O Processo Criativo de Composição de uma Nova Peça de Música
por Ricardo Matosinhos
Matosinhos International Competition 2024
O processo criativo é frequentemente caótico, o que pode ser intimidante para muitos músicos. Como Sullivan descreve apropriadamente, “É como lavar um porco. Estou a falar a sério. É exatamente como lavar um porco. É confuso, não tem regras, não tem um início, meio ou fim claro, é um pouco irritante, e quando termina, não tem a certeza se o porco está limpo nem sequer sabe porque estava a lavar um porco.” (Sullivan, 2008, p. 46).
O meu processo criativo alinha-se bem com a descrição de Sullivan. É uma forma de caos controlado e acredito, firmemente, que a criatividade e o caos muitas vezes caminham de mãos dadas. Se seguirmos as mesmas rotinas todos os dias, há pouco espaço para a criatividade. Por exemplo, se estiver a trabalhar num aspeto técnico da interpretação e se continua a fazer a mesma tarefa da mesma forma, não é de esperar qualquer tipo de melhoria significativa. O que funciona com o seu professor ou com os seus amigos pode não funcionar necessariamente para si. Quando escolhemos um caminho diferente, abrimos a porta a novas possibilidades. Assim, tanto na interpretação de trompa como na composição ouse abraçar o caos, ser criativo e aprender com ele.
Posso pegar na minha trompa e começar a tocar a qualquer momento, mas tenho dificuldade em sentar-me à secretária e compor. Fui treinado como trompista, não como compositor. Como tal aprendi a ser espontâneo, a aproveitar as ideias conforme surgem. Às vezes estou no duche, a conduzir o carro ou a dois minutos de ir dar uma aula, quando uma ideia musical me ocorre. Em vez de me queixar, agradeço por esses momentos inspiradores, mesmo que nem sempre surjam nos momentos mais convenientes. Como tenho sempre o meu telemóvel comigo, abro uma aplicação de gravação e capturo a ideia. Se não tiver uma trompa por perto, posso cantar, murmurar, fazer percussão o assobiar. Isto pode até envolver canto de harmónicos ou vibração labial com multifónicos, quando estão envolvidas várias notas – vale tudo! Capturar o momento permite que a minha música flua sem excesso de análise. Mais tarde, quando tenho tempo, ouço as gravações. Infelizmente, algumas delas já não me fazem muito sentido. Nesses casos, extraio padrões rítmicos e motivos melódicos e tento voltar a entrar nesse estado criativo. Se funcionar, componho seja no papel, tablet ou no computador. Se não conseguir recapturar o estado de espírito, deixo e tento novamente noutro dia. Às vezes, no mesmo dia, ideias que pareciam esquivas, reaparecem subitamente. Outras podem pairar na minha imaginação durante dias antes de as colocar no papel.
Agora, dar-vos-ei alguns exemplos de como algumas das minhas peças ganharam vida. 'Heptafunk' é uma composição para doze trompas, onde apenas oito músicos usam bocais, enquanto os outros quatro tocam percussão com as suas trompas. 'Hepta' significa sete, e 'funk' evoca um ambiente funky. Assim, esta peça começa com duas indicações de compasso simultâneas 7/4 contra 7/16. Enquanto alguns compositores podem ver isso como uma oportunidade para explorar novas técnicas, como expliquei no meu processo criativo as minhas escolhas são muitas vezes mais espontâneas. Foi mais ou menos assim: um dia estava a caminho do trabalho e tive uma ideia em Dó Lídio Dominante com uma métrica de sete. Este modo, com os seu Sib e Fá#, surgiu naturalmente na minha mente assemelhando-se muito aos sons da trompa. Se começar uma série de harmónicos a partir do Dó e subir até ao 12º harmónico, o primeiro Fá e Si que encontrar são mais próximos do Fá# e Sib. Enquanto virava à direita num cruzamento, o clique do sinal de mudança de direção criou um contraste polirrítmico com a música que estava a cantar. Gostei do efeito, por isso, registei-o rapidamente no meu telemóvel e mais tarde incorporei-o na peça.
Também compus uma peça para um ensemble de flautas intitulada 'Onde é que eu já ouvi isto?' A inspiração para esta peça surgiu durante uma aula com um jovem aluno que estava a tocar a 'Machadinha', uma canção folclórica tradicional portuguesa. Começámos por a tocar num tempo lento e o aluno reconheceu-a, mas não conseguia lembrar-se do nome da música. No entanto, à medida que aumentámos gradualmente a pulsação, de repente, o aluno identificou-a. Esta experiência levou-me a pensar no efeito intrigante de pegar numa melodia folclórica bem conhecida e tocá-la num tempo diferente, criando a sensação de 'Eu conheço esta melodia, mas não consigo identificá-la.' Esta ideia deu origem a esta obra, que mais tarde ganhou um prémio de composição.
