In software development there’s a concept referred to as “technical debt.” The debt is created when software code is written in a less-than-optimal way. The computer program works, but has some bugs or inefficiencies that will need to be fixed or improved later. Like other kinds of debt, it can be a useful way to get something done now, but will cost more (time, effort, dollars) in the long run.
The metaphor works well for practicing music, too. Suppose I am working on a passage where a certain alternate fingering would be the most efficient choice. But I don’t use that fingering very often and I’m not completely comfortable with it, so I fall back on a more familiar solution. That gets me playing the passage now with some degree of success, but it also solidifies my attachment to the familiar fingering. Or perhaps my articulation is a little too heavy and thumpy, and I cover that up by adding some slurs in crucial places. That makes the passage work, but means that if I ever want to play it right I’ll have to improve my tongue movement and unlearn the slurs.
In a perfect world I would always tackle the issue head-on: invest whatever is necessary to habituate the alternate fingering or clean up my articulation technique. In reality sometimes a looming performance means plastering over the problem and promising myself I’ll fix it later, at a greater price.
I have found it useful to keep a running list of things I want to improve in my playing, including technical debts that need to be paid off. Incorporating relevant exercises, a few at a time, into my warmups helps me make small daily payments, so that hopefully the next time I need those techniques I own them free and clear.
The “stale air” phenomenon afflicts oboists (sometimes clarinetists and others). It can be hard to relate to if you haven’t experienced it.
Here’s how it happens. (The “math” and “science” here are very simplified for clarity.)
The oboist breathes in a lungful of air. The air is about 20% oxygen and 80% other gases. The oboist’s body starts absorbing the oxygen and replacing it with carbon dioxide.
The oboist starts to play. The oboe reed has a small opening in it, so the air leaves the oboist’s lungs slowly.
A few moments later, the oboist’s body has replaced the oxygen with carbon dioxide. But the player’s lungs are still, say, 50% full. The oboist’s brain needs oxygen and starts urgently demanding a breath.
The oboist tries, but his or her lungs are still 50% full of “stale” (un-oxygenated) air. He or she can only get a half-breath of “fresh” oxygen-rich air. Now the player’s lungs contain 10% oxygen, which isn’t going to last long.
This cycle repeats a few times while the oboist gets more and more uncomfortable.
The oboist finally panics and quits playing to “reset” his or her breathing and get some oxygen.
A well-meaning educator sees the oboist struggling with breathing. He or she unhelpfullypencils in a few more breath marks. This is going to make the problem worse as the oboist takes even more unneeded breaths.
The solution to this is to figure out an outlet for the stale air. (Taking smaller breaths isn’t a great solution because it encourages weaker breath support.) In some cases it may be necessary to use a “breath” to actually exhale stale air. Then, after playing a little more, get a satisfying breath into emptier lungs. In other cases, it might be a better solution to do a quick out-in breath.
Stale air isn’t something that people encounter day-to-day. So it’s not well understood, sometimes even by oboists and other wind players who deal with it. Being aware of the problem makes it relatively simple to solve.
These are questions I am often asked about clarinet or saxophone ligatures, by blog readers or by my students.
Is there a ligature that can accomplish _____ for me? If you are looking for something to hold the reed onto the mouthpiece, then yes. If you are hoping to achieve something loftier, then probably not.
Should I get one of the rigid (usually metal) kinds, or one of the soft (usually some leather-ish synthetic) kinds? The very cheapest options are usually metal, and they generally work fine. If they are of especially low quality, they might break quickly, or scratch your mouthpiece or dig into your reed. The soft ones are a little more expensive, but have the advantages of (a) better gripping an oddly-shaped mouthpiece or reed and (b) surviving being stepped on.
