Update and a check-in

I have been gone a very long time, I see. Here’s something of a check in, along with a note on what I plan to do with the intense practice I have been doing over the past several months.

The last little while – really, I should say, the last half year or more – has been a period of personal and professional catching up for me. Newly married, and recently moved to Ontario, Canada, I spent the summer prioritizing working with dystonic musicians, while catching back up with my own playing, which had taken a back seat in the months following my wife’s and my tying the knot last year. This suited the musician in me just fine, as events on the personal and logistical front during the latter half of 2017 and first bit of 2018, starting with the lead up to the wedding but carrying on longer than expected, (oh, the things they don’t tell you to expect when you get wed!) didn’t allow much time for regular focused practice, or the stability or headspace to conceptualize and/or execute any serious musical projects, and once the dust settled, I really benefited from spending my practice time across the summer getting back in close touch with the guitar.

Having got my arms back around the technical side of things, so to speak, I recently thought about what I would like to do next with my music, and concluded that the next step I most want to take is to record. Recording is something that I have never really given much serious thought to; thinking about a number of pieces that I have played for a while and soon might want to put on the shelf for a bit, I realized that in terms of interpretation, I have known what I want to say through them for some time, and so it’s time to put down a solo album. Following closely on the heels of this decision to record came the thought that I have never really been comfortable with the ‘little red light’, not least because I haven’t particularly taken the time to get comfortable with it. Not that this means very much in and of itself, studio technology, recording practices/approaches that espouse short and numerous takes, and editing techniques being what they are, but I would rather be more efficient than I believe I could be today with studio time, and also believe that recording in fewer, longer takes makes for a better and a somehow more ‘organically’ musical finished product. Also, like some of my favourite recording guitarists of yesteryear, I’m almost certain that I want to record some tracks in places other than traditional recording studios, and being able to produce good takes quickly will certainly help make that feasible. A lack of comfort with recording is easily remedied, of course, and that is what I am going to spend the next three of months doing (not just for my next project, of course – more as something I’m sure I need to do in order to grow as a productive musician), prior to hopefully starting to lay down tracks for an album around Christmas. Beginning a few days ago, I started out on the popular hundred days of practice journey (#100daysofpractice), posting daily videos to my Instagram page, the primary objective of my 100 day journey being to practice recording in and of itself – particularly, recording whole pieces (or sections, where I’m learning new pieces) in a single take, preferably with no or minimal retakes (I am trying to lay things down in one shot, ideally, but I did allow myself a couple of retakes on my worst day so far, and shall try and keep to less than 5 total takes per day for the duration of the 100 days). And no editing/splicing, naturally. Of course, Instagram only allows a video post of up to a minute, but the recordings I make for each day’s post are one-shot, one-take renditions of the chosen piece, however long – as a side benefit, the best of these might also give me good material for my Youtube channel. Only 5 days into the journey as I write this, I’m finding myself getting more comfortable with recording already, and I expect I’ll look back on this period of systematic and regular desensitization to the recording process as something I should have done a long time ago. As a moment to look back on, below, for fun, is my video for Day 1, featuring me making my most ‘rookie’ mistake in recording – not checking to see and remedy the fact that the camera on my phone (which is what I’m using to record at the moment) was zoomed in to a ridiculous extent! In the 99 days that follow this video, here’s to getting to feel more comfortable around mics and cameras, and to figuring out how to record and with what devices in order to capture the guitar’s tone more faithfully.

Online lessons now available!

I now offer classical guitar lessons for beginner and intermediate musicians via Skype.

Whether you are an absolute beginner looking to discover and explore the world of the classical guitar after work or on the weekend, an amateur looking to get up on stage, or a serious student preparing for a college or conservatory audition, I can help you get closer to your musical goals and play what you love the way you’d love to play it.

Lessons are once a week, run up to 1 hour, and cost $45 USD per lesson – but to get the most out of it, you might consider signing up to work with me for a while. If you commit to a month of lessons, you save $5 per lesson, and it only gets better from there:

  • 1 month – $160 (savings of $5 per lesson)
  • 2 months -$300 (savings of $7.5 per lesson)
  • 3 months – $420 (savings of $10 per lesson)
  • 6 months – $720 (savings of $15 per lesson)

Further information:

Lesson frequency and duration – as mentioned above, I normally offer lessons once per week for up to an hour, as I find that this is an optimal duration and frequency for most learners. If you would prefer more frequent interactions, please get in touch via the contact form at the bottom of this page, and we can talk about what would work best for you.

Payments are due before the start of the lesson/s. I accept Paypal and all major cards processed via Paypal. All prices listed are in US dollars.

Scheduling, cancellations, and make-up lessons – as far as possible, I will work to schedule lessons at times that are convenient to you. In the unlikely event that I need to cancel a lesson, I will make it up at a mutually agreed later date free of charge. If you cancel a lesson up to 24 hours before its start time, we can reschedule free of charge. Lessons canceled by the student within 24 hours of their scheduled start time will not be made up.

Skype is my preferred videoconferencing platform, thanks to its stability and the quality of both audio and video. In the rare event of network or technical problems during a lesson, we can try again in a few minutes. If that doesn’t work, I would offer you a make-up lesson at a mutually convenient time and date.

If you’d like to know more, sign up for lessons, or ask me anything, please drop me a line and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible:

 

‘Chopping’ vs changing: focal dystonia resolution

As you may know, in recent months I have maintained my work on musician’s focal hand dystonia resolution on this other page, the idea being to keep anything I do in the realm of dystonia resolution neater and less mixed up with things of a more general ‘guitaristic’ or musical nature. While I will no longer be adding pages to the focal dystonia resolution section on this blog, since I still very much think of this space as my ‘home space’, and the site analytics tell me that this blog continues to get a regular readership that is interested in focal dystonia and its resolution, I will still cross-post things I write about FD on my ‘dystonia site’ over here. Here’s my latest post reacting to and evaluating recent surgical interventions in cases of musician’s dystonia from the blogroll on my dedicated FD page, https://musiciansdystoniaresolution.wordpress.com:

If you care to read the post on its original page, or if you want to visit my dystonia resolution site, click here. Meanwhile, here’s the text:

Over the last couple of years, a few stories have emerged from around the world of successful surgical interventions in guitarists with focal dystonia. Going by the news stories that covered procedures in Japan, China, and India, one must applaud all three for having been landmark applications of focused ultrasound (FUS) therapy, deep brain stimulation (DBS), and radio frequency ablation (RFA) respectively, to different forms of focal dystonia in a musician’s brain. The fact that in each case, surgeons were able to variously improve the functioning of a patient’s SM cortex in a real-world situation (guitar playing) via the application of either electrical impulses or selective destruction of brain cells (ablation) illustrates the extent to which brain surgery using a range of techniques can provide solutions to problems of fine motor control centred in the SM cortex.

