Tips for Mastering the Soprano Saxophone

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, September/October 2015.)

After a recent, all-soprano saxophone performance in Europe, a musician friend said to me, “I don’t normally like soprano sax, but I really enjoyed your playing.”  I’ve heard that more than once, and while it is flattering, it also makes me wonder why people don’t like the soprano.  It’s a marvelous instrument with an array of colors, brilliance, and agility.  Then again, I’ll hear someone trying to play it without seriously approaching the distinctiveness of the little horn, and I totally understand the somewhat popular aversion to the instrument.  In this issue, I offer some practical advice for mastering the soprano saxophone.

Double, Don’t Dabble

As my old friend Chris Vadala would say, you can double, or you can dabble.  Soprano is not something that you can just pick up and play without sufficient practice to negotiate its unique problems.  First of all, when compared to the larger horns, the soprano is very small, so tiny adjustments have a big impact on what comes out of the bell.  To the player, the horn can seem fussy and the pitch can be wild, to say the least.  Playing the soprano with a good tone, even response, and excellent intonation requires patient and thorough practice.

Before we get too detailed, let’s make the assumption that we are talking about the straight version of the soprano.  Unlike its serpentine counterparts of various sizes, the straight soprano is almost completely conical.  Straight sopranos with interchangeable necks introduce a short length of cylinder at the socket, but the effect is somewhat negligible.  (It is worth noting that the early versions of the Selmer Series III suffered from this design problem and later versions added an internally threaded section to the neck socket.)  The relatively uninterrupted conical bore of the soprano results in a few interesting changes from what we normally expect on altos and tenors.

Altos tend to play sharp on low Bb, but flat on low B, C, and sometimes C#.  This flatness results from the curvature of the bow creating turbulence and under-venting of those notes.  Sopranos, however, tend to be sharp throughout the lowest tones.  We also come to expect the middle C# to be quite flat, but sopranos are usually a bit sharp on the open note!  The octaves also can be wide on the shorter fingerings, resulting in a very sharp extreme upper register.  Instruments that use the Mark VI style “doughnut key” attempt to resolve this issue by automatically deploying a small ring over the C-key to lower the pitch of the upper register, starting at high C#.  

At any rate, the intonation anomalies of the soprano can make it difficult for the novice to correctly place the mouthpiece on the cork.  Compensating for the sharp notes by pulling out on the cork leaves the instrument grossly out of tune with itself.  For this reason, I have my students start by pushing the mouthpiece in fairly far on the cork.  From there, they slowly test all three octaves of C and the two octaves of G.  When they have pulled out a bit, we go on to test middle C# and high C#.  If the C#s are very high, we might need to pull out a little more.  This takes some practice, but it is worth the time.  I also have the student mark the cork with a marker or a piece of tape, so that they will have a ballpark reminder for the future.  This spot will change as the player develops, but it is helpful to have a benchmark for comparison.

Mouthpieces and Reeds

There are more mouthpiece choices today than ever before, but I am very dubious of using exotic designs and extreme tip openings for soprano.  Some of the best players that I have ever heard play moderately sized rubber Selmer mouthpieces.  I use a Selmer C** for classical settings, an E for situations that require a bit more volume, and a Selmer Super Session H for jazz.  I’ve had a few other mouthpieces from popular makers, but the Selmers give me the most flexibility and ease of response through the registers.  Easy is good, and I don’t want to be thinking about mouthpieces when I am performing!  I use French-filed #3 reeds on all of my soprano mouthpieces, again avoiding anything fancy or unusual.  When choosing reeds, I make sure that they are soft enough to play quietly in the low register (more on that in a moment), but that they have enough stiffness in the tip to play clearly in the extreme high register.  Ideally, I am looking for reeds that will easily speak on low Bb while offering altissimo up to high C.  This requires a break-in period for new reeds and the patience to identify the few in a box that will actually work.  For perspective, I recently prepared for a soprano concert and started out by breaking in twenty reeds.  I ended up with around five that met my basic criteria, and it came down to two reeds that I was willing to use on the concert.  It’s a lot of work to get the best reeds, but it is well worth it to have a setup that you know will be reliable on the gig.  In other words, do your reed homework.

Tips for the Low Register

Soprano plays with relative ease in the middle register, but the lowest notes can be very challenging.  As you approach the full length of the cone, these bottom notes have very high resonance and low resistance.  This means that you don’t get much back pressure and when the note speaks, it does so with force.  If one is not careful, those low notes can really squawk and honk.  I have my students start by practicing the low notes with a double-lip embouchure, by which I mean that the top teeth are temporarily not touching the mouthpiece (in every other way, the embouchure should be totally normal).  This prevents biting and lets the reed vibrate fully.  By getting the feeling of full vibration, one can learn to find the appropriate amount of openness with the jaw, and firmness with the lips.  If this is very difficult for you, start on a low D and then work your way down.  Strive for the best sound, and play with the softest dynamic possible with a full sound.

Subtone is also very useful on soprano, especially when trying to darken the tone of the low notes.  (See my last article and YouTube video for tips on embouchure and subtone.)  By rolling the lip outward (drawing the chin inward will help), the upper harmonics will be dampened and the notes will be smoother and rounder.  I practice transitioning back and forth between subtone and full tone, working downward from G in the staff.  The ability to mix subtone into the low register in varying amounts allows for a wide variety of colors and dynamics, and it especially helps to play with a softer, prettier tone.

Approaching the Palm Keys

Many beginners will find the palm key register very challenging.  In contrast to the lowest notes, this part of the horn has low resonance and very high resistance.  For this reason, firm support (without biting, of course) must be combined with accurate voicing.  I have my students begin by practicing overtones at the second octave.  For example, finger a low C while sounding a high C, two octaves above the fingering.  Once this is possible without too much effort, try sounding a high D while fingering a low Bb.  The exercises in Sigurd Rascher’s “Top Tones” will be especially useful when learning to voice for the difficult high notes on soprano.  Practice with a drone and a tuner, to keep the intonation in check.  Tuning intervals with the highest soprano notes against a drone will produce very loud difference tones.  It is helpful to learn to hear these difference tones, as it will assist the player in placing the finicky palm keys with good pitch.