Outra peça com um título interessante é “There's a bottle in my (friend)ship!,” (Há uma garrafa na minha (amizade)!), tem uma história encantadora. Certa manhã, tive o primeiro ensaio de uma peça que compus para um trio de flautas. De tarde, um amigo aproximou-se de mim, perguntando se eu estaria interessado em compor uma peça para um ensemble de flautas para ser apresentada num festival de orquestras jovens. Inicialmente, hesitei devido a uma agenda apertada e às férias na Madeira dentro de alguns dias. No entanto, a menção de uma peça que envolvia garrafas afinadas despertou a minha criatividade. Era um dia quente, por isso, peguei numa garrafa de sidra de 33cl, anotei a nota mais aguda e desfrutei do seu conteúdo, anotando a nota mais grave na tessitura da flauta alto. Depois, passei para uma garrafa de vinho de 75cl, que se encontrava na tessitura da flauta baixo, e finalmente, uma garrafa de água com gás de 25cl. Desta vez Baco, o deus grego do vinho, inspirou-me a compor a peça e, em poucos dias, estava pronta.
Um dia perguntei à minha mulher, que é tradutora, se alguma vez tinha considerado escrever uma história infantil. Ela respondeu que preferia analisar e desconstruir frases em vez de as criar. No entanto, enquanto falava com ela, comecei a criar espontaneamente uma história sobre um gato que perdia as suas 7 vidas. Numa questão de minutos criei uma história, que se transformou num livro infantil e até mesmo num musical com uma orquestra sinfónica completa.
Como podem ver, o meu processo criativo não está predefinido. Quando decido compor uma peça é como lançar uma rede no desconhecido, sem saber que tipo de peixe vou apanhar. Às vezes, enquanto pratico trompa, os exercícios evoluem para peças ou estudos. Outras vezes, apenas duas notas ou um padrão rítmico servem de faísca para iniciar uma composição completa.
O grande trompista Douglas Hill (2001) recomenda a criação dos próprios estudos com base nas peças com as quais está a trabalhar. Esta abordagem permite-lhe encontrar soluções para problemas específicos que poderia não encontrar em estudos mais gerais. Hill também incentivava os alunos a comporem e o seu livro fornece informações valiosas sobre diversos processos e resultados. Um ponto crucial, que ele enfatizava, era que os alunos que compunham a sua própria música começavam a praticar com mais entusiasmo, porque gostavam de interpretar as suas composições. Isso melhorava as suas competências musicais e a sua capacidade de compreender e interpretar música composta por outros.
Para além dos estudos sugiro frequentemente aos meus alunos que criem as suas próprias cadências, pois isso pode melhorar significativamente as suas interpretações. As cadências devem demonstrar virtuosismo, mas não devem ser excessivamente desafiadoras, especialmente porque são, normalmente, interpretadas no final do primeiro andamento de uma peça. Embora tocar uma cadência composta por outro músico possa ser uma experiência valiosa, observei casos em que os músicos escolhiam cadências que não se alinhavam com o seus estilos de interpretação ou pontos fortes. Portanto, é essencial considerar fatores como o registo preferido, dinâmicas, articulações (legato ou staccato) e quaisquer técnicas estendidas da trompa que possa executar facilmente, o que pode melhorar a sua interpretação. Para auxiliar a criação de cadências, recomendo o livro de Michael Hoeltzel (2006), que descreve as melhores abordagens ao processo.
Composições de Tema e Variações oferecem um excelente ponto de partida para aspirantes a compositores, uma vez que fornecem material existente para trabalhar. Também encorajo os meus alunos a comporem as suas próprias variações quando interpretam peças que seguem esta estrutura. Através deste processo, obtêm uma compreensão mais profunda da música que estão a tocar, analisando a harmonia, as caraterísticas do tema principal e a forma como o compositor funde elementos musicais essenciais para criar as variações escritas. Mesmo que decida não partilhar as suas próprias variações com um público mais vasto, o processo em si ajuda-o a crescer como músico.
