by Katy Carnaggio
You are asked to do something extraordinary. Across the full spectrum of human performance, very few domains demand both precise, real-time execution in front of an audience and the transmission of meaning. Not just visible success, but emotional impact. In sports, emotion is a byproduct. In music, it’s the point.
Throughout this series, we’ve explored how musicians develop the ability to anticipate sound and sensation before playing by building internal models through imaginative, preference-based practice. It’s execution with feeling built in.
In music, sound is the measurable, verifiable outcome. You play the written pitch. You follow expressive markings. You stay within stylistic norms. Or you don’t. You can train this endlessly, but it only gets you partway. Because at the same time, you’re asked to do something immeasurable: make people feel something.
Other artists manage the task of creating meaning through process. They draft, delete, and revise. They can pick up a pencil, draw a white chair, and change it until it speaks.
But musicians perform in a single, irreversible moment where every choice is final and every outcome witnessed. In those conditions, certainty can become more tempting than creation. Instead of making the leap to believe a white image will emerge from graphite, we search for a white pencil—something to guarantee the result, but in doing so, forfeits connection.
No amount of technical preparation replaces the leap of belief required when the audience arrives. To train the other half of the ask, you have to practice the leap. You can do that through relational surrender: the act of releasing self-protection, outcome management, or overcontrol to allow authentic connection with the music, the moment, or another person. It’s a conscious choice of yielding in service to something higher than self.
Relational surrender is not the absence of control; it is the calibrated transfer of control from conscious monitoring to internal models built through disciplined preparation. It’s a skill initiated deliberately, developed through practice, and integrated through performance over time as the nervous system learns to meet uncertainty without bracing.
It means:
To explicitly train this skill, you must first develop an internal model you can trust. It starts by developing a vivid, compelling musical intention. So, let’s imagine you’re in the practice room, trying to find a quality of sound that sets Brahms apart from Mozart and from Strauss. And while it’s not yet clear, the sound you’re looking for reminds you of one of your favorite traditions: Saturday morning pancake breakfasts with your family. Maybe it was the way sunlight streamed through the window that brought it back. The warmth in a place that felt familiar and full. But you also remember looking down at your plate and watching the butter melt into every edge. And you realize that’s exactly how you want each phrase to feel: rich, connected, and saturated with warmth. Then, with each bite, there’s structure, yes, but the texture is fluffy. Like a centered core to a sound that’s full but never heavy. And of course, the syrup. Golden, bright, and alive on your tongue. The sparkle of overtones that adds lift and complexity without losing warmth. All qualities of a Brahmsian horn sound you can distill into one word: pancakes.
Training the model means tracing the mechanics backward from your now clear musical intention to sensation. Starting from sound, you imagine how it would feel to produce in your body and bring that guess to the horn. Observe, adjust, return. Through this process, you try on breaths and discover what’s too shallow, too generous, or too cool until you find the one that enables your intention. You notice where you still grip for control through your right shoulder or throat or legs, and you learn to surrender even those places to your intention.
Just as you know valve combinations and when to use them, anytime you want to create the precise sound you’ve mapped, you can scan from head to toe until your body, mind, and breath are primed accordingly. You find what needs to release and what needs to support until you have embodied your intention so completely that it radiates from all of you like the moment Beast transforms into a prince in Beauty and the Beast. The horn simply amplifies what’s already present.
Practicing the leap means surrendering to your internal models. Performance stops being proof of your preparation and becomes a question. What does this sound mean here? in this hall, with these people, in this unrepeatable moment of your life?
Relational surrender is performance at its most complete. It’s what allows performer, colleagues, audience, and music to become co-participants in a shared experience.
You can surrender in an audition and discover the hall is adding delightful nuances in your tone and projection that no practice room has revealed. Now your Brahms may always carry a bit of a great concert hall.
You can surrender in an orchestra and hear a colleague phrase differently than expected. You respond without hesitation, and suddenly a well-worn passage reveals new emotional terrain. Now your phrasing will always remember that person, that moment of shared breath.
You can surrender in a recital and sense the audience’s focus is sharpening your own, allowing you to lock in a tricky rhythmic passage. Now that phrase will always pulse with the energy you borrowed from the room.
