by Katy Carnaggio
When a horn player gets a request to teach a soprano singer, you know things are about to get interesting.
One chilly January morning, I opened my inbox to find a life-changing email. The sender, who we'll call “Beyoncé” for the sake of anonymity and dramatic flair, had spent the previous year auditioning for graduate programs in vocal performance. Though stunningly talented and powerfully expressive (as I’d soon learn), she had received no offers. Now back on the audition circuit with another disappointing audition under her belt, she was on the hunt for a teacher.
Her message melted my heart:
I find it virtually impossible to sing freely and openly. It’s a losing battle between my mind and body. I’ve tried breathing exercises and positive thinking, but no matter what, I end up in the same terrified, tense state.
I knew instantly that I was perfect for the job.
Of course, I had no singing skills and zero experience teaching vocalists, let alone the ability to speak loudly enough to be heard in a crowded restaurant. And opera? Not my specialty. But so what? I know a thing or two about body vs. mind battles, and I was determined to help.
What I didn’t know was what to expect for our first lesson. So naturally, I panicked and did what any rational person would do: I tried to learn everything! With her next audition just a week away, I spent 48 hours in impassioned hyperfocus, writing out everything I knew about performance science, organizing it into an easy-access database, and frantically filling in my knowledge gaps.
Now, before you get too excited, I should mention she ended up getting into her top-choice program, but it had almost nothing to do with my heroic database of answers. What quickly became clear was that she didn’t need answers. She needed questions to help her notice, trust, and follow the tiny sparks already within her that lit her path forward better than if the real Beyoncé herself had been in the room coaching her instead!
As a musician (and, really, in life), I’ve learned that when I’m struggling to move forward, it’s often because I’m trying to force an answer that just isn’t there. Instead, I need to step back and ask a different question. Interesting questions help us uncover approaches which are uniquely and perfectly suited to us—ones that no one else could ever offer. It’s not just our music that reflects our artistry. When we take a break from searching for answers externally and instead look within, our process, our way of being, and our connection with the audience all become expressions of our artistry, too.
So if you are trying to change something in your practice or performance, but you’re feeling stuck, I made this monthly reflection and planning guide for you! (Well, actually, I made it for “Beyoncé,” but you all can use it, too!)
It’s a simple start to help you track your wins, leverage your lessons, and give you essential info about how to get to where you want to go next.
Who knew that asking just the right questions could make designing a strategic plan for the month ahead easy, breezy, and fun!?
Click here to save it to your Google Drive for when you’re ready to knock out a planning session for June!
by Myrddin Rees Davies
Hi! I’m Myrddin (a Welsh name pronounced Mur-then, which is normally the first question people ask me), and I’m the new assistant to the executive director. I’m really excited to be working for the IHS, and I will be your point-of-call should you have any questions about your membership.
I’ve been around brass instruments for most of my life, growing up as part of the UK’s wonderful tradition of brass banding and eventually finding my way onto the horn. After studies in Oxford and London, I joined the Cairo Symphony Orchestra and spent three adventurous (both on and off stage) years as principal horn, performing across Egypt and the Middle East.
In 2022, I left Cairo to move to France to be with my partner, a decision which those of you familiar with British politics will know is more difficult than it has been in the past. However, it was a wonderful year, getting up early every day to take French lessons at the town hall, looking after two children as an au pair, and taking on an internship at a leading Parisian classical agency.
Having enjoyed this taste of arts management, I joined UK-based agency Avanti Arts in 2023 as an assistant artist manager, a job in which I feel tremendously fortunate to be able to work with a wide range of world-class musicians—and to go to plenty of concerts.
I am terrifically excited to be starting in this new role at the IHS alongside my other position, and I am very much looking forward to helping and connecting with you all in the future!
by Caiti Beth McKinney
Hi everyone!