Tal como uma receita de culinária, a música é composta por vários elementos como ritmos, notas, articulações, dinâmicas e outros. Assim como comer o mesmo prato durante semanas pode levar ao aborrecimento, praticar os mesmos exercícios da mesma forma pode tornar-se monótono. A prática diária é crucial para a melhoria, mas isso não significa que não exista espaço para a introdução de variações. Pratico com variações subtis desde sempre. Esta abordagem não só me mantém interessado, como também leva a melhorias noutros aspetos da minha interpretação. Para ajudar os meus alunos e colegas músicos compilei estas ideias no meu método 'Horn365', que desenvolvi ao longo de 20 anos antes de o lançar.
O conceito de variar os exercícios também pode ajudar a manter a motivação e a fazer progressos de forma consistente. Consideremos a culinária italiana, conhecida pela sua mestria na variação. Ao mudar, simplesmente, o tipo de massa mantendo o molho constante podemos transformar a nossa refeição. Também podemos substituir a carne por legumes, peixe ou marisco. Todas essas mudanças ocorrem com um ingrediente de cada vez. Da mesma forma, a massa é principalmente feita de farinha de trigo e ao ser substituída por piza, todo o processo começa novamente. A beleza dessa abordagem culinária reside nas inúmeras variações que se conseguem obter, de forma simples com a alteração de apenas um elemento e também em saborear e compartilhar cada sabor com os amigos durante uma refeição. O mesmo princípio se aplica à música - ao adicionar variedade às suas sessões de prática, melhora e mantém-se motivado para praticar mais. Talvez, nalgum ponto desse processo, possa até mesmo compor uma peça de música e desfrutar da experiência.
Apesar de não ter um diploma formal em composição, descobri que tal não me impede de compor. Como trompistas, somos fluentes na linguagem da trompa. Entendemos as complexidades do nosso instrumento melhor do que qualquer outra pessoa. O nosso conhecimento supera o que qualquer livro de orquestração, instrumentação ou notação musical possa oferecer. Esta visão única permite-nos colaborar com os compositores ou até mesmo criar a nossa própria música. A ideia de escrita idiomática para trompa ganhou um papel de destaque, quando comecei a lecionar, e foi um tema central na minha pesquisa de mestrado e doutoramento. Enquanto buscava soluções para abordar questões específicas dos meus alunos, comecei a compor exercícios e estudos. Quando tentei inicialmente publicar o meu primeiro livro de estudos, as editoras mostraram pouco interesse nele e uma delas chegou mesmo a afirmar que só publicava música "escrita para humanos." No entanto, há uma década, organizei um concurso internacional online de estudos e, desde então, a minha música incluindo os meus estudos tem sido executada em todo o mundo. Infelizmente, ainda não há registo de apresentações por parte de extraterrestres. Se aprecia a minha música, agradeça ao Dr. Jeffrey Agrell, que desempenhou um papel fundamental em reconhecer a qualidade das minhas composições e abrir as portas para que o meu trabalho alcançasse um público global. O meu conselho aqui é não ter medo de partilhar a sua música com os outros. Se a aprecia, é provável que outros também o façam e com feedback construtivo pode aperfeiçoar o seu processo de composição.
O meu projeto mais recente envolve a composição de um novo conjunto de estudos técnicos para trompa, que tenho estado a escrever nos últimos meses. Com o lançamento desses onze estudos técnicos, estou a organizar outro concurso internacional online desta vez em colaboração com a minha editora na AvA Musical Editions. Convido-vos a todos a participar. Ao contrário de outros concursos de música tradicionais, não há taxa de inscrição - é totalmente gratuito. O único requisito é que os participantes executem as peças usando os originais. Na primeira ronda pode escolher um estudo deste livro novo e se desejar pode gravar mais do que um, sendo que cada vídeo conta como uma inscrição em separado, o que aumenta as suas hipóteses de ser selecionado. Na final, pode escolher uma das minhas peças solo. Além disso, esta competição oferece um aspeto pedagógico - todos os participantes, quer vençam ou não, receberão um feedback pessoal meu como compositor sobre a sua performance. Esse processo não só melhora a sua execução, mas também pode inspirá-lo a começar a compor a sua própria música. Mais importante, promete ser uma experiência prazerosa. Poderá encontrar mais informações no meu site:
https://www.ricardomatosinhos.com
Aguardo ansiosamente para ouvir as suas gravações e descobrir as suas composições.
Ricardo Matosinhos
Referências bibliográficas:
Hill, D. (2001). Collected Thoughts on Teaching and Learning, Creativity and Horn Performance. Warner Bros. Publications Inc.
Hoeltzel, M. (2006). Mastery of the French Horn: Technique and Musical Expression. Schott Music.