But stop at execution, and you miss it. Connection is not extra. It’s the reason you showed up.
by Layne Anspach
This month’s Chamber Music Corner will focus on Carl Czerny’s Premier Grand Trio, Op. 105. Czerny (1791-1857) is mostly known for his pedagogical piano exercises, but he was also a composer and pianist. A pupil of Beethoven, Czerny is credited with preserving Beethoven’s legacy, and he was known for his interpretation of Beethoven’s piano pieces. Czerny had pupils of his own, including Liszt. Although largely forgotten today, he composed a wide variety of works totalling 861 unique opus numbers, ranging from sacred to secular, mostly for piano.
Carl Czerny’s Premier Grand Trio in E-Flat Major, Op. 105 was written in 1827, likely owing to Czerny’s friendship with Czech hornist Johann Janatka. The work was performed privately by Czerny, Janatka, and violinist Joseph Mayseder several times prior to its publication in 1830. At the behest of the publisher, Czerny included a cello part to substitute for the horn to help boost sales. The edition that is commonly performed today is from Amadeus Verlag, edited by Peter Schmalfuss, which has reworked the horn part based on both original cello and horn parts.
In the first movement, Allegro in sonata form, the violin performs the A theme with the horn and piano following in quick succession. After an ascending scale shared by horn and violin, the B theme in the dominant is presented by the violin. The B theme continues with some harmonic variance, ending with a short cadential statement before immediately moving into the development. A protracted development, with the expected various key areas and motivic fragmentation, is heard prior to a descending scale in the piano as retransition to the recapitulation. Following the return of the A and B themes is an extended coda, carried at first by the piano but which later melodically involves the violin and horn.
The Adagio middle movement presents two melodies. The first is played initially by the violin, but the horn enters eight measures later with the second melody. Czerny changes accompaniment style and adds ornaments to both melodies as the movement unfolds.
The final movement, Rondo: Allegro scherzando, starts with an introduction of melodic fragments from later in the movement. The first theme in its full form is heard in the piano and then taken over by the horn. The second theme is presented by the violin and includes a characteristically defining trill figure. Czerny alters aspects of the melodies in addition to the changing keys throughout the movement. Tempo giusto precedes a slow Poco sostenuto in B major which has the second theme played by the horn. The key is short-lived as the violin and piano bring the movement back to E-flat major prior to the final Presto which energetically concludes the work.
The reference recording is a live performance from 2022 in Iruma, Saitama Prefecture, Japan. The hornist is Sekitoshi Nobusue.
by Caiti Beth McKinney
Hello all, and happy Symposium month! This June, I want to draw your attention to the orchestral music of an outstanding composer whose music we almost completely lost—Julia Perry (1924-1979). Born in Lexington, Kentucky USA, Julia was a skilled singer, pianist, and violinist. She studied composition with Nadia Boulanger and won two Guggenheim Fellowships. In 1951, Perry wrote a work for solo contralto and string orchestra to the text of Stabat Mater and was subsequently rocketed to international fame. It was an experimental work for the composer, playing with dissonance and quartal harmonies while remaining inside the realm of tonality.
Over her lifetime, Perry shifted away from vocal compositions toward more instrumental works. She composed twelve symphonies, at least one of which was written for concert band. The piece I want to introduce to you today, however, is not a symphony but a standalone orchestral work Perry titled A Short Piece for Orchestra. To my ear, the opening sounds straight out of a score for an Alfred Hitchcock film, with jagged, angular motifs and dissonances. However, as the piece evolves and slows, a satisfyingly challenging horn solo (2:11) briefly soars above the strings and woodwinds. As this work becomes more and more mainstream with symphony orchestras, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Short Piece appear on audition lists.
A quick warning: Perry’s experience is an example of what can happen to music after composers die if the rights to their scores is unclear. After she suffered a series of strokes in the 1970s, Perry lost all mobility in the right side of her body and was forced to teach herself to write with her left hand to keep composing. She continued sending scores off to publishing companies who dismissed her efforts, despite her earlier fame and success. One even claimed they were simply “too busy with inventory” to accept her submissions (although it may well be that they were being casually racist and/or sexist). Perry, unfortunately, passed away far too young at the age of 55, and her mother died soon after, leaving no immediate descendants to care for her manuscripts. Her compositions subsequently became tied up in probate court with questions over copyright, and it is only in the last 5 years that advocates for Perry’s works have been successfully publishing and performing her pieces.
by Líber Oscher
On May 14, 2025, the National System of Youth and Children's Orchestras and Choirs of Venezuela welcomed Sarah Willis—an authentic world ambassador of the horn, appreciated for her charismatic promotion of our instrument—for the second time to the city of Caracas. Hornist of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Sarah Willis has been developing a brilliant career as a soloist and teacher, being invited to be part of the world’s most prestigious festivals. On this occasion, the National School of Horn from El Sistema had the privilege of inaugurating a Brass Festival as part of its 50th anniversary, with a week of classes for children, young people, and professionals who participate in the various El Sistema groups.