To Neckstrap, or Not

Finding the correct angle for the mouthpiece to enter the mouth requires some tinkering.  Too straight and the horn will honk, and unnecessary strain will be placed on the right hand that must lift the horn up and out.  Too angled and the reed will be choked off.  To find a happy medium, many players will use a curved neck and use a neckstrap to take some of the weight off the right thumb.  Unfortunately, a completely straight soprano is very difficult to use with a neckstrap, as it makes the angle of the mouthpiece too steep and it draws the player’s head downward, choking off at the throat.

The curved neck is a good compromise, although not everyone likes the potential issues caused by a removable neck and the possibility for reduced resonance by breaking the bore so close to the mouthpiece.  There are several horns manufactured with one-piece bodies and seamless curved necks, including the Rousseau model Yamaha (a nod to the much revered original, tipped neck model 62).  There is another option which I have been using for over ten years, with great success:  the saxello-style, tipped bell soprano.

My particular soprano is a Rampone & Cazzani “half-curved” soprano.  The neck curves back towards the player, while the bell gently curves up and outward.  This results in a very comfortable center of gravity for using a neckstrap.  This was the main reason that I pursued this option, as I was suffering with tendonitis in my right hand, making holding the weight of a traditional soprano unbearable.  The design of this instrument allows me to completely support the horn with a neckstrap.  This design was first used by King in the 1920s with their “saxello,” which is one of the coolest and most collectable horns out there.  Unfortunately, they are clunky and do not play with good pitch.  Roland Kirk famously played the saxello - check out his solo on “Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am” from Mingus, Oh Yeah!

The modern version of this design plays very well.  The slight curvature of the bell section actually improves the pitch and resistance of the low C and B, making it behave slightly more like an alto.  There are also a few options for a completely curved soprano, including some notable vintage horns (like Buescher, King, and Conn) and we must include the renowned Yanagisawa.  Rampone & Cazzani might be the only manufacturer to offer a fully curved soprano with a non-detachable neck.  I haven’t had the chance to play one of these, but the great Jan Garbarek (one of my favorite saxophonists of all time) has recently started playing the Rampone curved model.

Beware the Cheapo Soprano!

One last bit of advice - it is very difficult to manufacture a high quality soprano saxophone.  The tone holes are very small and close together, and the tolerances are tight.  There are a lot of off-brands and stenciled, assembly house sopranos out there.  You usually get what you pay for and I have played some visually attractive sopranos that seemed like a great bargain, but the pitch was absolutely unmanageable, and the metal was frighteningly soft.  Be prepared to spend some money on a serious instrument, or look for a high quality used horn.  That $950 curved soprano on ebay is a bad idea.  Please save your money and invest in something that will be playable and will retain some value, in case you ever need to sell it.

I hope that these pointers are helpful.  Remember, soprano is a unique instrument that can become a very personal extension of your voice.  Some of my favorite soprano players are Wayne Shorter, Dave Liebman, Claude Delangle, and Tim McAllister, and everyone should check out Christopher Creviston’s amazing recording of the Poulenc flute sonata, transcribed for soprano . . . WOW!  These artists approach the soprano as a distinctive instrument with special qualities and capabilities.  As with everything else, mastery takes a tremendous amount of work, but the payoff will be in direct proportion.  Practice well!

A Jazz Embouchure?

(This article was originally published in Saxophone Today, July/August 2015.)

Someone recently asked me about the differences in embouchure for producing a good tone in classical and jazz styles.  The question of a “jazz embouchure” comes up with some frequency and is well worth discussion.  Dave Liebman’s excellent book “Developing a Personal Saxophone Sound” addresses a wide array of issues surrounding tone production, much of which is based upon the teachings of the legendary Joe Allard.  Many of the great New York jazz players, including Lieb, studied with Allard.  A similar situation occurred in Boston with Joe Viola, and Larry Teal’s students included Detroit legends like Joe Henderson and Yusef Lateef.  In all of these cases, nobody was studying a “jazz embouchure,” or any other kind of embouchure, for that matter.  Allard, Viola, and Teal were masters of good saxophone technique, transcendent of style.  A good embouchure is a good embouchure:  say “tooo,” purse your lips as if whistling, and rest your top teeth on the mouthpiece.  Period.

Before everyone goes nuts, keep calm and give me a couple of minutes to explain my position.  There are obviousdifferences between the stereotypical jazz saxophone tone and a more classical sound, but these are mostly generated in ways that have little to do with the embouchure.  I can’t imagine that a reader of this publication would need a detailed description of the differences in sound across styles, so let’s assume that we can all tell the difference between Cannonball Adderley and Claude Delangle, or Sonny Rollins and Jim Houlik, etc.  We acknowledge that there are clear differences, but what techniques are used to create these stereotypical sounds?

Equipment

Firstly, jazz musicians typically must play much louder than classical musicians.  For the most part, jazz saxophonists are competing with amplified instruments and drums.  In contrast, classical saxophonists tend to play in acoustic settings are they frequently working to play more softly.  (A single saxophone is about as loud as a full section of strings, for example.)  As a result of the demands of their respective environments, most classical saxophonists will choose a mouthpiece with a smaller tip opening and a short facing curve.  Good choices would be the ubiquitous Selmer C*, Vandoren Optimum, or something similar.  These mouthpieces are responsive, easy to center, and have a lovely, smooth sound from pianissimo to a reasonable fortissimo.  These mouthpieces mate well with medium-hard reeds with a French filed cut, like the Vandoren “blue box,” usually a number 3 or 3.5.  The size of the chamber of the mouthpiece is less important, as this has more to do with certain qualities of sound that are more subtle.  There are also physical reasons to use large chamber sizes, like the Rascher school that uses older Buescher horns that play best with the large chamber.  Acoustics aside, I find that tip opening and facing length are much more important to the characteristic sound of the mouthpiece than chamber shape/size.