While giving due credit to the advances in technology and neurosurgical capabilities that made the surgically invasive DBS and RFA, and the remote (and so physically non-invasive) FUS procedures possible, and lauding in particular the brilliant surgeons who performed the above-linked procedures successfully, I find myself having mixed reactions to the idea of neurosurgical intervention as an approach to overcoming task-specific musician’s focal hand dystonia in particular. That said, in the spirit of musing upon landmark achievements in brain surgery towards musician’s dystonia resolution, let me begin by listing some of the positive implications that come to mind:

  1. DBS has long been known to be a treatment option for various forms of dystonia, most notably (and perhaps most impressively) generalized dystonias. That it has been proven a viable, if somewhat aggressive and no doubt relatively risky, way to overcome musician’s focal hand dystonia is worth knowing. (Why risky, one might ask. Well, sawing or drilling into the head, for starters…) I should note, of course, that the patient in the Chinese success story of the application of DBS to overcome hand dystonia had a generalized problem that affected all aspects of daily life, rather than just his ability to play the guitar – that is to say, his wasn’t a task-specific occupational dystonia. The seriousness and aggressiveness of the method (opening the skull to implant a ‘pacemaker’ in the brain) leads me to think that it will remain a last resort for most musicians with less existentially compromising task-specific occupational dystonias. It’s good to know that the big guns do work, though.
  2. The recent application of RFA to ablate (destroy) a portion of an Indian guitarist’s thalamus, successfully clearing up a case of task-specific focal hand dystonia in his left (fretting) hand, is welcome news for any stringed instrument player struggling against a fretting hand dystonia. Left hand (aka fretting hand) task-specific focal dystonias are notoriously less responsive to conservative interventions, including SMR/CIMT, emotional therapy, and SDE, and resolving them via graduated exposure/systematic desensitization therapy, though effective, is a laborious and expensive process, involving a protracted phase of intensive sessions with a therapist. It seems to me that while the foundational steps for the RFA process remain highly invasive (drilling into the skull, once again…) it is noteworthy that RFA has been proven effective in resolving precisely the sort of task-specific musician’s focal hand dystonia that is least responsive to cheaper and more conservative conditioning-based therapies such as SMR and CIMT.
  3. The experimental application of FUS to ablate the ventrooralis (Vo) nucleus of the thalamus of a dystonic guitarist at Tokyo Women’s Medical University last year is most impressive for the fact that it was entirely non-invasive. No cuts were made in the patient’s skull, and yet a ‘laser of sound’ was converged upon a specific point within the patient’s head to destroy a tightly defined section of the patient’s Vo nucleus, apparently successfully resolving a case of task specific musician’s focal hand dystonia in a guitarist’s right hand. I find myself reacting more tentatively than positively to this particular application of the technology and procedural approach (more on that below), but it is worth noting the possibly wonderful implication here – that where thalamic ablation via brain surgery is truly necessary, it may be possible to achieve a positive outcome without any of the risks inherent in opening up a patient’s skull in order to perform either RFA or DBS. The study that administered this application of FUS is still underway at the time of my writing this, and of course, one wishes the research team the best, and hopes that FUS proves viable as an alternative to traditional surgery in cases where ablation is necessary.

As I mentioned above, I have mixed feelings about some aspects and implications of the successful surgical interventions described in the three stories to which I have referred. Most of all, I am somewhat uneasy with the idea of recourse to some form of surgery being considered the default solution to task-specific focal hand dystonia in musicians, which is of course the form of dystonia that most musicians who are affected by focal hand dystonia experience. My reasons for this are:

  1. Focusing on the thalamus may not be the most holistic approach to reversing a task-specific problem that arises from interaction between areas of the SM cortex. It also comes with a number of risks. Surgical interventions all focus on the thalamus. DBS involves the planting of an electrode in that part of the brain, and both RFA and FUS ablate (that is, they burn up or destroy) a small section of the same structure in brain. The function of the thalamus is to relay signals to the sensorimotor cortex. It is, in essence, primarily a relay station. While destruction of a section of this brain structure has been shown to alleviate dystonic symptoms, in cases where an individual affected by task-specific dystonia undergoes this form of treatment, one wonders at the possibility of  wider implications to long term neurological functioning resulting from the removal of a part of a brain structure that was relaying neural impulses normally in circumstances outside the one task where the individual experienced dystonia.  As much as MEG and MRI scans provide information on the precise location of the parts of the brain that activate to control finger movements in a specific task, even if we can track the pathways of neural activation through the thalamus and basal ganglia, our understanding of how neural impulses travel through the thalamus between the SM cortex and the body is rudimentary. Activity in certain areas of the SM cortex regulates finger movement, and certain other associated cortical activity in the brain of a musician with task-specific focal dystonia (i.e., synaptic activation in other areas of the SM cortex) causes brain cells that carry the homunculus representation of affected fingers to malfunction. Anyone who has read the research in the field will know of Altenmuller et al’s illustration of overlapping cortical representations of fingers – but we don’t know what triggers the said overlapping activations in an otherwise functionally normal SM cortex in cases of task-specific musician’s focal hand dystonia – a logjam somewhere in the thalamus or basal ganglia, problematic associative learning, or something else entirely. Nor, speaking to the surgical approach, do we know exactly though which parts of the thalamus a given precise and exclusive set of neural impulses (and no other cortical activity) would travel, to say nothing of how the flow of impulses up and down through the thalamus would change over time as the individual ages. Permanently constricting the flow of signals to and from the SM cortex in a brain that shows indications of focal dystonia only task-specifically amounts to applying a generalised solution to a specific and conditional problem; it may, in effect, be too aggressive, carrying with it the possibility of wider negative implications to the patient’s ability to execute or maintain functionality outside the previously dystonic (and now presumably surgically-restored) task.
  2. Cortical adaptation as a result of neuroplasticity underlies the onset of an occupational focal dystonia; it also offers the most robust and stable form of resolution. At its heart, task-specific focal hand dystonia as experienced by musicians is the result of maladaptive learning – specifically, it is the inadvertently trained reflexive activations/hyperflexions of the digits traditionally thought of as ‘dystonic finger/s’. Underpinning the unfortunate maladaptation, as underpinning all learnt reflexive abilities in functional musical capability, is neuroplasticity – the brain’s endless capacity to adapt its structural predisposition under sufficiently (and specifically) stimulating conditions. Often frustratingly for dystonic musicians, creating the right conditions for successful retraining is more an exercise in designing an advanced psychological experiment than it is musical instrument practice. With that said, through incremental advances in our understanding of cortical reconditioning, increasingly more complex manifestations of task-specific musician’s focal hand dystonia are proving to be reversible. Specifically in cases of task-specific focal hand dystonia, affected musicians may be equally well if not better served (and quite possibly far safer) by looking first to conservative approaches to resolving dystonia before considering brain surgery. Resolution through somatosensory reconditioning would carry the advantages of affording: a) stable and lasting changes in the organization of the SM cortex towards, for example, better control of fingers on guitar strings, rather than a constriction of the path by which signals from a maladapted SM cortex travel to the affected digits, and b) since the brain’s natural process of optimisation towards being able to control given physical capabilities happens in the SM cortex, and not in other brain structures like the thalamus, the brain’s capacity to receive and relay sensory and motor impulses would not be artificially impaired in any way.

On balance, I believe that the risks, expense, and poorly-understood long term implications inherent in surgical intervention in cases of musician’s task-specific focal hand dystonia make it an option not to be considered lightly. With that said, for musicians affected with generalising forms of focal dystonia, or musicians affected in ways for which resolution has not yet been reliably understood by more moderate approaches (such as fretting hand dystonias or perhaps even embouchure dystonias), or for those for whom the prospect of returning to making music quickly is more valuable than the combined risk and cost of surgery, the surgical approach has shown itself to be a worthwhile last resort.

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

Hi there, esteemed reader. I’m not sure if I have a lot of regular readers, or if the crowds that come through here every month just happen to have found me that one time they searched for something abstruse and guitaristic, but hey, you’re equally welcome, however you got here, and whether you’ve been here before or not, here’s telling you a bit about, depending on your perspective, the ways in which I’ve changed this blog in the past week, or what you can find on it if you’re a first time visitor. The blog roll shall remain just that, as you can see, but gone is the gaggle of pages strewn willy-nilly across the top bar. I’m trying to get a bit more organized in my diaristic pursuits, so you’ll see the pages I’ve written (and will continue to write) are now organised into drop down lists, depending on the aspect of my work they reflect or relate to.

