Chops: Beginner
Theory: Beginner
Lesson Overview:
• Learn how to relieve tension
in both your picking and fretting
hands.
• Develop exercises to make
your picking motion more
effective.
• Understand how correctly
moving your forearm leads
to better technique.
I’d like to explore an approach to picking
and fretting the guitar that I’ve been
working on for a while. It all began about
three years ago, when I started to notice
that I was picking a lot harder than I needed,
especially when playing single lines. The
result I was hearing was kind of a snappy
sound, and the more I tried to control it
by resisting the tendency to play with a lot
of force, the more I started to lose control.
It was as though I was trying to pick the
string while simultaneously pulling away
just enough so as not to overplay. It was a
classic tug-of-war with myself.
Like David Gorman—one of my favorite
writers and teachers—says, “Never pick
a fight with yourself, because someone’s
gonna lose and it’s gonna be you.” So I
decided to start from scratch and study how
the pick actually produces a sound. I began
by setting the pick on an open string—let’s
use the open 3rd string for our example—
to see if I could sense any excessive tension
as I anticipated picking the string. To my
surprise and delight, I absolutely did. It was
as though just by making contact with the
string, I felt the pressure to make the string
sound and where that anxiety manifested
most was in holding my breath and locking
the right shoulder.
From my studies of the Alexander
Technique, I was aware of the difference
between stimulus and reaction. The stimulus
in this case was the registered desire to
pluck the string, and the reaction was tightening
my muscles to make that happen. So
after taking note of how I was organizing
the act of plucking, I decided to see what
would happen if I set the pick on the string,
noticed the tensing, and then imagined how
I would behave differently if the pick had
to stay there for 20 minutes.
Once I considered this, I quickly
noticed the tension started to subside. It
was as though I had given up my expectation
and was able to rest. In the absence
of the anxiety, I started to realize I’d been
under the impression I had to make a big
effort to pluck the string. Since I started
playing when I was a boy and the guitar
was much bigger, I probably had to work
harder to produce a sound. But at this
point, I have changed in stature from those
days and my relationship to the guitar
needed to change as well.
Essentially, I was meeting the string
with equal force and finding a point of balance
rather than overriding the string. So
I’d practice resting the pick on the string,
allowing the excessive tension to subside.
I’d then take my hand off and let it rest,
and repeat the process—all as a means
of breaking my habitual trajectory from
stimulus to reaction.
The next step involved sounding the
string. Once I felt I had sufficiently eased
my commitment to my habits, I wanted to
find a new way to pluck the string without
reverting to my old, overpowering ways.
At this point, I had a vivid image of an
Olympic diver bouncing on a diving board
in preparation for a dive. It reminded me of
the pick on the string. If I could “bounce”
on the string—effectively sensing the equal
force between the string and my hand—all
I’d need to do to make the string sound
would be to give up my resistance. Like
the diver on the diving board, I could let
the springiness of the string do more of the
work. Rather than being propelled away
from the string, I would cease meeting the
string with equal force, and instead, give
up. Let the string win. By imagining the
string almost cutting up through the pick
(on a downstroke), it felt as though the
string played itself and I was there to create
just enough friction to get things started.
After doing this a few times, I noticed
that for the first time, I didn’t feel tension
in picking the string. The sound wasn’t very
loud at first, but it sounded fuller and like
a more complete gesture. After practicing
downstrokes for a while, I tried upstrokes
and was pleased to find the same mechanism
applied. As I would place the pick on
the bottom side of the string in preparation
for an upstroke, I felt my habitual tensing
and urge to “lift” up. However, from this
new perspective I was able to meet the resistance
of the string and imagine the string
falling through the pick. Like the downstroke,
the sound seemed to release out of
the instrument rather than being forced.
This experience soon became the foundation
for how I approach picking. Starting
with open strings, I eventually transitioned
to playing scales and arpeggios, using both
alternate picking, as well as sweeping.
There are times when I’ll choose to override
the string with a big downstroke or
upstroke. However, I regularly come back
to this practice as a means of resetting my
concept of how much pressure I think I
need to put into picking. Inevitably, it is a
lot less than I think.