Compared to classical saxophonists, jazz musicians need more flexibility to obtain a great sound at significantly louder volumes, which are only possible with larger tip openings.  It might also be desirable to use a longer facing curve.  A typical alto choice might be a Meyer 6, and tenor players often go for the Otto Link 7*.  In both cases, the amount of reed that actually moves against the mouthpiece is longer than on a classical mouthpiece, and the reed travels a great distance, at least when compared to a Selmer C*, for example.  This is why a softer reed will usually work better on a jazz setup, and a long facing will prefer a non-filed “American” cut reed, like the Vandoren V16 or ZZ.  When I was a youngster, I spent some time on an Otto Link 9* with LaVoz medium-softs.  That ridiculously huge mouthpiece would be totally unplayable with Vandoren blue box, by the way!

Some musicians argue that certain models of saxophone are better for certain styles, but I tend to disagree.  I have played horns as widely varied as new Julius Keilwerths and Rampones and classic old vintage Selmers and Kings, and I have never found a horn that seemed to favor one way of playing.  (I have played some older horns that were not as classical-friendly as modern horns, but only because their keywork was more difficult to navigate.)  If a saxophone plays easily with a good sound and reasonable intonation, it should work for any style, as long as the mouthpiece/reed are well matched to the particular horn and the musical situation.

Voicing

Appropriate equipment is important, but no amount of money spent on fancy gear can substitute for proper voicing.  Voicing, in simple terms, is the playing position of the tongue and oral cavity, which changes with different pitches, contrasting dynamics, and varying tone colors.  The larynx appears to play a part in this as well.

Check out this YouTube clip of the famous x-ray video of Ray Wheeler playing clarinet.

Whether you realize it or not, you are always voicing when playing the saxophone; you might not be properly voicing, or voicing optimally, but the soft tissues inside your body are moving in reaction to the powerful resonances of the saxophone.  Additionally, you may be making disadvantageous adjustments due to bad habits or poor technique.

In my personal experience, I have found two important relationships that are always on my mind.  The first involves frequency matching, relating to the resonance and impedance of a given note.  In essence, low notes have strong resonance and low impedance, while high notes are the inverse.  This means that low notes don’t require a lot of fussing with oral position, but they do require a ton of air.  Low notes are assisted by a more open position, with the tongue low in the mouth and the throat open, as if singing very low notes.  By contrast, high notes require very precise positioning of the tongue and larynx, because the internal resonance of the saxophone gets weaker as the pitches ascend, thusly requiring more skill from the player.  This is the reason that most any amateur can manage to honk out the low notes, but the altissimo register remains elusive to those that lack the skill to properly voice for those finicky high notes.

The second relationship had to do with keeping the sound centered, or balanced.  This connects to the relationship between the air speed/pressure, and the oral position.  A faster, more pressurized airstream will generally produce a sound that is louder and brighter.  (For our purposes, a bright sound is one that prominently features high overtones.)  A higher tongue position will act like a spoiler, speeding up the air as it passes through the “squeezed” space between the tongue and the roof of the mouth.  The same technique is used inside of certain jazz mouthpieces, where the baffle is raised between the tip and the throat of the mouthpiece, again to pressurize the air and to force it move faster.  When performing in a jazz setting where a fairly loud and brilliant tone is required, the player will be pushing a highly pressurized stream of air, which will apply resistance against the tongue with quite a bit of force.  This means that the tongue must not only be in an elevated position, but it must also be held in place with a good amount of strength, to overcome the pressure of the airstream.  Many young players are unable to keep the voicing in position when they play full tilt, causing the sound to spread, and possibly to blow flat.  Classical players must also use strength to hold the voicing apparatus in place, but the extreme volume and colors involved in jazz (and rock) require an exaggerated voicing to keep the sound from losing center, becoming harsh or shrill.  This also explains why a baffled mouthpiece can be useful, but it cannot substitute for a skilled and adaptive performer.

I know many, very fine saxophonists that disagree on how we accomplish certain musical results, and what we think we are doing is arguably at least as important as what we are actually doing . . . maybe even more important, if it helps us to achieve the desired results.  No matter, there is plenty of good science on how the saxophone works.

Follow this link to an excellent primer on the physics of the saxophone:

http://newt.phys.unsw.edu.au/jw/saxacoustics.html

Subtone:  Keep It Loose

Although mostly associated with jazz, saxophonists of any style will at least occasionally use subtone.  To get that breathy sound, the embouchure must be loose enough to allow the bottom lip to roll out a little more than normal.  The lip spreads out and has a dampening effect on the reed, taking out some of the high harmonics.  The tone becomes very smooth and airy.  If you overdo it, there will be too much air in the sound, causing the tone to be uncentered and “windy.”  Classical saxophonists might use a little bit of subtone to take the edge off the sound.  I find that I can easily add subtone by opening my jaw and drawing my chin inward, away from the mouthpiece.  Coleman Hawkins and Cannonball Adderley used subtone to great effect, but I also hear some of that looseness in Marcel Mule’s classical recordings.  Most every student that I encounter uses too much jaw pressure, which has a deleterious effect on the vibration of the reed.  Whether playing classical or jazz style, keep it loose, provide lots of air, and support with the muscles around the embouchure - not with the biting pressure of the jaw.

I hope that these explanations are helpful.  In summary, I have prepared a little YouTube video to demonstrate some of the concepts mentioned in this article.  If you have questions, please feel free to use the comments section under the video.  Practice well!

§

In addition to the original article, here is a video of an oscilloscope and frequency analyzer, showing subtone versus full tone, pushing the tone into even-order distortion, and a multiphonic oscillation.

Build a Bigger Box

(This article was originally published in Saxophone Today, May/June 2015.)