Sullivan, L. (2008). Hey, Whipple, Squeeze This - A Guide to Creating Great Ads (3rd ed.). John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
The Creative Process of Composing
by Ricardo Matosinhos
Matosinhos International Competition 2024
The creative process is often chaotic, and this can be intimidating for many musicians. As Sullivan aptly describes, “It's like washing a pig. I'm serious. It's exactly like washing a pig. It's messy, has no rules, no clear beginning, middle, or end, it's kind of a pain in the a**, and when you're done, you're not sure if the pig is clean or even why you were washing a pig in the first place” (Sullivan, 2008, p. 46).
My creative process aligns well with Sullivan's description. It's a form of controlled chaos, and I firmly believe that creativity and chaos often go hand in hand. If you follow the same routines every day, there's little room for creativity. For instance, if you're working on a technical aspect of your playing and keep doing the same task in the same way, you can't expect significant improvements. What works for your teacher or your friends may not necessarily work for you. When you choose a different path, you open the door to new possibilities. So, in both horn playing and composition, just dare to embrace the chaos, to be creative, and to learn from it.
I can pick up my horn and start playing at any time, but I struggle to sit at a desk and compose. I was trained as a horn player, not as a composer. Consequently, I've learned to be spontaneous, to seize ideas as they come. Sometimes, I'm in the shower, driving my car, or about to teach a class in two minutes when a musical idea strikes. Instead of complaining, I'm grateful for these inspirational moments, even if they don't always arrive at the most convenient times. Since I always have my mobile phone with me, I open a recording app and capture the idea. If a horn isn't nearby, I might sing, hum, do something percussive, or whistle. This might even involve overtone singing or buzzing with multiphonics, when multiple notes are involved—anything will do! Capturing the moment allows my music to flow without overthinking. Later, when I have time, I listen to the recordings. Unfortunately, sometimes some of them don't make much sense to me anymore. In such cases, I extract rhythmic patterns and melodic motifs, and I attempt to reenter that creative state. If it works, I compose, whether on paper, tablet, or computer. If I can't recapture the mood, I just leave it and try again another day. Sometimes, even on the same day, certain ideas that seemed elusive before just suddenly reappear while others may linger in my imagination for days before I put them down on paper.
Now, let me provide some examples of how some of my pieces came to life. Heptafunk is a composition for twelve horns, where only eight players actually use mouthpieces while the other four play percussion using their horns. 'Hepta' means seven and 'funk' evokes a funky mood. Thus, this piece begins with two simultaneous time signatures, 7/4 against 7/16. While some composers might use this as an opportunity to explore new techniques, my choices are often more spontaneous. The story goes like this: one day I was driving to work, and I had an idea in C Lydian dominant with a meter of seven. This mode, with its Bb and F#, emerged naturally in my mind, closely resembling horn sounds. If you start an overtone series on C and ascend to the 12th overtone, the first F and B you encounter are closer to F# and Bb. As I was turning right at an intersection, my turn signal's clicking created a polyrhythmic contrast with the music I was singing. I liked the effect, so I quickly recorded it on my phone and later incorporated it into the piece.
I also composed a piece for a flute ensemble titled Onde é que eu já ouvi isto? (Where Have I Heard This Before?). The inspiration for this piece came during a class with a young student who was playing Machadinha, a traditional Portuguese folk song. We started by playing it at a slow tempo, and the student recognized it but couldn't recall the song's name. However, as we gradually increased the tempo, suddenly, the student identified it. This experience led me to think about the intriguing effect of taking a well-known folk melody and performing it at a different tempo, creating the sensation of “I know this melody, but I can't place it.” This idea gave birth to the composition, which later won a composition prize.
Another piece with an interesting title—and a delightful backstory—is There's a Bottle in My (Friend)ship! One morning, I had the first rehearsal of a piece I composed for a flute trio. In the afternoon, a friend approached me, asking if I'd be interested in composing a piece for a flute ensemble to be performed at a youth orchestra festival. I initially hesitated due to a tight schedule and an upcoming holiday on Madeira Island. However, his mention of a piece that involved tuned bottles sparked my creativity. It was a warm day, so I grabbed a 33cl bottle of cider, I notated its highest pitch, and I proceeded to enjoy its contents, while notating the lowest pitch in the alto flute's range. Then I moved on to a 75cl bottle of wine, which fell within the bass flute's range, and finally, I used a 25cl bottle of sparkling water. This time, Bacchus, the Greek god of wine, inspired me to compose the piece and within a few days, it was ready.
One day, I asked my wife, who is a translator, if she had ever considered writing a children's story. She replied that she preferred analyzing and deconstructing phrases rather than creating them. However, I began spontaneously crafting a story about a cat losing its lives as I spoke to her. In a matter of minutes, I had created a story that eventually turned into a children's book and even a musical with a full symphony orchestra.
