The Pedagogy of Arnold Jacobs: Part 1 of 5

Posted on February 3, 2009 by David Brubeck

Author’s note (1991)
It is impossible to capture the essence of such a powerful and influential teacher
as Arnold Jacobs in print, let alone in the limited space available here. However,
insight into the techniques and philosophies of this great teacher can prove a
valuable complement to the precious few texts written by or about Mr. Jacobs.
As with any teaching method, there is a danger of misinterpretation by those
who would seek to superficially garner a nugget here and there without
understanding the underlying principles and objectives. Perhaps that fear is
what has kept the eloquent Mr. Jacobs from publishing a text of his own.
Despite this risk, I feel that the tremendous value of this information, and its
scarcity in print, justify this outline of his pedagogy. The contents of this paper
are based upon my participation in two separate master-classes with Mr. Jacobs
(one in South Florida, and another one at Norhtwestern University); reading of
nearly everything available about or by him; attending Northwestern University
for three years when he was a faculty member, and subsequently a retired
faculty member; and discussions of his teaching techniques with many of his
students and other musicians both in and out of the Chicago area. This article is
dedicated to the memory of Arnold Jacobs.
Arnold Jacobs is primarily known as an excellent performer. In his long and
illustrious performing and recording career with the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra, with its brass quintet, and as a soloist, he has touched millions of
listeners over several generations. Others may know Mr. Jacobs chiefly through
his theories on breathing and pulmonary function. To medical supply
companies, professionals in medicine, and scholars alike, he is a gifted
investigator and knowledgeable scientist. Despite these impressive credentials,
it could be said that his greatest achievement has been through his teaching?
With unparalleled success, and encompassing all types of wind instruments,
Arnold Jacobs’ students are some of the finest wind players in the world. Many
attribute all or a large part of their success to Mr. Jacobs, a man many consider
to be the greatest brass teacher of all time.

Though most widely known for his breathing expertise, Mr. Jacobs is quick to
point out that music comes first, last, and always. He commonly draws one
conclusion from his experience teaching students from all over the world,:
“They lack artistry.” He believes that training a musician should not merely be
the training of an instrumentalist, but the training of a great artist as well.
Emphasizing to students that sound is their medium, Mr. Jacobs encourages
them to become expressive and interpretative or to become “story tellers of
sound.” By providing them with goals of excellence, creative imagery and an
excellent set of ears, he sets for his students the highest standards possible.
Perhaps the most important musical concept is the latter part of his famous
phrase “Wind and Song,” where students are encouraged to sing the music in
their heads while they are playing, as they would like to hear it played.

Close your eyes and imagine the greatest tuba sound in the world. As you
describe it, words such as “full,” “warm,” “dark,” “round,” or “clear,” may come
to mind. Now imagine this “world’s greatest tubist” playing the phrase that sits
on the music stand before you. Continue to hear this player’s version as you
play it, concentrating on that version, rather than yours. This, in a nutshell,
emphasizes Mr. Jacobs’ belief that musical thought and tone should be the
impetus for performance, and that methodology and technique are, of
necessity, their by-product. Thus by providing an excellent musical stimulus of
the ideal performer, many other aspects of playing will fall into place.
Advocating that the finest quality is what one should intend, Mr. Jacobs insists
that habits should be formed based upon excellence. By using imitation, and
the creative imagination of excellence, these high goals are established. “Play it
like Bud Herseth would,” is a common command Jacobs gives to trumpet
students. This begs them not only to recall an excellent example, but also to
apply their imagination of it to the piece of music at hand. By flooding their
mind with this excellent example, they cannot help but improve what comes
out of the bell. “Is that the best note you can play?” he sincerely asks another
student. Then he urges them to pretend that every note is worth one hundred
dollars, and instructs them not to play any more ten-cent notes.