What about a fancy one, with jewelry metals or cryogenic treatment or inset “tone jewels” or some other expensive gimmick? Won’t those make me sound better? This is extremely doubtful. There’s a possibility that you will sound a little different inside your own head, and that might make you play a little differently. Or that platinum plating (or just having spent a lot of money) will increase your confidence. But it’s very questionable that the ligature has some inherent sound quality that your audience can hear, unless you plan to hit it with a drumstick. Remember that in some parts of the world, top orchestral clarinetists use shoelaces. (I heard a story of one of these clarinetists being asked what kind of shoelace he used. His response: “Black.”) If you are deeply invested in the idea that a ligature needs to be fancy or expensive, Michael Lowenstern has a video you might find enlightening.
But doesn’t a ligature affect the reed’s vibrations? The vibrate-y part of the reed is the thinner part, away from the ligature.
Should I use the kind with one or two screws? What about those ones with no screws? Any number of screws is fine, as long as it holds the reed on the mouthpiece.
Should I get the kind where the screws go on top of the mouthpiece or underneath? I really cannot emphasize enough the unimportance of the screw situation.
How tight should my ligature be? Tight enough to hold the reed securely in place.
How far back or forward should I put the ligature? You could try some different positions and see if one feels better to you. Some mouthpieces have a line on them to suggest where the ligature should go. You are not obligated to follow this guideline, but if you are having difficulty deciding where your ligature should go then I suggest using this as a starting point.
If you would like to purchase something that will improve your tone quality or your articulation or whatever, I recommend getting some recordings of very fine clarinetists and some lessons with an excellent teacher. Enjoy!
Despite the saxophone’s widespread acceptance in jazz and popular music styles, its acknowledgment as a viable solo instrument in classical music has been slow. Few composers have included it in orchestral scores. Only in recent years have conservatories and university music departments begun to recognize the saxophone on a somewhat equal footing with, say, the flute, the piano, or the violin.
Perhaps this neglect was a lingering byproduct of the instrument’s chronology. After all, by the time of its invention by Adolphe Sax in the 1840’s, the instrumentation of the modern orchestra was already becoming somewhat standardized. Maybe the inattention had something to do with the saxophone’s longstanding reputation as a “jazzy horn” and association with burlesque1. Or maybe the upsurge in amateur interest since the 1920’s had spawned too many inferior saxophonists for anyone to take the instrument seriously2. Read More “The modern saxophonist: The changing career climate of the concert saxophone artist”
Well, my dad was a jazzer and Zoot Sims died. And when Zoot Sims died, they had a benefit in San Francisco at Kimball’s or somewhere. …
So I take him and sit down … and then I get a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, and it’s Getz. It’s really amazing … he’s wearing his horn and taps me on the shoulder, and my dad turns around and Phil Elwood turns around. And my old man goes, “Holy s***!”
Getz says, “Why don’t you let me play on some of your s***? I can play that s*** too.” And I said, “Oh, why, yes sir, I’m sure you can.” And then he took a card and he wrote on it: “Stan Getz. Have sax, will travel.”
He played beautifully, and on the way home, my old man says, “If you don’t take him up on that offer, I will never, ever forgive you!”
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Most college students studying instrumental music education have to take a woodwind “methods” course, a sort of crash course in teaching the woodwind instruments. I have taught woodwind methods classes for about the past ten years.
A typical approach is to divide the semester into instrument-based units: x weeks studying the flute, x weeks studying the oboe, etc. I’ve taught woodwind methods that way, and it’s tough to get through all the material. How can you realistically cover the pedagogy of five instrument families in one semester? (Some schools offer this scant improvement: two semesters.)
One big reason that woodwind methods teachers get stuck in the one-instrument-at-a-time paradigm is that existing textbooks, syllabi, etc. treat the woodwinds as being hopelessly different from each other. While the woodwinds are more diverse than the brasses or bowed strings (though perhaps not the percussion), the techniques of playing them are not as unrelated as many seem to believe.
A symptom of this misunderstanding is the woodwind-methods-by-committee approach, in which a textbook has chapters written by five different authors, or in which a course is taught by a rotating cast of woodwind professors. This invariably leads to holes in the curriculum, confusion over vocabulary, and contradictory ideas.
