Integrity and the Creative Life

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, May/June 2017.)

            I was blessed with some of the best mentors in the business.  Although they are mostly retired now, and some are no longer among us, they live within me every day and their words unfailingly guide me through my career.  One of these great mentors gave me a piece of wisdom that is with me always:  “You must trust the integrity of your preparation.”  This is no piece of refrigerator magnet wisdom; there is a depth to this advice that goes way beyond a catchy turn of phrase.  You can believe in yourself until the cows come home, but this does you no good if you haven’t already *invested* in yourself.  I keep a [handmade] sign outside my teaching studio that says “THE INTEGRITY OF PREPARATION.”  

I live by this motto, but lately I have been thinking about how little we do to teach integrity in the arts.  We teach craft, and we hold our students up to certain standards, but where exactly does integrity come into the picture?  In this issue, I reflect on my own experiences trying to keep integrity at the center of my work.

Say “Yes”

When I was a young man and an aspiring artist, I recognized that I had a long path ahead of me.  I had a bit of chops and a general lack of fear on the stage, but I knew that I had major gaps in my musicianship.  I learned early on that the young musician has to say yes to as many things as possible.  I went to jam sessions, I played for cheap, and I said yes.  A lot.  I played musicals.  I bought my first clarinet because I said yes to a gig that required clarinet.  I bought it along with some reeds and a fingering chart.  I showed up early, wearing the right clothes and a big smile.  I practiced hard, and I tried even harder on the bandstand.  I was never too good for a gig.  I wish I knew how many weddings that I have played, but my best guess is well over a hundred.  I played with blues bands, rock bands, pop bands, big bands, smooth jazz groups, jazz combos, classical saxophone quartets, and more.  I played bar mitzvahs, wine fests, house concerts, and high school festivals.  I said yes because I knew that I needed experience to develop craftsmanship.  I needed to crash and burn (and boy, did I!) to identify the gaps that needed to be filled.  I said yes.

Identify Your Values

You can’t be true to your values if you haven’t articulated them.  Once I started building a resume, I imagined what I really wanted to do with my life.  I knew that I didn’t want to play gigs forever.  I wanted to play concerts, and to say something with music.  I wanted to be an artist.  When I was a student, I had the luxury of playing gigs outside of school while my academic life provided me with opportunities to perform more serious music.  After I completed my masters degree, I took a year off and taught private lessons and gigged.  It became very clear to me, and in very short order, that certain gigs were no longer of interest to me.  In fact, they pulled me away from the time that I needed to invest in the music that I truly loved.  Worse still, all those short rock solos were leaking into my jazz playing - you are what you eat, after all.  I reevaluated my strengths and weaknesses, and I made a five year plan that moved me away from gigs and into a career that would feed my passions for teaching and creativity.  In my case, that meant a focus on art music (of all styles), so that I could move towards a professorship.

Say “No”

I got into a doctoral program and my wife and I packed up and moved from upstate New York to Miami.  I made up my mind that it was time to say no to anything that didn’t directly move me towards my goals.  I said no to weddings.  I said no to gigs with synth backing and click tracks.  I said no to a teaching gig that would have taken up too much time without adding anything uniquely meaningful to my resume.  I sharpened up and dug in.  Musicians are not good at saying no.  We are taught to always say yes.  We are also taught to always be on the defensive.  This is good advice for a young person, but if you find yourself in a position of no longer needing the money, perhaps it is time to reconsider the value of your time.  Be gracious, be humble, but don’t be afraid to say no to something that isn’t worth your time.

Say “Maybe”

Not everything is as simple as a wedding gig versus a concerto or a commission.  Sometimes it becomes very important to think it over.  For example, in my early twenties I was offered a chance to write and record my music for multiphonic saxophone and jazz combo.  I said yes, because I knew that it was a one-time opportunity and it was the chance of a lifetime.  It was also a project that meshed perfectly with my long-term goals.  Later on, I was offered that chance to do a project that was even larger in scope, but out of my wheelhouse.  I ultimately declined on that one, even though it felt crazy to pass on such a great opportunity.  In retrospect, I made a good decision.  I didn’t have the broad skills necessary to knock that project out of the park, and with a little time to reflect, I knew that I would have had a hard time doing a really good job.

More than twenty-five years into my professional life, I have slowly but steadily become a saxophone soloist.  I don’t even play clarinet anymore.  I have the luxury of focussing on the instruments that I love, and the music that ignites my passions.  I am still open to performing in a variety of situations, but only when there is a compelling reason to say yes.  I might play a wedding for a person that I love, or with musicians that I admire.  I know when to say “maybe,” and how to use my set of established values to think it over and to ultimately make the best decision for my career.

Look to Your Heroes

You have heroes.  They are your heroes for a reason.  They probably have, or had an incredible amount of integrity over their careers, which is how they became artists that you admire.  Emulate your heroes.  They obviously did some things right.  Analyze their work carefully, and examine the path that they traveled.  If you love an artist, figure out how and why you love them.  Reverse engineer their successes, and incorporate their work into your own.  Your preferences will illuminate your values, so pay attention to what you like, and to whom you love.

Be a Hero

Many of my heroes are gone - some died before I was even born.  As I enjoy what I gratefully call “mid-career,” I keep in mind that the younger generation is looking up to me.  Like the story of Coltrane being mortified when Coleman Hawkins walked in on him “walking the bar,” I think about the message that my current work sends to my peers and to my students.  I choose work that I am proud to hold up to the light.  I do my best to emulate my heroes, and to use my artistic values as a compass.  I hope to forge a path that will inspire the rising artists of the next generation.  As my heroes melt away into history, I owe them a debt that can only be repaid by stepping up to take the torch.  I will obviously never be Coltrane, or Yusef Lateef, but I will aspire to be the best version of myself, and to prepare with an intensity that will allow me to put full faith in the integrity of that preparation.