Noting that the middle of a trumpeter’s long tone is excellent, Mr. Jacobs
encourages the student to imagine and then achieve that excellence at the
beginning of the tone as well. Thus, he emphasizes the sound and not the attack
noise, saying that a short note should be just like a slice out of the middle of a
long tone. Insisting that extra MUSICAL attention be given to the notes at the
beginning of phrases, Mr. Jacobs deals in terms of the ideal sound and
imagined goals rather than tongue placement or function. Always speaking in
terms of quality tones, and not long tones, Mr. Jacob’s espouses creating
excellence in the middle register and expanding it to other registers of the
horn.
Many of Arnold Jacobs’ students recount similar stories of spending an entire
lesson perfecting a single phrase, with the explanation that a performer must
pay attention to every note in a phrase as well as the big picture. Though the
listener senses the phrase direction, the performer must attend to every note to
shape this. By setting this high standard, elevating the students’ expectations
and helping them focus on the stimulus of the goal in their brain, Mr. Jacobs
inspires them to excellence in the brain even if There is mediocrity in the lips.
With his guidance, the two will eventually match.

Arnold Jacobs claims to play two tubas atonce, and does. As he says, he plays
the tuba in his hands and the tuba in his head. Focusing the act of performance
on the stimulus provided by the musical imagination is the key to the latter part
of the famous Jacobs saying “Wind and Song.” To put it simply, he advocates
that one sing a song in ones head while playing. “Make a statement!” he would
admonish his class, “Don’t ask questions!” Stating that brass instruments are
“stupid”, he relates that one can only get out of a brass instrument what one
puts into it. Unlike a piano-which one could approach with the question “What
note is this?” then touch that key and receive a discrete and definitive answer-a
brass instrument is liable to give any number of pitches depending on the input
of the performer.
Of the three components of musical sound-vibration, motor activity, and
resonance-a brass instrument provides only resonance, whereas a piano
provides all but motor activity. Thus the tune (or vibration), must originate from
the brain of the player in the form of pitch, and not just valve combination or
slide position. Students can achieve this by practicing buzzing on a mouthpiece
or by literally singing the melody they are about to perform. In addition to ones
mind holding the goal of excellent musical performance, it must contain a sense
of pitch which can overcome the inherent “stupidity” of a hunk of brass as well.

A study of the teaching and learning techniques of Arnold Jacobs finds them to
be as innovative and inspiring as they are effective. Since much of his pedagogy
deals with the process of acquiring new habits, Mr. Jacobs has utilized several
psychological processes in altering stimuli to achieve desired responses.
Believing that one can learn more rapidly and more comprehensively when as
many of ones faculties are brought to bear as possible, Mr. Jacobs favors a
multi-sensory approach to learning. Careful to direct the flow of multi-sensory
input, Arnold Jacobs emphasizes that students should focus upon their
performance rather than themselves, emphasizing product rather than process.
Though exaggeration is a popular tool for many teachers, Mr. Jacobs uses it to
his advantage to make clear distinctions between subtle variances. In addition
to all of these insightful approaches, he applies his warm and caring manner,
devoted attention, and considerable charisma to each student.
“Once something is learned, it is learned forever,” is a concept that Mr. Jacobs
uses to begin his explanation of alternate learning habits. Citing that it is better
to form a new correct habit than try to alter an old, bad one, Mr. Jacobs says
that a previously conditioned response will persist unless the stimulus which
elicits it is altered. “Strangeness is good,” is the beginning of the process in
which a student is made unsure by something different in approach, sensation
or activity. It is this strangeness, or altered stimulus, which is then used to elicit
the desired response, sidestepping the previously conditioned incorrect
response.
For example, in order to change the preconditioned responses elicited in a
student when playing his or her instrument, Mr. Jacobs will simply remove the
musical instrument and have the student blow on the back of the hand, buzz on
a mouthpiece, or breathe into a strange apparatus. By conditioning the correct
response away from the horn, it is then transferable to the instrument. This
offers the additional benefits of keeping exercises from dulling musical passion,
enhancing strangeness, allowing a multi-sensoral approach, and avoiding
previously conditioned baggage. Most importantly, this additive approach keeps
players from having to go back to square one on their instruments-particularly
valuable for professional players who must maintain a busy schedule. Thus
instead of altering a bad behavior, Mr Jacobs advocates that one simply learn a
new correct behavior to supplant it by changing stimuli and eventually
transferring the response back to the horn. Meanwhile, the old, undesired
behavior will extinguish itself from lack of use.