As you can see, my creative process is not predefined. When I decide to compose a piece, it's like casting a net into the unknown, not knowing what kind of fish I'll catch. Sometimes, while practicing the horn, the exercises evolve into pieces or etudes. Other times, a mere two notes or a rhythmic pattern serve as the spark that ignites a complete composition.
The renowned horn player Douglas Hill (2001) recommends creating your own etudes based on the pieces you are working on. This approach allows you to devise solutions for specific problems that you might not find in broader etudes. Hill also encouraged his students to compose, and his book provides valuable insights into various processes and outcomes. One crucial point he emphasized was that students who composed their own music began to practice more enthusiastically because they enjoyed performing their compositions. This improved their playing skills and their ability to understand and interpret music composed by others.
Apart from etudes, I often suggest that my students create their own cadenzas, as this can significantly enhance their performances. Cadenzas should showcase virtuosity but should not be overly challenging, especially because they are typically performed at the end of a piece's first movement. While playing a cadenza composed by another musician can be a valuable experience, I've observed instances where players select cadenzas that do not align with their unique playing style or strengths. Therefore, it's essential to consider factors like your preferred range, dynamics, articulations (legato or staccato), and any extended horn techniques that you can easily perform, which can enhance your performance. To help with creating cadenzas, I recommend Michael Hoeltzel's book (2006), which outlines the best approaches to the process.
Theme-and-variations compositions offer an excellent starting point for aspiring composers, as they provide existing material with which to work. I also encourage my students to compose their own variations when performing pieces that follow this form. Through this process, you gain a deeper understanding of the music you're playing by analyzing the harmony, the main theme's characteristics, and how the composer blends essential musical elements to craft the variations. Even if you decide not to share your own variations with a wider audience, the mere process helps you grow as a musician.
Just like a cooking recipe, music also comprises various ingredients such as rhythms, notes, articulations, dynamics, and more. Like eating the same dish for weeks can lead to boredom, practicing the same exercises in the same way can become monotonous. Daily practice is crucial for improvement, but it doesn't mean you can't introduce variations. I've practiced with subtle variations for as long as I can remember. This approach not only keeps me engaged but also leads to improvements in other aspects of my playing. To assist my students and fellow players, I compiled these ideas into my method Horn365, which I developed over 20 years before releasing it.
The concept of varying exercises can also help you stay motivated and make consistent progress. Consider Italian cuisine, known for its mastery of variation. By simply changing the type of pasta while keeping the sauce constant, you can transform your meal. You can also replace meat with vegetables, fish, or seafood. All of these changes happen by replacing one ingredient at a time. Similarly, pasta primarily consists of wheat flour, and by replacing it with pizza, the process restarts. The beauty of this culinary approach is the flavor you get out of simple ingredients and changes to savor and share with your friends during a meal. The same principle applies to music: by adding variety to your practice sessions, you improve and stay motivated to practice more. Perhaps, somewhere in this process, you might even compose a piece of music and enjoy the experience.
Despite lacking a formal composition degree, I've discovered that it doesn't preclude me from composing. As horn players, we are all fluent in the language of the horn. We understand the intricacies of our instrument better than anyone. Our knowledge surpasses what any orchestration, instrumentation, or music notation book can provide. This unique insight allows us to collaborate with composers or even create our own music. The idea of idiomatic horn writing became prominent for me as I started teaching, and it was a central theme in my master's and doctoral research. While seeking solutions to address specific issues faced by my students, I began composing exercises and etudes. When I initially attempted to publish my first book of etudes, publishing companies showed little interest and one even told me that they only published music “written for humans.” However, a decade ago, I organized an international online etude competition and since then my music, including my etudes, has been performed worldwide. Unfortunately, there's still no record of any extraterrestrial performances! If you enjoy my music, the credit goes to Dr. Jeffrey Agrell, who played a pivotal role in recognizing the quality of my compositions and opening doors for my work to reach a global audience. My advice here is not to be afraid of sharing your music with others. If you appreciate it, others are likely to as well. Plus, constructive feedback can enhance your composition process.