You’ll see that I’ve given my work on focal dystonia resolution pride of place, it being perhaps the most serious thing I do besides my morning scales. Then comes a section on artistic collaborations – some notes recording the most fun music work I’ve been doing of late, namely, collaborations of different sorts, with artistes who work in a range of media. If you’re someone looking to work on something with me, or are merely curious about my forays outside the world of solo classical guitar, these should give you an idea of the kind of things I’ve done, and am interested in doing. I’ve followed that up with a section that says a bit about what I do in terms of mainstream solo guitar playing – my last solo program and generally-available solo repertoire – and a section of miscellaneous pieces I’ve written that would be of interest to guitarists (guitarist resources), which includes among other things a list of airlines that allow guitars as carry-on baggage, gift ideas for guitarists, and things and places around the internet a guitarist might find interesting. Finally, in response to some confused messages I’ve had in the past, I’ve put up a clear list of ways I can be reached in the contact section at top right. Email is my first preference, followed by text message, WhatsApp, or Viber to my phone, or Skype.  If you’re a dystonic musician looking to get in touch, as ever, rest assured that your identity will always remain confidential unless you specify otherwise, and I will always do first consultations via Skype free of charge.

And yes, the new picture is real. My soon-to-be-wife captured the Pacific heaving and tossing just a few feet behind me some months ago in Coaldale, NSW, Australia. It’s a lovely place to visit, just a short train ride south from Sydney, if ever you get the chance!

A Manuel de Falla double bill: when my guitar met two operas

This April, The Neemrana Music Foundation put on two operas by Manuel de Falla – La Vida Breve and El Retablo de Maese Pedro. As I mentioned on on my blog some time ago, I had the privilege of playing with the opera company in both productions. I had a conversation the other day with the Indian Guitar Federation’s director, Veda Aggarwal, who asked me some questions about the project. She very kindly invited me to share something of my Manuel de Falla opera double bill experience with IGF’s online magazine readers, so below is the result of a short interview she put to me via email.

VA: Could you give us a background into the two operas?

YP: I’ll begin with La Vida Breve, because it’s something we are familiar with as pertaining to the guitar, and yet the original work is so much more than the short piece that we guitarists know so well, and aspire to play in many cases. Though only a little over an hour long, La Vida Breve is a full opera, and happens to be among the most technically demanding operas commonly staged. The story is a tragedy in two acts, and closely mirrors a scandalous and heartbreaking real life event or situation that Falla witnessed. A well-born youth had a romantic affair with a young woman from a different (and less privileged) social class, and then left her to marry someone more ‘appropriate’ from his own class. The jilted young lady protested her fate very publicly, and then took her own life – though in the opera, Falla softened the details of her suicide, instead portraying her as dying of a broken heart. Apparently this was a news story that shocked Spanish society quite considerably at the time – it seems to me that Falla’s intent through the opera was to capture the tragedy of it, and through this portrayal of unrequited love soured further by the realities of class inequality, a perhaps to make a rather pessimistic statement on the cruelty with which humans are capable of treating one another.

El Retablo de Maese Pedro (which translates to Master Peter’s Puppet Show) is quite the opposite of La Vida Breve, in that it’s a much lighter fiction upon a fiction, and shows us a story of a beloved figure of Spanish culture, Don Quixote, essentially being himself. It’s a much shorter opera, running only about 30 minutes, and as the name suggests, it takes the form of a puppet show. In the opera, a traveling puppeteer puts on a theatrical production, aiming to tell heroic stories from the time of Charlemagne. Among the audience is Don Quixote, a greying old warrior who is given to spending his days thinking about and living amongst his memories of a life spent tilting at windmills. As the puppet show goes on, Don Quixote confuses the puppet theatre’s on-stage derring-do with real life events, and gets stirred up – he draws his sword and leaps on stage to take on the puppet ‘bad guys’ and save the puppet damsel in distress, in the process bringing the whole puppet theatre setup crashing down around him. The opera (and the puppet theatre) conclude with Don Quixote taking centre stage, and musing on the glory of chivalry and errant knights like himself, while in intended comedy, the puppeteer, Maese Pedro, laments the destruction of his puppet theatre.

VA: Classical guitar is for the most part, a solo instrument. Even when we perform with orchestra, it’s usually for a guitar concerto – where guitar is the featured instrument. What was your role like in these two operas?

YP: This was very far from a concerto-type experience, because rather than being something written especially with the guitar in mind, both operas belong to the wider realm of classical music, one of which (La Vida Breve) happens to use a guitar as a purely functional musical and dramatic device in service of the story at large.

My role in La Vida Breve was a pretty cut-and-dried guitar cameo that Falla wrote into the drama of the opera, in that I played the kind of traveling musician who would turn up at an event like a wedding, and accompany a singer (who would also be an itinerant musician like myself) on wedding-appropriate songs – much like a wedding band might do today, in many parts of the world, including here in India. Apart from the song linked above, and one other quite crucial narrative punchline that the baritone soloist I accompanied, Sherry Mathews, delivered, there were sundry little bits that I would play rhythmic chords for, in support of celebratory dramatic action happening on-stage during the wedding party. And if you have watched the video and are wondering, yes, I did improvise the start of Falla’s unrelated guitar composition Danza del Molinero (The Miller’s Dance) at the start of that song, because I thought it would set a nice tone, and work as a little extra homage to the composer on the occasion of his opera’s Asian debut.

In El Retablo de Maese Pedro, my role was to play the orchestral part Falla wrote for the harp-lute, so I was in the ‘pit’, with all the other instruments.

VA: Were the parts you played originally for guitar? If not, how did you transcribe them?

YP: In La Vida Breve, as I mentioned and linked to above, Falla actually wrote a baritone & guitar aria as part of the opera, along with a few other lines for the guitar, so really my role as a guitarist was to create a bit of culturally accessible musical ‘disruption’ on stage. In El Retablo de Maese Pedro, my part was a transcription of the harp-lute part, so even though it was mostly chords to add colour to the harpsichord part, and some rhythmic lines at various points, it took some transcribing to a) turn the harp-lute’s two clefs into one, and b) some editing to reduce passages with arpeggiations that were impossible or impractical on the guitar to meaningful chord progressions or a single line.

Transcribing is not that unfamiliar of a process for me, as I have done it in the past for some solo pieces I play, so it was really a question of sitting down over a few evenings and writing it out by hand the old fashioned way. What I thought was remarkable though, speaking of transcribing, was that Falla wrote even the bespoke guitar parts in La Vida Breve in the bass clef. I have no idea why he did that, considering guitar music has been written in treble since long before his time. If the transcribing aspect of the whole project made any particular impression on me, it was probably that by the end of some 90 pages for one opera and 300 for the other, I was probably the most proficient I’ll ever be at reading music in the bass clef!

VA: When we play in ensemble, it is usually with other guitarists or maybe one other chamber musician. What was it like performing with the entire orchestra?

YP: In a word? Humbling, and on so many levels! As a guitarist, I am naturally a little leery of reading at real tempi in rehearsals and performance, and to be surrounded by musicians who did that exceptionally well, as they all did, was quite something. Of course, as many have done before me, I also first spent some serious time alone with the score by myself. Also, I should clarify – this wasn’t a whole orchestra, so much as an ensemble playing a reduction whose members (2 violins, a cello, a flute, a clarinet, a double bass, timpani, piano, and guitar) represented sections of an orchestra.

