In Praise of Amateurs

I love listening to amateurs make music.

This isn’t to say I don’t enjoy hearing professionals making music. I do.

But as a professional musician myself, I can’t escape the fact that I’ve seen behind the curtain. I’ve glimpsed the levers and pulleys, the grinding machinery, and I can’t unsee it. Playing music professionally can be joyful, but that joy is freighted, because it carries with it the weight of work. So most of the time, when I go to a professional concert, I see, well...people working.

But take me to, say, an amateur choral concert and I’m all ears. Because there’s something incredibly moving about people who are coming together to make music not because it’s their job, but simply because they can.

According to Ye Olde Google, the word “amateur” comes from the Latin “amare,” to love. When I listen to amateurs making music, that’s what I hear: Love made audible. And I can hear that love even if notes are wrong, chords are sour, or things come apart.

This is not to say that I think amateurs are off the hook in terms of working toward quality. They’re definitely not! (With the notable exception of the Portsmouth Sinfonia, which is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.)

Love, after all, comes with responsibility. If you love something, you have a duty to care for it to the very best of your ability– and, in fact, to enlarge your abilities when possible.

Nor am I laboring under the misconception that amateur music-making is free from the ego drama, competitiveness, and hierarchies that can plague the professional world. Human beings making music are still, after all, human beings.

But among the things I love most about human beings is the way in which we’re willing give ourselves not only to what is necessary for survival, but to what is beautifully superfluous. And so I try, in my own playing, to remind myself to begin from a place of love.

I hope, when I grow up, that I can be an amateur. I’ve got my crumhorn ready.

My Best Advice!

If I could give my students only one piece of advice for the rest of my teaching career, what would it be?

It’s like one of those desert island questions, except without the sand. (For the record: Water, Goldberg Variations, magical lamp.) It’s a bit silly, because it will always be hypothetical, but it is nevertheless fun to entertain. What would I say if I could only say one thing? Because the truth is, I give a lot of advice.

This is a professional hazard of being any kind of teacher, but I think it also speaks to the incredible complexity of learning and making music. Music engages our whole selves– physically, cognitively, emotionally, and interpersonally. We must hone a wildly diverse variety of skills, then integrate them dynamically in real time.

To be honest, I cannot think of a more complex human endeavor.

Hence, advice! But if I were to limit myself to only one piece? One singular sentence in a potential galaxy of guidance?

The funny thing is, it’s not difficult for me to choose. My best is advice is very simple:

Be curious.

What the heck does that mean?

When it comes to learning and making music, our default attitude is often one of judgment. We hold where we are up to where we want to be and try to gauge the difference. We often exist in a perpetual state of assessment: Are we doing it right? Do we sound good? Are we there yet????

If, instead, we are curious, our lens changes. We can’t forsake judgment entirely, but by focusing elsewhere and reducing judgment’s cognitive and emotional burdens, we have the space to become our own best teachers.

When we are curious, mistakes become opportunities, helping us notice where and how to concentrate our work. Gaps in knowledge become beacons for learning. And challenges become invitations to explore.

When we’re curious, our minds are calm and open. We’re ready to learn. And so we do!

The Powerful Question You Should Be Asking Yourself

One of the joys –and tribulations– of making music is that your journey from page to stage (or practice room, or closet…) is not entirely straightforward.

Sure, part of your path is clear. You need to try to play the right notes at the right time, following whatever instructions the composer has provided. In this way, a certain portion of music-making is like assembling IKEA furniture… though hopefully with less swearing.

But often (as with IKEA products, come to think of it!) the instructions don’t tell you everything you need to know. And even if they did, there’s so much more to making music than assembling notes!

In any given piece of music there are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of choices to be made. How might you articulate that pericular passage? Which note gets the accent in measure 30, and how are you going to convey that? Should you ornament in measure six, and if so, how? What kind of tempo works for movement two?

Making music is a galaxy of tiny decisions. That can be empowering. Or nerve-wracking. Or both. For many student musicians, this wealth of possibility causes anxiety: How can you know if the choices you’re making are the right ones?

This is where the Powerful Question comes in.

So what, you might be asking, is the Powerful Question, and why in the world does it deserve those capital letters? The Powerful Question is a simple, flexible decision-making tool that can help you either affirm or reject choices in almost any musical scenario. Want to know if your ornament works? Wondering if your articulation is on point? The Powerful Question is for you!

So let’s ask it: Are you helping or hurting?

I have to admit my Powerful Question comes straight from the front lines of parenting. With small kids, the idea is to get them to consider the consequences of their behavior in relation of family or community goals. It works...sometimes.

But in music, the Powerful Question is no-fail! Because every piece of music, every single scrap of every movement, is trying to do something. Maybe it’s reaching. Maybe it’s intensifying. Maybe it’s diminishing or circling or exclaiming or lamenting or holding still. There are a zillion things music can do, and our job, as players, is to give it a hand.

Are you helping or hurting? I adore this question, because instead of assessing whether you’re “correct” or “right–” concepts that, truth be told, have limited musical utility, you’re forced to contend with music as a living, striving entity. The Powerful Question requires you to engage with music in a way that is much deeper, and more productive, than trying to be “correct.”

Are you helping or hurting?

When you’re highlighting what the music is trying to do, you’re helping! Pick an ornament that enhances the music’s natural acceleration toward the cadence. Reach where the music reaches. Soften as the music softens. Strengthen when the music is gaining power.

When you’re obscuring or clouding or stymieing what the music is trying to do, you’re hurting. Don’t pick a fast tempo for a sorrowful slow movement. Don’t add fussy little ornaments to long, clean lines. Don’t dump a bunch of moving notes on a note that wants to rest.

As I tell my kids, it’s better to be a helper!

The Things We Carry

“No knowledge is ever wasted.”

That old saw has been rattling around in my brain lately. I’m not sure I’m 100% in agreement, especially given the alarming amount of cognitive real estate I seem to have deeded, in perpetuity, to the complete lyrics of The Rainforest Rap circa 1992.

But there’s definitely a seam of truth here, in that your past experiences, particularly if they were ingrained deeply and daily, can profoundly shape the way you approach the present.

I’ve been thinking about this because I teach a lot of adults. Adults, by definition, have accumulated a good chunk of life experience. They’ve honed skills, developed mindsets; their work, formal or informal, has molded them in ways that can be immensely helpful– or not. Or both!

And these things we carry –mindsets, processes, beliefs– are worth digging into, both within ourselves and in our students. Because when we understand how what we’ve done before shapes what we’re doing now, we’re better able to leverage what serves us– and let go of what doesn’t.

Here’s my own example.