A key element here is Mr. Jacobs multi-sensory approach. Stated simply, this is
the theory that by experiencing something with more than one sensory capacity,
or in more than one way, one will achieve greater understanding. Mr. Jacobs
directs his students to see the effects of their air as it suspends a ping-pong ball
in a tube, or as it inflates a breathing bag. They are encouraged to feel their
breath as wind passing over their lips, or as air blown on the back of their hand.
He inspires them to hear the particular sound of proper inhalation. In addition,
Mr. Jacobs often encourages a kind of artificial “proprioception.” Since one
cannot actually feel ones air after it has left the body, Mr. Jacobs has many
students move a hand in and out as if it were being sucked in and out by the
breathing-as if it were the air itself. Similarly, since one can not actually feel
ones diaphragm within the body (though it is possible to feel its effect by
internal displacement, or by the use of sensory nerves around it but not within
it) he might have a student move a hand up and down under the sternum, thus
simulating the movement of the diaphragm inside. This surrogate moves in
sympathy with its original. As in the previous multi-sensory approaches, this
allows an additional perspective and experience which enhances the speed and
depth of comprehension. It is important to remember that these approaches are
merely tools, and that Mr. Jacobs soon refocuses the student upon musical
thought.
Mr. Jacobs seems to view exaggeration as particularly valuable in the applied
studio, where a slight change can have a tremendous effect. When dealing with
the subtle aspect of pedagogy, he often finds it necessary to polarize two shades
of grey until they are black and white extremes. Often the difference between
the right way to do something and the student’s current attempt is very slight,
but the student is unable to recognize the difference. In one particular instance,
Mr. Jacobs instructed a student to pronounce Kee-Tee-Yee, and then take a
breath, followed by Oh-Ah-Ooh and a breath. This illustrates the two extremes
of oral cavity resistance. The slight difference between the A sound as in “day”,
is difficult to distinguish from the syllable Ah, though it marks a significant
contrast in ones tone on a brass instrument. However, one can easily feel and
hear the vast distinction between Eee and Ooh.

Another concern of Arnold Jacobs’ pedagogy is to rid the student of acute self-
analysis and concern for machine activity (process) while playing. Instead, he
prefers that students concentrate upon the musical message they wish to
convey, or the desired sound of performance (product). Mr. Jacobs contends
that the conscious, analytical faculties of the brain are meant to deal with the
challenges of our external environment, or the world around us. While this
rational though process is meant to help us deal with external factors,
subconscious thought processes are meant to govern our internal processes, just
as they regulate our heart and breathing twenty-four hours a day without
conscious control. This subconscious is equally effective whether used in
maintaining balance, speaking, driving, or playing the tuba. It is when students
try to dictate function, rather than simply providing the proper stimulus to
achieve the desired result, that they get into trouble.