Don’t Leave

Another of my great heroes, and a model of artistic integrity in the saxophone world, is Ellery Eskelin.  When Ellery reflected on his decades of work in NYC, he gave an incredibly potent piece of advice:  If you want to make it in New York, don’t leave.  It seems obvious, but I know so many cats that saved up, moved to New York, ran out of bread, and moved home to save up for another attempt.  Ellery has it right.  Find a way to stay, and don’t leave.  For me, a professorship was the equivalent of making it in NYC.  I worked hard, kept at it, and refused to quit.  Obviously, there will be times to retreat and regroup, especially when physical or mental health are on the line, but one must always consider the long-term cost of stepping back.  It is normal to be frustrated, but do your very best to keep working.

Know Yourself

Part of becoming an artist is knowing who you are.  It is vital to build craft, but those skills are only building blocks for your life’s work.  You must clearly identify your long-term goals, and devise a pathway for success.  This will involve serious practice, discipline, devotion, and a huge amount of risk.  You will never know that you are an artist until it becomes the consensus of your peers, and that takes many years.  At some point, you will stand alone with only your courage and the integrity of your preparation.  Prepare well!  §

Curiosity, Creativity, and Kitchen Fires

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, March/April 2017.)

I’ve been teaching at the university level for a long time.  I’m in my forties now, and tenure and promotion to full professor are years behind me.  All those boxes have been ticked, the hoops have been jumped through, and I find myself contemplating “what’s next?”  To find the way forward, it can be helpful to look back, to assess what worked, and what didn’t.  Were there dreams and goals brushed aside as a matter of practicality?  It might be possible to remove old obstacles, or perhaps some of those hurdles disappeared without notice while we were working on other things.  When I reflect on my humble successes, they can all be distilled down to a single defining characteristic that instigated it all:  curiosity.  

Even when I was a child, I had a searing passion for understanding the world around me.  One of my experiments gone awry involved testing the flame in the gas stove with a tissue, to see if it behaved like other forms of fire.  So at five years old, I set the kitchen on fire (no one was harmed but the linoleum and my dad’s feet as he stomped out the flames).  I built working fuses out of foil and I shorted out my model train transformer - again resulting in a small fire.  I liked to take things apart, and sometimes they wouldn’t go back together, but at least I learned something along the way.  My parents were very patient with me, and when they couldn’t answer my questions, they would take me to the library.  My research slowly shifted away from disassembling telephones and creating small electrical fires when I discovered the saxophone.  The mysteries that unveiled themselves on spinning black vinyl, and later on shiny aluminum discs became my new obsessions.  I practiced like I was conducting experiments, trying to decode the secrets that my keyed brass megaphone held like a vessel with a tiny opening, only trickling out the answers as I slaved away in the practice room.  It was curiosity that took me down the path to mastering multiphonics, eventually launching my career.

When I was a junior in high school, I finally made my all-district concert band, and then the Massachusetts All State band.  That year, our conductor was the great John Paynter, the legendary director of bands at Northwestern University.  One of the pieces on the program was Fred Fennell’s transcription of Wagner’s Elsa’s Procession to the Cathedral.  This was the first time that I remember being utterly consumed by emotion while performing; tears streaming down my cheeks, I just tried to keep playing.   The experience changed everything for me, because my curious nature left me totally preoccupied with the why:  why did that experience overwhelm me?  Was it something inherent in the music itself?  Was it the quality of the conductor or the performers?  Was it the fact that I was exhausted from rehearsing for two long days?  As a young musician, I desperately wanted to have that experience again, and as many times as possible!  It was the difference between craft and art.  I knew that from that moment forward, I wanted to be an artist, and to surround myself with art.

That tearful performance was the first of many, and it was the beginning of my heart opening up to a new way of experiencing art, in a variety of media.  I have spent time beyond measure contemplating the art that I love, and the specific elements that bring that rush of emotion.  It can be as simple as the strain of a flatted-sixth, yearning to resolve downward, or as complex as a tone row that I can’t manage to sing back.  The first time that I saw Water Lillies, I was swept up by the unexpected size of the work (I had no idea how huge it is).  I have tried to learn from every experience, whether it was a Buddhist sand mandala or Bach played on a great organ in a huge cathedral.  It’s not that I analyze in the moment, but that I use contemplation as a mental exercise to scrutinize after-the-fact, so that I might be able to reverse-engineer the event.  My curious nature drives me to understand.  Even in the kitchen, I like to use a recipe once, figure out what makes it tick, and then improvise my own version.  This approach occasionally spoils a meal or two, but my favorite recipes are my own creative experiments, and they are always works in progress.

 In our modern society, curiosity is becoming an endangered quality of character.  It isn’t our fault.  When I was a little kid, setting fires and getting electric shocks in the late 1970s, a computer was a novelty to the average human.  The answers to our questions took effort to discover, often searching through large and heavy books with hundreds of pages.  Today, most of us carry super-computers in our pockets, and we can find the answers to many questions by saying, “Hey, Siri!”  When I consider how many phone numbers and addresses I used to have memorized, I can only shake my head at how lazy I have become.  With the mega-brain of the internet at our voice command, we have little reason to memorize how many ounces are in a cup.  I wonder how many young people today can even read a map, and why should they care?  The GPS in their cell phone can get them anywhere that they need to go without knowing the name of a single street.  If this is the age of the death of curiosity, we are all in trouble.  Curiosity seems to be necessary for progress, and if our curiosity becomes limited to “how can I make more money,” we will be trading our prophets for profits, and losing our souls in the process.  In recent generations of university students, I see a huge decline in natural curiosity, and even worse, a willingness to accept information without any need for fact checking or research.  This has given rise to what I call the plagiarism of carelessness, not to mention “fake news.”