In our performances, I found that sometimes the imperative of contributing to the orchestral sound in tempo and rhythm dictated that I edited my part more with the objective of carrying the musical idea forward intact, rather than with the objective of playing the maximum possible number of harp-lute notes in time. It was interesting to hear how tonic notes in a single line, when burbling along under the output of all the other instruments, added to a pretty complete musical effect, in spite of being unaccompanied by some higher arpeggiated notes that were not practical to play along with the tonic notes on the guitar. On a related note, it was also an interesting philosophical exercise to be a cog in such a big machine, so to speak, where no one line of music was the only important sound most of the time (except the piano perhaps, which took on the lion’s share of the orchestral reduction) – it was a very outside-the-ordinary discipline for me to devote myself to sounds that were meaningful to a greater whole, even though musically speaking, they were not particularly meaningful or even aesthetically pleasing by themselves. On perhaps a slightly cheeky note, let me add that as someone who usually plays solo, it was also a bit of a humbling experience because being the softest instrument in the pack, and playing behind two violins, a flute, a clarinet, and a cello, and next to a double bass, I was barely heard most of the time, unless I were to play either out of time or discordantly!

VA: Do you have any photos of yourself during the performance?

YP: I sure do! Both the Delhi performance of La Vida Breve and the one Serenade Magazine organised at Welham Boys’ School in Dehradun were memorable experiences, so first here is a picture of the principals, soloists, and musical director after our performance in Dehradun, followed by one of baritone soloist Sherry Mathews and myself performing the wedding song at the opening of Act II on stage at the Lotus Temple here in Delhi. You’ll notice in the first picture that I am standing beside flamenco maestro Paola Santa Cruz – in addition to an unaccompanied guitar aria, Falla wrote two flamenco dance interludes into the opera, which she rendered breathtakingly in both productions.

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Also, here is one taken from the audience during our final performance of El Retablo de Maese Pedro – you can see the ensemble at work in our improvised pit beneath the stage at the Lotus Temple auditorium here in Delhi.

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Knock knock!

Anyone STILL there?!

As I write this, I realise that today it has been fully 11 months since I last posted something here. Yikes! By way of a diary entry, let me try and make passing note of the wild and wonderful things I have seen, done, and been up to, before getting back to the comfy old routine of writing about my life in music.

The past year has been a happy and busy one, both work-wise and personally.

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To start where I last left off, my work on focal dystonia resolution has progressed, and the range of effective applications of behavioural therapy based on standard or variations upon CIMT continues to diversify. In terms of the science behind retraining, different alternatives for normalising the activation and inhibition of various digits, in various patterns of dystonic presentations, have become apparent. The confounding mystery of every case of musician’s focal dystonia – even outwardly similar cases – being unique remains, but I have become aware of a wider variety of effective options that deal with different kinds of dystonic presentation – i.e. over-activation/hyperflexion, excessive inhibition, co-contraction, and compensation. Wherever possible in my work with dystonic musicians, I am also attempting to investigate the case for a disambiguation of the condition we know as musician’s focal hand dystonia from the umbrella term (some may say ‘disease’) of dystonia itself. Following some observations which I haven’t yet been able to validate through repetition, if musician’s focal hand dystonia can be isolated as purely an issue of maladaptive learnt reflexes, (which other forms of dystonia cannot be called at all), it may be possible to refine retraining techniques with welcome implications for both the average duration of the retraining/resolution process, and the time it takes for a musician who has resolved focal hand dystonia to return to full playing capability. More on all of that will follow in dedicated posts, which will be organised as always in the drop down tab from this blog’s Focal Dystonia Resolution section.

Music itself has also continued to be kind and generous to me – apart from playing regular programs on my own for wonderfully receptive people, last year my guitar and I were blessed with a range of very different projects. I got to play some Vivaldi for a dear friend at his wedding in Nova Scotia. Another dear friend and painter let me play at the opening of her exhibition, which was in an art gallery I have hankered after as a concert space for years (it happens to have, in my experience, the best acoustics by far for solo guitar of any public space in New Delhi).

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A designer in Mumbai commissioned original compositions and soundscapes for a museum exhibition – one of the guitar themes I wrote for this exhibit draws on the Dhrupad raga of Hindustani classical music, and developing it into a ‘full’ piece is on my list of things to do in the coming months.

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And to round off the list of wonderful experiences to which one might protest, I am not worthy, this April I got to work for the second time with The Neemrana Music Foundation, maestros Oscar Lobete and Jasmin Martorell, and the Foundation’s company of extraordinarily spirited and talented singers on the Asian debut of two operas by Manuel de Falla! The twin operatic productions of La Vida Breve and El Retablo de Maese Pedro were, as one would expect, exhilarating, somewhat bewildering for a guitar soloist, and in all ways, an education in the wider world of music.

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Finally – perhaps not the most relevant to the art, but definitely the biggest influence on the artiste, I have been in and out of Australia a number of times in the past several months, all that to see the special lady in my life – and we’re getting married this August!

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So what now? Even as life continues to seem to do its warp-speed thing around me, I am hoping to sit down to some steady productivity in the next few months. I plan to develop that original composition I mentioned into a piece, record sweet little videos of sweet little pieces here and there, to apply myself to writing a list of posts/articles that I have been carrying around in my head about something that has increasingly taken up my attention through to a number of my dystonic clients – namely, biomechanics on and around the guitar, and to formalize and more sustainably organize my efforts towards helping people overcome dystonia, with a proper website and attendant resources online. Step by step, I’ll get there. See you around. 🙂

Recent insights in F(H)D Resolution (January-June 2016)

As you may know if you’ve read any of the other pages in this section, I formulated my behavioural therapy approach to resolving focal dystonia in the first half of 2015. I was my own first ‘test case’, so to speak, and it was the 100% success of my own experimental protocol, based on the research of Candia et al among others, that led me to start working with other musicians both in person and over Skype almost exactly a year ago. This May, I marked the passing of a year since my own return to performing, after having completely resolved my dystonia. I can’t over-emphasize how fortunate I feel for having studied psychology – I never thought I’d use it when I started playing seriously, but if I hadn’t studied it, I wouldn’t still be playing! Looking back over the past fourteen months of playing, I now feel quite secure in making the claim that resolution of musician’s focal hand dystonia through behavioural therapy in the form of applied SMR via CIMT (sensory motor reconditioning via constraint-induced movement therapy) can be both complete and permanent, though resolving dystonia through this approach is dependent on two factors – the dystonic musician’s hand must be initially responsive to CIMT (not 100% of all dystonic musicians are, and receptivity to this approach needs to be determined before beginning a retraining program), and the CIMT setup and exercise design need to be accurately tailored to the individual dystonic manifestation – inaccurate application leads to partial retraining, or no response.

Having worked and/or consulted with a number of musicians in the past year, I have seen a full range of retraining outcomes, ranging from 100% resolution in some instances, through partial resolution in other cases, to no response to treatment at all in a couple of cases. Early on, an unsuccessful outcome in a case involving a dystonic guitarist whose i (index) finger problem was completely unreceptive to behavioural therapy made me wonder if I my method for resolution of focal dystonia was only narrowly applicable to the more common manifestation of FD in guitarists’ right hands (a tightly curled m or a finger) – from the time I started working with dystonic musicians, all such cases have ended in successful outcomes. However, subsequent successes in resolving other dystonic manifestations have suggested some refinements in the way focal dystonia resolution through behavioural therapy may be approached, and yielded some specific insights into the neurological mechanisms that underpin dystonia resolution through SMR via CIMT, most notably with regard to factors that give rise to less common dystonic manifestations (such as finger and/or right thumb curling, and left hand dystonias in guitarists, and what I call ‘complex’ dystonias, where more than one finger exhibits classic dystonic symptoms) – and crucially, how to apply behavioural therapy towards resolving them.