Mr. Jacobs simplifies this concept by comparing the body to a brand new car
with a full tank of gas. In order to utilize the car, one does not have to get under
the hood, fire the pistons, and circulate coolant and lubricants: these are already
set up and taken care of by the controls. One must merely get in and tell the
machine where to go. In fact, Mr. Jacobs contends that it is impossible for the
conscious mind successfully to control the millions of cells, complex muscle
fibers and neurons that set our body in motion. Therefore, one should de-
emphasize the mechanics of self-analysis and simply play, using the stimulus of
the desired result to elicit the proper response. “It is a matter of simplicity,”
according to Jake, “not complexity.”
An interesting aspect of the early musical experience of Mr. Jacobs is that (to a
large extent) he learned to play by ear, and made a study of solfege and
voice. He also experienced a protracted hospital stay in his youth, during which
time buzzing on the mouthpiece was his only contact with the
instrument. These experiences helped to foster his advocacy of developing ones
“inner ear”-the ability to hear music inside ones head-and focus upon sound.
The first step to developing this inner ear is “post hearing”-the ability to hear a
note after it has ceased vibrating. Mr. Jacobs develops this ability by playing a
note on the piano, and allowing silence after it; not requiring the student to
match it but merely letting it sink in.
Eventually this leads to the “pre-hearing” of notes before one plays them, as well
as the ability to focus upon ones goal of excellence rather than ones own
performance. By combining this with an active, creative imagination and past
models of excellence, one is able to project an outstanding goal mentally. Post-
hearing complements the effects of hearing a song in your head as you
perform. It allows you to rewind the tape and hear how your rendition matched
your musical goal, all while keeping distracting self-analysis from cluttering the
mind during performance. By imagining the best sound, one will be aided in
finding the best way of reaching it. In the words of Mr. Jacobs, “stabilize the
music, and the muscle will follow.”

“Bad sound can be made into good sound,” encourages Mr. Jacobs, “no sound
cannot.” This comment is typical of professor Jacobs’ encouraging, charming
and clever demeanor. He starts many clinics by complimenting the player and
saying how little there is to fix. Constantly providing them with positive
reinforcement, keeping visual contact, and occasionally tapping them to refocus
their attention, Mr. Jacobs clearly shows his total absorption with teaching. His
dedication to students and to the process of teaching and learning is
enormous. Mr. Jacobs believes that one should not set limits upon what the
wonderful computer of the human brain can do. As a result, he has successfully
transformed many students who were regarded as hopeless by other
teachers. He tells students to be positive when they project their musical
message, and to think that it will go right rather than wrong. Most of his new
students were referred by one of his older students, and that powerful
endorsement can be attributed as much to this “doctor’s” manners as to his
results.

To many wind instrumentalists the name Arnold Jacobs is synonymous with the
study of breathing. From contact with his students and his student’s students,
many have become intrigued by strange devices, marveled at interesting
exercises, and thrilled to unusual concepts. Suddenly colleague’s torsos are
expanding to voluminous widths as they hear “breathe to expand,” just before
they nuzzle their mouths into a breathing bag. Breathing tubes and open
syllables abound as these disciples seek maximum suction with minimal
friction. One is warned of various misuses of ones breathing apparatus, and told
to become “tall and flabby.” One becomes acquainted with resting lung capacity
and vacuum gauges only to wonder if perhaps the functional hasn’t overtaken
the musical.
“Breathe to expand,” is a common rebuke to students who show all of the
outward and visible signs of taking a breathe but, in truth, suck in very modest
amounts of air. By protruding their stomachs and raising their chests, these
students reverse the axiom and act as though they must first expand in order to
breathe. Holding his nose shut and his mouth closed, Mr. Jacobs protrudes his
stomach and expands his chest to make the point that these dramatic
gesticulations can be accomplished without taking in any air. Explaining that
stomach displacement is a product of inspiration (inhalation), he advocates
focusing upon the amount of air moved.

With the stated aim of “maximum suction with minimal friction,” Mr. Jacobs
helps his students to take in large quantities of air and release it as wind rather
than pressure. Returning to his multi-sensory approach, he advocates that
students breathe toward the lips, which can sense wind passing over them. A
vacuum gauge directed at ones open mouth during the time of inspiration, a
breathing bag which expands with every exhalation, or a ping-pong ball held in
a tube and suspended by constant wind movement in both directions, serve as
visual aids to assist sensing the volume of air as wind. Holding one hand in front
of ones mouth while exhaling provides a tactile sense for wind exhaling, while
the sides of the mouth and the throat can join the lips in sensing incoming air.
This information of sensation allows the body to regulate function while the
performer focuses upon music.
While the above-mentioned options are ways of sensing air as freely flowing
wind, a pressurized tension causing air stream is most easily sensed internally.
To illustrate the distinction between the two, Mr. Jacobs has his students place
an index finger at their lips, sealing them and then blow against it. When the
finger is released, there is a light pop. This pressure in brass playing is similar to
the pressure exerted I when coughing, blowing a particularly stiff balloon, or
akin to the pressure in an inner tube. Wind as free flowing air is illustrated quite
differently. Mr. Jacobs has students take in a normal breath and then allow air
to escape from the lungs through the lips, sealing them only for a second, then
remove the finger.