When I consider the path forward for the second half of my career, I find myself returning to the satisfaction that I have always found in taking things apart.  I want to break my saxophone and find a way to make it play in a new way.  I want new sounds that I haven’t even imagined yet.  I want to find a compelling reason to add a new key to my horn, so that it will do something that I have never done before.  I want to work with visual artists and research scientists, I want to be moved to tears by a piece of math, and to make friends with people that I might never have met without my raging hunger to experience more.  I want to be more, so that I can feel more, and say more.  I want more.  This seems to be a time when people are thinking more about isolationism, but I want to go beyond boundaries, and to grow in ways that I haven’t even considered.  I feel lucky to have chosen an instrument that has given me fascinating friends from around the world.  We saxophonists tend to be a curious bunch, creative to the core, and for that, I am grateful.  §

Preparing for Auditions

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, November/December 2016.)

            I have officially been in this business long enough to have a son that just auditioned for all state jazz band.  It has been many years since I took an audition, but being with my son in the warm up room really brought back the memories.  Hearing all those musicians shedding the same excerpts, not to mention the cats showing off with their flashiest licks . . . I felt like a teenager again, and not in a good way!  In this issue, I am happy to share some strategies to have a good audition experience.

You Cannot Cram

These days, audition requirements are almost always listed online.  Get the music as early as possible, and start preparing right away.  The details are important, so don’t miss the specifics about things like scale requirements, tempo markings, articulations, etc.  Around all state season, I always see a spike in private lesson requests.  No, I cannot teach you how to make district band when the audition is in two weeks and you haven’t learned the etude and can’t tongue your chromatic scale at the required tempo!  When you do this, you are wasting everyone’s time, including your own. Make sure that you have adequate time to prepare.  You cannot cram for an audition.  

Long-term Private Study

Rather than desperately trying to fix all your problems right before an audition, take regular private lessons over a long period of time.  That way, you will have a foundation of skills that you build slowly.  When a student comes to me asking for help with an audition excerpt, I often find that they really need help with basics like tone production, articulation, and good technique.  These things require sustained, disciplined practice.  If you can’t tongue a chromatic scale in sixteenth notes at 100 BPM, there is nothing I can do to get you to 120 in a few weeks.  I don’t have a magic wand, and if I did, I would charge a lot of money and retire as soon as possible!

Did I Mention Details?

When you are performing an audition excerpt or etude, be sure to extract every bit of information from the score.  Things like articulations and dynamics are not mere suggestions.  Chances are, the judges will be using a rubric to score your audition.  Be extremely clear with your interpretation.  Exaggerate the dynamics, demonstrate all the articulations, and execute the rhythms with precision.  Translate every foreign language term in the score, and know how to interpret accordingly.  (I recently had a student try to play a stringendo  by dramatically slowing down . . . wrong guess!) Play with your most beautiful tone, and be true to the style.  For example, a Duke Ellington part would have very different vibrato and overall style when compared to something more contemporary.  Show that you know something more than just what is on the printed page.  For a classical audition, don’t show up with your Otto Link 9* and a Vandoren Java reed!  You will be judged immediately on your tone, then on your style, and finally according to how well you nail the material.  Experienced judges can tell the difference between a little slip and a general lack of preparation.

Warm Up Room Etiquette

The warm up room is a terrible place.  I got a rush of anxiety just dropping my son off in that noisy band room!  Be respectful of others and give your fellow auditionees their own space.  This is not the time to play altissimo exercises and try to play ten clicks faster than the in the other corner of the room.  Try to relax and play some long tones and scales.  Make sure that your G# and C# keys are sticking, and that your reed is working well.  Have extra reeds, just in case something goes wrong, and bring a screwdriver in your case – screws have a way of backing out right before auditions and performances!  If you have a lot of time to kill, don’t blow your chops out in the warm up area.  Bring a book and a light snack, and definitely bring a water bottle!  The water will keep you hydrated, but can also be used to wet your reed, in case it dries out.  Be friendly to the other folks auditioning and remember that they are just as nervous as you, and they want to pass the audition just as much as you do.  Don’t be overly chatty, but don’t be afraid to say hello and to introduce yourself.  It is worth mentioning here that attire should be appropriate for the audition.  For example, something like khakis and a polo shirt might be ok for a district band audition, but a college audition calls for a tie, or business attire for ladies.  Dress comfortably, but never risk being embarrassed by being under-dressed.

Practice Sight Reading

Sight reading is often a part of any audition.  You must practice sight reading.  For more on this subject, check out my blog post at the following link:

How To Practice Sight Reading

For a jazz audition, regularly read sample jazz band charts and etudes; the Greg Fishman series is highly recommended!  Good sight readers are familiar with lots of rhythmic clichés.  Practice with a metronome and record yourself, so you can go back and analyze your mistakes.  Sight read with your best tone and try to be true to the rhythms, even if you can’t catch all the right notes.  Practice counting, and whatever you do, don’t stop and start, and especially refrain from groaning (yes, I have heard auditionees mutter “oh crap” after making a mistake – this is certain death!).

For classical auditions, be familiar with a variety of styles.  Saxophonists should be ready to play marches (marches are HARD to play well) and well-known excerpts, such as pieces by Percy Grainger, and famous orchestral parts like Bolero and Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet.  There are a number of good excerpt books out there, and you can always ask your band director if you can look at sax parts from the school or university library.  The more music you know, the less you will worry about sight reading.

The Day Before

Leading up to an audition, take it easy on your chops.  Play a normal amount, but no more.  You don’t want a sore lip or a swollen wrist on audition day.  Something as simple as being adequately rested can make the difference that pushes you over the top.  Eat healthy, nutritious meals the day before an audition, and try to eat lightly before the audition.  You can always celebrate afterwards with a heavy meal, but you don’t want a belly full of pizza on the big day!  Likewise, don’t make yourself shaky with caffeine and sugar, and for you college students, steer clear of alcohol.  You want to feel comfortable, strong, and in control.  Did I mention sleep?  Nobody plays well when exhausted.