Starting from the most general, and proceeding to the most specific points I’d like to share, then, in the hope that some of this may be of interest to practitioners and affected musicians:

Some conjecture about the emotional vs physiological question
Ever since I first saw results with my method, I have been convinced that the onset of musician’s focal hand dystonia is not precipitated by emotional factors. That said, I’ll qualify my position by saying, a) I believe this only with respect to task-specific musician’s focal hand dystonia, and b) I believe a different (emotionally-driven) onset process may also lead to focal hand dystonia in some musicians – I am tempted to wonder if it plays a role in cases of dystonias that, though identical to others in manifestation, symptoms, and every other respect, mysteriously don’t respond to behavioural therapy.

The efficacy of SMR invites further disambiguation in conceptualizing the condition
From what I have seen of the discourse surrounding dystonia resolution online and in scholarly publications, and heard from dystonic musicians with whom I have worked and interacted, a lot of the attention paid to focal dystonia resolution in musicians has come out of a general theoretical and functional awareness of dystonia over its wide range of types and manifestations, and consequently, general approaches to alleviation of symptoms. While an understanding of the broad subject area (dystonia in general) would very likely contribute to a functional understanding of the specifics of the condition as it affects musicians (and its resolution), my observations of the condition as it affects musicians’ hands, as well as the mechanisms and processes involved in its resolution through behavioural therapy (which effectively restores fine motor control by precipitating desirable reorganization in cortical representations of the fingers) have led me to believe that when considering resolution through behavioural therapy, it is important to conceptualise the issue through the lens of as specific a description as possible.
In musicians, focal dystonia tends to affect the hands or the feet (the latter very rarely – it does happen to drummers, though), and the mouth (the embouchure). It is task-specific to begin with, and often remains so, either indefinitely, or for several months to some years, after which it may generalize to other tasks in some individuals. Incidentally, musicians may also be affected by other forms of dystonia that initially manifest as focal dystonia, but soon progress to affect more than just the hand or the mouth. It is my conjecture (pending the opportunity to further test this empirically) that the onset mechanisms of this kind of (spreading) dystonia are different from those responsible for the onset of focal dystonia – certainly, resolution in these cases doesn’t seem to be possible through SMR via CIMT.
In the interests of assessing the possibility of a given musician’s recourse to resolution through behavioural therapy, it seems useful to distinguish between hand dystonia and embouchure dystonia, because the methods for resolution through the application of behavioural therapy are easily applicable to the hand, but not to the muscles around the mouth. The term I have come to use to define the condition that I help people to overcome, based on affected musicians’ receptivity to behavioural therapy, is task-specific musician’s focal hand dystonia.
To take a tangent, this does raise the question of whether or not embouchure dystonia differs from focal hand dystonia merely in that behavioural therapy can’t easily be applied to the mouth, or if there is a different process involved in its onset, and (dys-) function. Certainly, a number of people have successfully treated embouchure dystonia by addressing emotional factors that they believed were responsible for the condition’s onset and functioning, while replication of those methods on the guitar or piano have not, in my experience, yielded much beyond coping strategies. Not having a working knowledge of the processes that underpin the playing of wind instruments, I am not qualified to address this, beyond conjecture about the nature of the connection between emotional states and a person’s control of their breath and facial muscles.

Task-specific musician’s focal hand dystonia affects systems, not individual fingers
From the earliest breakthroughs that identified behavioural therapy as a viable approach to resolving focal hand dystonia (Candia et al’s successful applications of SMR), it has been held that a dystonic hand has one or more ‘main dystonic finger/s’, and equally, one or more ‘main compensatory finger/s’. Accurately identifying these digits is a crucial step in formulating a behavioural therapy program for a dystonic hand. In line with the documented results of Candia et al’s early experimental SMR applications, I have observed in a number of instances that retraining the ‘main dystonic finger’ through SMR does not result in a complete resolution of dystonia. Following a retraining of the dystonic finger’s patterns of movement, similar evaluative and therapeutic methods need to then be applied to the compensating finger/s in subsequent phases of behavioural therapy. Where there is more than one compensating finger, the order in which they are addressed for CIMT is important, and can make the difference between a diminishing of dystonic symptoms and their morphing from one set of dystonic tendencies to another. So, while the terminology of SMR (‘main dystonic’ and ‘main compensatory’) are useful in designing SMR programs for individual phases of behavioural therapy, it may be more accurate to conceptualize affected/afflicted digits as forming ‘dystonic systems’.

Classic FD symptoms in the (index) finger are usually symptomatic of a complex set of maladaptive cortical representations, involving more than two digits
In players of plucked string instruments, dystonia characterised by an involuntary and disruptive curling of the index finger appears to be functionally more complex than the other common problem encountered by musicians of this kind, namely, similar patterns of problematic activity in the middle, annular/ring, and/or little fingers. From limited experience with this manifestation, and indeed having only effected partial resolution in a few cases as a consequence of a limited period of contact with musicians with this problem, I have found that a curling i finger is symptomatic of two separate maladaptive changes in cortical representations of the right hand fingers, most often involving the thumb and the middle finger. For the purposes of applying behavioural therapy, each of these need to be treated as a separate dystonic system, and as always, the order of application of CIMT programs is important.

Fretting hand dystonias in chordophone players may be characterised by abnormal and disruptive flexion or extension
It is fairly self-evident, and widely demonstrable, that the direction of dystonic movements in a hand correlates with the kind of movements that were trained extensively prior to the condition’s onset. Given the direction of finger movements while playing most instruments, therefore, it isn’t surprising that focal hand dystonia is usually viewed as a problem of flexion (curling) in the affected fingers – so, a dystonic pianists’ fingers would flex or curl in to his or her palm. However, for musicians who play the guitar, and possibly other instruments that have a fingerboard, left hand dystonias often develop following periods of significant time and effort spent working on fast trills, or left hand patterns typical of virtuosic rock or metal-derived styles on the electric guitar, for example. Recent experiences with musicians whose dystonic fretting hands responded (unexpectedly at first) to CIMT protocols that assumed an abnormally extending main dystonic finger, and an abnormally flexing main compensatory finger, have shown that fretting hand dystonias are at least sometimes a problem of abnormal extension of the fingers, rather than of flexion. In such instances, retraining the former movement rather than the latter is more likely to effect resolution.

Need to play standing up?

This is a how-to for temporarily attaching a strap to a classical guitar. It’s a DIY job and not particularly elegant, but it’s cheap, it doesn’t require much assembly, and I’ve tested it through a number of operatic performances that additionally required people other than myself to handle the guitar on stage. If you need to put a strap on a guitar for an unusual performance, or perhaps if you have back trouble and want to experiment with playing standing up without first committing your guitar to ‘surgery’ to have pegs installed, this is for you.

Some time ago, I had the fabulously good luck to join an opera, namely The Neemrana Music Foundation’s production of Pablo Luna’s zarzuela (Spanish ‘pocket opera’) El niño judío – as a guitarist of course, but as a guitarist in costume, on stage, and singing with the chorus a couple of times! Needless to say, it was a thrilling experience that taught me a lot, introduced me to a number of wonderful and phenomenally inspiring people, and allowed me to address aspects of being a musician that predominantly solo-playing classical guitarists seldom have to – or get to – think about. But much more on that in my next few posts, because as you will know from my title and opening description, this one is about a relatively small – and yet quite essential – logistical aspect of the whole experience.