For well over a decade, in addition to my work as a recorder player and teacher, I worked as a part-time Speech-Language Pathologist. Eventually, I needed more space for recorder teaching and had to leave my SLP life behind. But doing so was hard. I’d acquired so much knowledge, invested so much of myself. Had I been wasting my time all those years? How could I just up and leave all that work in the dust?

The truth is, of course, that I took it with me. That even as I was moving away from SLP life, it was leaving its mark.

Now, in my life as a full-time recorder teacher, I see the fingerprints of my years as an SLP everywhere. On the surface level, I use, on a near daily basis, my knowledge of things like oral anatomy and physiology, psychomotor learning, goal setting, task analysis, and scaffolding. And on a deeper level, I’m learning what those years have given me– and what I need to release.

Here’s what I treasure:

I love progress!

An an SLP, I facilitated, and celebrated, the progress of individuals with wildly varying capabilities. I learned that anyone –everyone– can make progress, and I learned how empowering that progress can be. As a consequence, I value progress in every recorder student at every level. No one’s learning, to me, is worth more than anyone else’s, and progress is exciting and rewarding wherever you are.

It’s not the student’s fault

When students don’t make progress, SLPs get curious. To an SLP, lack of progress is a puzzle to be rigorously analyzed and solved. If a student is not progressing, it is the SLP’s responsibility to change intervention and/or add support until they do. As a recorder teacher, I find this attitude extremely empowering. Rather than wasting time blaming the student or throwing up my hands, I can focus on how to help.

Individualize!

SLPs spend lots of time crafting blueprints for student progress that delineate each student’s individual strengths, weaknesses, challenges, and goals, with an emphasis on the uniqueness of every individual. As a recorder teacher, I’m always looking to tailor what I do to each student’s unique learning style, challenges, and strengths.

The learning never stops

For SLPs, the process of getting better at your job is never, ever, done. This is both part of the culture of the profession and a formal requirement: each SLP must earn a certain amount of continuing education credit each year. I am so grateful for this mindset, which allows me to approach my career with curiosity, eagerness, and a recognition that there are always, always ways in which I can improve.

And what am I working to leave behind?

I don’t need to serve every single student

As an SLP, you have a legal and ethical obligation to serve each and every eligible student who needs your services, even if your caseload is overwhelming. As a recorder teacher, I’m just in the beginning stages of learning that I can, in fact, say no.

I don’t need to be the perfect teacher for every person

In the same vein, SLPs have an obligation to serve a student whether or not that student’s particular needs match that SLP’s areas of competence or interest. It is only just occurring to me that, as a recorder teacher, I don’t actually have a moral obligation to be the best teacher for every single kind of student. I can look for students who share my approach and areas of interest. I can pass someone along if I think another teacher would be a better fit.

What are some things you are carrying forward from your past work? Which of those serve you? Which do not? Try writing it out– I bet you’ll learn something.

Can You Pass the Sneeze Test?

Have you ever had to sneeze while driving?

It can be nerve-wracking, because sneezing is like a miniature blackout. I have yet to meet anyone who keeps their eyes open while they sneeze, and you lose other driving senses, too: Your “ACHOO” might drown out road sound, and your jerking head can alter your sense of yourself in space.

But you still have to keep driving, and so, for the duration of the sneeze, you make a road in your mind. Essentially, you construct a dynamic representation of what you saw before the sneeze took hold. You drive along that mental road even as you’re sneezing so that when the sneeze is done, you can continue on your way.

We do the same thing in music.

In fact, I love a good sneeze while playing, because it really lays bare whether or not we’ve achieved mastery of the musical landscape. Even as we take the instrument out of our mouths and (hopefully) cover our noses, we have to keep “playing” the piece in our heads, tracking the material and keeping the pulse, in order to keep from running off the musical road.

Chances are we won’t sneeze in every piece. But in every piece, there will come a moment when we look away, miscount, bobble a note, or otherwise lose focus. And when we do, we need to be able to imagine the road ahead– and keep driving.

Can you pass the musical sneeze test? If not, it’s definitely something to work toward.

GESUNDHEIT!

The Power of Remind

Once upon a time, as a very novice teacher, I hesitated to repeat myself. After all, weren’t my students paying me to provide them with brand new information, things they DIDN’T already know? If all I was doing was reminding them of something I’d already told them, was I really teaching?

Two decades and much teaching experience later, I know better. And if you’ve ever taught, or learned, anything, you probably know better, too. Repetition is the bread and butter of learning. It’s all well and good to hear something new, but if you are unable to retain it, apply it, and/or integrate it within your existing knowledge frameworks, you might as well not have heard it at all.

Repetition is how we bridge the distance from hearing to doing. (Especially spaced, richly contextualized, participatory repetition, but that’s another blog post.) Needing repetition is not a failure. It doesn’t mean you’re slow.

When it comes to learning, reminders are a feature, not a bug.

As a teacher, I do need to remind myself of this from time (SEE WHAT I DID THERE!!).

I suspect you might, too, because often, when I remind a student of something they already know, I see that student wince. And I sympathize! There’s a societal stigma around reminders. It lurks in common phrases like“don’t make me repeat myself,” “you should have listened the first time,” and “you don’t need to tell me twice.” Quick learning is lionized; benefiting from repetition is not.

But repetition is immensely powerful, and many, many individuals and organizations know and take full advantage of this. Think about any kind of religious service, in which you are constantly and creatively reminded of things you’ve already heard. Think about advertising campaigns, with their repeated, tailored reminders. Think about successful classroom management, with its many repeated routines.

The best teachers you’ve had repeated themselves. And as we become teachers, whether we are teaching ourselves or teaching others, it behooves us to remember just how essential repetition can be.

It is OK to say the same thing twice. It is OK to hear the same thing twice. It is OK to take the time to remind ourselves of what we already know.

Top Six Recorder Myths

I love my job, but I have to admit that there are certain hazards that come with being a recorder professional.

There’s that brief flash of disbelief when I divulge my career. There are the perennial requests to appraise your second-cousin’s aunt’s ex-husband’s ancient basement recorder stash. And don’t get me started on the endless stream of recorder memes (yes, I promise I have seen that one).

Then there are the myths. Recorder myths are multitudinous and hardy. They spring eternal, like hope or that one plant I haven’t quite managed to kill. There are so many recorder myths, in fact, that it is extremely difficult to choose my top six!

But I’ll try. Because myth-busting is fun!

#1. The recorder is easy

Every myth starts with a grain of truth, and there is definitely one here. The beginning stages of learning to play the recorder ARE significantly easier than the beginning stages of learning to play other instruments, in that it’s a relatively quick road to being able to string notes together to produce melodies. You can be rattling off your favorite holiday tune in the same amount of time it might take your trumpet-learning friend to produce, say, a noise.