Practice Like Every Day is an Audition Day

Far and away, the best approach to being prepared is to always be prepared.  Any serious classical saxophonist should have Ibert, Glazunov, Creston, and the last movement of Tableaux de Provence in decent shape at all times.  Check out the audition requirements for military band auditions (these are always posted online when there is a vacancy). Preparation is a state of being.  Cultivate a culture of preparation and you will never have to work too hard to get ready, as you will be accustomed to working hard as a normal mode of operation.

Perspective

Remember that anyone that is judging your audition has probably been on your side of the room many times.  I never even made district band until I was a junior in high school, and I didn’t make district or all state jazz band until my senior year.  I was rejected by Busch Gardens and Disney.  It felt terrible at the time, but I turned that disappointment into fuel.  By my junior year in college, I won the DownBeat award for Best Collegiate Instrumental Soloist.  I never gave up, and I won a professorship when I was only 27 years old.  I was focused on the long game, I practiced and studied like crazy, and I never lost focus on the importance of fundamentals.  Practice, and audition well!  §

The Temporal World of the Creative Mind

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, July/August 2016.)

In this column [Beyond Boundaries: 2014-2017], I have often written about creativity in very practical terms.  Creativity requires practice, and once developed, creativity becomes a habit.  Of course, even the most productive artists will experience the dreaded blockage.  Sometimes, the muse refuses to show up to work, leaving us with nothing but frustration.  Here are some thoughts about ways to get through a stubborn patch.

Timelines

If you are working on a specific project, don’t just have a deadline - have a timeline.  Start working early, and set mini-deadlines along the way that will help to keep you on track.  Never, ever make your personal deadline the *actual* deadline!  Try to set up a schedule that has you doing a set amount of work each day, with the hope of completing things a full month ahead of the true deadline.  In the best-case scenario, you will have that extra month to polish things up, do some editing, or start on the next project.  A little “cushion” can also be a lifesaver for times when you will inevitably fall behind.

Time for Reflection

Creativity is not just about the act of making stuff.  It is absolutely vital to spend time thinking about what you are going to create.  This time should be completely focused on reflection.  I like to sit in a quiet place with no distractions and imagine the finished product.  For example, if I am working on a new composition, I try to imagine what the score will look like.  What will it sound like?  I imagine the premiere performance, and how it will be received.  I do this in as much detail as possible.  This time must be spent with great discipline.  Disconnect from the Internet, put your phone in another room, and concentrate completely on your goals for the work.  When you have a detailed image in your mind, it will be easier to get down to business.  Having a clear vision of the finished product can provide guidance in the process, and even allow you to mentally work backwards and fill in the blanks.

Give Yourself a Break

Creativity burns a lot of fuel, mentally and physically.  When the spirit moves you, be prepared to work as hard as you can for as long as possible, but don’t run yourself into the ground.  It is important to eat well and to get enough sleep.  I do most of my writing by hand at a large table, but I try to get up and move around at least once an hour.  I like to schedule my time in blocks and I make my best effort to honor the schedule as much as possible.  We all have bad days, so setting a somewhat conservative schedule will also allow you to occasionally take a break when things just aren’t happening.

Actively Seek Inspiration

Inspiration usually doesn’t just fall into your lap.  You have to go hunting.  Read books, watch movies, attend concerts, go for long walks, and PAY ATTENTION TO EVERYTHING.  Seek inspiration outside of your discipline.  Go to art galleries and museums.  You never know what is going to stoke your artistic fire.  The muse sometimes communicates through a series of coincidents, or synchronicities.  We could argue whether perceived meaning in these linked events is real or imagined, but the effect is the same.  For example, I was trying to decide if I was going to write some music based on the poetry of William Blake.  In a period of weeks, a friend gave me an anthology that was sitting on her desk and I recognized uncredited Blake quotations on the radio and at a choral concert.  It felt like the universe was sending me a message to push onward, and I had renewed energy to complete my project.

Have a Mentor

In the arts, private instruction is a vital part of the process.  Once in a while, a special teacher will enter your life.  That teacher will be more than just a communicator of a trade.  If you are fortunate, you will forge friendships with masters of your discipline that go deeper.  A mentor will invest in you as a person, and will be a person that you can go to for advice, support, or even just a friendly ear.  When you find that special mentor, keep in touch and foster the relationship over the years.  (Also, remember to *be* a mentor, when the time comes.)

The Gravitational Force of the Deadline

As many of us know from experience, sometimes we are unable to get anything done, and we procrastinate. (One of my former students had a tee-shirt that said “Procrastinators Unite . . . tomorrow.”)  There is an undeniable bit of magic that can happen right at the last minute.  The pressure kicks in and the brain submits to “it’s now or never.”  When faced with the stark choice of completion or failure, we usually get that boost of survival energy to get the job done.  Cranking it out at the last minute can be very stressful, and for mental health reasons, I don’t recommend relying on this method on a regular basis, but coming up to the deadline can pack a particular creative punch.  There is also a theory, with good merit, that all that time procrastinating has the effect of reflection, soul-searching, and stumbling into inspiration in unexpected places.

The Creative Life

I don’t know very many people that are occasionally creative.  Creativity is a philosophy, a way of seeing the world, and most importantly, a lifestyle.  Creative people have a unique way of approaching things, and it seems to seep into even the most mundane aspects of their daily lives.  So get out there and live the creative life!  §

Teacher vs. Mentor

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, May/June 2016.)