When I joined the production early in April, I learnt that I would have to play standing up. Not wanting to install pegs on any of my classical guitars, I spent some time looking for alternative solutions. After waiting for suction cups that never arrived in the mail, and talking to a couple of luthiers, here’s what I came up with – it allows you to wear your guitar with a normal guitar strap, you can set it up and remove it yourself, and it will leave no trace on your precious instrument. I should mention at the outset, though – you should only try this with guitars finished in PU, lacquer, or nitrocellulose, as it involves adhesives that would very likely damage a french polish finish.

To do this, you’ll need the guitar you have in mind, of course, and all of this:

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…which is to say, the guitar strap you’ll use, some ordinary velcro (2 standard-sized lengths, or about 2′ in total), 3M or similar double sided rubberized tape of the sort you’d find in a car accessories store, Super Glue-style quick drying adhesive (as pictured, in India that would be Fevi kwik), and a bit of plastic sheet.

Here’s what you’ll need to do: the double sided tape goes on the guitar, the plastic sheet sticks to it, and you use the quick drying glue to stick the fuzzy side of the velcro to the plastic sheet. (Glue the velcro to the plastic before sticking it to the tape on the guitar, so as to minimize the risk of messing up the guitar finish with the glue) Create two approximately square patches like this, one on the bottom of the guitar (where the two sides meet), and the other on treble the side of the upper bout. You should end up with something like the photo below.

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Note that I have stuck these two patches a little below the guitar top, so that they’re not conspicuous on the instrument when you’re playing it. Here’s a closer look at the two patches, for positioning:

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Use the same glue to stick the side of the velcro with the hooks in it to the ends of the guitar strap, with the velcro strips going along the length of the strap ends.

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While standing, hold the guitar in an ergonomic playing position to figure out how it would rest against you, and make a note of the approximate angle at which the strap would leave the guitar from the two velcro contact points to wrap around you. Stick the strap’s velcro ends on the guitar’s velcro patches at this angle. It should look something like this:

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And you’re done! You’re ready to sling it over your shoulder, stand up, and start playing. Here’s a shot of my strapped-up guitar (and me!) doing just that, accompanying soprano Shireen Sinclair on De Espana Vengo.

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Before I let you go, it’s important that you note a few details:

  1. The velcro attachment is easily strong enough to hold up the guitar, but directionality is very important. The velcro’s grip is sound really only when force (gravity, usually) is applied along the direction in which the ends of the strap are attached to the guitar. If the strap is attached so the ends want to twist the velcro attachment sideways or pull up and away from the guitar, the velcro might give way.
  2. If you’re holding the guitar by the strap, say if it isn’t slung over your shoulder, it’s important for the reasons I mentioned in the previous point to not lift the strap so the guitar is pulling directly away (downwards) from the nearest velcro contact point between guitar and strap. An example of what not to do would be grabbing the strap at one end and lifting it, so the nearest contact point faces upwards, and the weight of the guitar is pulling directly away from the velcro.
  3. When detaching the strap from the guitar, always lift the velcro strap end from the tip, peeling it off the guitar in the direction of the strap. Also, it’s a good idea to hold down the velcro patch on the guitar while doing this. This will minimize the force applied to the adhesives attaching the velcro to the strap end and the patch to the guitar.

On performing on the guitar in India

Some time ago, while discussing this article by Graham Wade in Classical Guitar Magazine, Veda Aggarwal (Director of the Indian Guitar Federation) asked me to reflect upon my experience of playing in India over the last few years, and in particular, those aspects surrounding performance production that are unique to performing on the classical guitar in India. In his article, Wade essentially focuses on questions of fidelity and artistic integrity that merit more consideration than they usually receive when microphones and amplification are added to either a performance or recording situation. While his insights relating to these issues are as pertinent in the Indian context as in any other, the Indian concert production does present the performing guitarist with some unique environmental and other qualitative idiosyncrasies that require consideration, and when addressed properly, can make for wonderfully compelling concert experiences. The following are some of these aspects of concertizing in India that I have come to recognise as requiring particular attention in order to make a guitar concert great – especially in India, but no doubt to some extent elsewhere in the world as well. If you play here, or are thinking of doing so, I hope some of it will be useful to you.

Amplify Effectively
There are no concert halls or auditoriums of reasonable size where a classical guitar – be it a Yamaha or a Ramirez, or even a Smallman – can really deliver a heart-wrenchingly beautiful line in pianissimo to the last rows. To share one’s music effectively with an audience, it therefore becomes necessary to amplify though a PA system. To echo Mr Wade’s point in the above-mentioned article, this is where a guitarist (or any musician, really) can and should make an artistic decision, and determine qualitatively how the amplification is going to become a part of his or her personal sound. Most concert venues have their own sound equipment, and by communicating one’s needs to the attending sound technician before the day of the concert, and going through a sound check, it is possible to create an effective amplification solution that doesn’t compromise one’s visual presentation by placing a bulky mic stand between the performer and the audience, while also living up to the amplified ideal, where one’s true, acoustic sound doesn’t boom out from the speakers as in a rock show, but reaches further away from the stage than would otherwise be possible while remaining intact both tonally and dynamically, and in volume. If the venue’s inventory of equipment confines you to the ubiquitous instrument mic, the Shure SM57, a short or tall stand placed to the right of the guitarist is effective and unobtrusive. Point the mic at the guitar’s 12th fret, and position it at least 2 feet away. To extend the reach of the guitar’s natural sound through this (or indeed any) mic, keep the gain relatively high, and the volume relatively low. Better than this, and visually more compelling, is a floor mic positioned right in front of the guitarist. If you do not want to be dependent on the equipment available at any given venue, a small investment into acquiring your own microphone will give you tonal reproduction that’s very much closer to the sound of your instrument, along with the confidence that your tone will always be consistent, and that you’ll always be heard. A few examples of great guitar mics worth investing in, in increasing order of price, though not necessarily quality, are the AKG C411, the Bartlett Guitar Mic (or Guitar Mic B), and the DPA d:vote 4099.

It Might Get Loud
…for reasons other than yourself, that is! Many concert venues, including large auditoriums in a number of major cities across the country, allow sound from their environs to filter into the concert space. Ambient sounds are often an accompaniment to my own playing, although thanks to adequate amplification, I have never yet had to contend with the risk of being drowned out. There often isn’t much one can do to prevent outside noises adding themselves to the concert experience, but it’s something to anticipate with your sound technician while setting levels during a sound check. Once your own ability to project your sound is assured, ambient sounds can surprisingly add to the poignancy of live music in a given place. If you’re lucky, they add a special intensity to the ephemeral magic of the interaction between your art and that place, that comes about when you’re playing in it – some of my favourite concert memories include playing Vivaldi along with nearby church bells in Bangalore, and playing Villa-Lobos along with a muezzin and the cries of parakeets flying home in Udaipur.

Temperatures May Vary
Venues that have adequate air conditioning for the tropics will often feel frigid to your fingers, now more so than in the past as LEDs are increasingly coming to replace the sweat-inducing old-fashioned halogen bulbs in stage lights. It is useful to wear a couple of layers in one’s performance attire, so as to be able to cope with cooler than ideal temperature conditions on stage. (suits also happen to look nice – as do shawls) While performing, it is always better to be too warm than too cold, if only because this allows one’s muscles (and fingers!) to work more freely.

