By Dr. Logan Chopyk | July 21, 2026
This week, I am researching a new approach to focal dystonia recovery that I am calling "Remembering."
This concept was born directly from my own recent, deeply personal experience of reconnecting with my pre-dystonia trombone playing. For ten years, I have navigated this condition by trying multiple approaches, from mechanical retraining to therapeutic somatic modalities. While the neurological mechanics behind this recent breakthrough will take me another week to fully synthesize before I present them here, I want to share the personal story that inspired this new frontier of research.
I am constantly buying new instruments because I love maintaining an "instrument petting zoo" in my teaching studio. My latest addition was an alto saxophone.
Because there is enough physical similarity between playing a trombone and a saxophone, a few of my familiar dystonic symptoms triggered when I first began to play the sax. However, I immediately noticed a difference: unlike on the trombone, the dystonia had a much smaller influence on the actual sound. I was able to execute things musically that would have been incredibly difficult on brass.
Even more fascinating was the progression. The longer I played the saxophone during that session, the weaker the dystonic symptoms became—until they completely faded to zero.
Immediately after putting down the saxophone, I picked up my trombone.
As I played, the instrument felt significantly freer than it had in years. After just a few notes, I was struck by a profound "remembering" of my pre-dystonia playing. Playing in that moment was the exact same physical sensation and the exact same resonant sound I had before the condition took hold.
The dystonic limitations I had battled for a decade were shattered. While there is certainly more work to do, that was the first time in ten years I was able to remember just how good it felt to play effortlessly. It felt like unearthing the unique artistic voice I had spent my entire education building, a voice I feared was gone forever.
My hypothesis, based on this breakthrough, is a fundamental shift in how we view this condition: Our original musical voices are never erased by focal dystonia.
Instead, those meticulously built neural pathways are simply shrouded in neurological noise. If we can find a way to quiet or bypass that static—in this case, through the sensory contrast of a sister instrument—our original voices are sitting right there, waiting to be released from prison.
I am currently diving into the scientific literature to understand the exact mechanisms behind this phenomenon, and I am incredibly excited to share those findings with you on this blog in the coming weeks.