When I started studying the saxophone (and music) seriously, I had one goal … to be the best saxophonist I could be. Everything else I did was in some way centered on that goal, either to actually play better, or to position myself to find a way to make a living centered on the saxophone.  I studied music history because they made me if I wanted to stay in school; music theory because I thought it might help me get a job; flute and clarinet because… umm… well, because. Even though I was doing all those things, they were on the periphery. My focus was always the saxophone. In short, I had tunnel vision. Although I was going through the motions of a lot of musical activities outside of the saxophone, I didn’t really enjoy it, and I didn’t fully appreciate much music outside of the literature for the saxophone.

Last week, I had the opportunity to play for a Lenten Taize Service. Nothing really out of the ordinary for me at this point to be playing at a church service – it’s pretty much a part of my weekly routine at this point. The Taize music wasn’t new to me, either. We’ve been using several of these as part of the Eucharist for the last couple of years, at least. It wasn’t even strange that I was playing them on flute; I’ve been begrudgingly pulling my flute out for these (and a few other things) from the time it somehow got out that I could play the silly thing. Two things were different — the first is that we were able to recruit a really good violinist to play for these services. The other thing that was different — I caught myself having fun. Fun, playing flute, with violin and organ?!? What? After the initial shock and shame, I realized that this has been going on for a while now. I’ve been enjoying being a choir director, choosing to listen to things like Yo-Yo Ma playing the Bach Cello Suites instead of something on the saxophone. It really has happened … I’m no longer just a saxophonist, I’m a musician.

Where am I going with this? I have no idea (remember the blog is, after all, Random Notes!) Just a thought that’s been going through my head  In the meantime, I’m bummed that I have to miss the second Taize service tomorrow, but am looking forward to the third one on April 1st. Who knows, maybe I’ll even practice my flute!

Heiden is coming along nicely, maybe even a bit ahead of my schedule. At any rate, I was looking over what I wrote last week, and I realized I failed to mention why I started this piece. That’s sort of central to my point in journaling my progress on this one!

When I was at IU, I was one of Eugene Rousseau’s students, and believe it or not, he turned 76 this year. In honor of Dr. Rousseau’s 76th birthday, there is going to be a “Rousseau Celebration” hosted at the University of North Carolina – Greensville. As one of Rousseau’s former students, I have the opportunity to perform a piece either recorded by or dedicated to Dr. Rousseau. The Heiden “Solo” was dedicated to Rousseau back in 1969  — AND he recorded it. It also happens to be reasonably approachable, which is really important to me since I’m still in the “rehab” phase of my performance. Although I perform nearly every week, it’s been about 8 years since I’ve done any sort of high profile/major performance, so I want to be sure that this is successful for me.

So, here’s what I’ve been up to. One of the things I’ve been really focusing on has been identifying and working out what I’ll call, for lack of a better term, “nuisance” passages. One of the biggest nuisances in this piece, at least for me, is at the top of the third page:

If you look at this passage at the level of a single beat, there isn’t anything really hard about it. What does present a challenge, at least for me, is that each beat is similar, but enough different to trip me up. One of the strategies that I find especially helpful with sections like this is to work out each beat, then start building the passage by practicing two beat blocks, then three beats, then four … until I’m comfortable with the entire passage. I also prefer to start at the END and work back towards the beginning so I’m always playing to something I know and am comfortable with — really helps to keep me relaxed.

The other things I’ve been really focusing on are pushing tempi and identifying what fingerings I want to use when there are alternates available. Those two things — tempo and fingerings — are not only important, but they are also related.  Tempo first….

Now, I know, the common wisdom about tempo is to practice as slowly as you need to to play without making a mistake. I’ve repeated that mantra to students and to myself over and over and over and over again — and it is extremely important. Don’t think for a minute that I’m not spending a lot of time working out the kinks slowly and methodically. The other piece of the equation, though, is that you need to spend some time teaching your fingers to move at the performance tempo and, when a piece has technical passages that extend of several beats (or lines or pages!), you really need to get your brain thinking and processing all of that information at the speed you need it to go. I’m not say this very eloquently, and I’m not sure if that was really clear, so if you don’t understand, leave a comment!

The other thing I need to do is to at least get to the point that I can play passages a couple of beats at a time, at or above performance tempo, fairly quickly so I can really hone in on fingering decisions. Take this passage, for example:

If I’m plugging away at a nice, slow tempo, I’m inclined to just use standard fingerings the whole way through this, but as I approach performance tempo (somewhere around quarter note = 120 bpm) the palm key E down to the F and back up to palm key E is a bit of a pain.  The biggest problem for my fingers is in my right hand, moving from right side key 3, getting my first finger down for the F, then shifting back up to get back to RSK3. Simple solution — don’t use the first finger to play the F, just use the middle finger. That simple shift keeps me from having to move my right hand/wrist to get to and from RSK3. If I’d taken my time gradually easing the tempo up, yes, I would have eventually made that decision. In the process, who knows how many times I would have played it using my first finger before I made the decision, which in turn would have meant having to UN-learn before I could LEARN. Plus, when I get nervous, I find that if I haven’t been 100% consistent in my use of specific fingerings, I have a tendency to make mistakes simply because I choose the wrong one, drop a note, then break my concentration and drop a few more notes.

Actually, not tuning to the piano (or the organ, for that matter) is just a matter of routine at this point, at least in this situation. I don’t usually think about it all that much, but for some reason, I got really paranoid at the last minute — maybe because the piece I was playing started on a written 4th space E-natural. Everything worked out fine, as it usually does, but it got me thinking about the whole concept of intonation and tuning.