This month, I’ll be sharing about another orchestral composer, Chicago-born Margaret Bonds. Born in 1913, Bonds was an integral part of the African American arts and cultural movement known as the Chicago Black Renaissance. You may recognize the name of one of Bonds’ dear friends and musical companions, composer Florence Price (1887-1953). In fact, Bonds was such a skilled pianist that she performed Price’s Piano Concerto in 1933 with the Chicago Symphony at the World’s Fair, making her the first African American woman to be featured as a soloist with a major American symphony orchestra.
Lately, Bonds is becoming a household name for vocalists and choral directors thanks to her extensive compositional output for voice, but she also composed several substantial pieces for orchestra, musical theater, and piano. Many of her works were written in collaboration with noted poet, author, and fellow member of the Chicago Renaissance, Langston Hughes (1901-1967), by setting his words to music.
When it comes to the horn, orchestral music doesn’t get more brass-heavy than the opening of Margaret Bonds’ Montgomery Variations (1964). Trumpets, horns, and trombones perform the unbroken and unapologetic melody based on the Negro spiritual I Want Jesus to Walk with Me, while the strings punctuate with accented bursts of sound. For a piece about the Civil Rights movement and the bravery of Black Americans who fought for their rights and equality, Bonds’ emphatic use of the brass is incredibly appropriate for the first movement, which she titled Decision, named after Black Americans’ decision to defy the infamous Jim Crow laws of the South. The piece is named after the Montgomery bus boycotts of the mid-1950s and was written in the immediate aftermath of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing of 1963 in Birmingham, Alabama. Very recently, Bonds’ work has been garnering recordings and performances by orchestras like the Boston Symphony and Minnesota Orchestra, but it is still, unfortunately, relatively unknown in the broader orchestral world.
by Layne Anspach
Hello musicians!
Joachim Nicolas Eggert (1779-1813) was a Swedish composer and conductor, born in Gingst, Rügen, which is now part of Germany. Eggert started his formal musical studies in Stralsund and Brunswick; he held his first music director post in Mecklenburg-Schwerin in 1802. Shortly after, he left for Sweden as he took a position in the Royal Court Orchestra, first as a violinist (1803-07), then as the hovkapellmästare (chief conductor; 1808-12). Eggert’s health deteriorated during the winter of 1813 and, shortly thereafter, he died at the age of 34.
Eggert focused most of his chamber writing on string music: a string sextet, a piano quartet, and at least twelve string quartets. He also wrote a sextet for clarinet, horn, violin, viola, cello, and bass, which will be our focus. It is hypothesized that the work was inspired by Beethoven’s Septet, op. 20, as the septet was quite popular in Stockholm during this time. The work was to be performed on a concert in May 1807 but was not performed when some of the musicians became ill.
Written in a sonata form, the first movement, Adagio - Allegro, begins with the lowest strings in a somber, slow introduction. The horn then interjects the first theme, and a second theme is presented by the clarinet and violin. The development is melodically carried by the clarinet and violin while being pushed forward by the low strings. The recapitulation is marked, as expected, by the return of the first theme. In a change from the exposition, the horn and violin play the second theme, with the clarinet eventually taking over from the horn.
The second movement, Adagio, begins, in a similar fashion to the first, with the low strings. The clarinet emerges with the melody, periodically relinquishing the role to others as the movement progresses, but always regaining it. In the closing, the horn is heard with a countermelody as the clarinet brings the movement to a gentle conclusion.
The Menuetto follows the compound ternary form typical of a minuet and trio. The menuetto starts, yet again, with the low strings, but it is quickly spurred on by the clarinet and violin, either in tandem or in turn. The trio is characterized by a lighter, quieter character. The violin and clarinet alternate two-note figures while the horn plays a running passage. The trio continues with the three top voices carrying the melodic content before the da capo.
The Finale is a light and quick concluding movement. Interspersed with fermati which allow the movement to restart at regular intervals, the clarinet and violin present the vast majority of the melodic content. Sprightly passages jolt additional excitement into the movement, which concludes in a familiar classical style.