I actually think this is one of the great virtues of the recorder. Along with the recorder’s unbeatable price, its initial ease makes music accessible for many people who would otherwise not have the time or resources to learn an instrument well enough to enjoy making music on their own or with others. And anything that increases access to music is a win in my book!

But alas, the initial ease of the recorder is like a will-o-the-wisp, luring you into the swamp. Because producing a beautiful, warm, lively, musical, in-tune, well-articulated melody on the recorder, one that truly serves the music, is NOT easy, as anyone who spends enough time with the instrument will eventually discover!

#2. The recorder has no embouchure

If this were true, I wouldn’t have spent hundreds of lesson hours working on getting students to adapt their mouth positions. (Especially players of other winds and brass. Habit dies hard.) Just because an embouchure is comparatively relaxed doesn’t mean it doesn't matter what you do with your lips.

#3. You can’t tune a recorder

I think this myth came about because playing a recorder in tune, much less multiple recorders in tune, is really, really, really difficult, requiring an excellent ear, a large arsenal of sound manipulation techniques, a knowledge of temperaments, and much focused practice. It’s a lot easier to just say the instrument can’t be tuned and move on.

But just because something is extremely difficult to achieve in full doesn’t mean it’s not worth moving toward. We can ALL get better at tuning. I’m still working on it

#4. It’s all about instrument quality!

There’s a grain of truth here, too. The quality of your instrument does have some impact on how you sound. But you know what has far, far more impact? Your level of skill. I recommend investing your time accordingly!

#5. You can’t do dynamics on the recorder

Again, there’s some truth here. You can’t do dynamics in the traditional way, by substantially raising and lowering breath pressure (and if you try this, you’ll quickly find out why!). But can we make energetic shapes in our music, increasing and decreasing our intensity to convey our musical ideas? Absolutely. We can also marshal alternative fingerings, mouth positions, and a variety of other techniques to help us play softer or louder as the occasion demands.

#6. I have mastered the recorder!

Wow! Good for you! I haven’t yet, and I’ve been working on it for over thirty years.

The truth is, we don’t know what we don’t know. And in my experience, those who have decided they’ve learned everything there is to learn about the recorder– or really about any topic– tend to be among the people who know the least.

At the very least, they’re missing out on the delight of learning!

Is Your Mindset Holding You Back?

Once upon a time, I went to school with two violinists. Let’s call them Ernie and Bert. (Their real names were far more boring!) Ernie entered Conservatory as the most talented violinist in his freshman class. He won first chair in the freshman orchestra, and all the other violinists wanted to be like him. Bert entered Conservatory toward the back of the back. His natural gifts were not as extensive, and though he’d been called “talented” at home, no one called him that once he got to school.

By senior year, Bert was leading the orchestra.

Ernie had drifted to the back of the string section.

What happened?

Well, for one thing, Ernie smoked a whole lot of weed and started skipping class. But Bert also had a secret weapon, one no college entrance exam or audition had revealed

Bert had what’s called a “growth mindset.” He believed wholeheartedly that, with the intelligent application of effort, he could grow his abilities. His talent was not his destiny.

If you’ve set foot in a classroom in the last ten years, you’ve heard the term “growth mindset.” Based on the work of Psychologist Carol Dweck, the terms “growth mindset” and “fixed miindset” have become big-time educational buzzwords.

So what the heck are they?

Even though Dweck specifically warns us against the oversimplification of her research, I will attempt to summarize! Those who employ growth mindset believe that their talents abilities can be developed through sustained, engaged, and intelligent effort. Whereas those who employ a fixed mindset believe that their talents and abilities are innate.

Guess who achieves more? Turns out if you believe you can improve your abilities, you’re much more likely to work at doing just that.

Alas, classical music, like a many art forms, has a fixed mindset problem. As children, budding classical musicians win praise for their innate ability. They are singled out as “musical” or “talented” or “a natural.” They play music by composers who are also revered for their “gifts.”

And so, like Ernie, many of them begin to develop a sense of their art as something inborn, and their training as a means of polishing their natural abilities.

This is compounded by an early-and-often emphasis on performance, which very clearly prioritizes results over effort. “It was a nice try,” says no one at the end of a symphony concert, ever.

All of this can conspire to make classical music a milieu where effort, especially deliberate and intelligent effort, is seen as something incidental, perhaps even a little bit shameful.

And that, as Bert shows us, is a pity!

As a teacher and as a player I’ve worked very, very hard to counter this trend and cultivate a growth mindset in myself and my students.

It’s been a complex and multi-faceted process, and it is very much still ongoing. But one important element of it is that I now try to respond not only to a student’s in-the-moment playing, but to how much and what kind of effort I perceive behind that playing.

“I hear the work you put into that tricky passage,” I’ll say. Or, “I can hear that you practiced with the metronome!” “Sounds like you put in some great practice on legato– can you tell me what you did during your practice sessions?”

Similarly, if a student tells me something that reveals a find mindset in a certain area, I work to help them change it. For example, if a student says “I’m terrible with rhythm,” I help them to begin to perceive rhythm as a constellation of skills, each of which may need to be specifically practiced.

I’m not sure I always succeed in fostering growth mindset in my students (or in myself!), but I keep trying. Because sustained, intelligent effort over time is incredibly powerful!

So be like Bert! And the next time you catch yourself falling into a Fixed Mindset, take a deep breath and refocus on your capacity to grow.

Unlocking the Secret Benefits of Scales

If you’ve ever studied music, you know scales. In the world of music learning, they are evergreen, prescribed year in and year out by music teachers across the globe.

I’m no exception: I love a scale! But I do think their ubiquity makes it easy to run through them without much thought. And that’s a pity! Because approached with deliberation and intention, scales have benefits far beyond improving your musical fitness (or satisfying your music teacher’s desire to see you suffer)! Approached on autopilot– well, scales are still good for you, but you’re only receiving a fraction of their benefits.

So how do you get the most out of your scales? Here are four ideas

1) Aim for ease, not speed. While it’s true that playing scales can build your finger speed over time, if you prioritize speed in your practice, chances are you may not actually be doing much to help yourself get faster. That’s because your fingers need to be moving in a relaxed, easy, even way for you to be able to play faster. If you practice scales with tension, the only thing you’re getting better at is playing with tension, and tension limits mobility, compromising speed. When you’re practicing scales, let ease be your guardrail. If you aren’t moving easily and evenly, you’re playing too fast.

2) Use scales to work on tone. Sure, scales are nominally a finger exercise, but you can use them for so much more! When you are working on any aspect of tone, from clarity to resonance to steadiness, it is extremely helpful to do so in a constrained context. Like, say, a scale! When you play a scale, your brain isn’t overloaded with stuff like harmony, articulation, and expression; instead you can focus your conscious mind on tone quality, laying down the mental and physical foundation you need to maintain a beautiful sound.

