an easy way to understand, visualize and clarify your own body map.

It is organized in chapters covering such important topics as:

  • Balance-the physiological components that help us maintain our upright stature
  • Arms-thorough explanation and demonstration of how your arms (including your wrists, hands and fingers) work in relation to the rest of your body
  • Legs-besides examining the structures of the legs (pelvis, too), this chapter helps you to understand your legs in relation to your arms in moving and maintaining balance
  • Breathing-really demystifies so much of the conflicting information about this too often misunderstood function
  • Inclusive attention-how your other senses are integrated and impact how you move and maintain posture

The other chapters are equally interesting and helpful, addressing specifically the issue of how our body maps become flawed, and how we can correct them.

Here is a sample video demonstrating the rotation of the lower arm:

If you’re a musician, you will be nothing but helped by viewing and studying this video. If you teach music, you owe it to your students to have a reasonably clear understanding of the type of functional anatomy and physiology presented in this program. Not only will you give them accurate information, but also, you’ll be able to help them to prevent many of the harmful habits that come from these misconceptions.

I own the DVD, have spent many hours with this material, and highly recommend it.

Clarifying your body map won’t guaranty that you’ll solve all your movement and coordination problems as you practice and play music. Because your habits often feel “right” to you, it can be difficult to sense the misdirected energy and tension that comes with a poor body map (this is where a skilled Alexander Technique teacher and/or Andover Educator can help).

But just gaining the right information, studying it and applying it to what you do can make a huge difference. As I said, it’s a great place to start. I’ve seen some of my students improve instantly and significantly just be rectifying a particular misconception about their bodies as they play their instrument.

And that reminds me of this “oh, so true” aphorism by F.M. Alexander:

“We can throw away the habit of a lifetime in a few minutes if we use our brains.”

No doubt.

Freedom To Choose

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Nothing has helped me more to improve as a musician than the Alexander Technique. By applying the principles of the work, I’ve been able not only to save my performing career, but also, find a means for continuous improvement as a musician.

Musicians come to me for lessons for a variety of reasons. Initially, most seek me out because of one main concern: pain. It might be a violinist with a stiff shoulder, a flutist with chronic jaw tension, a pianist with back issues, or a saxophonist with neck problems, etc. What often accompanies this pain is the worry of injury, and the sickening fear of not being able to enjoy the career that they love and have worked so hard for.

I know. I’ve been there myself. To be able to play music again without pain and dysfunction is a marvelous feeling. Pure optimism and joy. And if that were the only benefit of studying and applying the Alexander Technique, I’d be beyond satisfied.

Yet most of my students discover (as I have) that after studying the Technique for a good length of time, there are so many other benefits to be enjoyed.

Some of these benefits have little or nothing to do with playing music. (For example, one of my students is a professional guitarist who has greatly improved the quality and enjoyment of his daily recreational runs, thanks to applying what he’s learned from the Technique.)

But it is in the realm of music making where often the most surprising changes can take place. Better intonation. Better technical control. A richer, more powerful sound. Better time. Better sight reading. More spontaneous and flexible performances (whether of improvised or interpretive music). Greater rhythmic imagination for the improvising musician. And perhaps most important, a deeper connection to playing  music, and the enjoyment and satisfaction that comes with that.

All the benefits I’ve listed above become possible because of an acquired ability to solve problems of movement and coordination. This cultivates a more efficient and effective approach to musical practice.

And that brings me to what I think the ultimate benefit of the Alexander Technique is: The freedom to choose.

Musicians (like anybody else) are strongly guided by habit. Some of these habits are good, others, not so much. Without exception, the problems that all my students have playing music are problems of habit. They get stuck doing things habitually the same way, no matter how strenuous, harmful, inefficient or counterproductive it may be to do so.

They lose touch with their ability to choose. Stiff necks, tight shoulders, rigid hands, noisy breathing, locked knees…all beneath the realm of awareness, and thus not really what could be called a true choice. Habit.

The Alexander Technique goes right to the heart of habit. With the Technique you learn to become aware of your unnecessary patterns of tension, especially as they apply to how you function best as you carry out an activity. You become clear about what works (and more important, what doesn’t) and why. You develop a consistent, constructive approach to anything you do. You find the means for change and improvement.

You learn to say “no” to the things that interfere with your ease and efficiency. Then you’re free for something new to happen. Something good. Something surprising. You’re free to choose. And not just freedom from physical problems, but also, freedom to express yourself more deeply and authentically, the freedom to explore more of the creative possibilities in your music, the freedom to take chances. The freedom to be yourself.

Liberating yourself begins with your decision to be guided by choice instead of habit. It really is as truthful and simple as that.

I’ll leave you with this powerful quote from Holocaust survivor and psychotherapist, Viktor Frankl:

“In between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lie our growth and our freedom.”

Today is the day to choose.