The instrument you’re playing is always your self. Your play may be perceived as brilliant and prolific, yet, in your heart of hearts you know there is something more to gain in your progress toward pure play, toward musical and physical freedom. Perfection is never achieved and wouldn’t that be dull. 

Too little or too much

Just as in eating a meal­–your consumption seldom exactly commensurate with your need–your play and our singing may suffer from excess or lack, too much in the way of effort or too little in the way of direction or engagement. Relaxation is never the answer. We can never know what part of an integrated system to relax, what other parts of the system to keep toned and integrated. 

Work with a flutist

I’m giving an Alexander lesson to a flutist during a residency at California State University, Fullerton. A young woman enters a large choral room with her flute. I introduce myself and ask her to play. She takes her flute out of its case and begins. Her play is brilliant and fluent, her tone penetrating. She finishes and I share my view. Then, we work together as students and teachers of Alexander Technique do, working together from the whole to the part toward fluency, flow, and integration.

The lesson comes to an end, and I ask her to play again. Her tone is decidedly altered, some of the noticeable brilliance of tone gone. I am concerned and share that.  I feel that I’ve adversely affected your play. No, she says, I’ve been working with my teacher toward eliminating hardness in my tone, a metallic sound. This is what I’ve wanted.

Not where but how

I was relieved and apparently so was her teacher for he walks in, asking where I placed my hands to achieve this effect. I tell him that the “where” is of little importance.  It is the “how,” learned over decades of practice, that matters. The flutist and I part, and we are left with a reminder of the efficacy of this work, of the Alexander Technique.

Work with a pianist

Not too lot ago the scenario was revisited with a fine pianist in a class at Florida State University. I ask the young pianist to begin with a grand scale. She mildly protests. Yes, please, a scale. She complies and it is brilliant. I ask her permission to use my hands at her neck and head and show her how I might use them. She complies, and placing my hands on her neck, we find opportunity for release. As we begin, her eyes are inclined upward and the back of her neck down. She releases, her eyes come down and her spine comes into its length. 

Articulation

She plays again and her articulation, good before, is notably cleaner. I ask her what she has noticed. Easier, she said but not as powerful. Her teacher intervenes and suggests that what was diminished was not power at all, but a little bit of overwork. Yes. Her tone had altered in the same way as the flutist’s. In the Alexander Technique we sometimes get more by doing less.

The Alexander Technique

Ease, grace, energy, articulation. We all want to achieve them but may not know the means to do so. For some it is the Alexander Technique. The technique can be revelatory, revealing the excess, the little too much, that cramps our style and our play. We move on, small triumph built on small triumph, still knowing that the instrument we’re playing is always our self. Play on.