3) Practice connection. If you want accurate, synchronized finger movements, you need to practice in such a way that your fingers have nowhere to hide. What do I mean by that? Well, if you play a scale that’s even remotely disconnected, with any amount of silence between the notes, you’re giving your fingers cover for all sorts of between-note shenanigans. In contrast, if you eliminate all of the silence in between the notes by playing slurred, legato, or both, any lack of synchronization will be immediately obvious. And hearing your disynchronies is the only way you can eventually eliminate them. Practice scales with connection.

3) Practice with and without music. Reading a scale on a piece of paper and generating the scale in your mind are dramatically different skills. And both are useful! Having a piece of paper in front of you might make it easier to work on tone, for example. Whereas generating the scale from memory will help you to solidify your knowledge of keys and chords. So do both!

Happy scaling!

What I've Learned in 20 years of teaching

I’m coming up on 20 years of recorder teaching. I started with one student, way back when I was a student myself (sorry, Katie Z.! You had me 20 years too early!). Now I have….well, actually, I’ve lost count of how many students I have.

And sure, I teach them things. But they also teach me things. That’s one of the secret joys of teaching– that in helping others learn, you, too, are learning!

So twenty years in, what have my students taught me?

I should really take all that great advice I give!

A side effect of teaching is that you begin to hear your own voice in your head as you practice. And guess what? The stuff I’ve been telling my students really does work! I should listen to myself more often.

Teaching is BIG FUN!

I was a pretty conflicted performance major. I liked performing (I still do), but it always felt like something was missing, and so I spent years agonizing over whether I should stay in music or leave it behind. I wish I could go back and reassure myself: Just wait until you can teach!

Teaching, especially teaching adults, is a joy and a privilege. You’re part evangelist, part project manager, part therapist, part consultant, part tour guide. And I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.

It’s never too late to learn!

I’d estimate that average age of my studio is somewhere circa 70 years old. But my students prove to me, again and again, that there is no statute of limitations on learning. They are joyfully curious, in a way that is tremendously inspiring.

And that’s given me the confidence to learn new skills, too! I hung my first –and second!– picture this year. It was, I am not going to lie, really hard. Mechanical intelligence is….how shall I say this?….not my strong suit. And my lifelong tendency with tasks that require mechanical savvy has been to give up.

But thanks to my students, I knew I could do it. I sought out quality instruction and allowed myself to go slowly, step by step. I did have some dark periods (what IS a level?! And why???), but I persevered, and now my walls are no longer bare!

Next up: I’m going to roast my first chicken!

If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know what took me out.

Seven Rules for Beginners

A while back, a student challenged me to write a list of seven rules for beginners. At the time, I didn’t feel equipped for the task– it’s been a very long time since I was a beginner!– and in many ways, I still don’t. After all, the word “rule” implies certainty. And certainty is not really the spirit in which I believe music (and teaching) should be approached.

Rules make for good clickbait, though! And the idea did interest me. Beginnings are important. They are exciting times, times of openness and exploration, but they also set habits and patterns that can last far into the future. There’s more than a little truth to the maxim “Begin as you mean to go on.”

So I asked myself: If I had to pick seven things I wish that every beginner knew, what would they be?

I promptly generated a list of 63 vital principles.

Lucky for all of us, I’ve managed to winnow down. The choices were in some cases painful, but here’s what remains.

1) You can make progress!

It doesn’t matter how old you are. It doesn’t matter how talented you are. It doesn’t matter what you already know and what you don’t. You, yes you, are capable of learning! I suppose I might make an exception if you are comatose. But you’re reading this, so I know you’re not! Start your endeavor secure in the knowledge that, no matter who you are or when you begin, you CAN improve your skills.

2) But it will take consistent work over time

You may be surprised at how disappointing you find this to be (I was!), but music is not like a list of vocabulary words, a procedure for solving math problems, or any other fact or procedure-based body of knowledge. Music is an intensely complex psycho-motor skill that engages, deeply, the mind and the body. Many musical skills can only be acquired by consistent, deliberate, intelligent repetition, often spread over a much more considerable time span than you would like them to be. There is no substitute for this; there is no shortcut. The good news is that the ability put in work consistently over time is ALSO a skill, and thus something at which you can improve!

3) Aim for momentum, not mastery

I could also phrase this one as “aim for progress, not perfection.” The single greatest source of pointless student angst is the misapprehension that music is a results-based endeavor, and that complete mastery is the only acceptable goal. This is possibly because the part of music-making that most of us see, performance, is fairly results-based. But performing is the very tip of the musical iceberg, and an over-emphasis on perfection or complete mastery during your daily practice can retard your progress and embed habits of tension and stress. Focus on moving your skills forward over time, not on achieving perfection in the moment. Mistakes are an opportunity for you to learn!

That said….

4) Learn, don't unlearn

It is so, so, so much easier to lay down a new habit than to uproot an old one. Take the extra time to learn with optimal technique now, when you’re just beginning, and to learn slowly enough and thoroughly enough that you are always practicing relaxed, easy playing. This will pay massive dividends later.

5) I don’t care about your fingers

Well, I do actually care. But how fast you can move your fingers on the recorder should not be your top learning priority. It should not even be in your top ten, to be honest. Yes, moving your fingers is the most visible and self-explanatory part of recorder playing, but things like breathing, sound production, coordination and articulation are worth far more of your time and effort in the beginning.

6) You’ll feel uncomfortable

Beginning things is hard. When you begin, you have to do something you’re not particularly good at, and do that thing repeatedly. And humans tend not to enjoy that very much. Plus, a lot of us haven’t begun things in a while, maybe not since we were kids, so we’re out of practice at beginning. But beginning is good for the soul! And getting comfortable with being uncomfortable is a skill in its own right, and hence, something at which you can make progress!

7) You really don’t know what you don’t know

Beginning anything is a bit like being in an airplane and starting to descend from 30,000 feet. At first, you just see the ground. There it is; that’s where you’re headed; simple! Then lakes and rivers start to appear. Cities become discernible. Then roads. Then buildings. Cars. OMG, are those individual trees?? And now you’re telling me we need to land on this tiny strip of concrete????

As a beginner, you literally have no conception of what you don’t know. And trust me- it’s a lot. As you progress, you will begin to see more and more detail in your musical landscape. And this is OK! In fact, it’s good! Beginning to become aware of the outlines of what you don’t know doesn’t mean you’re moving backward; it’s progress.

The only part of my plane metaphor I don’t like is that, in the plane, you eventually land.

In music, the flight goes on forever.