            Music, along with arts and humanities, is one of the last disciplines to rely heavily on the master-apprentice system.  When a music student chooses a school, the teacher should be at least equal in priority to the institution itself. There are, of course, complex equations where one must weigh out the value of a “brand name” school where one will study with a secondary teacher or graduate student versus a lesser-known school with a fabulous primary teacher.  I advise students to plan on attending several different schools, and perhaps saving the big school for a graduate degree, to save money and to have a better shot of studying with the main teacher.  I am biased in that this was my own path, but it had great influence on my goal of becoming a saxophone professor at a large, comprehensive, public university.  Sometimes, things work out just right!  In this article, I address what I see as the difference between teaching and mentorship.

First of all, let’s get one thing out of the way before we begin: the best teachers are also the best artists.  Period.  You cannot be a great music teacher without also being a great musician.  Different people will possess the two skillsets in varying proportions, but a great teacher didn’t fall back on a second career.  With that said, being a great performer is no guarantee of being a great teacher, so don’t be fooled by someone’s resume or recordings without actually getting a lesson.  You are investing in your future, so make certain that your choose a master artist-teacher.

What is teaching anyway?

Teaching at its most basic form is simply the transmission of knowledge from the master to the apprentice.  Teaching takes many forms, and a great teacher will be able to adapt teaching style to different students.  At the foundation of my own teaching philosophy is the belief that we cannot solve a problem without first stating the problem itself, ideally in a short sentence and without fancy words.  Clarity is a natural product of simplicity, and we should always strive for both.

For example, a beginning student needs to be taught the various fingerings for b-flat.  That should begin with one fingering (I start with side).  When that is firmly in place, we can begin to introduce other fingerings.  It helps to introduce a new fingering with a passage that illustrates its usefulness.  Using an excellent example as a vehicle for the initial learning is very valuable.  A master teacher will sense when the student is ready to start problem solving independently and he/she will provide situations where the student must discern the best fingering from the context. (Ferling etudes are brilliant for this!)  At every step, a great teacher will explain thoroughly in as simple terms as possible.  It is my hope that a student will leave a great lesson with a thorough understanding of “why,” even if the concept isn’t solidly learned.  I never want to have to say, “do it this way because I say so!”

“But I’m a visual learner . . .”

Stop.  Please.  There is no research that shows that anyone learns differently.  Learning is a result of disciplined repetition.  Before you start the hate emails, please keep reading.  We all have preferred ways of conceptualizing things, and that might be through visual imagery, reading about it in book, or stumbling through trial and error.  Once that door of understanding swings open, the hard work of practicing begins, but there is a difference between understanding the problem and actually learning.  “Getting it,” isn’t the same as mastery of a technique.  Think visually all you want, but when it comes to learning, find a teacher that shows you how and what to practice, and then go put in the work.

The Teaching Environment:  “Vibe”

A great teacher understands that the environment and the mood has a tremendous effect on the process.  There needs to be a balance of elements to facilitate a positive experience for the student.  For example, a teacher that is constantly late or irregular in managing the teaching schedule will create a feeling of not caring much about their students.  Students at every level thrive on a regular schedule.  It helps them to be accountable for their work, building trust and shared responsibility.  

Every teacher will find a balance between formality and informality.  Some teachers will insist on being called by their title (“Professor,” “Doctor,” etc.) while others are happy going on a first-name basis.  There is a danger in being too informal, but excessive formality can also leave a student feeling too uncomfortable to do their best work.  Whether the studio vibe is strict or loose, there should always be a feeling of safety.  Students need to feel safe to confide in the teacher, to ask dumb questions, and to fail without being shamed.  Accountability for preparation and outcomes is clearly vital, but not at the expense of trust and respect.

Student-centered

In my opinion, a master teacher is always focused on the student.  Artists and egos tend to go hand-in-hand, but a good teacher will never put their own ego ahead of the welfare and learning of their students.  Any good teaching philosophy is student-centered.  If a teacher says things like, “but I’ve invested so much you,” or “How can you do this to me?” run away and never look back.  A master knows that the apprentice can, and must fail, and sometimes fail spectacularly.  A great teacher is secure enough to allow a student to crash without obsessing on how it reflects on them.  

Shine the Light

A master teacher will do all the things that I have written here, but mentorship requires a deeper relationship.  I’ve often said that a teacher provides information, but a mentor shines a light down paths of possibility.  No one can do the work for you, but a great mentor will lead by example and illuminate various routes to success, tailored to the individual student.  Long-term goals are the culmination of careful planning, thoughtful decision-making, and hard work.  A mentor will show you what is possible and facilitate the work by lighting the way.

Finding the Match

Every student is unique, and the same holds true for teachers.  If a student requires a lot of nurturing and patience, a very formal and strict teacher might not be the best match.  Take the time to visit different schools, and take sample lessons before you make any commitments.  Look for a teacher that makes you feel safe, but also pushes you to improve.  Insist on clarity with assignments and explanations.  Most of all, try to find a teacher that makes you want to practice.  If you have a clear sense of the work and an illuminated path before you, you are sure to succeed.  Practice well!  §

Practice Techniques for Stress Free Technique

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, March/April 2016.)

In a recent saxophone quartet coaching session, I had a group sight read a string quartet transcription that had a somewhat challenging little passage that passed around the group.  Each time a new voice had to play the stream of articulated sixteenth notes, I took note of something that was consistent across all the players.  As soon as the lick started, the saxophonist leaned forward, the shoulders came up, everything tensed, and, as one might predict, it did not go well.  This stress posture is seemingly universal.  Where does it come from, and why do take on this physical position that makes playing the saxophone even more difficult?

When I was a younger man, I had terrible headaches.  I eventually ended up doing biofeedback therapy, which proved to be incredibly helpful.  The doctor connected sensors to my forehead that measured electrical activity in the muscles, translating into muscular contraction, ergo, stress.  The electrodes fed a tone generator that produced a pitch that went down when the muscles relaxed.  I practiced progressive muscle relaxation, and sure enough, even relaxing in my feet and legs produced a measurable (and audible) lowering of tension in the forehead.  It’s no wonder that we get headaches from any sort of excess tension. 