It is my frequent privilege to be invited to give concerts and masterclasses at universities across the United States, and occasionally abroad.  I find it particularly satisfying to present a combination of classical/concert styles and some jazz.  After giving such a performance, I am often asked the following question:  “Are you a classical saxophonist who plays jazz, or a jazz saxophonist who plays classical?”  Regular readers might recall that this was what inspired me to propose the theme of this column for Saxophone Today.  In the spirit of going beyond boundaries, my answer used to be something like, “When I play jazz, I am a jazz saxophonist.  When I play classical music, I am a classical musician.”  Over the years, I have grown to question this answer, as the stylistic labels have lost their meanings and they have gathered up more baggage than I care to cart around.  What if I’m playing tango, or Norwegian folk songs?  Then what?  It is certainly flattering to be asked this question, as it implies that I am managing to be convincing in multiple styles, but why should I have this manufactured crisis of identity thrust upon me by an audience member that is all too eager to sort me into the proper bin at the record store?  (You do remember record store bins, right?  I always laughed when I would find classical recordings by the Marsalis brothers in the jazz bin . . . )  Lately, it has occurred to me that, while I think of myself as wearing the appropriate “hat” for any given style, perhaps it is the exact opposite that has helped me to find my unique way through the stylistic thicket of modern music.

Let Who You Are guide What You Do

I have written in my blog about the benefits of examining practice habits of classical and jazz musicians:

http://practice-monster.blogspot.com/2013/08/practice-habits-on-jazz-classical.html

Using what we know about the tendencies of practice in different genres can help us to balance our overall routines.  On a deeper level, I have been reflecting on my larger musical values, and how these priorities transfer to stylistic interpretation and artistic approach in different types of music.  This goes beyond wearing so-called hats, and gets into the mind of the musician.  Jazz and classical, for lack of better words, become processes, and points of view.

Lately, I have been spending a lot of time working on the music of Bach.  I find Bach to be richly rewarding, from the perspective of listening, studying, or performing.  I strive for more imaginative ways of interpreting his lines.  I try to see the implied harmonies and to unlock the musical truth of the phrasing by dissolving the barlines.  I’m always seeking ways of incorporating extended techniques, such as circular breathing and multiphonics, to get closer to the music.  I look for tasteful ways of folding some improvisation into my performances, especially with ornamentation and dynamics.  This all comes from my “jazz mind.”  This is not to say that I am willing to discard the steep classical requirements for playing this music.  If anything, the traditional skills necessary to give even a moderately successful performance of most anything by Bach are just the price of admission.  It is also completely true that a musician does not need to have any jazz background to find fresh and creative ways to perform Bach.  However, my personal background in both styles makes the jazz process an incredibly useful tool in finding a unique perspective.  Ultimately, this speaks to who I am.

My Approach to Jazz

On the opposite end of the spectrum, my approach to playing jazz is intrinsically connected to my extensive classical studies.  As much as I value having a personal sound, a swinging approach, and imposing chops, I am always thinking about control, phrasing, and intonation.  I certainly do not feel that these conservatory values hold me back in any way, or make me play it safe.  They help me to create a detailed and personal process of music making.  For instance, there was a time when difficulty with playing softly in the low register on tenor forced me to play subtone.  After years of classical study, and decades of practice, I have learned to control the bottom of the horn with a full sound, even at a soft dynamic.  Left to my own devices, I might have never taken the effort to master this, as I could have easily gotten away with playing subtone most of the time.  When jazz musicians had no access to proper teachers, it was often understood that certain technical aspects of the musicianship might suffer, in exchange for a unique personality. (Some of the legendary jazz soloists certainly had problems playing with good pitch!)  Today, jazz saxophonists are expected to perform at the highest possible standard, and there are no excuses.

The Illusion of Polar Opposites

This idea that jazz and classical styles are somehow polar and exclusive of each other is completely artificial.  A hungry artist that is willing to put in the time and effort will likely be able to develop a highly personal approach to performing, and blending, everything.  The secret recipe is actually pretty simple:  experience + imagination + effort + time.  For this reason, I require all my jazz students to study a significant amount of classical repertoire, and I strongly encourage my classical students to at least spend some time playing in a big band, even if they don’t ever blossom into jazz soloists.  We must always remember that every musical endeavor begins with a profound experience listening to music.  Listening fertilizes the imagination, often sparking us into action.

We Never Start From Scratch

As one explores new styles of music, it is absurd to suppose that it is ever possible to start from scratch.  We carry our skills and experiences with us, and the imagination must always be free to shed its glorious light on any given situation.  We are who we are, and that is a very good thing!  We can argue about what it means to be a classical musician playing jazz, or vice versa, but perhaps the best approach is to simply be a great musician that makes great music.  Don’t worry about which bin you get sorted into.  Instead of trying to think outside the box, just build a bigger box!  Practice well.  §

The Power of Change

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, March/April 2015.)

Around four years ago, I developed an interest in the neuroscience of effective practicing.  I was searching for ways of improving my overall musicianship, and in creating a more powerful learning environment for my students.  In my blog Practice Monster, I have written about many of these techniques, but the most important piece of understanding revolves around the function of ogliodendrocytes in the brain and the production of myelin along the axons.  A quick and dirty explanation is as follows: The brain is a network of neurons, connected by axons.  The axons are like tiny little wires that transmit electrical signals between the individual “switches” of the brain.  (There are around 100 billion neurons in your brain!)  Ogliodendrocytes are cells that manufacture a white, fatty insulation that gets secreted onto the axons.  Just like a poorly insulated wire, an axon without much myelin will be a slow and leaky conductor.  More myelin yields a faster, more precise connection between neurons.  Ogliodendrocytes start producing myelin when they are used repetitively; in a very real way, they speak the language of practice.  More practice = more myelin.

Technique = Neural Circuitry

For a classic example of how neural circuitry builds technique, consider which hand you use to brush your teeth.  The next time you are at the sink, try brushing with the opposite hand.  Be careful, as you are likely to find this to be quite clumsy and awkward!  Over the years, the neurons involved in the motions related to teeth brushing become heavily insulated, resulting in a technique that almost runs automatically.  As a saxophonist, I relate this to the ease with which I can execute passages that I have been practicing for many years.  This is why we practice scales and melodic patterns, so that we can access them on command and with minimal conscious effort.  There is a lot more to it than just this grossly simplified narrative, but at the core, technique is all about mastering the myelin game.