Happy travels!

What Recorder Players Can Learn from NASA

My son has gotten really into space lately, so we’ve been watching some shuttle launches on video. And while my kid been enraptured by the plume of liftoff, the astronaut gear, and the space ice cream, I’ve been enthralled by something else entirely.

The pre-lauch checklist.

Basically, before any shuttle can launch, the team must make its way through a massive to-do list, examining and double-checking every system. Sure, everyone involved might already feel like everything is ready to go, but if you’re launching into space, readiness should probably be more than a feeling. The checklist ensures that everyone, and everything, is truly ready to proceed.

Other industries make similar use of checklists. There’s a pre-flight checklist for pilots. A pre-surgery checklist for the person cutting into your chest.

Why not a pre-music checklist?

I know I’m not the only one guilty of picking up my instrument and plunging into playing. I try not to, but when I’m feeling short on time, the temptation is real. And I see many students –maybe even most students– beginning to play before they’re fully prepared.

Sure, we’re not astronauts or pilots or surgeons. (At least, most of us aren’t!) If something goes wrong nobody dies, and we might not need a 47-step safety check before we begin to play. But readiness -real readiness- makes us better musicians. And taking the time to run through a quick pre-music checklist before playing is a great way to prime ourselves for musical success.

Try it out next time you pick up your instrument. Before you make a sound, run through the following:

1) Check posture and positioning

2) Check key signature

3) Identify and finger the first note

4) Feel at least one full measure of your tempo

5) Inhale in time and with musical purpose.

I’m betting your checklist improves your launch.

Dealing with Difficult Notes: Four Strategies that Work

Some notes on the recorder are relatively easy. Set your thumb and two fingers down on the alto, for instance, and out comes a nice, round, ringing D. Raise one finger up from there and get a bright, clear E. Even some notes with more convoluted fingerings, like high A, are forgiving, accommodating a wide range of air pressures and thumb positions.

These are the notes that suck you in! They’re the friendly family members: the kindly Aunts, the twinkling Grandpas. They welcome you to the party, take your coat, ply you with peanuts and Mai Tais. You’re just starting to have a good time!

…and then you’re accosted by crabby Uncle high F. And demanding Cousin low F-Sharp. Not to mention enigmatic Great Aunt G-sharp and her coterie of cross-fingered notes– will they ever warm to you?

Suddenly the party seems a whole lot less comfortable.

Just as in families, some notes on the recorder are more difficult to deal with than others. And when we encounter them, it behooves us to be deliberate in our approach.

If you’re struggling with the a difficult note, what can you do? Let’s talk through four strategies:

1) Accept its essential nature.

Just like family members, you can’t make a note into something it’s not. If you expect more from a note than it is capable of giving you, you are signing yourself up for disappointment. Low F-Sharp is never, ever going to be loud, and trying to make it loud will get you nothing but an ugly squawk. Highest F can only be made so delicate before it cracks. And cross-fingered notes like G-sharp, C-sharp, and E-flat share a certain muffled, covered quality that is impossible to eradicate.

What’s the solution? Learn to appreciate the singular beauty of each note on the recorder, and don’t try to force it to be something it cannot be

2) Figure out what it wants.

Difficult notes are difficult because their wants are particular. Highest F, for example, needs not only the perfect thumb opening (the size of which can vary by recorder!), but also a very specific way of blowing (focused, rapid; strong but not too strong), and even a particular tongue stroke (gentle but not tentative). Whereas less difficult notes might accept all kinds of abuse, difficult notes want only what they want– and they want it now.

But take heart! Although it may not be easy to remember what I’m going to say next when you go to pluck a gorgeous high F out of the air and emit, instead, a strangled squawk– difficult notes are your best teachers! Unlike more forgiving notes, they force you to acquire finesse and control. Even the easy notes of the recorder want to be played with care and attention, and it’s the difficult notes that will teach you how.

Name the notes you have trouble with. Start to think explicitly about what each of them wants– and write it down.

3) Spend time with it.

If you barely ever spend time with your abrasive cousin, how can you expect to develop a relationship? For any difficult note, part of your essential work is to spend a lot of time there, and to do so in a sustained, relaxed, and observant way.

Working on highest F? Spend time every day sustaining that note. Notice what you have to adjust –or not– in order to make that possible.. Start to become aware of what it sounds like and feels like to have a relaxed, successful production of your difficult note, and begin to train your muscle memory to expect, and return to, that beautiful, easy production.

4) Make it home.

We know we’ve truly managed to befriend a difficult note if it is happy to see us when we arrive. To this end, once you have spent enough time sustaining the note to get comfortable with what it should sound and feel like, you should begin to practice moving away from it– and back.

I’ve dubbed my favorite difficult-note exercise the homing exercise, and you can do it with any note as your home base. Once you’ve selected home, practice successively larger leaps to and from your difficult note, first one note away, then two, then three, etc., always returning to home in between.

If you picked highest F, say, the exercise could look like this:

F

F-E-F

F-D-F

F-C-F

F-B-flat

F-A-F

F-G-F

F-F-F

And then back up….or further down! In the above example, you’re outlining a major scale, but you could also try a minor scale, a chromatic scale, or really anything your heart desires. The point is to practice moving both to and from a note that gives you trouble, and to do so in a way that is relaxed and controlled.

Applying this strategy– and the others outlined above– will take time! Dealing with difficult notes isn’t quick or easy. But over time, your efforts will bear fruit.

No, You Aren't Going Backwards

Have you ever felt like, in spite of all the effort you’ve expended on a musical task, your performance has actually deteriorated?

I know my students have felt this way, because they tell me so. “I feel like I’m going backward,” a student will say, after experiencing some musical frustration. “Am I getting worse?”

The answer is, in almost every case, no.

It’s not that I’ve never seen a student get worse, but the few times I have there’s almost always some kind of otherwise obvious physical or neurological degenerative process at play.

The reassuring truth is that, If you invest practice time in something, especially in partnership with someone offering quality guidance and feedback, you are pretty much guaranteed to get better at that thing.

So why on earth can it seem like you’re backsliding?

There are many reasons! Let’s take a closer look.

1) Sampling Rate. If you practice regularly, you hear yourself on such a regular basis that you may not notice many of the positive changes that are taking place in your playing. This is because your sampling rate (how often you assess yourself) is so frequent that the amount of change between any two specific samples is so small it’s difficult to perceive. On the other hand, I, as your teacher, hear you every couple of weeks–a lower sampling rate that means the gap between any two data points will be larger, and the gains more perceptible.