Another helpful treatment involved a fingertip thermometer.  The doctor explained that humans have evolved to protect the core organs from perceived threats.  Imagine, if a wild animal attacks a person, that person could potentially survive the loss of a limb, but a bite to the torso could easily be fatal.  In reaction to stress, the body sends a rush of blood to the internal organs, and this can easily be measured as a drop in temperature in the extremities.  Nerves can give us cold hands, enough to be measured with a thermometer.  The doctor gave me mental exercises to warm the hands.  Much to my amazement, deep breathing and imagining a warm fireplace was very effective at raising the temperature of my fingertips.  From a headache perspective, the rushing of blood to the core causes sudden changes in the blood vessels of the head and can cause migraines.

It occurred to me that the raising of the shoulders, the collapsing of the chest, and the leaning forward are all related to this stress-induced need to protect the thorax and abdomen.  Every day, I see students tense up under pressure and assume this stress posture.  If a bear was attacking, this position would probably be wise, but it certainly doesn’t help one to execute a complicated musical passage.  In fact, this physical reaction chokes off the air, constricts voicing and resonance, and interrupts the smooth motion of the fingers.  Therefore, we need to actually unlearn this reaction that is deeply embedded in our DNA.  We need to relax, and we need to relax the most when it is the least natural thing to do. It is possible to overcome this natural tendency, but it requires disciplined practice.

It should go without saying that we must first learn to relax in a controlled environment.  For many of us, this is hard enough!  The modern world does not really encourage us to be quiet and concentrate on being relaxed.  For starters, try sitting upright in a comfortable chair.  Start by tensing your toes, and then relaxing them.  Work through every muscle group that you can identify – first tensing, then releasing.  Go through the muscles of your legs, your hips, your belly, and your chest.  Squeeze your hands into fists and let them go.  Raise your shoulders and drop your arms at your sides.  Tense and release your neck, your throat, you tongue.  Scrunch up your face and then release.  As you do this, remember to take deep inhalations and long, slow exhalations.  When you have gone through all your muscles, reassess the way you feel and look for any unresolved stress in your body.  Take a few minutes to really experience the relaxation, and try to burn it in to your memory.  With practice, you will get better, and quicker at achieving this feeling of centered calm and physical ease.

Once you can achieve this feeling of relaxed stillness, start your saxophone practice with a quick session of progressive relaxation.  Once you are there, play some long tones, and then move on to scales and technical passages.  As you practice, continually assess your level of physical stress.  Strive for good posture and loose muscles.  I find it helpful to think about soft hands, heavy and warm.  Never play with cold hands or any tightness!  Work your way from easy and familiar things to more challenging technical exercises and faster tempos and articulations.  I like to do this with the “mechanism” exercises from Larry Teal’s The Saxophonist’s Workbook.  Make the purpose of your practice to stay relaxed.  Bring the saxophone into your world of good posture and calm relaxation.  Never lean into the horn, squeeze keys, or let the shoulders rise.  This is easier said than done, which is where the disciplined practice comes in.

It isn’t always easy to just “fake” a stressful situation.  This can require some creativity.  I used to practice reading tone rows (“tropes”) from Yusef Lateef’s Repository of Scales and Melodic Patterns with the metronome, gradually increasing the tempo.  As the notes come faster and faster, I would focus on keeping relaxed and allowing wrong notes to slip out, rather than to clench up and fall out of time.  These days, I do a scale practice that my students coined “The Super Fly,” where I gradually work from eighth notes to triplets, sixteenths, and groupings of five, six, seven, etc.  As the notes go faster and faster, I focus on keeping totally relaxed, to the point of barely closing the pads.  It helps to think about finger technique as lifting, rather than pressing down.

I have recently become a serious student of calligraphy, for music, handwriting, and art.  I read a quote from an 19^thcentury master of Spencerian handwriting that said something like, “Remember to breathe as you write.”  I chuckled when I caught myself trying to draw a long flourish, only to blow it because I was tensed up and, you guessed it, holding my breath!  To live is to breathe, and relaxed and natural breathing is the soul of good technique, whether one is playing the saxophone, driving a racecar, or painting at the canvas.  A concerted effort in learning to easily access that place of centered tranquility will undoubtedly result in a better chance of maintaining that calm when the difficult passage comes at you.  In a future issue, I will refer to some significant research being conducted by my current students on performance-related stress and measurements of the stress hormone cortisol.  For now, practice well, and don’t forget to breathe!  §

Should I Make a CD?

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, January/February 2016)

            I recently upgraded my work computer to a new laptop.  It is small, relatively light, and super fast.  It has no hard drive, as the storage is solid-state, internal flash.  It is also lacking an optical drive . . . so there is no way to rip, or even play a cd.  This has turned out to be more frustrating that I initially expected, but progress marches on.  This “progress” reared its head when I recently encouraged a student to listen to recording of somewhat obscure version of a classical piece that he is working on; I offered to loan him the cd, but he politely declined because, “I’d have no way of listening to it.”  This gave me pause, and not for the reasons that might first pop into your head.  This young person is a perfect representative of a major target audience for what I would call “saxophone art music,” that is, music that is going to be most interesting to serious students and academic musicians.  If the target consumer of the product doesn’t even have the technology to listen to a cd, should I even consider making a traditional recording?  How can I justify the expense of producing a piece of media that is clearly of no interest to young people?  Is it worth all that money to what amounts to a fancy business card?

Sidetrack:  I’ve been a big fan of David Bowie since I was a teenager.  I wore out my cassette copy of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.  I moved on to cds, and now I have a healthy collection of Bowie on vintage, and newly produced, vinyl records.  His last album really caught my attention when he made the incredible decision to record a track with the Maria Schneider Orchestra, “Sue (Or In A Season of Crime).”  His newest album comes out in January, and I jumped when I saw that Donny McCaslin returns as the tenor soloist with a small band that includes Ben Monder on guitar.  The title single, ★(pronounced “Blackstar), was released ahead of the album on YouTube.  It is a ten-minute piece of theater, and from a saxophonist’s perspective, Donny McCaslin sounds like a million dollars.