The reference recording is by the Consortium Classicum.
by Marty Schlenker
Dear Fellow Amateurs,
Last month, I shared some of the results of a longer stretch of daily practice than my business travel had been allowing. I was able to make some progress reshaping my oral cavity, with positive effects to tone and flexibility. I have a much longer journey ahead to strengthen my embouchure after many years of substituting large muscles for small muscles, basically squashing my lips onto the mouthpiece to achieve a narrow aperture.
This month, I’d like to stay with the subject of horn playing as physical activity. We all know and appreciate that horn playing is physical. We’ve concluded marathon rehearsals with sore ribs, swollen embouchures, and, ideally, a sense of relief, appreciation for the music we helped make, and the satisfaction that comes from having accomplished something.
And yet, as I’ve resumed lessons and paid new attention to playing tips I discover on the internet and elsewhere, the subject of efficiency has come up more and more often. We pursue efficiency not to expend less effort, but to maximally realize the effort we expend as musical effect.
After 16 months of living in central Pennsylvania, I finally caught the Harrisburg Symphony, attending two premier performances of the oratorio Saul by Jonathan Leshnoff. The symphony was joined by the Susquehanna Chorale and the Messiah University Concert Choir.
It was a big work, with fine horn writing and equally fine execution by the Harrisburg section. With choirs, the typical complement of orchestral winds, and a very large string section, the horns had a challenge to be present but not strident, or at least only strident when called for. They worked hard, and the performance worked musically.
What I took home from this is a reminder that, in seeking to become a more efficient player, I should not let down my effort on breathing. Early in my latest lessons, I’d received feedback that I was overplaying. Between that, and concentrating hard on the tonguing, oral cavity, and embouchure changes also underway, breathing had taken a back seat. This wasn’t deliberate, but my visit to Harrisburg made me think, “Am I doing what they’re doing?” In the breathing department, the answer was no. So, I picked up my effort, and it seems to be helping. In many contexts, we hear “work smarter, not harder.” In my playing, “work smarter, but work nonetheless” seems to fit.
Coincidentally, the May 2024 edition of Marilyn B. Kloss’ Cornucopia newsletter has an interesting piece by Dylan Skye Hart on breathing physiology, Breathing with the Whole Body. It’s a quick read and includes additional resources.
I’ll close by asking you all once again to get in touch and share your own journeys as amateur hornists. You know things that can help others. Share your gifts. marty.schlenker@cavaliers.org.
Your servant and kindred spirit,
Marty Schlenker, Amateur Hornist
by Andrew Pelletier
I was very honored and a little amused that Mike Harcrow and the Horn and More team wanted to do a “Meet the People” feature with me—I'm always stunned when anyone shows interest in what I've done and try to do with the horn, believing that there are several thousand horn players more deserving or interesting than myself, but I'll try my best....
I was born and raised in Maine, in the Northeast of the USA, and started playing the horn in sixth grade. I quit through junior high school (I could not afford a horn and the school didn't have one for me to borrow) but picked it back up in senior high and have been trying to perfect it ever since. I attended the University of Southern Maine (GO HUSKIES!) for my undergraduate studies and found myself, at 18, playing in the Portland Symphony Orchestra, Maine's only professional orchestra. I played with the PSO for 5 seasons (undergrad plus one gap year), before heading to Los Angeles for graduate study with James Decker at the University of Southern California, earning my master’s degree in 1998 and the Doctor of Musical Arts in 2001. While in L.A. I was super lucky to freelance quite frequently, including for television and feature film studio recording sessions. I also played principal horn for the Santa Barbara Symphony and taught at a few community colleges. In 2004, I moved to Bowling Green, Ohio, to become the horn professor at Bowling Green State University. In my time at BGSU so far, I have played principal horn in Ann Arbor, Michigan (for 11 seasons), and principal horn for the Michigan Opera Theatre in Detroit (for 16 seasons), and I have been a frequent substitute player with the Toledo Symphony, Detroit Symphony, and the ProMusica Chamber Orchestra, in Columbus, Ohio. BGSU named me a Professor of Creative Arts Excellence in 2020, and I was elected the Chair of the Department of Music Performance Studies in 2023.