The next step to explore was the lefthand
technique. For me, the role of the
right hand had shifted from one of being
highly controlled to meeting the guitar
and letting the sound come out as a consequence
of more efficient movement.
So with the left hand, I was interested in
examining what I had perceived its role
to be. What I discovered had to do with a
struggle between viewing the left hand as a
tool for holding the guitar in place and also
being able to move freely across the fretboard.
I was essentially trying to stabilize
the guitar with my left hand while trying to
remain free and agile. As I told my friend,
it was like having a butterfly on a leash.
And again, I saw that this related to learning
guitar as a boy and doing everything in
my power not to drop it while still playing
what I wanted. Realizing this, I started to
notice that I was trying to equalize both
desires by squeezing the neck and then trying
to move my hand around the neck—a
conflict of directions.
I went back to the beginning: How do
you press down on a string? Is it my job to
overpower like my old right-hand approach
or was there more information I could learn
from the guitar if I ceased squeezing? I was
delighted to find that what I had discovered
in the right hand applied wonderfully to
the left hand as well. I began by placing
my first finger on the 3rd string, 5th fret
(sounding a C). I’d depress the string slightly
and allow the string’s resistance to push
my finger off. It was as though I was pushing
the string and letting myself be pushed.
I would practice pushing down too hard
and then letting the string/diving-board
effect push me off.
The more I did this, the more I started
to respect the tension of the guitar and
become aware that no matter how much I
could override a string while fretting, the
string inevitably found equilibrium as an
open string. I began to practice meeting the
string, letting my eagerness to fret it calm
down slightly, at which point I would let
my left hand fall into the string, depress it
momentarily, and then give up, and let the
string push my finger off.
In essence, I was becoming aware that
how you come off of a string is as important
as is landing on it. In both the right
and left hands, it seemed to really be about
doing less and refining my gestures to be
as appropriate to the design of the guitar as
possible, rather than trying to impose “my
technique” on the instrument.
The last piece of this exploratory period
was researching how the hand gets from
one position to another with minimal
effort. For years, I had played as though
the fingers were entirely responsible for
getting me up and down the neck, and the
rest of my body just followed. However,
after more research, I started to realize that
the hand gets where it needs to go when
the arm moves. And the arm moves when
your breathing is free. And your breathing
is freer when you are listening to the music
being created. So it’s all connected.
If I was playing a phrase in the first three
frets and then wanted to jump to the 12th
fret, I started to realize that I didn’t have
to reach up to the 12th fret, but rather if
I moved my forearm in that direction, my
fingers would follow suit and conveniently
be positioned exactly where I needed
them. So in addition to understanding the
mechanics of picking and fretting from
this new perspective, I could see that both
hands could be moved easily if I didn’t try
to move at the source of playing. With
scales, I would practice moving my arm
along the trajectory needed to play a scale
from the 1st fret to the 12th fret without
actually fretting the notes, just allowing
the fingers to glide across the strings. Once
this movement started to feel comfortable
at a slow tempo, I would gradually start
“tucking” in the notes, by letting my fingers
fall momentarily into place on the desired
pitch. This was a huge discovery for me.
Eventually, I was able to move way
more freely and without as much tension.
Much like my discoveries about the left
and right hands, I was now able to see arm
movement not as an advanced skill set, but
rather a mechanical process. Once I’d clarified
the process of what it takes to move
my hand, I could then apply the mechanics
to the guitar.
Most importantly, the thing that will
help you to achieve the best technique
possible is to regularly make time to assess
how you do what you do, and to let the
sound be your guiding light. And whether
my discoveries help you or you find alternative
strategies, I believe the most effective
approach to guitar technique is to be
respectful of the guitar’s design while also
being aware and appreciative of your own
design. These twin perspectives will help
you create music that most honestly represents
you.
Julian Lage
is one of those rare musicians who
feels equally at home in acoustic and jazz circles.
He has been a member of legendary vibraphonist
Gary Burton’s group since 2004, and
also regularly collaborates with pianist Taylor
Eigsti. Lage’s latest album, Gladwell, reflects
his wide-ranging musical interests and talents
by incorporating chamber music, American folk
and bluegrass, Latin and world music, traditional
string-band sounds, and modern jazz. For
more information, visit
julianlage.com.