The Augmented Scale: A New Pattern to Whet Your Fingers On

Here is an augmented scale pattern that I started tinkering with yesterday. It’s similar to one I’ve practiced fairly often, but inserting an extra note into each four-note grouping–resulting in quintuplets–adds both harmonic and rhythmic color.

The exercise uses the Bb augmented scale. Since it is a symmetrical scale, it also functions as D and F# augmented scales. For the theory behind it, see my first post on the augmented scale and view my page on jazz theory, technique, and solo transcriptions for a number of other articles.

The image to your right (click on it to enlarge) contains three rhythmic variations of the pattern. The topmost is the pattern as I originally conceived it in five-note groupings. The line below it shows how the pattern lays out in a standard eighth-note flow. Last of all you’ll find the pattern set to triplets. These latter two exercises introduce a polymetric element, displacing accents in ways that pack added interest.

During the last few months my focus has shifted to pentatonic scales, and my augmented scale work has consequently suffered. The simple truth is, I just don’t have time to cover all the bases. (I wish I did, but no one is paying me to practice eight hours a day!) Lately, though, now that I’ve gotten the preliminary muscle-memory curve behind me with my pentatonic work, I’ve begun to return to the augmented scale. It is a fascinating, hauntingly colorful scale at which I want to become increasingly adept. The augmented and pentatonic scales both now fit into my practice regimen, along with the diminished whole tone scale. By the time I’m finished working all these weird scales into my fingers, I just hope I’ll remember how to play my major scales.

It goes without saying–it does, doesn’t it?–that you’ll practice this pattern in all four of its tonal iterations (I don’t know how else to say it; you can’t rightly call them “keys”). Remember to keep application in mind. It’s not enough to get this pattern under your fingers; how are you going to use it? Again, see my initial post on the augmented scale.

Other than that, there’s nothing left to say except, as always, practice diligently and enjoy the journey.

Going Beyond the Music

Last night’s rehearsal for our June 11 concert at the Buttermilk Jamboree with Ed Englerth, Alan Dunst, and Don Cheeseman was much more than a shared creative time with three of my favorite musical droogs. Life has been pretty intense lately–financial pressures, Mom recovering from a knee replacement, Lisa struggling with what appears to be a ruptured bicep, physical concerns of my own–and I’d be lying to say that I’ve born it all with a smile on my face. I haven’t. I’ve felt weary, discouraged, and depressed. So reconnecting with the band and working on Ed’s music gave me a badly needed release. I needed to just forget about the rest of life for a while and play my horn with some friends with whom I’ve shared a love of music for many years now under the auspices of Ed’s songwriting.

Speaking of which, the guy just keeps getting better and better, and so does the band. Ed’s upcoming CD may be his best effort yet, which is saying a hunk considering the benchmark set by his last CD, Restless Ghost. I hope to finally hear the final master tonight, and then I’ll know for sure which album is my favorite. What’s certain is that we pulled out a few extra stops in the studio with this project, including the use of multiple sax tracks to create the effect of an entire sax section. Also, in an unprecedented departure from my die-hard devotion to the alto sax, I played my soprano on a couple tunes. I may have even played it in tune; I’ll find out soon enough.

But I was talking about how much I needed to tune up, blow some notes, and forget about the rest of life for while. Music is as much a part of life as anything else. In my case, it’s a very good part and a very large part, and I needed to be reminded of that. When I forget what “normal” looks like, nights like last night help me draw back to the center of who God created me to be and reclaim some parts of myself that I sometimes lose track of.

It seems that I wasn’t the only one. Don and his wife have been going through a difficult, hugely demanding time with their new baby son, who has Down Syndrome and has struggled nonstop with acute allergies. Ed has been dealing with the advancing, age-related health problems of his beloved mother- and father-in-law, who reside with him and his wife, Panda. Alan was the only guy who didn’t seem to have heavy stuff going on in his life at the moment, or if he did, chose not to share. But he’s been through his own fires. We all have, and last night at least three of us were feeling the heat.