Pressurized air in brass playing is dangerous because any musculature used to

regulate the air, and thus pressurize it, is more powerful than the musculature
originating the air itself. Actively seal your lips, and then try to blow them apart.
It is impossible. The same is true of a closed throat. Similarly, a person’s chest
and abdominal muscles are capable of supporting the weight of a one hundred
pound person standing on them, while the lungs can generate approximately
two to three pounds of pressure. Symptoms of playing with pressurized air are:
delayed attacks (pressure takes time to overcome the biological valve that has
been placed in its opposition, and the valve grows stronger with use, thus
causing greater delays; a harsh tone quality (when the lips serve as a point of
resistance rather than as a source of resonance); and excessive effort when
playing (isometric tension as muscles resist pressurized air).
The musculature of the respiratory system has at least three distinct functions.
Students are often caught up in the process of one or another of the functions of
these muscles, thus causing tension and confusion. In addition to breathing,
these muscles are used to create internal pressure useful for childbirth,
defecation, and the Valsalva maneuver (similar to the Heimlich maneuver).
Finally, they are used for the purpose of stabilization, as one is constantly falling
to the left and right, forward and backward, and being adjusted back to center
by abdominal, intercostal, and back muscles. As brass players incorrectly focus
upon and activate these muscles, tension and pressure adversely effect their
tone production. To demonstrate the result of muscle tension upon tone quality,
Mr. Jacobs might begin by having a student hold a long tone. As the student
continues playing, Mr. Jacobs instructs him to tighten his biceps and triceps.
This muscle tension typically has an immediate and adverse effect on the tone.
By comparing this to muscle tension located elsewhere in the body, and
particularly in the muscles used for respiration, Mr. Jacobs makes a case for a
relaxed breathing mechanism.

The primary muscle of respiration is the diaphragm, and although the strap
muscles are also capable of inspiration (clavicle breathing) for the purpose of
wind instrument performance they are relatively insignificant. From its inverted
curve shape, just beneath the heart and lungs, the diaphragm flattens as it
contacts, thus lowering air pressure in the lungs. This causes an inward rush of
external air until pressure is equalized, and increases interthoracic pressure as
the diaphragm displaces its contents outward. It is interesting to not that the
diaphragm’s range of motion is capable of only this one direction of movement
(contracting, thus pulling the lungs downward), and cannot actively be used to
aid expiration. The diaphragm’s natural recoil, (relaxation), the settling of the
ribcage (due to gravity and it’s natural elasticity) and the active muscles of
expiration (the abdominal, the intercostal, and to a lesser extant, the muscles of
the back) bring about expiration. In the process of expiration, the diaphragm
can only be used to apply the brakes, or offer isometric opposition to the
tightening intercostal and stomach muscles.
Mr. Jacobs encourages the maximum flexibility of the diaphragm, comparing it
to a piston. Problems arise when the stomach muscles and the diaphragm are
pitted against one another in either inspiration or expiration. Mr. Jacobs likens
this stiff respiratory musculature of a brass player to the disadvantages of a
similarly stiff bow arm of a violinist. The resistance of one impedes the
effectiveness and optimal function of the other. Thus, tightened abdominal
muscles prior to and during inspiration cause the diaphragm to work harder
and limit its motion in much the same way an activated diaphragm impedes the
process of expiration. In order to combat this, Mr. Jacobs might actively push in
the stomach of a student whom he feels is doing this while exhaling, thus
encouraging the flexibility of the diaphragm/stomach muscle pair. Equating
these muscles with another set of paired opposites, Mr. Jacobs gives the
example of trying to lift something with the bicep as the tricep is tensed in
opposition.