My most recent project involves composing a new set of technical etudes for the horn, which I've been working on for the past few months. With the release of these eleven technical etudes, I'm hosting another international online music competition, this time in collaboration with my publisher at AvA Musical Editions. I invite all of you to participate. Unlike traditional music competitions, there is no application fee—it's entirely free. The only requirement is that participants perform using the originals. For the first round, you can select one etude from this new book and you're welcome to record more than one. Each video counts as a separate application and thus increases your chances of being selected. In the final round, you can choose one of my solo pieces. Additionally, this competition offers a pedagogical aspect: every participant, whether winner or not, will receive personal feedback from me, as the composer, about their performance. This process not only improves your playing but may also inspire you to start composing your own music. Most importantly, it promises to be an enjoyable experience. You can find more about it on my website: https://www.ricardomatosinhos.com
I look forward to listening to your recordings—and to discovering your compositions.
Bibliography
Hill, D. (2001). Collected Thoughts on Teaching and Learning, Creativity and Horn Performance. Warner Bros. Publications Inc.
Hoeltzel, M. (2006). Mastery of the French Horn: Technique and Musical Expression. Schott Music.
Sullivan, L. (2008). Hey, Whipple, Squeeze This—A Guide to Creating Great Ads (3rd ed.). John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
Chamber Music Corner - Humperdinck
Chamber Music Corner—Prelude from Humperdinck’s Hänsel und Gretel
by Layne Anspach
Hello musicians!
As we head into December, a month filled with holidays, there are traditions ingrained in our lives, whether exchanging gifts, spending time with friends and family, or enjoying festive music. We have recurring favorites that we hear or perform: Handel’s Messiah, Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker, or Leroy Anderson’s Sleigh Ride, among others. (Okay, maybe Sleigh Ride doesn’t make the top of the list for some—or most—horn players.) Another holiday favorite, especially for Europeans, is Engelbert Humperdinck’s Hänsel und Gretel.
Humperdinck’s opera is one my favorites to perform, especially the Dream Sequence in Act II. Another feature for the horns is the opening prelude, featuring the well-known chorale. A wonderful arrangement of the Prelude-Chorale is for eight horns, set by Jeffry Kirschen of the Philadelphia Orchestra. The piece is worth programming any time of the year.
What associates Humperdinck’s opera with the holiday season? The Grimm Brothers published Hansel and Gretel in 1812, although the original story comes from the early part of the 14th century. While the 1812 version of the story does not suggest any relation to Christmas, the connection comes from the origin of Humperdinck’s version.
Adelheid Wette, Humperdinck’s sister, requested that her brother write four songs for a Christmas performance for her children, probably in 1890. The songs were to Wette’s treatment of the Grimm’s Hänsel und Gretel. The songs and a subsequent Singspiel were well received, and this prompted Humperdinck to write a full opera on the story. The work was finished in 1893 and premiered under Richard Strauss’ baton in the Hoftheater in Weimar on December 23rd, 1893. The sugary sweets and the witch’s gingerbread house helped tie the opera to Christmas, along with subsequent performances which were scheduled at Christmas time. The Metropolitan Opera’s first full opera radio broadcast was of Hänsel und Gretel on Christmas day, 1931, further cementing the opera as a Christmas classic.
Hornists from the Boston Symphony Orchestra and Gewandhausorchester Leipzig can be heard on the reference recording.

Beautifully Human Hornists
by Matthew Haislip
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| Dr. Matthew C. Haislip Mississippi State University |
“Ugh. I missed some notes.”
All hornists have been there. We stressed. We feared. We performed. We missed notes. So, at least in our minds—and maybe in the minds of others—we failed. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t what we love most about music. In fact, was this even a musical experience at all? Or was it a torturous humiliation ritual?
Our culture bombards each of us with a façade of confident excellence on social media. Auto-Tune and quantization have made popular music “perfect” in pitch and rhythmic time…even when performed live. Classical music videos and recordings are often edited and spliced to perfection. We rarely see the vulnerable human reality in our digital world. This can be daunting for motivated hornists of all ages.
Then we attend a live performance. Or we ourselves perform live. Reality sets in. But it is truly a beautiful human reality. I have heard many of the greatest hornists and orchestras perform live. They all missed notes. Some fewer than others. Some more than others. But what about the music? Was I not inspired beyond any recording to hear such excellence and passion coming from their bells regardless of the number of notes missed? Was I not motivated to practice with inspiration for countless years to come from what I heard them do with our instrument? Did I not also come to understand that the greatest players in the world will make mistakes too? Absolutely.
Music is a human endeavor. By definition. Humans are not consistent machines with mechanical perfection in the execution of intricate tasks. The horn’s slippery overtone series at higher altitude presents true obstacles to perfection for everyone who commits to learning the instrument. The fear of failure will either stop us in our tracks or so hinder us from passionate expression that we won’t be able to perform well. So, how can we make music with the necessary freedom to soar on the horn when we are faced with imperfections that must be met head-on to advance on our instrument?