As a university saxophone professor, I have the duty of listening to dozens of woodwind examinations every semester.  I might need to write seventy-five comment sheets over the course of three days, which really kills my left hand!  Last spring, as I was icing my sore hand from a long day of writing, I wondered if it would be possible for a person in his early forties to learn to write with the “other” hand – and the adventure began!  Some necessary background information:  I am a left-handed over-writer, meaning that my left hand curls awkwardly over the pen.  When I was in grade school, my cursive was hardly legible.  I was frequently shamed by my teachers, and as soon as possible, I gave up cursive and adopted a block printing style.  My printing is quite readable, until I get tired and my hand starts to cramp up, and this doesn’t take very long, considering the awkward position of my curled up hand.  My first priority with right-handed penmanship was holding the pen properly, in a relaxed manner, from beneath the text.  Initial attempts were completely illegible, and I was disheartened by a lack of progress over a series of days.  Suddenly, it occurred to me that I was trying to copy a style of writing that had nothing to do with my new hand position.  In that moment, I decided to do something radical.  I reinvented my handwriting.

Reinventing Technique

Using google image, I started by looking at different types of handwriting:  gothic, copperplate, Spencerian, and various forms of modern cursive.  As a matter of preference, I was attracted to the style of great Americans of the 18th century, such as Thomas Jefferson and John Hancock.  I also discovered a gentleman’s manual from that time period called THE INSTRUCTOR, by George Fisher.  The book contained several templates for different styles of writing, known as “hands.”  I liked the “Italian Hand,” but I saw lots of room for creativity with different letters, especially in the ornate uppercase.  I started copying the template (over and over), and I set aside time each day to focus on a particular letter, settling on a style and perfecting the technique.

In six months of almost daily practice, I am now proudly writing with a beautiful and individual form of penmanship that I never could have imagined.  The daily practice of writing alphabets, combined with intense sessions on individual letters, has resulted in an astoundingly quick improvement in technique and speed.  I actually prefer writing with my right hand, although I still find it more mentally tiring, even if it is less physically stressful than my hardened habits with the left hand.

Unintended Benefits

If you are still reading, you must be waiting to hear how his relates to the saxophone, or to creativity.  In addition to the expected benefit of being able to write for longer by switching hands, and the unexpected bonus of developing beautiful penmanship with the previously untrained hand, I began to notice something happening when I played the saxophone.  As a lefty, my right hand was always noticeably weaker and less coordinated.  I struggled with the awkward combinations in the lower stack, such as thirds in D# minor.  Without a doubt, I felt stronger in the hand, and the technique was cleaner and less labored.  By exercising the muscles and related neural pathways of the right hand in learning to write, I had taken a leap forward on the saxophone that I had never thought possible.

Learning Something New Requires Presence of Mind

This experience highlights the power of learning something new, and how it can boost progress.  After a certain amount of attainment in a particular action, it becomes difficult to make large amounts of improvement.  The practice becomes mindless and robotic, and that kind of practice can eventually become ineffective.  We end up stuck in what seems like an inevitable plateau.  We get depressed because, no matter how hard we push forward, that relatively fast progress that came earlier in the curve has become elusive.  This is where “changing things up” turns out to be a vital part of a long-term learning strategy.  I would never have expected it, but progress in my right hand technique had been slowed to a standstill by a lack of mentally focused practicing.  That feeling of struggling to learn something new is very important, as it sends a strong message to the brain:  “This is important and it requires immediate attention.”  In other words, “Make more myelin!”  Mindfully working on the fine motor dexterity required for learning penmanship activated neural circuits that also strengthened my saxophone technique.  You cannot learn something difficult without being totally present, and that mental presence has a big payoff.

While we are on the subject of mindfulness, I generally like to start very rough drafts of articles and musical compositions by hand, only moving to the computer when I am organized and the ideas are starting to flow in a linear way.  I tend to write outlines, lists, or small blocks of music and text.  I have stacks of notebooks, and I keep several old cigar boxes filled with fountain pens and bottles of ink.  I am convinced that the presence that is required when writing by hand activates a more conscious part of the brain, and that the mindless ease and speed of typing at a computer has the opposite effect, replacing creative channels with those of robotic repetition.  Simply put, I can type faster than I can think, but the pen forces me to slow down and reflect on what I am writing.  Being deliberately in the moment is a good thing, for any artist.

I have never liked composing directly on the computer, and lately, I have become totally exasperated with the endless upgrading of a certain computer program.  The moving-target learning curve that comes with each upgrade means wasting precious time when I could be busy creating.  Back in the 90s, we began an industry-wide shift from using professional copyists to composers and arrangers doing their own computer production, often of the final product for reproduction.  This has fundamentally changed the way we compose and arrange.  The simplicity of copy-and-paste has given way to a form of composing that, at its worst, is predictable and boring.  Long compositions with excessively difficult passages and (oftentimes) lazy repetition are becoming quite the norm.  Music that is richly varied and through-composed is becoming more and more rare.  When I write music by hand, I only write the notes that actually matter.  I can’t afford to waste time and effort on anything unnecessary, and the idea of simply repeating a large chunk of material almost goes out the window.  The computer can easily transpose entire movements with a few clicks, but doing so by hand is hard work.  Using the computer, it is easy to be more focused on the interface than the music.  I find that working in ink from the very first draft heightens my mental focus, as it requires slowing down and acting in a very deliberate manner.  That focused and careful mode of operation is analogous to the mental struggling that kick-starts the brain into deep learning.  (Note: I know many fine composers that work directly on the computer, so this doesn’t necessarily hold true for everyone.  This is only my experience, having worked extensively using both methods.)