For this occasion, the Executive Management, the Inocente Carreño Itinerant Conservatory, and the School Management of El Sistema joined efforts to gather more than 70 horns from the capital district and surrounding states to benefit from this unforgettable experience, and which culminated in a dazzling concert in the Simón Bolívar Room of the National Center for Social Action for Music on May 21.
During this large gathering, Sarah Willis and the team of the National Horn School organized a varied agenda of group warm-ups, technical studies, masterclasses, preparation and interpretation of orchestral repertoire for auditions, pedagogical games for the younger participants, workshops for professional players, and chamber music for horn ensembles. Participation included the horn section of the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra, the "Nómada Horns" assembly, and the Great Ensemble of the National Horn School—made up of hornists belonging to the nucleus of the Capital District, the Conservatory of Music Simón Bolívar, the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra, the Juan José Landaeta Symphony Orchestra, the Caracas Youth Symphony Orchestra, the Simón Bolívar Chamber Orchestra, and the Francisco de Miranda Symphony Orchestra. All participants had the opportunity to play with Maestra Sarah in their ensembles—a fact that everyone will remember as a reference for great sound and interpretation on the horn.
The closing concert was attended by a horn-loving audience and fans of Sarah. The program included standard repertoire for horn ensembles, movie soundtracks in which horn has a leading role, Latin American music (mambos are a favorite of Sarah), opera, and American and Venezuelan popular music, under the direction of Maestro José Giménez, and displaying the interpretation of participating ensembles. To the delight of the audience, the string ensemble of the Juan José Landaeta Symphony Orchestra, under the direction of Maestro Jesús Uzcátegui, joined this celebration in the first meeting as soloists on the same stage as Sarah Willis along with the great trumpet player Pacho Flores, pride of Venezuela and a world-renowned performer.
50 years represents a long journey of enriching experiences for Venezuelan culture, and it is exciting to have the opportunity to have academic events like these in Venezuela, in which paths towards musical and social evolution continue to emerge, and in which lasting bonds of friendship with such special humans as Sarah Willis are forged.
by Gabriella Ibarra
by Layne Anspach
This month’s CMC will focus on Vivian Fung’s Bounce for violin, horn, and piano. Vivian Fung (b. 1975) is a Canadian composer now residing in the US. She began her training under the tutelage of Violet Archer then completed her doctoral studies at The Juilliard School. She has written large orchestral works, concertos, operas, and chamber music. Fung’s compositions can be heard on a dozen different albums and in concert halls around the world.
Bounce (2016) was commissioned by the Women’s Musical Club of Toronto and was premiered in Toronto on November 24, 2016. The work is inspired by the composer’s son who, as a newborn, “had the habit of banging his head against his mattress to soothe himself to sleep.” Fung writes of the work that “the idea of a constant drone or thump remains constant, with a deep ostinato that permeates the beginning.”
The opening section, which Fung describes as having a “leisurely ebb and flow of harmonies,” finds repeated notes among all voices, primarily in violin and piano. These figures are largely left up to the individual performer on frequency and severity. The horn grounds the section with sustained notes. The listener can hear harmonics played by violin and piano, but the section ends with a long, descending glissando between horn and violin.
The second section (2:54) starts with four chromatic pitches repeated by the violin but soon joined by sextuplets in the piano. The section grows, and finally the full ensemble arrives together on a single hit then calms immediately after. The players haphazardly gather the musical fragments (4:05) into what Fung describes as “the playfulness of the bouncy scherzo-like middle sections.”