So it seemed that the right thing to do, after we had finished practicing, was spend some time talking and praying together. It’s so easy to just pack up the instruments and head home without ever thinking to pray. But there’s power and healing in the honesty, faith, earnestness, and hope of collectively conversing with our heavenly Father. I would go so far as to say that a band of Christian musicians that bypasses the opportunity to get real with each other and with the Lord is missing what may well be the most vital part of their time together, more important even than the music (though that’s important).

Real is what the four of us got last night, and it was good. I left feeling not only connected with God and with the guys, but also reconnected with myself. Something about standing humbly and openly in the presence of Jesus has a way of doing that, of reminding me who and Whose I really am. The gloom lifts, the lies and warping influence of the world’s nonstop millrace lose their grip, and I discover once again that quiet place where I can hear God speak. It is a place of peace and a place of power. When David spoke in Psalm 23 of God as the one who restored his soul, I understand what he meant.

I think, I hope, that all of us last night discovered the potential of prayer and our need to incorporate it into our rehearsals more often. More even than the songs we play and the creative passion we share, the Spirit of Jesus Christ draws us together, and it’s the thing that can take our band to the next level–possibly the next musical level, but more certainly the next level of what God has in mind for us.

Lord, I thank you for last night’s blessing of connecting with you and with my brothers Ed, Don, and Alan through the gift of heartfelt, down-to-earth, unpretentious prayer. Please look after each of my friends. You know their needs and you know mine. Care for us and our loved ones as a shepherd cares for the sheep of his pasture, for that is who you are: The Good Shepherd. Give us to hear and treasure your voice–for in it, and it alone, is life.

Altered Major Scales for Secondary Dominant Chords

Some months ago I shared a table of non-diatonic tones and their common uses. This morning I found myself thinking once again about non-diatonic tones, and specifically about an effective way to practice them, one that could quickly translate to actual jazz improvisation.

The standard bebop scales came to mind. The insertion of one extra note into a scale–typically a raised fifth in a major scale, and a raised seventh in a dominant (Mixolydian) scale–does more than allow a soloist to move through a scale with ease and land on an octave. It also creates new harmonic possibilities. That principle can be exploited by inserting other tones that also suggest secondary harmonies.

Click on the image to your right to enlarge it. You’ll see three scales. The first two contain a single added note. Scale #1 includes a raised first, and scale #2, a raised fourth. The interpolation of these notes adapts a basic major scale for use with two commonly encountered secondary dominant chords: the V7/ii (or VI7) and the V7 of V (or II7). In the key of C, which these scales are written in, those chords are A7 and D7.

These scales are as fresh to me as they are to you at the time of this writing. Not that I’ve never played them before; I just haven’t made a conscious point of focusing on them as actual scales to invest my time in practicing. I see two benefits to doing do. The first is, obviously, developing technical facility. The second is raising one’s awareness of the added notes as harmonic devices, with an eye on the secondary chords that they apply to.

Each added note serves as the major third–a critical identifying tone–of its secondary dominant chord. So when you play scale #1, remember that it works readily with the VI7; and likewise, scale #2 pairs with the II7. Many playing situations feature both of those secondary dominants, and often the VI7 moves directly to the II7, which in turn moves to the V7–in essence, coasting around a segment of the cycle of fifths.

The third scale incorporates both the raised first and the raised fourth, making it a kind of granddaddy scale that accommodates both secondary dominants.

Now, don’t look at these scales as magic harmonic bullets.. Rather, look at them as resources that allow you to judiciously select certain tones when you need them as well as furnishing you with good linear resources. It’s not all about your fingers mastering the technique of the scales. It’s also very much about applying your mind to grasp the uses of the introduced tones.

In other words, build harmonic awareness, not just digital dexterity. To assist you, I’ve included an exercise for each scale that will help you hear how each added note implies a certain harmony. Play these exercises on the piano so you can chord along with the melody line, or else get a keyboard player or guitarist to comp for you while you play the different lines.