We must change the way we approach music. Fear-based music-making is not artistic expression. Fear-based music-making is oppression. It is ugly. Even if it sounds good. The worst performances I’ve ever played came from a very fearful place. Even though some of those performances sounded good. The greatest performances I’ve ever given were great because I was totally immersed in the music. The focus wasn’t on me, at least not from my perspective. The focus in my mind was the musical material at hand and the role my horn played in each moment. I shared the music with the audience and with my colleagues. I didn’t play perfectly, but I was truly connected to the artform, and this enabled me to perform better. My accuracy was strengthened by my focus on the music instead of on me. The artform shined brightly in the room.
We as a musical culture need to celebrate the human element of music even as we strive for greater excellence in every aspect of what we do. This demands that we relinquish fear-based perfectionism in our teaching and performing. We must develop precision with freedom. We must also embrace the humanity of musicians from the audience, celebrating live music without gossiping about a missed note afterwards as though accuracy is all that matters.
To be certain, there are things we can do to improve our accuracy as hornists. We must practice diligently without distractions. We must continue to train our aural proficiency beyond our ear training courses. We must perform live in front of people to become more comfortable doing so. But when these skills are pursued with a focus on the concept of sharing a musical idea with other human beings, we build the subconscious flow of playing our instrument artistically with freedom. We can then take this freedom to the stage to share it with others. As my teacher, Randy Gardner, wrote about accuracy on page 109 in his fabulous treatise on brass playing, Good Vibrations:
Messages sent from the brain to the body must be positive. Negative messages such as, “Don’t miss!” or “Oh no, here comes that passage I always miss!” or “If I miss any notes in this passage, I’ll be out of a job” invite negative results. Questions such as, “What will the conductor (or other important people in the audience) think of me if I miss this…?” significantly increase a musician’s probability of being inaccurate. Clear your brain screen of all verbal instructions or thoughts, and fill your brain screen with clear sound images. Hear powerfully what you intend to produce!
When we perform, we channel music to the audience with whom we share it. By removing “us” from the equation in our focus, we communicate musical sound directly from the composer to the audience. We may make mistakes. But what about the music? If music was shared free of fear and oppression, that’s a win for humanity in my book.
I’m just one person, but I want to do my part to keep the human element at the center of artistic expression as much as possible in my own little world. Let’s freely share our music with other beautifully human people.
Meet the People—Marty Schlenker
by Marty Schlenker, Amateur Hornist
Dear Fellow Ambitious Amateurs,
I was surprised and flattered when Mike Harcrow asked me to consider writing a column for Horn and More. As I introduce myself and my circumstances, I hope you will find things in common and be inspired in your own playing. This column, to be called Ambitious Amateurs, will be as informative as I can make it, but there will be a steady theme of “fighting to make time for horn in a busy life.” You’ll see that I’m early into an experiment, and the column is part of it.
How I got here: I was six years old when Star Wars hit theaters. It was, of course, a revelation. My parents indulged me (in the pre-VCR days) by taking me many times to the theater. When fourth grade came around, I was determined: I wanted to play the horn because of Star Wars, although I’d never actually seen a horn up close. [Aside: I was in my 30s before I played anything from Star Wars with an ensemble. I’ve played the Binary Sunset leitmotif exactly once in concert.]
I loved being in the school band but knew that I wasn’t “music major material.” Even as a non-major, I had very fortunate experiences in college, the pinnacle of my musical immersion. There were orchestras, wind bands, and various chamber groups during the school year; and for three summers, I marched in the Cavaliers Drum & Bugle Corps, an experience that profoundly improved me as a human being and as a musician.
I consider myself mostly self-taught to date but will credit teachers and recount some “a-ha moments” in future columns. My post-college playing will be familiar to many of you: community bands, church services, and various horn and brass ensemble configurations. The latter were the most enjoyable but the most fleeting. I rehearsed and practiced as time allowed, working it in around a career and raising three kids with my wonderful wife, who, by the way, is the ‘pro’ in the family, having earned a degree in piano and voice and who plays the trombone for kicks. Lucky me!
But I think what prompted Mike to suggest that I write a column was this: even though I don’t expect to regain the state of musical immersion that I had in college, I haven’t given up on the idea that my most accomplished days as a horn player still lie ahead. What will follow in this column are dispatches from my journey, still largely unmapped, to reach as close to music-major-like proficiency as I can as a 52-year-old guy whose homestead (Cumberland County, PA) and new office (Los Angeles) are three time zones apart.