Plateau Busting

The creative life is filled with perils, but perhaps the greatest danger of all is stagnation.  There is plenty of evidence, both scientific and anecdotal, that indicates the power of change.  Something as simple as varying the daily practice routine, and incorporating something that causes a bit of struggling could be the key to turbocharging long-term progress.  For saxophonists, this could be as simple as modifying something in the scale routine every month.  Furthermore, nurturing a hobby that only loosely relates to one’s profession could have wonderful and unexpected consequences.  For me, the study of penmanship with my non-dominant hand has become a meditative exercise, with the additional benefit of improving the health and function of my weaker hand.  Studying a wide range of subjects will make you a more interesting individual, but it also has the potential to boost your skills in areas where improvement has plateaued.  Remember that you aren’t just what you practice, but how you practice.  Practice well!

A Manifesto for Progressive Change in Higher Education

(Originally published in Saxophone Today, January/February 2015)

I am pleased to celebrating fifteen years on the faculty at James Madison University, where I have the somewhat unique privilege to serve as an all-purpose saxophone professor, teaching both traditional and jazz styles.  It is a very stimulating job, even if the demands of playing and teaching everything at a high level can sometimes be overwhelming.  I do my best to set an example to my students as a model of a 21st century musician (I started at JMU in 2000, after all), striving to perform, teach, improvise, and compose in diverse styles and settings.  Obviously, there are times when one must temporarily focus on one particular thing at the cost of others, but this game of plate spinning is a fairly realistic analogue of the life of the contemporary entrepreneur-musician.

So, I was more than a little interested when I discovered that the College Music Society had appointed a Task Force on the Undergraduate Music Major.  Even more exciting, the team would be made up of a diverse group of university professors that includes Ed Sarath, internationally renowned expert of creativity and consciousness and Professor of Jazz and Contemporary Improvisation and the University of Michigan.  I’ve been a great fan of Ed, since I saw him conduct UM’s Creative Arts Orchestra in the mid-1990s.  Ed Sarath’s presence on such a task force indicated a willingness of the College Music Society to include some progressive perspectives in the discussion.

The report was published in November of 2014, and it is not surprising that it has turned out to be a thought provoking document.  Without claiming to be a panacea for the future, the report manages to make some very strong points about the condition of music in the academy, and it provides a launching point for reinventing what it means to study music.  Rather than paraphrasing everything in the report, I encourage you to read it for yourself at the following URL:

Updated Version - Copy Edited January 2016

My own perspective, forged by 25 years of combined collegiate study and teaching, is very much inline with the report.  Personally, I find the references to the “21st century improviser-composer-performer” a particularly compelling notion.  Of course, this polymathic model of musicianship is equal parts stepping forward and looking back.  It should not be controversial to say that no respectable conservatory would dare present a curriculum that failed to place sufficient emphasis on the mastery of J. S. Bach.  His music sits at the very foundation of the Western tradition.  Bach is well known as a prolific composer, but in his time, he was primarily known for his prowess as an organist.  He was also a virtuosic improviser, able to invent three part fugues on the spot.  Mozart and Beethoven are also fine examples of revered composers that were known in their lifetimes as genius performers and improvisers.

As a student, I spent significant time studying the compositions of Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, but their abilities as performers sat far in the background, and their talents for improvisation remained a mere footnote.  There was certainly no curricular pathway presented to me for this kind of mastery, and I attended some of the best schools around.  The academy has primarily separated these skills into discrete areas.  Frankly, my pursuit of these three areas (performing, composing, and improvising) made it difficult for me to fit in, and frequently made me more of a misfit.  It took me five years to complete an undergraduate degree in jazz studies, mainly because I insisted on studying more classical music and performing in more classical ensembles than my program required.  As I continually studied the composer-improviser-performers of the past, none of this irony slipped by me.  These great masters, the ones whose shoulders are used to hold up the conservatory itself as very models of the art, these legends are actually treated as aberrations.  If you wish to be a performer, a composer, or an improviser (and improviser usually means jazz only), there are very specific degrees for you.  But from a practical standpoint, there is no degree in becoming Bach, Mozart, or Beethoven.

There are many ways of looking at this problem, and every individual will have a bias that is unique to their specialty.  For example, I fully concede that my own opinions are hopelessly married to my commitment to the improviser-composer-performer paradigm.  A non-improvising performer might view improvisation with suspicion, and a non-performing composer could easily doubt the performer-composer.  Conductors frequently become specialized to the point of leaving their instrument behind, to focus more completely on their chosen specialty.  There is undoubtedly a huge amount of truth in the assertion that specializing in any one musical area is a tremendous achievement; If it was easy, we wouldn’t have room for these specialists, as they would be pushed out of the market by the inevitable masters of everything.  This is clearly not the case!

In the jazz saxophone world, we have legendary improviser-composer-performers such as John Coltrane, Michael Brecker, and even Charlie Parker (although his status as a composer is not quite in the same category, even if it is significant by historical standards).  Perhaps Niccolo Paganini was the Michael Brecker of his time, reinventing the technique of the violin through staggeringly virtuoso performances of his original compositions.  While these names hold prominent places in musical history, there are plenty of well-known performers that did little, or no composing.  Sonny Rollins is hugely important as an improviser, but his compositions are not one anyone would consider particularly innovative - and this does nothing to diminish his place in music history.  Stylists like Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett are deeply important, even if they never really composed or improvised, beyond what is required of interpreting the American songbook (again, no small feat!).  The career avenues available to orchestral and band musicians are shrinking, but these specialties are still viable, even if they are increasingly competitive.  A deep and narrow area of expertise is certainly a gamble, but one can assume that there will always be room at the very top, if one is willing to make considerable sacrifice, and to vie for one of the few spaces in the upper echelon of the field.