A horn call interjects (5:37); this is the preface to a short, bell-like section introduced in the piano, and this quickly turns to what Fung describes as a “schizophrenic culmination.” The violin interrupts the animation, and multiphonics on horn follow prior to the propulsion to the end of the work. There are three a piacere sections—first and third by violin and second by horn—which separate the four main areas of the work. The work provides technical challenges for each performer, and it will certainly diversify the listening experience on a program.
por Líber Oscher
El 14 de Mayo de 2025, el Sistema Nacional de Orquestas y Coros Juveniles e Infantiles de Venezuela recibe por segunda vez en la ciudad de Caracas a Sarah Willis, una auténtica embajadora del corno en el mundo y apreciada por su carismática manera de promover el amor por este instrumento. Cornista de la Orquesta Filarmónica de Berlín, Sarah Willis ha venido desarrollando una brillante carrera como solista y profesora, siendo invitada a formar parte de los más prestigiosos festivales. En esta oportunidad, la Escuela Nacional de Corno del Sistema, tuvo el privilegio de inaugurar el Festival de Metales que esta institución celebra en su 50 aniversario, con una semana de clases dirigida a niños, jóvenes y profesionales que hacen vida en las distintas agrupaciones de El Sistema.
Para esta ocasión, la Dirección Ejecutiva, El Conservatorio Itinerante Inocente Carreño y la Gerencia de Escuelas de El Sistema unieron esfuerzos para convocar a más de 70 cornistas del Distrito Capital y del Interior que se beneficiaron de esta inolvidable experiencia, y que culminó con un deslumbrante concierto en la Sala Simón Bolívar del Centro Nacional de Acción Social por la Música el 21 de mayo.
Durante esta gran fiesta del corno, Sarah Willis y el equipo de la Escuela Nacional de Corno organizaron una variada agenda de calentamientos grupales, fundamentos técnicos, masterclasses, preparación e interpretación de repertorio orquestal para audiciones, juegos didácticos para los más pequeños, talleres dirigidos a las secciones de las orquestas profesionales y música de cámara para ensambles de cornos, con la participación del ensamble de cornos de la Orquesta Sinfónica Simón Bolívar, el ensamble “Nómada Horns” y el Gran Ensamble de la escuela Nacional de Corno, conformado por los cornistas pertenecientes a los núcleos del Distrito Capital, el Conservatorio de Música Simón Bolívar, la Orquesta Sinfónica Simón Bolívar, la Orquesta Sinfónica Juan José Landaeta, la Orquesta Sinfónica Juvenil de Caracas, la Orquesta de Cámara Simón Bolívar y la Orquesta Sinfónica Francisco de Miranda. Cabe destacar que todos los participantes tuvieron la única oportunidad de tocar junto a la Maestra Sarah en cada uno de los ensambles, un hecho que todos recordarán como referente del buen sonido e interpretación del corno.
El concierto de clausura contó con la asistencia de un público amante del corno y admiradores de Sarah. El programa incluyó obras del repertorio para ensambles de corno, bandas sonoras de películas donde el corno tiene un rol protagonista, música latinoamericana (mambos, un favorito de Sarah), opera, música popular americana y venezolana, bajo la dirección del Maestro José Giménez y la interpretación de los ensambles antes mencionados. Para deleite de la audiencia, el ensamble de cuerdas de la Orquesta Sinfónica Juan José Landaeta, bajo la dirección del Maestro Jesús Uzcátegui, se unen a esta celebración en el primer encuentro como solistas en un mismo escenario de Sarah Willis y el gran trompetista Pacho Flores, orgullo de Venezuela y un referente número una de la trompeta en el mundo.
50 años representan un largo recorrido de experiencias enriquecedoras para la cultura venezolana, y es emocionante tener la oportunidad de tener en Venezuela eventos académicos como estos, en los que siguen surgiendo caminos hacia la evolución musical y social, y lazos de amistad perdurables con seres tan especiales como Sarah Willis.
by Jennifer Montone, IHS 57 Featured Artist; Principal Horn, The Philadelphia Orchestra
The music field is a wonderful but sometimes stressful place. We constantly ride the rollercoaster of striving for artistic excellence while accepting the sobering reality of our own humanness. Our mental well-being is hugely important to the quality of our playing. We perform better with "cheerleader" voices in our heads instead of "critics." We perform more expressively, bravely, freely, musically, and excitingly when we feel supported and respected. It's simply more joyous to collaborate musically in friendly environments. Research consistently shows that working in open, inclusive, supportive, safe, and collaborative musical environments is better for our growth, happiness, health, and excellence.
Yet, perfectionism, pedestal thinking, and power dynamics often complicate things. One powerful solution is the concept of holding space: "Creating a safe, non-judgmental environment where someone can feel seen, heard, and understood without being interrupted or controlled." What a beautiful sentiment!