What can you do about it?: Try out a longer sampling interval by going back to things you played a year ago. Or try recording yourself every couple of weeks

2) Task Difficulty. A related issue is difficulty of your task. As you grow as a musician and a player, the difficulty of the material you are trying to master will (or at least should!) increase alongside your skills. And while you may have been able to play Hot Cross Buns with ease and panache, you’re probably going to struggle a bit more with the Handel Sonata movement in front of you now. Please don’t worry! Increasing the difficulty of what you attempt is a necessary part of skill-building.

What can you do about it? Maintain awareness of increasing task difficulty and reward yourself with periodic returns to material you’ve already mastered.

3) You Know More. This is a big one. Ever heard of the Dunning-Kruger effect? Basically, people with lower ability on any particular skill tend to overestimate their competence at that skill. Whereas people with greater ability tend to do so less. I find this to be especially true of musicians– because, as you develop your playing ability, you’re also developing your awareness of the many and varied dimensions that make up quality music-making. And you may start to be able to perceive– and fret over– some of the distance you have yet to travel.

Here’s an example. Let’s say you tend to play sharp. When you first start playing, you can’t hear that you’re consistently sharp, and everything seems great! (Well, at least to you.) But then your ear develops a bit, and you begin to sense a difference between your tone and your neighbor’s. And the difference doesn’t sound good! What is happening? Are you getting worse???

No. But your ear has gotten better, which means the accuracy and scope of your assessment has increased.

What can you do about it? Recognize that your ear and your awareness grow alongside your physical skills. And embrace your increasing motivation to improve!

4) Skill is a Range. OMG! You just played your exercise perfectly and now it’s falling apart! What the heck is wrong?? Are you getting worse??

No. You’re just exploring a lower portion of your ability range on that particular exercise. Think about your abilities as a box. Next time you might perform higher within your box, or lower, or the same. But your box itself hasn't dropped, and experiencing the range of your performance within it shouldn’t disturb you overmuch. Think about if you played baseball. Sure, you could get hung up on how many runs you scored in any individual game. But a more meaningful distinction is whether you’re playing in Little League or the Majors

What can you do about it? Concentrate on moving your whole box up, as opposed to dwelling on where any specific run-through falls within it.

5) Progress is Not Linear. Hey, nobody said we were guaranteed to progress in a nice, linear fashion straight up the diagonal at a constant rate of change. Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back. Sometimes we zoom ahead and sometimes we crawl. Sometimes our progress stair steps; sometimes it gently climbs; sometimes it plateaus. And musical ability is not unitary- it’s vast constellation of intertwined skills. Sometimes we’re so busy developing one skill that others have to take a back seat for a while.

And there are also times when things really do need to get worse before they can get better. Say you’re trying to move to a second octave technique where you bend your thumb instead of toggle your wrist. At first, as you learn your brand new way of playing, your high notes are going to be worse than they were before. But persevere, because the change will make your high notes better long-term.

What can you do about it? Accept progress as complex and multi-faceted; just keep moving forward.

6) Unrealistic Expectations. You understand exactly what you need to do to make your tone smooth and beautiful– so why can’t you just DO it? What is wrong with you?

Making unrealistic demands of yourself is common, and leads to a whole lot of frustration. I have noticed that this tendency is especially common among highly skilled musicians who are taking up the recorder, and among people who are high-achieving experts in other fields. Musicians get frustrated because of the mismatch between their extensive musical awareness and what they are able, physically in the moment, to achieve. Experts in other fields have often forgotten what it was like to feel incompetent. Music encompasses many complex psycho-motor skills that take time– lots of time, distributed over a long period– to acquire. And every instrument has its own, individual set of these skills. These are not quick and easy acquisitions.

What can you do about it? Give yourself grace– and time.

All of that to say– no, you’re not going backwards. It’s a (very) long game.

How Not to Breathe

I may be dating myself, but I used lo love watching a reality show called “What Not to Wear.” Each episode, Clinton and Stacy, the tough-love, unfailingly stylish hosts, would attempt to wreak a fashion transformation on some poor fashion disaster who’d been nominated by their nearest and dearest.

Each makeover was different, but there were thematic through lines. Effort spent on one’s appearance was to be reinterpreted as self-love (since I watched most episodes in ratty sweatpants, I’m not sure this lesson stuck). Cargo shorts were unacceptable at all times. And one directive graced nearly every episode: “Dress for the body you have, not the body you want.”

I think about Clinton and Stacy sometimes when a student tells me they yet haven’t developed a plan for breathing in a particular piece because they want to wait until they’re able to play the piece faster. Usually, this means the student still doing what I call “freelancing–” breathing whenever they run out of breath and damn the musical consequences!

So often, in my best fashionista voice, I bust out my What Not to Wear line: “Breathe for the tempo you have, not the tempo you want!”

It’s a simple concept, but it’s important. Breathing does so much more than simply replenish your oxygen stores. Breathing, for a wind player, is musical punctuation, as vital to your musical message as periods and commas are to your words. When you postpone integrating your breathing into your piece, you are jettisoning a vital piece of the musical puzzle, something that should always be a part of your playing, no matter how fast you’re going– or want to go in the future.

And to be frank, when you do speed the piece up, a lot the breathing work you’ve already done will carry over. It’s possible you may ultimately omit some breaths, but you’re unlikely to change their location, and it may just be a matter of keeping the same number of breaths but recalibrating how much air you take in on each.

The time to think about breathing isn’t some distant musical future when your fingers are flying over the holes.

It’s not the day you click the metronome up to the magic number. The time to think about breathing is now.

It is always, always now.

Four Shortcuts to Get You There Faster!

Since last month’s post focused on shortcuts you really shouldn’t take, I thought I’d turn it around this month and share four musical shortcuts you can take guilt-free! Yes, that’s right: I’m about to give you permission to cut some corners. Enjoy it, because it won’t last!

Shortcut #1: Don’t play the whole piece every time you practice. Although playing through an entire piece IS an essential type of practice, you should also be making time for focused, high-frequency practice on the specific areas that need work. Not every part of every piece is going to need the same amount of your time and energy, and you want to allocate accordingly.

Shortcut #2: Write it down. Sometimes I get the impression that students think writing things down is cheating. It’s not! Do you keep missing a note? Write in the letter name. Do you keep forgetting an ornament you really want to do? Write it out. Do you have trouble with a tricky rhythm? Mark where the beats fall within the phrase. What your music looks like doesn’t matter. What it sounds like does! So use the tools at your disposal to prime yourself for success!

Shortcut #3: Listen. It’s OK to listen to a piece you’re learning on Youtube! Really it is! While it’s absolutely true that you never want to use listening as a crutch (i.e., you shouldn’t HAVE to do it in order to tackle a piece), listening to a piece you’re learning as you follow the score can be a fantastic way to preview the journey ahead of you- or to get ideas as you go.