While some believe that Mr. Jacobs advocates a full breath, that is not precisely
the case. He advocates a comfortable breath, or about eighty percent of ones
vital capacity. Determining a person’s vital capacity, (or their lung volume in
liters) can be done by measurement or by estimation based upon a person’s age,
height, weight, and sex. After measuring this, Mr. Jacobs will then allow a
person to fill to capacity and then play. They soon realize that this is a sensation
that they are unaccustomed to, because they have been breathing regularly at a
level which is nowhere near full capacity. Instead of focusing upon the high,
middle, low, or even the yogi breath, Professor Jacobs turns to the scientific and
the measurable. The point he argues is that it is important to suck in and blow
out as much air as possible, and let the body worry about where it is going.

Here again, he emphasizes the goal and does not try to regulate the function
(such as the placement of the air). According to him, the anatomy of the lungs
does not support the theory that the air should go into only one area or prefer to
go to one area first. This refutes not only those teachers who advocate a low
breath first, but also those who insist that your chest not move as you expand-
the former idea does not follow the path of the bronchial tubes, and the latter
restricts ones ability to suck in air. Support is another misconception which Mr.
Jacobs says is largely responsible for students preoccupation with pressure and
misdirected muscle tension. “Blowing breath is support” he says, “not muscle
tension in the body, but movement of air. Support at the mouth,” (where air
passes the lips and can be felt) he would say and, “not in the stomach.”
If one blows out as far as one can and then relaxes, some air is drawn back into
the lungs. Similarly if one inhales as much as one can, and then relaxes, some
air will escape. This resting lung capacity of zero pressure is the point between
the two extremes. If one takes a complete breath, then the natural relaxation
pressure (the tendency for the elasticity of the lungs, gravity’s downward pull on
the chest, the diaphragm’s natural recoil, and the equalization of pressure) is at
its greatest. As the air escapes, the pressure reduces gradually until one gets
below the point of resting lung capacity where greater air pressure is required to
move the air.

Active effort in exhalation is only required when the oral pressure required is
greater than the relaxation pressure. Thus the less pressure required, the greater
portion of the breath that may be used. If great pressure is needed, a lesser
percent of air can be used until the relaxation pressure is less than required. (As
relaxation pressure decreases, internal pressure increases with a steady tone
held at a given dynamic). The most effective range of capacity at which one
operates comfortably, as advocated by Mr. Jacobs, is between 80 and 25
percent. Below 25%, one gets into the negative respiratory curve, and greater
pressure is required than is desirable. Mr. Jacobs encourages his students to
breathe a lot (it’s free) and to avoid dipping below thirty percent where they
would have to work too hard and use more pressure to move the air.
Arnold Jacobs combines years of professional playing at the highest levels,
interaction with some of the greatest performers of our time, and an expansive
and lifelong scientific curiosity, with the knowledge of psychology and human
nature which an experienced teacher often develops. As a result, he has
constructed a remarkable and comprehensive pedagogy that is as simple as it is
successful. By employing several insightful and innovative concepts, and
focusing on the fundamentals of wind and song, his approach offers a
philosophy which can find use far beyond the studio.

“When David Brubeck’s ‘The Pedagogy of Arnold Jacobs’ first came out, I was at
Mr. Jacobs’ home. He was very impressed about it and had me read it on the
spot. As usual, Mr. Jacobs was correct, it was an outstanding article that I
eventually quoted half a dozen times in ‘Arnold Jacobs: Song and Wind’. David
Brubeck did a fantastic job and this is a must-read for anyone interested in the
teachings of Arnold Jacobs.” Brian Frederiksen

Originally published in the TUBA Journal, Fall 1991 Volume 19,

Number 1.
Photo of Arnold Jacobs courtesy of windsongpress.com

C. 1991 David William Brubeck All Rights Reserved. davidbrubeck.com