Have fun! And if you enjoyed this post, drop in on my Jazz page and check out the many other exercises, articles, and solo transcriptions.

Sax and Wedge: Maybe This Year

This afternoon I have a gig with Paul Lesinski at the Amway Grand. I’m looking forward to it, but it indisposes me to chase what could be Michigan’s first round of severe weather this afternoon. Practically speaking, the “storm” and “horn” parts of Stormhorn sometimes conflict with each other. I can’t do two things at once; I can’t play a gig and chase storms, and when I post here about one subject, then the other half of my readership gets left out.

Yet I view the two interests as connected in spirit, to such an extent that one of my life goals is to get some footage and/or photos of me playing my sax out on the Plains with a big wedge churning in the background. Given how active this April has been, maybe 2011 will be the year when I fulfill that ambition. I almost always bring my horn with me on my long-distance chases for just that reason (plus, yeah, I like to get in some sax practice when I can). The one notable occasion when I left it home last year was on May 22, a milemarker in my chase career. Unfortunately, the vehicle was so packed that there was no room for the horn, and given how events unfolded out there by Roscoe, it was probably just as well.

Today my buddy Bill is chasing down in Arkansas. Yesterday he filmed a large, violent wedge that hit the town of Vilonia. Round two today looks to be at least as bad, and I hope Bill stays safe. I don’t have a good feeling about what lies in store for the folks in that region. But I won’t be following any of the developments because I’ll be doing the other thing I love as much as storm chasing: playing my saxophone. This time of year the storm chaser in me has the edge over the musician, but once I’ve got my horn in my hands I forget everything else and just go with the flow of the music. Playing jazz is one of the most in-the-moment experiences a person can have, and I get tremendous satisfaction out of being a practitioner.

Afterwards maybe I’ll still get a crack at whatever weather shapes up. Probably not; today, such as it is, looks like it’ll play out on the eastern side of the state.  But I’ll take my gear with me to the gig just in case.

A Fun Jazz Night at Noto’s

It has been a long time since I went to a lounge where a group of topnotch musicians was playing and sat in with them on my sax. Tonight I took the plunge and headed over to Noto’s in Cascade, where keyboardist Bob VanStee, vocalist Kathy Lamar, and drummer Bobby Thompson were performing. I’m glad I went! I had an absolute blast.

I’ve known Bobby for a couple years now and enjoy him both as a player and as a person. I’m just getting to know Bob VanStee, but I’ve known OF him since my college days, when he was well-known about town prior to his taking a 15-year hiatus from music from which he has only recently reemerged. As for Kathy, I’d heard her name but never met her until this evening. Holy cow! What a fantastic vocalist and charismatic entertainer! I love playing side man to a good vocalist, and Kathy is an absolute joy to play alongside of.

It really did me good to jump in with this trio and provide some horn work. While I brought my fake books, I wound up not having any use for them. Vocalists frequently sing tunes in keys different from the standard instrumental keys–a good reason for jazz musicians to become as fluent as possible in all twelve tone centers. I like that kind of challenge; it forces me out of my comfort zone. For instance, I’ve woodshedded “How High the Moon” in its contrafact incarnation, “Ornithology,” to the point where I can pretty well shred it in its normal key, concert G. I’ve also been working on it in concert A and F#, and bit in C. But playing it in Eb tonight took me places I wasn’t used to! Sure, Eb puts me in the nice, easy alto sax key of C, but the tune quickly modulates from C to Bb, then down another whole step to Ab. Navigating the key of Ab makes life nothing if not interesting.

Aebersold CDs and Band-in-a-Box are great assets for getting one’s chops together. But the real joy is in playing live with real-life musicians in a spontaneous framework. That’s the essence of jazz–musicians listening and responding to each other in a way that brings coherence and beauty to collective improvisation. It was wonderful to spend some time this evening with three superb talents who know what that’s about.

Sax ‘n Wedge: A Life Goal

This last week I was so preoccupied with chasing storms that I hardly blogged at all. When I did, naturally it was about weather. Jazz, music, and the saxophone have languished in the background, at least blogically speaking.

