The James Dean Technique

One of the things I like most about teaching is that you can have decades of experience and STILL discover new ways of helping your students.

A couple of months ago, I had a lesson with a student with whom I’ve been working for several years.  Over those years, we’ve worked toward many different goals from many different angles, with a particular emphasis on air consistency.  My student, who is extremely musical, had made very considerable improvements, but the air consistency still took focus.

At this particular lesson, she was working on a difficult solo selection that required fast fingers and active interpretation.  The air consistency was slipping, and I tried reminding my student to feel the forward motion of the air, not accent with breath, etc.  It got a little better, but her whole system still looked tight and constricted. Then I had a brainwave.

“You’re James Dean!” I yelped

My student, being a reasonable human being, said “what?”

I put down my recorder and got out my computer.  To the thrill of recorder devotees everywhere, there are a number of photographs of James Dean playing recorder.  A quick Google search will pull up an image or three. In some of them Dean is shirtless.  In all of them, his posture telegraphs nonchalance and a profound sense of cool. 

“Try pretending you’re James Dean,” I told my student.  “Look at his body.  He’s leaning back in his chair.  He’s easy. He’s casual.  He’s just playing around. That’s how you want to be for this piece.”

My student, who is nothing if not a good sport, said she’d try it out.  And the change in her playing was profound.  As soon as she began to telegraph ease in her body, her air smoothed out.  Her tempo fluctuations clamed.  Her fingers ran more smoothly and her very strong natural musicality was able to shine through.

At this point I think I said something very intelligent and teacherly, like “woah.”  Placing her body in a position of nonchalance had short-circuited a number of ways in which she was over-functioning, and the change in her playing was pronounced.

Obviously this is not a panacea. Aping James Dean is not a shortcut to recorder virtuosity, and it is far from the only skill you need.   And pretending to be James Dean was somewhat uncomfortable for my student, who said, after the initial couple of run-throughs, that she felt straight-jacketed.  We talked about feeling easy instead of frozen, smooth movements instead of no movements.  But it’s something she, and I, will continue to have to fine tune in the months to come.

But “The James Dean Technique,” as my student has dubbed it, is powerful, and reminds me that sometimes you need to change your body before you change your mind.  I’m excited to try it out in my own playing (I’m also a forward-leaner) and with some of my other students. 

As my thoughtful student wrote in a lovely post-lesson reflection, “Bravery, and perhaps some swagger, is necessary in order to live life from the heart rather than according to the expectations of or defense against others.  The same is required of the highest level of artistry.”