Research to Resonance—Playing With Feeling, Without the Feelings (Part 1)
by Katy Carnaggio
The sun here doesn’t rise; it blooms, covering my porch with petals of warm, dappled light. My cat, Lucy, stretches across the wood, soaking up the glow. Even my phone beams while it listens to the dawn chorus unfolding around us and tells me which birds are singing.
The propaganda is working. For one curated hour, I live in a storybook, and the rest of the day has yet to prove otherwise.
The bird identification app brightens the screen with a picture of a Blue Jay. I lean in, marveling. He’s the kind of fairy-tale blue that stops you mid-step when it flashes through the trees. The kind that dances with princesses in Disney movies. I tap into the app. It’s decided. He’s what mornings should sound like.
Before I can match song to singer, a loud squawk cuts through my concentration. Half squeaky hinge, half old-fashioned bicycle horn, wholly offensive. I shift uncomfortably. The Blue Jay lights up the screen again.
Oh.
Oh no.
“How can a bird so beautiful sound so ugly?” I ask Lucy. She dismisses me with a thump of her fluffy tail. The Blue Jay screams at the sky. Morning routine is now a situation. So I start reading.
This does not help his case.
He’s cousins with crows, but he’s dressed for a storybook. So you wouldn’t guess he’s a corvid, a family famous for its ominous black birds and intelligence. Acorns are one of his favorite snacks. He buries and tracks them by the thousands with remarkable accuracy. After the ice age, he helped grow entire forests. Except “tiny hero” easily reframes as "misplaced a continent’s worth of trees” without knowing his family business.
Even scientists misunderstood him. He wears the color blue without owning a single blue pigment. Like the sky, or so they believed for roughly a century. Until someone looked closer and finally saw the truth: a precisely configured feather architecture.
I set down my coffee, catching a faint outline of an idea. My eyes move back over the line. Slower this time.
Oh!
It’s the physics hornists already know by feel.
What seems singular can be broken into measurable parts. White light emitted by the sun contains a spectrum of wavelengths. A rainbow folded into one beam. A single horn tone contains a spectrum of frequencies: the fundamental and overtones, a harmonic series blended into one sound.
Then, architecture determines perception. When white light enters the Blue Jay feather, the nanoscale structure scatters pieces of the whole, sending blue wavelengths back toward you, while remaining wavelengths pass through and are absorbed. Feather structure organizes light into perceived blue without being blue.
Musicians want to do something remarkably similar.
“That passage,” the conductor says, lowering his baton with the exquisite, wounded patience of a man who believes he’s the only one here who’s ever truly heard music. “It's correct. All the notes are there. But it gives me nothing. I need you to play it with more feeling. I want to hear your soul in it. I want longing. I want the ache of everything you've ever lost.”
And you, who have been counting rests for the better part of forty minutes and whose soul was at that moment mostly occupied with a parking meter expiring at four o'clock, nod thoughtfully. You look at the part. You look back up.
“Sure,” you say. “Louder or softer?” Because the audience never receives your feeling. Only your sound.
The Sound of the Alps in Michigan
by Peggy DeMers
This past July 22-26, the 18th Annual Midwest Alphorn Retreat welcomed Alphorn enthusiasts from across the United States for a time of music, learning, and interaction at the Franciscan Life Center in Lowell, Michigan. Founded in 2009 by John and Christine Griffith, the retreat provides a unique opportunity to explore the traditions of Alphorn playing through rehearsals and performances with instruction led by Dr. Peggy DeMers and William Rose. Shared meals, evening chamber music, and lively conversations created the warm sense of community that has become a hallmark of the retreat.
Educational presentations enriched the week, blending scholarship with experience. Dr. DeMers presented Echoes Across the Alps: Swiss Yodeling and the Alphorn, William Rose explored the relationship between the Alphorn and its echo, Scott Myckowiak and William Rose discussed instrument purchase and maintenance, and Dr. Jan Solberg shared the latest research on focal dystonia and its treatment for musicians.
The week concluded with two memorable performances. An informal staff concert featured chamber music for flute, viola, harp, piano, penny whistle, Wagner tubas, and a spirited Alphorn trio with banjo and train whistles. Participants then presented the culmination of their week's work in a public concert at the Grand Rapids Public Museum, leaving with new musical skills, lasting friendships, and a deeper appreciation for the rich traditions of the Alphorn.
Ein Waldhorn Lustig
Emptying the Horn
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Student Column—Qualitative Experiences over Quantitative Measurements in Higher Education
by Inman Hébert
Debates never cease as to the reasons for the increased costs for attending institutes of higher education. The reality often lies in a synthesis of ideas, whether inflation, a decline in public funding, the expansion of administrative roles and student support services, or the creation of amenities to attract families who will pay full freight for modern aesthetics. Colleges and universities often adopt business models seeking to balance the budget and preserve their institutions.