Not, however, in practice. When I headed out west for some dryline action, my horn went with me. It always does. My chase partners know that when I head for any chase over a day in duration, the sax is as much a part of my travel gear as my suitcase, laptop, and camera. Some folks toss a baseball or football while waiting for storm initiation; I practice my saxophone. Any time is a good time to get in a few licks.

I have several reasons for bringing my horn along on chases, all of them having to do with eventualities. The most likely scenario is, as I’ve just said, that I’ll get a chance to woodshed my instrument. Far less likely–but still, ya never know–is the possibility of winding up in some restaurant where a band is playing, and it’s the kind of band that makes me wish I could sit in for a tune or two. Like I said, unlikely; most Great Plains towns aren’t exactly jazz hotbeds. Still, as I learned back in the Boy Scouts, it pays to be prepared.

My main reason for taking my saxophone with me on storm chases, though, is because of a particular life goal of mine: I want to get a good photo, or maybe some video, or even both, of me jamming on my sax while a monster wedge churns away in the distance. For that matter, I’ll settle for just a nice, photogenic tornado of any shape or size. I just want some kind of visual record that captures the raison d’etre of Stormhorn and the essence of who I am as a storm chaser and jazz saxophonist.

Assuming that a storm is moving slowly enough to make a photo shoot practical, my preparations once towers start muscling up are:

* Rain-X windows

* Remove camera from case and make sure it’s ready for action

* Get tripod out of trunk

* Assemble saxophone

Just a handy checklist. Reasonable enough, wouldn’t you say?

So cross your fingers for me, or better still, pray. This season could be the one where I fulfill an ambition and get some very cool photos to show for it.

I’m a maniac, you say? Of course I am. A maniac is just someone with a different kind of dream.

The Return of the Trains: Sax Reflections from the Railroad Tracks

It’s good to see the trains again.

As a jazz saxophonist who loves to practice his horn in his car parked by a set of railroad tracks out in the countryside, I noticed last year that something was missing. Used to be, I could count on seeing the distant semaphore light turn green and watching as the white pinpoint of a headlamp miles down the tracks brightened, drawing closer until I could hear the rumble and then the roar of the locomotive and the clatter of freight cars rushing past. I enjoyed that experience at least once, and normally two or three times, during most practice sessions.

But as the bottom dropped out of the economy and Detroit’s auto industry languished, the giant spigots that sent the trains hurtling along the pipeline between Lansing and Grand Rapids closed to a trickle. Those hundred-car, three-locomotive strings I was so used to became, just like that, a thing of yesterday.

Until lately. It gives me much pleasure to say that the trains are returning.

I still don’t see them with the frequency I used to, but I am noticing that there are more of them, and they are growing longer. Two days ago, parked by the tracks in Alto, I paused in my practice to watch as a train boomed by in front of me…and kept on booming. It was one of those hundred-car affairs, just like in the good old days, which really aren’t old at all but certainly were enjoyable.

Now those days seem to be on the way back. It may be a modest return, but the spigots are reopening. It’s heartwarming to think, as I sit by my beloved tracks working out my saxophone chops, that I’m once again likely to hear the sound of another horn, far off in the distance and growing closer, and to feel the powerful, exhilarating, reassuring rhythm of a train rushing by.

Double-Tonguing on the Saxophone: Tips from a Neophyte

Let me just say it: learning how to double-tongue on the saxophone is hard.

For as many years as I’ve been playing the sax, a span of time somewhat longer than the age of many igneous rocks, you’d think that by this point I’d have mastered double-tonguing, or at the very least, that the technique would come to me fairly swiftly now that I’ve set my mind on cultivating it. But such is not the case.

Learning how to circular breathe was a snap compared to double-tonguing. Within a week from the time I set out to become a circular breathing practitioner, while I wouldn’t say that I had brought circular breathing to an apogee of artistic perfection, I had at least developed it to a point of rudimentary usefulness.