If we look at undergraduate curricula of the last century, change certainly has happened over time.  A few generations ago, the saxophone was not offered in most conservatories at all.  Jazz is also a relatively new possibility for formal study.  Most comprehensive music schools today present a wide array of jazz offerings, including doctoral degrees, and the saxophone is widely accepted in traditional and jazz studies.  What brought about these changes?  The students demanded them.  Students will actively seek out opportunities to build the skills that they value, and they will spend their tuition dollars wisely, based on how well a school will potentially meet their needs.  In the 1940s, it took incredible vision for the University of North Texas to offer the world’s first jazz degree.  When Eastman first offered a graduate jazz curriculum, it was met with tremendous resistance from some of the faculty.  In time, those voices became obsolete and it was obvious that Eastman had become a destination for studying jazz.  In the 1950s, a number of schools began offering jazz studies and before long, other schools followed suit to remain competitive.  Even when change meets heavy resistance from bias that is deeply entrenched in a well-established system, there will come a critical point when things tip in the direction of progress.  The teachers of the future are our students, right now.  They will bring their 21st century perspective into the academy, and as with saxophone and jazz studies, change will build momentum as these young musicians mature and develop into the collective faculty of tomorrow.

The title of the CMS task force report rings loud and clear:  Transforming Music Study from its Foundations: A Manifesto for Progressive Change in the Undergraduate Preparation of Music Majors.  The report is deeper and vastly more detailed than my brief and intentionally incomplete synopsis.  There are recommendations for specific curricula, new degrees, various pilot programs, and strategies for engagement.  While many of the changes seem radical, one can hardly look at our contemporary musical landscape without recognizing that drastic change is already upon us.  It is interesting that the way forward will require an honest look back to the masters of the past.  The traditions of the 20^th century conservatory will continue to offer great musical and cultural value, but we must make some bold moves forward, or risk obsolescence.  This will require vision, courage, cooperation, and leadership.  I, for one, welcome this challenge for a musical academy that strives to go beyond boundaries.  

Creative Alternate Fingerings for Middle C-sharp

(This article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, November/December 2014.)

The saxophone has numerous trouble zones, but the open C# on alto and tenor is one of the very worst.  This note is the shortest length of tube in the bottom register, resulting in a note that speaks quickly and easily.  In fact, the note speaks so easily that it is difficult to control and it often sounds overly bright with a somewhat nasal quality.  Additionally, the note tends to be flat, a tendency that is worsened by the inclination of younger players to compensate for the sharper notes by pulling out the mouthpiece too far.  Changing the mouthpiece position has a much more dramatic effect on short fingerings; even a millimeter represents a significant percentage of the total length of a C#, especially when compared to the relatively long fingerings of the second register.  In other words, pulling the mouthpiece out to fix a sharp middle D has the undesirable side-effect of making the adjacent middle C# even flatter.  Not good.  For this reason, mouthpiece placement must be within certain parameters for the entire instrument to play in tune with itself.  In this article, we look at some creative ways of solving the open C# problem with alternate fingerings.

The Vented C#

Before we continue, it is important to note that we are talking about alto and tenor saxophones.  Sopranos and baritones behave differently, and many sopranos have a “doughnut key,” that engages with the octave key to bring down the pitch of the highest register.  The doughnut key’s pitch-flattening effect negates the use of the octave key to bring the pitch up.  Also, the Selmer Series III alto has a special venting mechanism on the open C# that also contradicts the use of these alternate fingerings (the Series III tenor does not have the venting mechanism, so these fingerings will work perfectly on the tenor).

Opening the octave vent on the body of the saxophone slightly raises the pitch.  The body vent is too far down the tube to make the note jump up the octave, so it instead introduces some useful resistance, taming the harsh tone of the normal fingering.  As luck would have it, it is possible to exploit the automatic octave key by depressing the ring finger of the left hand with the thumb key.  This fingering is known as vented C#.  This trick essentially moves middle C# into the second register of the saxophone (because the octave key is now in the open position), making it more closely match the timbre of the upwardly adjacent notes, such as middle D.

Variations on the Vented C#

With the basic fingering in place (octave key + left hand ring finger), it is possible to add any combination of keys in the right hand stack.  Adding the F, E, or D key will produce slight variations in pitch and color, but the basic qualities are the same as the core fingering.  These keys can also be used in combination.  The advantages to this approach become obvious when one considers the possibility of playing a middle D and simply lifting the top two fingers of the left hand (keeping the octave key depressed) to play a middle C#.  When approaching the vented C# from above, it is possible to play D, Eb, E, F, F#, or the alternate side F#, and then simply release the keys for the top two fingers of the left hand.  This allows for smooth transitions in slow figures, but also for quick passages, and even tremolos.

Long C#

Yet another variation on middle C# becomes available when we finger a low C# and add the octave key.  It is also possible to play this fingering as an overtone, without the use of the octave key.  The octave key raises the pitch, but improves stability.  I don’t usually use these fingerings, as I don’t care for the timbre.  With that said, I have heard very fine players use these fingerings with great success.  The tone is very similar to a middle D, especially if one covers the D with the low B key.

I have prepared a short video to demonstrate these various fingerings.  If possible, listen with some high quality headphones or speakers.  These fingerings offer fine variations in pitch and color, not necessarily audible through cheap earbuds or laptop speakers.  Most importantly, try these fingerings out on your own, listen for the colors, and play with a tuner.  Write down some observations in your practice journal on each fingering (you do have a practice journal, don’t you?), and try them out in different musical settings.  There is not always one “right” fingering, but there is usually a wrong one.  Trial and error will be the best teacher.  Peace.

Brainwave Entrainment and the Creative Mind

(this article originally appeared in Saxophone Today, September/October 2014.)

            When I was a child, I suffered terrible headaches.  The episodes continued to disrupt my life as I got older, and I went through a variety of treatments that didn’t provide much relief.  In my early teens, I began working with a neuropsychologist that used biofeedback therapy.  The results were profound, and permanent.  I eventually explored related techniques and technology that extended beyond simple relief from the headaches.  My experiences with biofeedback and sensory stimulation have become deeply connected to my pursuit of creativity.