It should be no surprise that you can preorder the album as a download for $8.99.  If you want to buy a physical copy of the cd, that will cost you an additional $2.99.  I wonder how many cds they will sell, as compared to straight downloads.  Here is where it gets interesting.  For between $20 and $50, you can get a cd with a limited edition lithograph (you get to choose one of three different artworks), a clear vinyl LP, the vinyl with your choice of lithograph, or the deluxe package of the vinyl with all three artworks.  You can only get all three lithographs with the deluxe edition.  These are also specified as the preorder prices, so it is unclear what happens after the official release in January.

For artists, this is a business model worth examining.  First of all, the initial track is essentially free, if you can stomach watching an ad.  Vevo racked up over two million hits in the first couple of days!  Now that Bowie has your attention, you are offered a menu of purchasing options to suit your budget and your level of interest.  Neither David Bowie nor Columbia Records invented this approach.  I first saw it happening with independent artists, releasing a download-only for a small amount of money, but a more expensive piece of physical media for the real fans.  Many of these endeavors were crowd-sourced, which is only one step removed from a structure of pre-ordering.  Some of my former students have also been releasing boutique vinyl pressings as an alternative to cds.  The vinyl has the appeal of being “special.”  You can’t copy vinyl (at least not in a practical way), and it requires a certain investment in equipment for playback.  It involves dedication, pride of ownership, and the ritual of relatively complicated playback.  Artists and record labels are figuring out that cds aren’t terribly “special,” but vinyl can be offered in a variety of colors, with elaborate packaging and artwork.  You can even print artwork directly on the vinyl record!  This is a new concept for anyone born after the end of the first age of the LP.  Everything old is new again, sooner or later.

There are plenty of middle-aged, tweed jacket wearing intellectuals that have fancy stereos and turntables for their precious collections of 180-gram deluxe pressings, but guess what?  I have students that have no way to play a cd, but they own a phonograph and have a stash of used records.  They won’t bother to buy a cd because they couldn’t be bothered to buy a cd player, but they like the feeling of owning something special.  One student told me that he even likes a little surface noise, because it makes it sound “real.”  Young people are abandoning an old technology and, at least in certain cases, they are returning to an even more archaic media.  We could write them off as hipsters, but I would be careful.  I still have my father’s wool overcoat because even some fifty years old, it is better than anything that I could buy in the store today.  Call me a hipster, but there is no denying quality.

We can argue about what any of this means, and whether analogue sounds better than digital, but one thing is clear: the market is rapidly changing and nobody can predict precisely where we are headed.  There is definitely still a certain prestige involved in making a cd.  I’m just not certain that it is a smart investment to actually produce a physical cd, and definitely not if it is only for the purpose of qualifying oneself as a legitimate artist.  The advantage to selling downloads is obvious, in that there is no costly artwork, packaging, or shipping involved.  On the other end of the spectrum, vinyl is expensive and is a hassle to produce, but the potential markup is going to be higher, and a small run for the “real fans” might be worth the effort.  I would carefully do the math before embarking on such a venture.

A good decision should be steered by understanding the purpose of your recording.  Are you trying to make money by selling the recording itself, or are you trying to promote your live shows?  Perhaps you are making a cd to grow your reputation in the field.  A composer could be interested in getting his/her music more known, in order to sell the sheet music to other performers.  There are lots of reasons to make a recording, and the motivations can range from a desire for profit to pure vanity.  A reasonable determination of the best business plan would require a grasp of the intended audience, and an understanding of how that audience consumes music, not to mention the expected scale.  Selling one hundred copies is a lot different from selling a thousand, or ten thousand!

People expect to get a lot for free these days, but I honestly believe that fans still have an interest in connecting with the artists that they love.  (I was recently on a gig and the artist ran out of cds, and two people just gave him the money anyway!!!)  We have an opportunity in this moment to find new ways of distributing our music, and to create new ways of generating income.  Whether that means a menu of options and upgrades, special artwork, autographs, meet-and-greet release parties – you can control your own business, but one thing seems pretty clear to me:  the clock is ticking on the shiny silver disc.  §

A Simple Approach to Voicing

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, November/December 2015.)

      

Voicing is one of those words that saxophonists use all the time, but I often discover that many students have a limited understanding of what is really meant by voicing for the notes.  Voicing is absolutely vital for good sound and intonation.  Furthermore, mastery of overtones, altissimo, and multiphonics is completely dependent upon good voicing.  In this article, I will share some of the ways that I teach voicing to my students, and some of the practice techniques that I use to improve my own tone, intonation, and control.

We must always remember that the laws of physics apply to everything that we do, and we live in a universe of particles and waves.  Molecules of water come to together to form the mighty waves of the oceans, just as subatomic particles of energy race through the galaxies in waves of radiation.  Sound is simply another expression of particles moving as waves.  The air inside your saxophone forms standing waves called resonances, and when we apply energy in the form of air, the saxophone converts the directional energy of your air (i.e., you blow in one direction) into vibrational energy, moving back and forth and propagating as a wave to anyone with ears to listen.  On an alto saxophone, if we finger an F-sharp at the top of the staff, the horn is set up to vibrate at 220 Hz.  As soon as we provide energy to the standing wave, the reed starts opening and closing at 220 times per second.  This is the frequency of the wave, and it determines the pitch that we hear.