I can’t make that same claim when it comes to double-tonguing. A week after I first decided to learn it, the only thing I had developed was an extreme degree of frustration, to the point where I concluded to set double-tonguing aside and focus on goals that were humanly attainable, such as “Giant Steps” at 320 mm and one-handed pushups.

But evidently there’s a stubborn streak in me, because I’ve been at it again. And having now spent a few months tinkering with double-tonguing–not with laser-like focus, but spending maybe ten minutes on it during most of my practice sessions–I can say that, by golly, I’m finally getting a handle on the technique. I’m at a point where I can actually double-tongue scales and patterns faster than I can tongue them normally–at least, for a limited amount of time, up until my tongue and throat muscles fatigue.

Tonight I practiced some diminished whole tone and augmented scale sixteenth-note licks, double-tongued, at a speed of around 120 mm. That’s nowhere near as fast as some of the masters are capable of playing, but it’s not bad for a piker, and it’s a heck of an improvement from when I started. Plus, it’s not just my speed that’s picking up; I’m also connecting the notes with increasing evenness.

Give me another six months or so and I may have developed the technique to the point of usability. Right now, I’m simply pleased to be making progress, slow though it may be.

Unlike the flute and brass instruments such as the trumpet and trombone, the saxophone involves a mouthpiece that is physically inserted into the oral cavity. This arrangement complicates the process of learning double-tonguing for sax players. For those of you who, like me, are dealing with the frustrations inherent in learning this technique–the lopsided, inconsistent attacks, the support issues that make your upper-register notes sound like cartoon laughter, and so on–here are a few thoughts from a fellow pilgrim that you may find helpful:

* It’s essential to develop your glottis–that is, the back of your throat. Thus, while the formula for double-tonguing is “da-ga, da-ga,” (which emphasizes the tongue touching the reed on the syllable “da”) I’ve found it helpful to reverse that order. Try double-tonguing using “ga-da, ga-da,” beginning with the glottal articulation instead of the tip of the tongue.

* More, try articulating using only your glottis–i.e. “ga-ga, ga-ga.” No, it’s not easy! But you’ll reap dividends by and by if you stick with it. You’re developing the response in the back of your throat.

” Once you’ve incorporated these first two approaches into your double-tonguing practice for a while, you should find yourself beginning to develop more control using the standard “da-ga, da-ga” double-tongue. It won’t take long before you start seeing an improvement.

* Forget about speed at first, and forget about playing scales and such. Just pick a single tone somewhere in the middle register of your horn, and concentrate on connecting the articulations evenly.

* Reconcile yourself to the fact that success at double-tonguing will not come overnight. This is a tough technique that requires a long-haul attitude.

The way I look at it, working on double-tonguing a little bit every practice session, consistently, will get me a whole lot farther than not working on it. A year from today, assuming that I stick with it, I’ll be much better at double-tonguing than I would be if I gave up. So for me, the adventure continues. Stay tuned. In another six months or so, I hope to have more to report.

Using the Augmented Scale with “Giant Steps”

I tend to arrive at things the hard way, which is to say, by personal discovery. For instance, I come across a large circular object and find that it has a unique quality, namely, that it rolls, and this gets me all excited, and of course I have to go tell all my friends. “Hey, Fred,” I say, rolling my circular object around on the lawn in front of him, “check this out! Pretty nifty, eh?”

“Ermmm, yeah. Nice. A wheel,” says Fred.

“A what?” I reply.

“A wheel,” Fred repeats, confirming my sudden suspicion that others may have already crossed this territory before me.

“Exactly, ” I say. “A wheel. Isn’t it great?”

Fred scrutinizes me for a second, then walks away. Now you know why I don’t have any friends named Fred. Used to, don’t anymore.