The DFW area, where I spent about 25 years before moving to Pennsylvania last Christmas, is a terrific place to be a horn player. Not only are there are community bands everywhere, but the DFW area is also home to the remarkable Houghton family. I’ve taken my instruments to Houghton Horns for care the entire time I lived in Texas. Like clockwork, as I was dropping it off or picking it up, or ogling their vast inventory, there would be a high school kid in a lesson with Karen in the studio. 10 times out of 10, that kid could outplay high-school-me…and 8 out of 10 could outplay right-now-me. Wow. Seriously, wow. What proficient teaching.
Somewhere along the line, I started to muse to Dennis every time I saw him that someday life was going to get simpler, and I was going to get back into lessons and really figure out what to do with this thing. Life got simpler in some ways and less in others, but when I told Dennis I was moving to Pennsylvania, he instantly thought of his old pal Mike Harcrow and suggested that I give him a call. It took me a few months to get organized, but I did make that call, and what’s happened since will be the subject of some of the columns to come.
If any part of your life as a horn player sounds like this, let me know who you are and what has worked and what has not, and you will be subject of the column. If this column remains just about one person, it’s going to become boring very fast. Now let’s go practice!
Meet the People—Angelo Nuzzo, IHS Country Representative for Austria
by Angelo Nuzzo
Angelo Nuzzo has served as the International Horn Society Country Representative for Austria since 2020. Born and raised in Italy, he is trained as a biomedical engineer (PhD), a business manager (MBA), and a hornist (MA). His career has developed internationally as a bioinformatician, and he is currently working at the Austrian Research Promotion Agency (FFG) in Vienna.
He studied horn in Italy at the Conservatory of Music in Taranto and graduated from the Conservatory of Music in Trieste. Despite a non-musical career, he has continued to play in several amateur orchestras in Italy, and in Austria with the Vienna University Philharmonic, the Akademische Orchesterverein Wien, the Wiener Konzertvereinigung, and in various wind bands and horn ensembles.
His passion for the instrument eventually motivated him to take over the vacancy of the IHS representation in Austria. Working within the IHS gives him the opportunities—and the great pleasure—on one side, to connect with and get to know top professional and amateur performers, and on the other, to offer the horn community the possibility to enter a more international network. To this end, he works to promote a yearly event dedicated to horn playing in Austria and for connecting with horn ensembles across Europe for common projects and exchange.
Composer Spotlight—Samuel Coleridge-Taylor
by Caiti Beth McKinney
Hi Horn Friends!
For this month’s Europe issue of Horn and More, I want to share the music of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor with you. Although only one of his chamber pieces features the horn, Coleridge-Taylor’s Nonet in F Minor is a substantial and invaluable addition to any chamber musician’s repertoire, and his orchestral oeuvre is not to be missed!
Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, named after the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, was born in London in 1875 during the height of the Victorian Era to parents Daniel Peter Hughes Taylor, a doctor from the African country of Sierra Leone, and Alice Hare Martin, an Englishwoman. It is unlikely that Samuel ever met his father, who returned to Sierra Leone that same year, leaving the future composer to be raised by his mother alone. She was able to provide him with violin lessons from a local instructor from a young age, and in 1890 the musician entered the Royal College of Music in London. His talents were prodigious enough to catch the eye of a silk merchant, Herbert Walters, who would become Coleridge-Taylor’s patron and sponsor, paying for his education.
Coleridge-Taylor’s mixed-race ancestry had a profound impact on his life and career. During his daily commute to school, Samuel was forced to endure comments about his appearance and color, and insults and slurs would continue to follow him his whole life. Even supposedly well-meaning titles bestowed by fans were laden with problematic racialized terminology; for example, after a successful tour of the United States in the early 1900s, American musicians took to calling Coleridge-Taylor “the African Mahler.”
Despite both outright and microaggressions, Coleridge-Taylor’s music was widely celebrated during his lifetime, particularly his orchestral repertoire, including such pieces as Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast (1898), which he would later expand into a cantata trilogy entitled The Song of Hiawatha. The composer’s successes were so far-reaching that he was even received at the White House by President Theodore Roosevelt, and his music was championed by Edward Elgar. Coleridge-Taylor’s compositions frequently incorporated elements and melodies pulled from African music, Negro Spirituals, as well as British, Irish, and other cultural folk tunes, pulling together parts of his identities into a seamless whole.
The Nonet in F Minor, Op. 2 (1893), written while he was teenager and student at the Royal College, is one of Coleridge-Taylor’s earliest published works but is, nonetheless, a work of art. Full of lush melodic lines, contrapuntal interplay, and beautiful use of textural colors, this piece is an underappreciated gem. Enjoy!