Biofeedback therapy is relatively self-explanatory:  a measurement of some biological system is taken, and some form of feedback is provided to the user.  My first experience involved the use of electrodes on my forehead, measuring the natural amount of electrical stimulation present in those muscles, with the idea that stimulated muscles are contracting, and that prolonged contraction can cause headaches.  At first, the feedback came as a number on a screen, but when the doctor realized that I was a musician, she switched to a tone generator.  As the muscles relaxed, the musical tone would lower in pitch.  I was given a variety of relaxation techniques, but I ultimately began to simply try to relax and to make the note go down.  This worked very well, and I always felt better.  I eventually learned to imagine what note my current level of stress would make (without the assistance of the machines), and to make that imaginary frequency slide downward.  This helped me more than any medicine.

Another biofeedback technique uses a surface thermometer, attached to a fingertip.  When a person is stressed, the blood tends to rush inward, to protect the internal organs.  Loss of blood in the extremities causes the surface temperature to go down, and this can be easily measured.  This is one explanation for a stressed person getting cold hands, or the classic “cold feet.”  Using a very basic exercise where I imagined that I was warming my hands in front of a fireplace, I was able to raise the temperature of my fingertip by several degrees.  Again, the doctor used the thermometer to control a pitch generator, so that I would have a musical feedback interface.  It blew my mind that I could actually increase the blood circulation in my hands, and thus raise the local surface temperature, using only my mind.  To this day, I practice making my hands “heavy and warm,” to prevent that internal rush of blood inward.  A stress headache can be caused by blood quickly leaving the hands, and more importantly, the head, causing the blood vessels to expand and then contract.  This can be related to migraine headaches.  Obviously, I am not a doctor and I am not giving medical advice here, but this information seemed to hold up in my treatment, and the biofeedback provided measurable, repeatable results.

As I started to gain control of the headaches, and success with progressive relaxation and meditation to prevent stress-related episodes, I started to wonder what else might be possible.  In 1994, I was introduced to a so-called mind machine, also known as a light and sound machine.  I was in the recording studio, and a headache was getting me down.  The engineer handed me a black box with some headphones and glasses that flashed LED lights.  I put the contraption on, closed my eyes, and I felt a wave of relaxation come over me.  Not only did my headache clear, but I felt a kind of mental clarity that was something like a pleasant rush of caffeine, but without the side effects.  I ended up purchasing my own machine, and I have been using it ever since.

http://www.photosonix.com/

*Before continuing, it is important to mention that light stimulation should never be used by anyone with a seizure disorder.  Flashing lights can cause seizures!  Talk to you doctor before using a light and sound machine.

These types of devices use the concept of “frequency following” in the brain, where the dominant EEG frequency can theoretically be influenced by an external stimulus.  Heightened mental states are frequently associated with musical ceremonies, such as the rhythmic beating of drums, or the pulsing drones of a church organ, for example.  The low frequency flickering of a fire can also have an apparent effect on state of mind.  A mind machine accomplishes similar stimulation using pulsing tones in headphones, and special glasses that pulse LED lights (while the eyes are closed, so that the light is soft and diffused through the eyelids).

I have never used my mind machine while connected to an EEG, so I cannot say with certainty that this frequency following effect is real.  I can only say that I have had regular and repeatable experiences over the course of decades, and that if my mind machine ever died, I would immediately replace it.  Immediately.  I should also add that my particular device (NOVA, by the photosonix company) has been going strong for twenty years.  I have no affiliation with the company, but I can honestly say that I have never owned a more rugged electronic device, a heavy duty metal case, all made in the USA.  Highly recommended.

I have used different programs for relaxation, to help induce sleep, and to increase mental clarity.  Another interesting application for me has been hemispheric stimulation.  By synchronizing light and sound stimulation to alternate between left and right eyes/ears, there is a supposed effect upon the creative and analytical parts of the brain.  Again, I cannot produce any scientific evidence of such effects, but I have had very good success with these kinds of programs as preparation for creative work.  I experience a kind of sensation where the muscles of my face and around my eyes feel very relaxed, and there is a sort of buzzing behind my forehead.  A good game of chess gives me the exact same physical sensation, and I equate this with the creative and analytical components of the game.  Either way, that particular state of mind is frequently good preparation for practicing, composing, or writing.  I feel relaxed and open to a flow of ideas.

Another interesting approach is something called binaural beats.  This technique uses stereo headphones to introduce different pitches in each ear.  Within certain parameters, mainly that the two pitches must be below 1,000 hz and within 30 hz of each other, the brain creates a low frequency pulsing that results from the difference between the two tones.  Musicians experience this beating all the time, when two notes are slightly out of tune, resulting in a beating that is proportional to the difference between the two notes.  We also hear strange artifacts in difference and combination tones, often strong enough that you would swear that the notes are real.  Amazingly, they are not; they only exist in the mind of the listener.  Another example of this binaural effect occurs when we listen in stereo and sound seems to emanate from a phantom speaker.  (This effect is more pronounced with high quality stereo systems or headphones.)

Binaural beats were first observed in the nineteenth century, but they have risen to relative popularity in recent years.  Practitioners believe that the beating of the perceived difference tone has a frequency following effect on the brain.  It is easy enough to create a home-brewed audio track to use with headphones.  As I write this article, I am using a binaural beats app on my iPod touch, with the volume set very low in the ear buds.  I can most definitely feel a sense of relaxation and clarity.

There are a number of possible uses for these techniques.  I sometimes use the light and sound machine to prepare for a work session, or to relax and reflect at conclusion.  As I mentioned, I sometimes use the sound alone during a work session (obviously not for practicing!), to tune out distractions or to increase mental focus.  I have also used both to assist in meditation.  I actually view meditation as an integral part of using these different technologies.

This kind of thing is certainly not for everyone, but if you are open to trying something different, it might be worth investigating.  Use of light and sound stimulation is a big part of my life, and I have no doubt that it helps me in a variety of ways.  The NOVA is a relatively expensive device, but you can download basic binaural beat programs for free.  If any subscribers have similar experiences with light and sound machines, I would love to hear from you.  Peace.