As the reed vibrates, it is reacting to the natural resonance inside the saxophone, which is why a change of fingering causes the reed to vibrate at a different speed, corresponding to the length of the air column within the instrument.  This shouldn’t be news to anyone that seriously studies the instrument, but there is another side to the story, and it is literally happening on the other side of the mouthpiece; just as the saxophone is vibrating, there is a second wave vibrating inside your body.  I refer to this wave as the resistance wave.  The resistance wave is easily experienced when we play a low B-flat and feel the vibration in our chest.  Higher notes have shorter wavelengths, so the feeling shifts from our torso to the throat and oral cavity as the notes ascend in pitch.

In order to understand the relationship between the front wave (sound), the back wave (resistance), and the reed/mouthpiece interface, I like to use the analogy of the horseshoe shaped tube and the law of equilibrium.  Simply put, if we pour a bucket of water into a horseshoe shaped tube, the level of the water will be the same on either side of the tube.  This is a state of equilibrium, and from a molecular perspective, the water is spread out in an even fashion and under a minimum of stress.  If we were to close one side of the horseshoe and start pumping air pressure into the closed side of the tube, the water level would go down on one side, and it would rise a corresponding amount on the other side.  At the level of the individual water molecules, some would be pressed together, generating friction that would cause some energy to be lost in the form of heat.  Water on the other side would be forced apart.  This is an uncomfortable situation for the water and as soon as the air pressure was released from the closed side of the horseshoe, the water would return to a state of equilibrium, equalizing on both sides and reaching a maximum state of relaxation in the system of molecules.

If we apply this analogy to the saxophone, it goes like this:  the saxophone is the open end of the tube, your body is the closed side of the tube, and the waves of air represent the system of water molecules.  If we use our body to exert a force that is inharmonious with the standing resonance in the saxophone, the air will vibrate with the same kind of irregularities that we saw in the water molecules (some bunched up, some spread out).  In musical terms, the reed will not be able to vibrate fully because it will be losing energy to compensate for the difference between the resonance in the saxophone and the resonance in your body.  This is where voicing comes in.

Voicing actually means resonance matching, and this concept of matching is the key to getting the reed to vibrate in a full and organized way – in other words, getting a good tone!  If you can whistle, whistle a high note and then slide down as low as you can go.  If you can’t whistle, singing works as well.  As you move downward, try to feel the position of your tongue.  You should notice that the arch of the tongue changes.  Lower notes are created by an increased volume of air within the body, affected by the arch of the tongue.  Also, try saying the vowel sounds in heeee, hay, and hooooo.  Tongue position creates a resonating chamber in the oral cavity, and acts as a gateway into the throat and chest.  Voicing for the saxophone could be likened to silent singing, in that we are creating the proper resonance for the desired note, but singing vibrates the vocal chords, whereas playing the saxophone shifts the vibration to the reed/mouthpiece – the vocal chords of the saxophone!

Low notes require a large resonating chamber, which translates into a low tongue, an open throat, and a relaxed chest cavity.  Higher notes are voiced by raising the tongue to shrink the resonating chamber.  I have heard Claude Delangle, professor at the Paris Conservatory, refer to playing the higher notes with the feeling of whistling.  The more closely we match the note of the saxophone with the resonance of our voicing, the more harmoniously the reed will vibrate, translating into a full, rich sound.  While it might seem extremely difficult to match our voicing with every single note, it is really no more difficult than singing, which we do quite intuitively!  For this reason, I encourage my students to sing, and to sing into the saxophone to get a feeling for how easy good voicing can be, with proper practice, of course.

Years ago, I started using the Sigurd Rascher book Top Tones as a touchstone for learning about overtones, voicing, and good sound throughout the registers.  Yes, the book is also about altissimo, but it is equally about mastering the bottom register of the horn, and you cannot approach the former without first mastering the latter.  For overtone studies, I have my students go through the following procedure, and for illustrative purposes, let’s use part of the overtone series on low B-flat:

1.     Play the low B-flat and get the pitch in your ear.

2.     With the lips closed around the mouthpiece and low B-flat fingered on the horn, sing a loud B-flat into the horn.  (Men can generally sing in the octave of the instrument, but women will need to sing one octave higher, which is perfectly acceptable.)

3.     When the voice is smoothly projecting through the saxophone, slowly stop singing and let the reed vibrate into a normal tone.

4.     Play the note again, this time hearing the note in your mind while mentally “singing.”

It is very important to notice that singing out of tune will result in a warbling of the voice.  Try singing a B-natural into the horn while fingering low B-flat.  You should almost feel a choking sensation, and your voice will be pushed back into the proper resonance for the horn.  It is important to master vocal matching in the low register, as the saxophone has very strong resonances on low notes, meaning you will clearly know if you are voicing properly, based on a smooth sound coming out of the saxophone when you sing.  Higher notes have very weak resonance, so the saxophone is early overpowered and will give very little instructive feedback, comparatively speaking.

This same procedure should be applied as you ascend the overtone series, and you can use the excellent overtone variations found in Top Tones as material for study.  So, while fingering a low B-flat, you would repeat on the next octave B-flat, then F, then the high B-flat, and so on.  Remember to always finger low B-flat, and always sing with the lips closed around the mouthpiece.  Sing out strong, and freely change octaves to find the most comfortable part of your vocal range.  Repeat on the overtone series for low B, low C, and low C-sharp.

For an overview of my approach to the altissimo register, please refer to my YouTube video on the subject:

Good voicing requires practice.  It is important to use singing as a way to ensure that you are in the correct vocal position for a given note.  Once intuition is established between the voice and the ear (or perhaps the imagination), it will feel very normal and voicing will be integrated into your playing so that you hardly notice that you are doing it.  With that said, you will certainly be aware that something is wrong when you make a poor tone quality, or miss a partial (for example, fingering a middle D but having the A above sound – which is the next note up the harmonic series for low D!).  Remember that good sound is the most important aspect of playing any instrument and that good sound will always be accompanied by good intonation and excellent air support.  To practice one, we must practice them all!  Practice well.