Embracing Imperfection for Excellence
"Excellence is the result of caring more than others think is smart, risking more than others think is safe, trying more than others think is wise, and expecting more than others think is possible."
In this age of recordings and YouTube, where perfection sometimes feels more valued than expression, we often feel paralyzed by the fear of failure. We might feel judged by colleagues, harangued by self-doubt, berating ourselves mercilessly for mistakes, weeping into our pillows, and joking about FOMO (fear of missing out) and imposter syndrome. It's hard to ever feel "good enough" or "perfect enough."
Awesome antidotes to perfectionism include internal pep talks, meditation, yoga, proactive phrasing, using musical adjectives, playing with love, riding excitement waves, singing from the heart, and simply having fun. It's also helpful to remember: we don't choose our friends, spouses, pets, or homes for their perfection; we love them because of how they make us feel. The same is true with music. True excellence, beauty, and passion manifest in incredible, human, and therefore beautifully imperfect ways. By holding space for ourselves, we honor and celebrate every artistic attempt—big or small, close to perfect or not. We celebrate our commitment, heartfelt caring, brave risk-taking, and hard work towards excellence.
"May I feel safe, healthy, at peace.…"
Learning from Everyone: Beyond the Pedestal
"Every person is my teacher in some way: in that, I learn from them."
We live in a world of categorizing and comparing ourselves, and for most horn players, often worrying we aren't measuring up. While "pedestal thinking" can sometimes inspire us, it can also brutalize us. We can all be more mindful of how we navigate this.
The alternative to an invisible caste system is to purposefully empower and lift up ourselves and others, honoring lifelong learning from all sources. Let's celebrate every success around us, whether prestigious, high-paying, or not directly in the music field. We know that everyone who plays music is a musician, an artist—sharing their gifts, making the world a better place, inspiring, provoking thought, and opening minds and hearts. This is true no matter the location, level, title, income, or percentage of playing versus other employment. With appreciation for the specialness of each artistic voice, we hold space for each other, celebrating all types of successes based on the concept of inherent worth: each person deserving of great respect.
"May you feel safe, healthy, at peace.…"
Navigating Hierarchies with Respect
"Sometimes, courage doesn’t roar. Sometimes, courage is the quiet voice in the night, whispering, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"
Our field has natural hierarchies that organize how we learn and work together. However, these can unfortunately lead to dangerous and harmful power dynamics. We've all experienced teacher/student, coach/chamber group, conductor/orchestra musician, principal/section member, and contractor/freelancer hierarchies. These roles necessitate colleagues respectfully promoting safe, supportive atmospheres. Thankfully, this is mostly the case.
But we are all human, and many of us have also experienced or witnessed disrespectful, inappropriate, mean-spirited, or demeaning behavior—designed to make one person feel smaller or less worthy than another—for all kinds of reasons. We can collectively acknowledge the pain and inequity in our institutional past, and together, we can navigate, heal from, and move past it to change the culture for the future.
Horn players are caring, warm, and supportive individuals, giving us a unique opportunity to bond together and address problems in our own workplaces and schools. We celebrate how we hold space as a community: ensuring that people of all races, genders, ages, and orientations are treated with respect; creating an environment where it feels safe to disclose things, to say "I'm sorry, I messed up. I want to do differently next time," or "Hey, are you okay?" and to discuss equity and to problem-solve collaboratively.
"May we all feel safe, healthy, at peace.…"
The Power of Collectively Holding Space
Holding space—for ourselves, each other, and the whole world—can profoundly help with perfectionism, pedestal thinking, and power dynamics. With this collective spirit, we create safe spaces for us all to bloom personally and artistically.
I am part of an amazing new nonprofit, the Coalition of Musicians for Ethical Change, and we hope you'll consider joining us! We are a community of musicians supporting the establishment of safe and supportive work and school environments where musicians of all ages, genders, and races can thrive musically and professionally. We offer educational programs at schools and festivals, provide support if you need it, and host town halls to discuss these topics in a warm, open, inclusive, non-judgmental forum. For more information, please visit: https://www.musiciansforethicalchange.org/
Additionally, at IHS 57, as in the past few years (thank you, wonderful IHS leaders, for promoting these important sessions!), there will be a panel discussion about equity in the horn world. I hope you'll all come for an uplifting, collaborative conversation about how we can experience more joy through holding space for ourselves, each other, and our entire field!
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