Humidity
The clamminess that often accompanies warm conditions – and can also be a side effect of those old-fashioned stage lights – is ironically second only to extreme cold in being an effective inhibitor of rapid and precise finger movements. While this isn’t usually a make-or-break issue, it can lead to a left hand that slides a little too easily over the fretboard, and stickiness between the fingers on the right hand. A light dusting of talcum powder on both hands takes care of this problem completely.

Connect!
The combination of western classical performances being relatively uncommon, and much of the classical guitar’s repertoire being generally unknown, makes for a blank canvas that practically begs the performer to enrich the projection of his or her artistic vision with as much detail as possible. In contrast to audiences in many parts of the world, the majority of people in the audience at a classical guitar concert in India will not be guitarists, or especially familiar with very much guitar repertoire. Thoughtful and well-researched program notes that contextualise the music go a long way towards creating meaningful experiences, as do a genuine and sharing approach to speaking between pieces, and being friendly and approachable after the show.

Understanding Focal Dystonia | My presentation to the Thailand Guitar Society

Earlier this week, I popped into Bangkok on my way home from Australia, to present to the Thailand Guitar Society about focal dystonia, and my approach to its resolution. Getting the chance to speak to guitarists and guitar teachers about this issue which has been popping up with increasing frequency around the world in recent years was a wonderful way to end a month of lovely experiences; my thanks to the Thailand Guitar Society and the Asian Guitar Federation – and in particular, Dr Paul Cesarczyk, Khun Sira Tindukasiri, and Ms Veda Aggarwal – for making it possible for me to share what I know. Below is a synopsis of my presentation.

To begin with, let me take a couple of minutes to tell you a little about dystonia in general. This is not immediately pertinent to focal hand dystonia as we know it in the context of the classical guitar, but I think a basic awareness of the issue might be helpful for context.

Dystonia, in essence, is characterised by abnormal, involuntary, and in some way disruptive flexion of one or more muscles or muscle groups. It can happen to a number of parts of the body, arise for a number of reasons, and have varying effects on the functional abilities of an affected person. As such, ‘dystonia’ itself is an umbrella term that covers a wide range of problems. The most commonly known forms of dystonia are generalised dystonia, and focal dystonia. Additionally, especially in recent years, some forms of dystonia have been known to arise as an adverse reaction to various drugs.

Generalised dystonia, though not pertinent to musicians for the most part, is the more commonly addressed form of dystonia in health and medicine. As the name suggests, it generalises across the body, often starting in one limb, and creeping over time to affect larger portions of the body. Often, this ends up disabling a person in the most basic of ways, such as walking or running. An example of this kind of dystonia is runner’s dystonia. A simple search for generalised dystonia on youtube will give you a number of very disturbing videos of otherwise perfectly healthy people, whose legs clench up and contort themselves in rather painful-looking ways when they try to walk.

Focal dystonia, which is much more pertinent to our context, differs from generalised dystonia in the sense that the dystonic tendency – the involuntary cramping of one or more muscles – is focalised to one body part. It doesn’t spread across the body – thankfully, I suppose – but is debilitating in that it can interfere with or completely shut down a person’s ability to perform one or more tasks. Non-musical examples of common focal dystonias are cervical dystonia (which manifests as a twitching of the neck one way or the other) and blepharospasm (rapid involuntary blinking), which most of us have probably seen in someone at some time in our lives. Musicians who experience dystonia typically experience focal dystonia, but with the difference that whereas other focal dystonias – like cervical dystonia and blepharospasm – are often non-task-specific, musician’s focal dystonia is commonly task specific, and tends to occur in the body part that is most important for musical performance. So, for example, guitarists, pianists, and other chordophone players tend to experience focal dystonia in one or the other hand, whereas wind instrument players tend to experience it in the muscles surrounding their mouth (embouchure dystonia). Drummers, for the same reason, have been known to contract focal dystonia in either of their hands or feet. In most of these cases, the affected person is perfectly functional in most aspects of their life, except when they try to play their instruments. Classical guitarists with focal dystonia, for example, are often able to type, drive, shuffle cards etc, and only experience dystonic symptoms when they play the guitar.

Recent research has shown that musician’s focal dystonia tends to be localised in whichever body part is involved in highly repetitive interactions of gross motor strength and fine motor coordination. In classical guitarists, that tends to be the right hand. For the rest of this talk, for our purposes, I’m going to speak of ‘dystonia’ or ‘focal dystonia’ in the context of how classical guitarists experience it most often, i.e., with task-specificity and in the right hand. As we move along, I’ll tell you how dystonia as classical guitarists experience it is not a disease or a disorder in the most commonly understood sense of those terms, but something that can be ‘learnt’, and equally, unlearnt.

To give you a sense of what a classical guitarist’s dystonia looks like, take a look at this video. This guitarist is experiencing focal dystonia in his a finger. For the purposes of illustration, the involuntary clenching of his a finger is most clearly visible from 00:55-01:30.

Before we go any further, and now that I have shown you what dystonia might look like in a classical guitarist, let’s step sideways for a moment and go over a very brief and basic psychology lesson. This will help with understanding how dystonia for classical guitarists develops, functions, and can be resolved.

Any voluntary act, including playing, is an outcome of neural activity in the brain. Neurons fire in parts of the brain that control the movement of particular body parts, and muscles contract and relax as a result. This activity takes place in a part of the brain called the somatosensory cortex. Control centres for each part of the body take up specific areas within the somatosensory cortex – or each part of the body is ‘represented’ on the somatosensory cortex. This representation of the body is called a homunculus representation, and fine motor functions, such as fretting and plucking strings, are possible because of it. A homunculus representation is key to our ability to perform precise and delicate actions, because it means that the parts of our bodies that require the most control from the brain are allocated more space within the somatosensory cortex. You might have come across this popular representation of a homunculus, which tells you what we’d look like if our bodies were built the way they’re normally represented in the somatosensory cortex. You see that it’s really all about the hands, the mouth, the face, and in comparison the rest of the body is controlled with very little brain power.

 

In the context of voluntary movements, neural activity serves two purposes or processes – activation and inhibition. Activation is easy. It refers to muscles, and groups of muscles, contracting. Clenching your fist is a very basic example of hand activation – even babies with their grabbing reflex are experts at it. Inhibition, on the other hand, is complicated. Really, for the most part when we as guitarists talk about developing our hands for better finger separation, we’re talking about our brains getting better at inhibition.

Our brains learn – get better – at inhibition, and thereby at controlling and enabling fine motor movements like virtuosic playing, through a process or a tendency called neuroplasticity. Neuroplasticity essentially means that your brain is ‘plastic’, or changeable. It changes to become more efficient, in response to the tasks you require it to perform repeatedly. Repetition is key in this. Being efficient, the brain doesn’t waste time changing itself for every random function you ask of it – it only changes when it ‘sees’ from experience that some complex task is likely to be asked of it repeatedly.