Now, my deep love and care of the IHS goes all the way to the very beginning, leafing through my former teacher's collection of old issues of The Horn Call. I was (and am) so excited by the history, the traditions, the personalities, and the music of our great instrument. I attended my first IHS Symposium in 1997 at the Eastman School of Music (bravo, Peter Kurau!), thanks to the Jon Hawkins Memorial Scholarship, and I was hooked. The IHS kindly gave me a platform to experiment as a solo artist, usually bringing new pieces I'd commissioned, and I've been lucky to perform at 12 Symposia (thus far—see you in July!) and have commissioned and premiered over 60 works for our instrument. I've made lifelong friends through the IHS, and I always come away from IHS events charged up to learn more, to try new things, to experiment. One of the greatest honors of my life was when I was elected President of the IHS, starting in 2018. It was a challenge to keep the Society healthy and moving forward during covid, but thanks to the extraordinary staff, volunteers, and the hard work of the Advisory Council, I feel like we escaped the pandemic in a good position for growth. I've been involved with the IHS for almost 30 years, now, and although I am currently enjoying a bit of a break in official duties for the Society, I know that this won't last forever, and I look forward to any opportunity I may have to help it grow and prosper, and help to inspire and develop horn players and teachers the world over. I am immensely proud to be an IHS Life Member, and I am always thankful for what the IHS has done for me.
by Marty Schlenker
Dear Fellow Amateurs,
It’s been several months since I devoted a column to my journey in resuming lessons in middle age. So…how’s it been going?
In previous columns, I’ve shared the advice that helped me the most the fastest, including repositioning my tongue farther back and reshaping my air column to be narrower and rounder, as if it were a straw that I was holding between my lips. Making these changes has enabled the fronts of my notes to be less percussive with the tongue, and they have made it easier for notes to speak.
I alluded to but didn’t really describe other guidance which I know will be good in the long run but which was really challenging at first. It was said in several different ways, but the common concept is that I was exerting too much of my whole body in the attempt to get notes, especially in passages containing large interval changes. This manifested in small ways (eyebrows) and large (clenched shoulders), but fundamentally, it was a substitute for work that should have been done by facial muscles within the mouthpiece ring.
The advice, “keep still outside the mouthpiece ring, no matter what the register or interval” has proven quite difficult, especially right after travel-induced practice breaks. The “hefting” I was doing was only delaying the development of a broadly capable embouchure. Quelling this movement made sense, but it took a while to find any kind of substitute.
Practice breaks…. My business travel slowed down significantly in March and April. The circumstances of my employer weren’t great, so this wasn’t planned; but the silver lining was the longest continuous stretch of practice days since I resumed lessons. With daily conditioning rather than a couple sessions a week, it became easier to summon air from my lower torso, and I could start to make melodic jumps while maintaining a more relaxed upper body.
That’s not to say that this is a resolved issue. Far from it. I would estimate I’m not even a quarter of the way to the embouchure strengthening that I think I need. But it’s a start. Here are some of the “case-in-point” passages newly attained (most of the time, anyway):
Mueller (ed. Chambers) Vol. 2 #23:

Kling #4, in the style of Rossini:

There’s lots more to report that will have to wait until future columns: I acquired another horn and have some things to say about it. I was invited to conduct a trombone ensemble and overcame some self-doubt. I attended the world premiere of Jonathan Leshnoff’s oratorio Saul and made a playing adjustment inspired by the horns of the Harrisburg Symphony.
Fellow amateurs, have you resumed lessons? Are they helping? How? Please write and share your stories; this column will be better for it. marty.schlenker@cavaliers.org
Your servant and kindred spirit,
Marty Schlenker, Amateur Hornist