With higher tuition, many students enter this new landscape as a consumer with a sense of entitlement. Students may shop classes avoiding the hint of any professors who might set high expectations. Professors often get caught in the middle, navigating competing interests. The current system incentivizes acquiescing to the demands of easier course designs, soft deadlines, extra credit, and lax attendance policies, creating less work for all so that everyone moves on as a satisfied customer.
From 1990 to 2020, the U.S. Department of Education reports the average college GPA rose more than 16 percent, with an even more extreme trend present at elite institutions. Are students better prepared? Are universities lowering standards? Or has education become transactional, and are we complicit?
Recently, Harvard reignited a long-standing debate about our academic rating systems and their value. On May 20, 2026, faculty at Harvard University approved a new policy that limits the number of “A’s” they can award in an undergraduate course to 20 percent of enrolled students in their effort to prevent grade inflation and encourage academic performance.
Perhaps grade point average no longer reflects the best measure of engagement and does a great disservice to the academic process. Relishing the unique opportunities of being surrounded by genuine experts in the field and learning from their proficiency defies simple quantification.
In a world filled with tension and often defined by profits, higher education should devote more time to enhancing an environment that expands the possibilities of knowledge and recognizes moments impossible to measure and assess. As music students, the onus lies with us to embrace educators as part of this larger intellectual and professional journey.
Chamber Music Corner—Kulesha Sonata
by Layne Anspach
For the next year, CMC will look at trios for horn, piano, and another instrument that is not violin. The first work to review is Gary Kulesha’s Sonata for horn, tuba, and piano (1975). Gary Kulesha (b. 1954) is one of Canada’s leading composers, but he is also a conductor, pianist, and educator. He has been the Composer in Residence for the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony Orchestra and the Canadian Opera Company, then from 1995 to 2022, he was Composer Advisor for the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. Kulesha joined the faculty at the University of Toronto in 2000. He was appointed a member of the Order of Canada in 2023. An extensive biography can be found on his website, kulesha.com.
The sonata was commissioned by Gary Pattison and Scott Irvine. The premiere took place at Walter Hall in Toronto with the composer at the piano. The work, following the form from its title, comprises three movements arranged in a fast-slow-fast configuration. The first movement begins with a two-measure motif that gives way to the first theme. The motif, technical and agile, can be heard throughout the movement. After each brass instrument plays the theme, a contrasting second theme is introduced by the horn. The melodies are developed in turn, altering both rhythm and motif. The movement comes to a brilliant finish, repeating the opening measure of the first theme.
The second movement begins with a syncopated pulse joined by a slow melody, both introduced by the piano. In tandem, horn and tuba also play the melody. The rhythmic pulse remains ever-present but is passed between all members of the ensemble. The movement closes as it opens, with piano alone. The third movement, labeled “As fast as possible,” returns to the technicality required in the first movement. A frantic eighth-note pattern is heard in the piano, paired with an aggressive brass melody. The intensity dissolves into a serene contrasting section characterized by lyrical lines without the eighth-note pattern. The initial section rounds off the work for an exhilarating close.
James Naigus is the hornist in the reference recording.
Summer Reflections
by Annie Rizzo
Monteux School class of 2026
As the summer ends and school years resume, I have been reflecting on my recent experience at the Monteux School. I found the season between my undergraduate and graduate degrees to be one of transition as I continue to step into leadership roles and work to gain mastery, both mentally and physically, over my craft.
At the Monteux School, I had the opportunity to play over 40 pieces of orchestral literature, many of which I already knew from excerpt study, as well as some chamber music. I greatly appreciated the opportunity to work under new conductors, hear new ideas, and gain experience in performing such a large amount of repertoire. I rotated through all four horn parts in the orchestra seating in addition to playing Strauss’s Serenade Op. 7 as well as in a brass quintet. Each experience gave me something different to listen for and to apply to my own skill sets.
For me, the most enjoyable orchestral performance was Strauss’s Don Quixote. Hearing the story come to life through Strauss’s themes was especially rewarding, and the cello and viola solos were each beautifully performed by potential future colleagues. There is something truly exciting about experiencing music that has such a prominent place in the horn repertoire from a performer’s chair in the orchestra.
While I began the summer excited about building technique, expanding repertoire, and becoming a stronger horn player, I think the greatest thing I took from the experience was a renewed sense of purpose. It is a great gift to be able to bring performances into the everyday lives of our patrons. Much of the local community attended the sold-out performances, and they left wonderfully entertained. Knowing that we as players have the ability to communicate through music is my why.
It is easy to become so focused on the next audition, the next excerpt, the next lesson, or the next technical challenge that we can forget why we are doing all these things in the first place. This experience reminded me that the pursuit of musical excellence is bigger than I am and meant to bring joy to many others.
Yes, our work is about technique and mechanics, but I think it is also about the mindset of joyful music-making. More than anything, I am taking with me a renewed sense of purpose and a greater understanding of my why as I step into the next chapter of my professional training.