Shortcut #4: Prioritize intent. We recorder players often play music that is not intended for recorder. And when we do, we can bump up against some of the limitations of the instrument. Like the need to breathe. Or the fact that, no matter what we do, many recorders are never going to be really loud in the lowest range. In these cases, I think it can be valuable to prioritize intent over content. What the heck does that mean? Well, let’s say that it’s clear that the composer wants you to be very loud and trumpet-like as you play a series of low As on the alto recorder. You could spend hours trying to (minimally) increase the brassiness of your low notes… or you could decide to take that section up an octave or two and be done. Or let’s say a composer wants 32 measures of gentle, rolling sixteenth notes. You could devote a month to playing every single one of those notes, gasping like a dying fish every few measures, or you could decide to judiciously eliminate a few unaccented, harmonically redundant notes to sneak in sips of air. By prioritizing the intent of the music, as opposed to playing every single note exactly as written, you could actually be conveying the composer’s intention more powerfully.

Three Shortcuts That Aren't

I love a good shortcut!

If there’s a faster back road, I’m taking it. If there’s a walking path that cuts across the grass but gets me there in less time, I’m getting my shoes dirty. And perhaps my proudest high school accomplishment was managing to turn in the same ten-page paper for two different courses.

So, I empathize —profoundly!— with my students’ yearning for shortcuts. The idea of a shortcut (faster, less work!) is intuitively appealing, but perhaps even more so in a field like music which makes you work, hard and consistently, for any rewards.

But the thing is— not all shortcuts actually do get you there here faster. Others speed your progress at first, but over the long haul you end up paying a price. These are the two kinds of shortcuts that, however tempting, you’re better off if you don’t take.

Dissuading people (and myself!) from taking shortcuts is not my favorite part of being a teacher, but it is part of the job.

So here I go! Here are three common shortcuts I recommend you avoid:

Using Easier Fingerings

“Is there an easier fingering for that?” I could fill an ocean with the number of times I’ve heard this question. And the answer is….well, yes, often there is an alternative fingering that is, at least at this particular point in your musical development, easier. But there’s usually a reason why it isn’t the standard fingering, and that reason is tuning. Meaning if you take the easier route, your tuning will suffer. Now, you may or may not hear the difference yet, but you will begin to as your skills develop— and I can pick out an alternate alto “E” at fifty paces with my eyes closed.

In addition, you use up both brain power and practice time learning and remembering to use the “easier”fingering. Your cognitive resources are incredibly valuable, and so is your time! I strongly recommend that you take the time you would have spent learning alternative fingers and working them into your playing, and put it toward developing ease and automaticity with the original fingering. It may take a while, but I promise those difficult fingering transitions become more relaxed and synchronous with time. And any practice you put in with them is money in the bank: It pays off big in the long-term.

If you’re performing the piece in two days, that’s a different matter… but most of the time, you’re not.

Transposition “Tricks:”

Okay, so you want to learn to read bass clef. Easy! All you have to do is transpose what you see up a third, and you’re there. Or what about g alto- it’s just a step up, so you can transpose as you go.

DANGER! I speak from personal experience (ahem- g alto) when I say that ultimately, transposition is not your friend. Rather than attempting to use it to shortcut the process of learning to read in a new clef or on a new instrument, you are better off learning, from scratch and by rote, the new association between what you see on the page and where your fingers go. You did it the first time you learned to correlate the two, and I promise you can do it again.

Why? Cognitive resources again. Like other complex psycho-motor tasks (driving, sports), music-making requires us to maximize automaticity. Our brains are not powerful enough to hold all the pieces of what we need to do consciously in mind unless we automate, or place below the threshold of conscious thought, as many pieces of it as we can. Transposing adds an extra cognitive step (“let’s see, that’s an a; I need to read that as if I were playing a g”), and we don't want extra steps. Plus transposing causes lots of confusion when you’re trying to talk to other musicians.

Memorize the new reading system from the beginning. It will take longer at first, but in the end, it will pay off.

Rest Skipping

Guess what skill never improves if you don’t actually practice it?

That’s right, counting rests.

This one is personal for me. I spent far too many years suffering the consequences of my “efficiency.” Practice resting. It will get you there faster in the end.

Yours on the long road,

Anne

Want to Play More Musically? Hop Aboard!

Have you ever fantasized about taking a cross-country train journey?

I can’t be the only one. I imagine staring out the window, sipping a mysteriously good coffee while taking in the countryside as it unfolds.

Always, on this fantasy train trip, I am scrupulous in my attention. I take care to notice and acknowledge each and every wonder in turn: the stubborn hills and the endless plains, the sudden startle of the mountains and their spill toward the sea.

In reality, the trip unfolds differently.

Your three-year-old needs the toilet, which is dirty. The scenic vista sidles past while you’re standing in line for hotdogs, and the hotdogs are not that great. You can’t contemplate the vastness of nature very effectively over the dueling strains of Justin Bieber and thrash metal. And somebody, somebody quite close by, smells.

You really do want to appreciate the world’s marvels. In fact, you invested a lot of time and money and energy into getting yourself into a position to appreciate the world’s marvels. But there are distractions.

If you are a musician, your job is to take the fantasy train trip.

Playing a piece of music can be, and should be, a voyage of appreciation. In real time, you lavish your awareness on one marvel and then the next, dwelling on a juicy dissonance here, an exciting rhythm there, a worrying interval, a particularly delightful repetition to close..

You are- you must be- admiring the scenery each and every step of the way. Because your awareness and wonder is the only way to spark awareness and wonder in your listener.

But the three-year-old! The thrash metal! The toilets and the hotdogs and the Biebs!

Right. On your musical journey, there will always be things that can tear your attention away from the window. You miss a note or three; you’ve gone out of tune; you start thinking about your laundry. Maybe you’ve taken this particular train journey before- in fact, you’ve taken this particular journey so many times before that you just kinda glance at the mountains as you fire up your laptop.

Close it down. Look away. Seize your attention by the scruff of its neck and direct it back to the unspooling wonder of the world.

Our work is the window. Eyes up.

Why Stopping at "Does It Work?" Doesn't Work

As a teacher (of myself and others!), I am extremely interested in efficacy.

What’s efficacy? A fancy word for the vital question that marches unceasingly through the mind of anyone who is interested in the process of improvement: Does it work? If I assign a student a particular series of exercises to do to help facilitate tone production, will it work? If I assign myself a particular method of tackling a tricky passage, is it working? If I try out a particular image with a student, did it work?

Note the mix of tenses: This is a question I’m asking myself at every part of the process, before, during, and after I ask a student (or myself) to complete a task or task sequence. I think (hope!) almost all teachers do, whether consciously or not. And if you’re teaching yourself, you should do the same!