I actually wanted to start this entry with this cool picture I was going to draw in Inkscape — a stick figure saxophonist with his alto in playing position and a clear image of the mouthpiece. The idea was to label the part that is most important in determining whether a performance will be in tune. Well, the drawing didn’t … exactly …. ummm … well, I couldn’t decide if it looked more like one of my 3-year old’s drawings or a floating head smoking a crack pipe, as drawn by someone smoking a crack pipe. The point of that exercise is still good, though (even if my artistic ability leaves much to be desired….).  Most amateur and many developing saxophonists would go straight to the mouthpiece, specifically identifying the position of the mouthpiece on the neck/bocal. While it isn’t a bad thing (nor an unimportant step) to be concerned about the position of the mouthpiece on the neck, that’s really only a small step taken towards playing in tune.

Playing in tune isn’t ultimately about any physical step, nor any adjustment to the instrument. Yes, the mouthpiece needs to be adjusted to a point that allows the instrument to be close enough in terms of pitch to whatever other instruments are in an ensemble. (In fact, all instruments are designed to play with a pre-determined tube length, and if the length varies too significantly from the design of the instrument, it will be difficult if not impossible to even play in tune with yourself!) It’s also important that the instrument is warmed up to playing temperature (more on that when I talk about playing with a pipe organ!).

I’ve seen/heard/been told about the importance of learning to adjust the embouchure and oral cavity in relationship to intonation. Another incredibly important skill that needs to be mastered to play in tune. Use of a tuner is another technique that is frequently brought up in relation to intonation.

So, you’ve now adjusted your mouthpiece after dutifully paying homage to concert A (or B-flat, or whatever), learned how to manipulate the pitch with your embouchure, and you can make the needle on your nifty digital tuner move to what it says is dead-on pitch. You’re all set! Great! I wish it worked that way.

Going back to my floating-head-smoking-a-crack-pipe idea … had it worked, the goal would have been to point to the head (I know, you could argue for the ears, but the ears are just the means for getting the sound to the brain … at least for my purposes here.) My belief is that really good intonation ultimately depends on your internal concept of pitch. You MUST be able to hear and almost instantly adjust, and beyond hearing, you have to internalize pitch to the point that you are able to hear the next interval BEFORE you play it. The goal is to be able to hear when you are out of tune with yourself, even when there are no other instruments, and the tuner is nowhere to be found. There are a number of strategies you can use to develop this ability that I’ll save for  later post, but the key for me has been (shudder!) singing. Yes, Virginia, there is a point to sight-singing … and ear training, neither of which can really be isolated as a single skill (at least in my book).

So, back to not bothering with checking my intonation before I play in church … not something I’d recommend in most circumstances. I don’t want anyone to read this and think I’m saying not tuning up before a performance is a best practice. Remember, in the church situation I described, I perform with the same piano week after week after week. I know about where my mouthpiece should be placed, and if  I’m off a bit, either because I didn’t get the mouthpiece in quite the right spot or because the pitch level of the piano has changed slightly, I know how to adjust my embouchure and/or airstream to compensate until I can re-position the mouthpiece. I’m also handicapped in that, because of my other responsibilities during the service, I don’t have a chance to warm my instrument up at all, so even if I did “tune up”, I’d just be out of tune 30 seconds after I start. I also play with a pipe organ a LOT. That’s an entirely different ball-game worthy of it’s own post. Bottom line, it is best to tune, but always remember that tuning one or two notes (and maybe their octaves) does not mean intonation can be set aside for the rest of the performance. Concentrate, listen, adjust! More to come…

Since I started this “rehab” journey, I’ve been operating from the idea of practicing until I think I’m ready to stand up and perform. Quite honestly, it isn’t working. Even just looking back over my posts here, come on, there’s a post about rethinking priorities, a couple about setting goals. Those are reflections of the simple fact that I’ve been having a great deal of difficulty making the time to practice the way I need to on a regular basis. There have been a few periods when I’ve done a great job …  the couple of weeks before I had committed to performing the Bozza Improvisation et Caprice, the week prior to having committed to playing an unaccompanied Bach flute sonata, several weeks when I was expecting to perform the Morosco Blue Caprice along with some other miscellaneous pieces, but all in all, it is just too easy to let things like the kids, work, the house, or that evil barn push my practice time aside when I know I don’t have anything major coming up. That got me to thinking… every time in my life that I have really focused on practice, it’s been because I knew I had a performance scheduled. I NEVER learned a degree recital program and THEN scheduled the recital. I scheduled the recital, chose literature based on the time available, and then practiced my tail off. Competition dates were set for me, wedding dates are set for me. Even major church performances (Easter, Christmas, installation of our new rector) … all dates are set for me and the program develops based on the time available. When I was a band director, the school calendar and the performance dates were set before I’d even seen the kids!

Maybe it’s just me. I certainly know myself well enough to know that I am goal and deadline oriented. That deadline is everything in terms of motivating my preparation. Yes, there is also my desire to play well and to give a great performance, but it’s ultimately the deadline. Without question, having the luxury of practicing until I’m comfortable and then scheduling the performance induces a lot less fear, but not only is it not working for me to do this, but it isn’t realistic.  Anyone out there ever gotten a call saying “Hey, we’d love to have you come play. Take some time to practice and let us know when you’re ready.”? Not me! I usually feel lucky if I get a couple of weeks notice!

With that said, to heck with the practice … I’m going out and finding performance opportunities! July 20th will be the first … a mini-recital in conjunction with my son’s baptism. Once the performances are scheduled, I have no doubt the practice will come.