Anyway, the same principle probably applies to this post on using the augmented scale over “Giant Steps” changes. I’m sure it has already been done, and I’m probably just the last person to know about it. But since I haven’t come across any other literature that addresses the subject, either on the Internet or elsewhere, I thought I’d talk about it here.*

I do seem to recall reading somewhere about a connection between the augmented scale and the Coltrane tune, but it was just a passing comment that never went into any detail. I have no idea where I came across it. Evidently it planted a seed, though, because the relationship between the scale and the set of chord changes, both of whose symmetrical constructions emphasize the interval of a major third, has been intriguing me lately.

So earlier this evening, having thought the theory of the thing through, I finally sat down with my sax and my Jamie Aebersold “John Coltrane” CD and played around with the concept. It’s still very new to me, as is the sound of the augmented scale, but I’m satisfied at this point that I’ve acquired a very useful and colorful tool.

Simply put, the augmented scale is as close as you can get to a universal scale that covers “Giant Steps” in its entirety–not just the cantilevered dominant-tonic cycle, but also the ii-V7-I cadences. The application isn’t picture-perfect, but it works, and besides, a little dissonance is beautiful, right?

I’m not going to get deeply into the theory behind my thinking. I’m just going to assure you that, just as you can play an entire 12-bar blues using one blues scale, you can improvise on all of of “Giant Steps” using a single augmented scale. It’s not something you want to base an entire solo on, particularly since the augmented scale is such a foreign sound; but for that same reason, it’s also a very nice color to tap into, and you can coast along on it for as long as you please without having to think too much about making the changes. As long as you stay within the scale, you’re golden.

But of course, you want an example. So without further ado, here are a couple of licks on four bars of the “Giant Steps” cycle. Me being an alto man, I’ve written them for Eb instruments, so you may need to transpose. Click on the image to enlarge it.

Three points to be aware of:

• Use care in handling the perfect fourths of the dominant chords and the flatted thirds of the tonics.

• I’ve shown the standard chords without alterations. However, by virtue of its construction, the augmented scale works best with “Giant Steps” when you flat the ninths and raise the fifths of the dominant chords and flat the fifths of the minor sevenths.

• The sound of the augmented scale is quite different from everyday major/minor tonalities. So set those standards aside and suspend judgment until you’ve worked with the augmented scale long enough to get it into your ear.

That’s it. As for any further brain work, that’s up to you. Of course, you’re probably way ahead of me on it to begin with. That’s why, at this point, I’m turning my mind in other directions. For instance, I was sitting under an apple tree the other day, and an apple dropped off and bonked me on the head. I wondered why. What makes things fall? It’s almost like there’s some kind of a force or something. Has anyone looked into that?

They have?

Nuts. I was afraid of that.

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* ADDENDUM: I take it back. After posting this article, I came across an excellent writeup by Jason Lyon that digs deeply into the theory of using the augmented scale with “Giant Steps.”

How to Master Circular Breathing on the Saxophone

It has been so many years since I first learned how to circular breathe that I rarely give the matter a thought anymore. It occurs to me, though, that to many sax players, circular breathing remains a technique shrouded in mystery.

There is, after all, something about it that appears almost miraculous. Most saxophonists would be challenged to hold a tone for thirty seconds. So how on earth did saxophonist Vann Burchfield manage to sustain a single note for 47 minutes, 6 seconds, in 2003, beating the previous record set by Kenny G of 45 minutes, 47 seconds? (An even more interesting question is, why did he do it? But the point of this article is to discuss the mechanics behind such a feat, not the psychology.)

Sensationalism aside, circular breathing is a useful technique with practical benefits for those who add it to their tool kit. But how does one go about doing so?

Begin by understanding the basics of how circular breathing works.

The principle is fairly simple (which is not to say, easy to master). You support your tone with air from your lungs in the usual way. However, when your air supply begins to dwindle, you store a quick reservoir of air in your cheeks. Then, closing off the back of your throat, you sustain your tone by contracting your cheeks while simultaneously–and very quickly–replenishing your lungs with air by breathing in through your nose.

This accomplished, you reopen the back of your throat and once again blow from your lungs. Repeat the procedure as often as necessary.

