Steve Williamson Can Play a 5. You Can’t.

A lot of clarinetists bite. Most don't know it, because they get a pretty good sound — but they find that they go through mouthpiece patches like Starbucks cups, or they have worn grooves in their mouthpiece (or their lips — it's a thing). Or the inside of their lip bleeds. All of these are red flags.

Why do people bite? Well, with beginners it’s pretty simple: Beginners start with zero embouchure, since they can’t yet spell embouchure, much less form one. So they start on super-soft reeds with little “heart strength” (the part of the reed that supports vibration). They get a sound quickly. They level up, but their reed strength does not, because their band director still has 40,000 Rico reeds from the mid-1980s they’re still plowing through. If you don’t move to a harder reed when your embouchure levels up, your embouchure gets stuck in first gear.

So what do clarinetists do? They buy their first “good reed,” and it’s usually a stronger one. And they get a better sound. A louder sound. Their band director notices them. That cutie in the horn section notices them. So they get a still-harder reed.

This is where biting problems start.

It shows up once students graduate to harder reeds — and let’s be honest: clarinetists seem to love chasing harder reeds. They treat reed numbers like weightlifting PRs: “Oh, you’re on a 2.5? Cute. I’m on a 4.” If Vandoren made a strength 17, there’d be a line out the door. I hear from a lot of young players that think playing a hard reed means they’re advanced. But in reality, their embouchure is a slow-moving car crash — after a few years it's destroyed. And that's when I usually get “The Email” like the one below.

Several of my students are real "biters."  They really need the thickness.  We're working on using more lip muscle and less jaw muscle.  What is it about the fear of squeaking that makes so many of us overuse the jaw?  I'm a recovering "biter" and it really took some time for me to make changes. I spent a lot of time experimenting with double lip.  Never could make a complete transition myself, but it opened my eyes, and ears, to using much less jaw tension. 

The only person I know who genuinely sounds amazing on reeds that feel like plywood is Steve Williamson of the Chicago Symphony. He reportedly plays a Vandoren V12 5+ — no joke they make them that hard. Who knew? (Quick name drop: I knew Steve in college at Eastman, where he worked out at the gym every day so he got completely jacked. I mean this in the nicest way: he was shaped like a Dorito.) Anyway, after college he apparently did the same thing with his mouth. Jill, his wife whom I also knew at Eastman, must give him the world’s most careful goodnight kisses, or risk waking up without a face.

Anyway, Steve aside (and many, many others who want the dark sound that a hard reed/close tip setup can provide), most students I see playing on reeds harder than a 3.5 struggle. And those who do have to bite to get a sound.

Here’s why biting happens: your jaw — technically called the masseter muscle — is really, really strong.  Evolution designed it to crush bones and tear raw meat. In my case, It has now evolved to chew ice. The poor embouchure muscles we have to counteract the power of the masseter muscles are the orbicularis oris muscles—the “kissy-face” ones. These were made for delicate tasks like sipping soup, whistling, and Tinder selfies. The bout between masseter and orbicularis oris is not a fair fight; of course the steak-crusher wins.

Biting ≠ Control

Here’s the thing: for many players, biting feels like control. But it’s fake control. Hear me now, believe me later: You’re never going to be able to create any sort of timbral nuance unless your kissy-muscles can counteract the jaw muscles. An analogy I like to use is that of a cardboard box: you can’t have only two sides of the box be strong.

So how do you fix it? The solution is actually counterintuitive: use reeds soft enough that they punish you if you bite. They collapse instantly. Let’s say you’re playing a #4 reed. Go back to a 3. Suddenly you’re forced to support your sound with air and mouth corners—the muscles that evolution actually designed for finesse, not destruction. Don’t think of it as “a step back”. Think of it as training. It’s like using lighter weights at the gym to rebuild proper form. (By the way, I have a video that teaches an exercise you can do anywhere — in your car, on the bus — to develop those muscles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4d2gpRysZY)

Once you’ve gotten comfortable playing a softer reed, you climb back up in half-strength increments. No, you will not have Steve Williamson’s embouchure in a week any more than you will look like Steve Williamson circa 1988 in one week. Take your time — like a couple MONTHS. No rushing. Then you will build endurance where it counts!