But what happens after you answer the question? If you stop at yes or no, I’d argue that you’re missing a key opportunity for reflection and growth. Because for me, each answer -yes or no- gives rise to a sequence of additional -and important!- questions.

Does it work: Yes!

You asked if it worked, and the answer is yes. Fantastic. Now you want to ask the following.

Is it working for this particular student? Sometimes as teachers we discover something that works, put it in our toolkit, and then leave it there without conducting ongoing reassessment. Not every intervention or technique is going to work for every student, and when your teaching technique is not working as it has in the past, I believe it is up to the teacher, NOT the student, to make a change. Once you write lack of progress off as your student’s fault (they aren’t practicing enough; they’re not motivated; not talented; they don’t get it, etc.), you’ve missed a HUGE opportunity for growth, and quite frankly, when I see teachers do this, it makes me sad. In my opinion, the onus remains on the teacher. Is there something you could do to help the student practice more? Is there a technique that would reach the student more effectively? What could help motivate him or her? Don’t let the fact that something generally works blind you to whether or not it is working now.

Is there a way to get the same results faster? This question is really about efficiency. Say a student plays long tones on every note of the instrument every day, and their tone improves. Terrific! But it took that student two hours, and a future student might only be able to carve out 30 minutes. Is there a more efficient way to achieve the same goals?

Will gains be maintained? Is the student able to independently and effectively monitor themselves moving forward? Can they carry the strategy forward without consistent teacher input? If not, you need to work the development of self-assessment skills into your teaching.

Does it work: No!

Curses! Things are not going well. But before you throw everything out the window, there are some important follow-up questions to ask.

Is it a dose problem? Sometimes it’s not a method issue. Sometimes, especially with a strategy that is generally successful, what you’re trying will work or is working- the student just hasn’t done enough of it AND/OR the student hasn’t done it for a long enough time span. This is particularly true when students are working on skills that typically have longer time horizons, like tone production or free ornamentation. Alas, it can be difficult, as a teacher, to assess whether the issue is dose or method. Getting an accurate picture of the student’s practice routine can help, as can increasing the dose (number of times you ask a student to complete a task each session, e.g.,) and seeing if you get a result. If you’re seeing at least some progress, there’s often a dose issue involved.

I will also add that assuming the problem is method, and not dose, is a an extraordinarily common error made by students who are teaching themselves. Many skills simply require a timescale of months or even years.

Is it a comprehension problem? Sometimes you think you’ve successful explained a concept, but the student doesn’t quite have an accurate grasp of what he or she is to do, or loses their grasp after the lesson is over. This can lead to mis-practicing, in which a student thinks he or she is practicing the assigned skill, but is in fact practicing something different, often to his or her detriment. One way to winkle out comprehension issues is for the student to restate, or “teach” you the desire concept or exercise. Recording is another useful tool. The student can record the entire lesson to refer back to. Or you can provide a short video of a particular task for reference.

Is there a constraint? If there is, you don’t want to miss it! Maybe the student is playing an Adler recorder from the 1970s, and someone’s dog chewed on it. Perhaps the student has short-term memory weakness, or arthritis, or compromised lung function. If it’s a constraint that can be removed, remove it (goodbye, Adler!) If it’s a constraint that can’t be removed, you must think about how to accommodate.

Is it a motivation issue? Sometimes a student just doesn’t see the utility of what you’re trying to do, but is reluctant to tell you so. This can come into play both with goals (e.g., you want to help the student control his uncontrolled vibrato but the student actually likes the way it sounds) or with strategies (e.g., the student doesn’t *really* believe the tone exercises you’re asking her to do are going to work). If it’s a motivation issue, you need to address it. Can you use recordings, or a discussion of tuning, to convince the student of the beauty of a clear tone? Would the student prefer to work on something else for now? Can you ask another student to talk about how similar assignments improved her playing?

What are you going to try next? If it doesn’t work, and it’s not a dose or compression or motivation issue, you have a moral imperative to move on and try to find another way of meeting your goals. What’s next?

Three Top Breathing Mistakes....and How to Avoid Them

Ah, breathing! Breathing is literally the one activity we are all doing all the time….so you’d think breathing as we play would be simple, right?

Alas, breathing for recorder playing is a more complex process than breathing for, say, Great British Bake Off reruns. And as with any complex process, it can go awry in multiple ways.

Fortunately or unfortunately, these ways tend to be fairly predictable. (As an aside, I can almost always tell if another wind instrument lurks in a student’s past by observing them breathe- and a good chunk of the time, I can even tell which one!)

So what can go wrong? Here are three of the patterns I see most often in the wild.

1) Nose breathing In a world of near-infinite complexity, sometimes it’s nice to be able to give a nice, straightforward answer to a question.

So: Should breathe through your nose to play recorder?

No.

No nose.

Your nose, for the duration of your playing, is dead to you.

Why? A couple of excellent reasons. First, your nasal passages are a heck of a lot smaller than your oral passage, which means that moving air through them is much less efficient. if you breathe through your nose, you are resigning yourself to taking in less air in more time- never a great idea.

The second reason is less intuitive, but also important: It has to do with your velum (otherwise known as the soft palate). In order to achieve a resonant tone, you want to raise your velum as you play. Want to know how to raise it? Yawn- you’ll feel how your velum lifts to close off the nasal cavity from the oral cavity, increasing the size of your resonating chamber and preventing the movement of air between your mouth and nose. If velum is raised, as it should be, nose breathing is not possible.

Instead of breathing through your nose, gently release your top lip from the instrument to take in air through your mouth.

2) Assuming less is more. Repeat after me: There is no trophy for fewest breaths taken.

I feel like many of us carry around the unspoken idea, perhaps formed in the bowels of 7th grade band, that the longer you can go without taking a breath, the cooler you are. Alas, not so! Striving, consciously or subconsciously, to take as few breaths as possible can get have many unfortunate consequences, from inhaling so deeply the air becomes difficult to control, to squeezing out uncomfortable-sounding notes at the ends of breaths, to “hoarding” breath and consequently producing a weak tone, to skipping over important musical phrase breaks.

Breathing is an integral part of playing a wind instrument- embrace it!

3) Doing too much. All sorts of breathing woes fall into this category, but they boil down to this: Breathing for recorder should feel relatively easy. If it feels arduous or effortful, chances are you are overfunctioning, doing more muscular work than you need - or should- do.

Instead, try to find a way of breathing that allows for the minimum of muscular effort to meet your needs. I promise you’ll be happier.

******

(Want to go more into depth on breathing? I loooveve this topic, and have a whole webinar on breathing for sale here.)

(Bonus tip: fire does not improve things.)