Two processes direct the way the brain changes itself in response to one’s activities. One is the process of repetition itself. The areas that represent the appropriate fingers on the somatosensory cortex of a guitarist playing a tremolo, for example, fire repeatedly through p-a-m-i (or whatever other variation you might use to play a tremolo, of course). As the saying goes, practice makes perfect, and when tasked with repeatedly enabling you to move through p-a-m-i, the brain adapts by reinforcing the connections that make that sequence of neurons firing easier and better. The other process that guides neuroplasticity is sensory feedback, or perception. The brain, as it fires through p-a-m-i, also constantly processes the sensations your fingers register as they play. The qualitative nature of this second process – sensory feedback – is key in the brain adapting correctly to help a guitarist play better. That is, when sensory feedback is accurate, and congruent with the brain’s experience of a repetitive task, the brain will adapt to facilitate virtuosity. However, if there is a repetitive discrepancy between a given pattern of neural activity (brain cells firing in the somatosensory cortex), and sensory feedback, the guitarist’s brain’s tendency to change to adapt to the task it sees as regular, and worth getting better at, can take a wrong turn, resulting in focal dystonia. Altenmuller et al have illustrated this via MEG scan, where the representational areas of a musician’s dystonic hand are blurred on the somatosensory cortex, in contrast to those of a non-dystonic hand, which are not. In the context of guitarists, this can happen when our perceptions of our own highly repetitive complex right hand actions (think of some Giuliani or Barrios passages) are incorrect, and don’t actually conform to what our brains are doing to play those notes in the first place.

So that, basically, is how dystonia typically arises in classical guitarists. Of course, it is important to remember that the process I have described does not happen a lot more often than it does, because most musicians in the world don’t have dystonia (even though the number that do is significant enough for us to be talking about it today). In fact, reported rates worldwide tell us that about 1% of all classical musicians develop focal dystonia. Some factors that have been found to predispose a given musician to contracting dystonia are:

  • Long spells of virtuosic practice. This is the number one contributing factor. Long hours spent playing loud and fast are more likely to predispose one to developing dystonia than anything else. This is particularly true when one is practicing passages that involve more than two fingers on the right hand moving rapidly in repetitive patterns.
  • Age – most dystonic musicians are aged mid-20s to mid-40s when they develop it.
  • Men are more likely to develop it than women.
  • There is a genetic component to the extent that anyone is predisposed to developing it.
  • A sudden increase in the amount and intensity of practice, as one often sees musicians doing before an exam, competition, or audition.
  • Personality type – type A personalities and perfectionists are more likely to develop dystonia than other personality types.
  • The age at which one started playing – people who begin learning an instrument after the age of 9 are 6 times more likely to develop focal dystonia than people who start learning at a younger age. Just going by the particular demands of playing guitar, and how many people consider younger children unable to start learning the instrument until their hands grow a bit, I’d say that puts guitarists especially at risk!

From that list of factors that predispose one towards developing focal dystonia, one might well say that classical musicians are at significantly higher risk for developing dystonia than other people – and the research bears that out as well. Eckart Altenmuller, whom I mentioned earlier, found that professional classical musicians are 800 times more likely to develop focal dystonia than other people. Another recent study (Rozanski et al, 2015) made a recommendation to the German Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs, and in fact, in Germany, musician’s focal dystonia is now recognized as an occupational disease, and professional musicians who develop it in Germany may get support for their treatment.

So with all of this said, how does one go about resolving focal dystonia? I do have my own approach, which I’ll share in a moment, but because a) different people respond differently to different approaches, and b) even the approaches that don’t work in isolation do help as priming or coping strategies when incorporated into other approaches, here’s a list of what’s out there:

  • Emotional therapy/counselling – of the sort that is most identified with Dr Joaquin Fabra. In my experience, working on the emotional component of dystonia is not ultimately effective for guitarists, but it does help with laying the groundwork for another, more effective approach. This may be because it often helps the affected guitarist take the first step towards resolving dystonia, which is coping with any anxiety and stress issues that arise as a result of having focal dystonia – as you can imagine, not being able to play for reasons you don’t fully understand would give rise to considerable anxiety and stress, which in turn do get in the way of a dystonic musician applying himself or herself to a program aimed at resolving their dystonia.
  • Botox injections – going back to our initial understanding of dystonia, recall that dystonia is characterised by unwanted contractions of particular muscles. Botox injections directly into these muscles inhibits their functioning. Yes, it is as drastic and unsustainable as it sounds, and I am not an advocate of this approach. I believe that there is a bit of a problem with over-medicalization of musician’s focal hand dystonia – especially considering there is no pathology involved in the condition – and botox treatments are a part of that.
  • Retraining or developing alternative technique – various people have come up with alternative playing techniques to get around the problems posed by a dystonic hand. I don’t personally know of any cases of success through this route, other than David Leisner, but they are out there, so I’m mentioning the option.
  • Slow-Down Exercises (SDE) – a pedagogy-based approach that proposes that dystonic tendencies have a temporal threshold, and that retraining can be done by playing under that threshold (very slowly, as with exaggerated slow practice), and that this threshold can gradually be raised to facilitate normal playing. I have not personally found this to be effective, but its principal proponent, Dr Naotaka Sakai, has apparently helped a number of pianists resolve focal dystonia and return to the stage.
  • Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS) – brain surgery, which is as drastic as it sounds. There are obviously major concerns associated with this approach, which is more often used to address other, more serious forms of dystonia.
  • Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (tCMS) – a new and experimental approach, which to my knowledge has not quite made it out of the laboratory yet.
  • Sensorimotor Retuning (SMR), as was first designed by Dr Victor Candia at the University of Konstanz about 15 years ago. This approach uses constraint-induced movement therapy (CIMT) to create conditions under which the dystonic musician can perform repetitive motions that will induce neuroplastic responses in the desired direction, i.e., to induce the re-separation of representational areas for each finger in a dystonic somatosensory cortex. CIMT, by the way, was first found to be effective in helping stroke victims recover lost motor functioning. Though effective and reliable, SMR as applied by Dr Candia was limited in its effect, in that it only normalised excessive activation in a dystonic hand. In the past year, I have used the same principles that guided Dr Candia to apply CIMT to dystonic musicians to design an addendum to the SMR program, which leads to a fully resolved, non-dystonic hand.

This, then, is essentially an overview of what dystonia is, how it can be developed and how it functions, and a quick look at what you can do about it. What I’d like you to take away from this tonight, more than anything is:

a. Focal hand dystonia for guitarists is a problem of learning, not a disease, or curse, or anything else…it’s an example of maladaptive neuroplasticity, whereby you essentially ‘learn your way into a corner’. Therefore, when people talk about recovering from dystonia, the word ‘cure’ is also not appropriate. Just as dystonia can be developed through actions over time, it can also be resolved.

b. I see that this doesn’t seem to be much of a problem in Thailand, going by the self-reportage we have of it here, but in the West, focal dystonia in musicians is very much a taboo subject, and is not spoken of. There seems to be a stigma associated with it, not unlike there is with mental health issues (not that that’s okay either). I suspect this has a lot to do with a lack of understanding of both its onset and resolution. I believe it’s important that we all, as musicians, do whatever we can to generate awareness of this being a part of living in the classical music industry or world – perhaps a small part, in terms of the number of people it touches, but a significant one nonetheless.

c. As more and more classical guitar scenes/cultures develop around the world, the incidence of focal hand dystonia in guitarists is probably going to go up, and Thailand today is a prime example of that – recall that lots of loud and fast playing at a high level is the number one predisposing factor. Competition culture, where young players often try really hard to perfect playing pieces that may be at the limit of their technical ability, doesn’t help at all. As teachers, it is incumbent on us to keep students developing holistically, and healthily. Key in all this is teaching young guitarists how to practice smartly, rather than for hours on end.

d. Dystonia, for all its serious implications for a musician’s career, is an occupational hazard (recall that Germany has even formally recognised this, as I told you earlier). It’s not irreversible, but its resolution through the application of the appropriate science is very recent, and not very well known. It’s important that people who have it know that behavioural therapy is a viable approach to resolving it.