It sounds tricky, and it is at first, but the essentials really aren’t any great secret. Like any discipline, though, circular breathing takes time and persistence to master. Once you’ve got the hang of it, you’ll find that you’re able to continue playing indefinitely, spinning out lines for as long as you please without having to break the flow.

Here’s a simple, step-by-step process to get you started.

1. Get in touch with your air reservoir. How do you do this? Simple: take a breath and then puff out your cheeks. Now continue to puff out your cheeks while breathing in and out through your nose. Note how the back of your throat automatically closes in order for you to accomplish this, sealing off a reservoir of air in your mouth that keeps your cheeks “inflated” while your lungs continue their normal breathing rhythm.

2. Repeat the above procedure. But this time, blow a controlled stream of air through your lips, allowing the reservoir of air in your cheeks to empty itself like a leaky balloon. When you start losing pressure in your cheeks, then–without interrupting the air flow through your lips–breathe in through your nose and then release the air from your lungs into your mouth, replenishing the reservoir of air. Then close off your throat again. Continue doing this till it seems easy (which will probably happen fairly quickly because it is easy, much easier to do than it is to describe!).

The objective is to maintain a steady air stream through your lips while opening and closing your throat to replenish your air reservoir.

3. Till this point, the focus has been on getting a feel for the air reservoir in your mouth/cheeks. The reservoir is key, but in circular breathing, you’ll only use it for the second it takes to fill your lungs with air, after which your throat remains open and you blow in the normal fashion.

So in this exercise, blow a steady stream of air through your lips, allowing the pressure to puff out your cheeks, but support the air stream from your lungs. Keep it going for five or ten seconds, until your lungs begin to empty. Then close off your throat and keep the air stream moving by using the air in your mouth reservoir, as in exercise number two. Simultaneously, inhaling through your nostrils, fill your lungs back up with air. Then open your throat back up and blow from your lungs once again.

4. Once you can comfortably and consistently perform the above exercise, you’ll have gotten your arms around the essentials of circular breathing. At this point, you are in fact performing the technique. Now it’s just a matter of transferring it to your instrument.

When I was first learning to circular breathe, I found it helpful to work with the soprano saxophone. Assuming a conservative reed/mouthpiece combination, the soprano uses less air than the larger horns, making the learning curve easier. If you’ve got a soprano sax, I highly recommend that you practice circular breathing on it before you try it on your alto or tenor.

Start by seeing how long you can sustain a single tone in the middle register of your instrument. The note C on the staff works great. Avoid extremely high and low notes for the time being. Concentrate on making a smooth transition between lung support and reservoir support, striving for minimal pitch wavering, change in volume, and certainly break in tone when closing and reopening the back of your throat.

From here on, gaining proficiency is just a matter of focused, self-analytical practice. However, there are…

A few things to be aware of.

These involve the way you use your mouth reservoir to sustain a tone.

In the above exercises, you’ve had your cheeks puffed out and allowed the air to leak out of them in a controlled stream. Once you start blowing through a mouthpiece, you’ll find that things aren’t quite so easy. The air goes at a faster rate, and you need to contract your cheeks like a bellows in order to provide enough air pressure to sustain a tone on the horn.

Ultimately, of course, you want to dispense with puffing out your cheeks as much as possible. Cheek-puffing is handy as a preliminary learning device, but it’s ruinous on intonation and good breath support. As you spend time refining your circular breathing technique, you’ll find that you can exert air pressure from the back of your throat by lifting your tongue forward. I don’t know how better to describe what I’m getting at, but I’m quite certain that you’ll discover it for yourself if you continue to practice circular breathing.

Once you’re able to sustain a single tone with reasonable control, try playing a scale using circular breathing. From there, try a favorite lick. Circular breathing while playing lines is challenging at first, but once you’ve acquired the ability, you’ll find that moving notes are actually more forgiving than long tones. They tend to mask the unwelcome waver that often attends the shift in air support.

And that, my friends, is that. My job is done. Yours is just beginning. Grab your horn and get started.