I have much, much better success when I focus on the basic concepts underlying good woodwind playing. My course addresses audible aspects of how woodwinds sound (tone, response, intonation, volume/dynamics, fluency), and connects them to elements of playing technique (posture/position, breathing and breath support, voicing, embouchure, tuning, articulation, finger movement, and selection from among alternate fingerings). When my students are conversant in those concepts, it’s almost trivial to apply them to a diverse group of instruments: “the clarinet uses a very high voicing, but the flute uses a very low voicing.”
That’s still a lot to cover in a semester, but I actually find that I can get through the material efficiently enough to leave some days open for review, Q&A, or special/requested topics. And, more importantly, my students absorb widely-applicable concepts rather than trying to memorize seemingly unrelated factoids about seemingly unrelated instruments.
This is a valuable approach for woodwind doublers, too, who have to parse out the differences in the instruments but also the differences in culture and tradition that have developed around those instruments and their pedagogy. Understanding the underlying concepts helps to make sense of the sometimes very different approaches to the same problems.
Warning: commercial-ish plug
I’ve hinted on the blog a few times about my upcoming book, based on materials I have developed for my woodwind methods courses. It clearly and concisely covers the most crucial concepts in woodwind playing. Since I usually teach a mixed-instrument class I pair it with a band method (such as Essential Elements or Accent on Achievement) for hands-on playing activities, but it would work just as well paired with an individual method (such as the Rubank series) if you have the luxury of a full class set of each instrument.
I’m hoping to get the book launched before 2017 slips away. If you like, you can join a mailing list to be notified if when it becomes available. Update: the book is now available!
That people prefer to move in energetically optimal ways has been established for decades and now represents a central principle of movement science. … Energy optimization may also occur over the course of a lifetime, as years of experience could allow people to learn the optimal way to move in familiar situations and allow training to tune physiology to be more economical. An additional hypothesis—one that underpins many modern theories of motor control—is that people can adjust their movements to continuously optimize energetic cost.
I certainly see this phenomenon in my own woodwind playing and teaching. How many times have you encountered these?
More resistant notes failing to respond because there’s just enough breath support for the less-resistant ones
Embouchures losing their shape, reverting to a neutral/normal mouth position
Voicing, such as the high, cold-air voicing needed for clarinet playing, or the low, warm-air one for flutes and double reeds, lapsing into a medium, luke-warm state that negatively affects tone, pitch, and response
Pitch sagging at ends of notes as breath support peters out
These are often addressed by teachers as “habits,” which may be true, but they may also be fed by the brain’s capacity—and priority—to micro-optimize our muscle use to conserve energy. No wonder they are difficult to overcome! Patience and persistence are necessary to train our bodies to put the right amount of effort into playing our instruments.
A factor in this is establishing a suitably high bar for success. For a beginner, the only question might be, “did a sound come out?” For a slightly more advanced student, it might become, “did the correct approximate pitch come out?” A more advanced player might examine the precision of the pitch, the quality of the tone, and the immediacy of the response, among many other factors. It takes a relatively low amount of energy to meet the beginner’s threshold of success, but potentially much more for the advanced player’s.
Additionally, this intentional use of greater energy resources must be managed carefully to avoid its misapplication, which can result in excessive tension.
I find that when I am playing at my best balance of efficiency and effort, an hour of playing a woodwind instrument leaves me feeling like I have done some light exercise; I’ll feel the mild and pleasant fatigue of having taken a walk or reorganized a bookshelf. Serious tiredness or soreness are warnings that I’m overusing my body. (Your results may vary depending on your physical capabilities.)
Be in tune with your own body as you play, and teach your students to be in tune with theirs, so that you’re in the sweet spot of working hard enough but not harder.
And you just got me to go clean up Glazunov. Thanks Bret.