I Was a Hot Dog

Twenty-four years ago, I was a Hot Dog. I was a daredevil. I was fearless. I was strong. I was respected. I was a French Horn player and I was very, VERY good. When I walked into a rehearsal, everyone knew that the part would be covered. When I was in an ensemble, I was a star.

Being a French Horn player was my identity. It's who I was. It's who I wanted to be. From 1976 to 1985 (and many years beyond that) it was the center of my world. Luckily, music programs in Alabama were very strong and a good player would have plenty of opportunities. I sought out every possible opportunity to play and to improve. Weekends were filled with Honor bands. Summers were filled with music camps. Evenings were filled with practice. And I was very, VERY good.

Moving to New York city from Alabama changed the way I looked at playing the French Horn pretty significantly. In New York it was an entirely different mind-set. In New York, anyone worth half their salt felt they could make it as a professional. As a result, many people didn't play for the love of music -- they played for money. It became harder to find my identity as French Horn player because suddenly I was "competition." You had to be better than the others to survive.

You see, I was very, VERY good. But I was not Great. I had the heart and soul and determination and discipline to be great, but I lacked one critical thing: Talent. That's not to say I wasn't talented -- just not talented enough to be Great.

And there were other factors in there as well. In New York, the big game was playing with an Orchestra. You see, I'm not a big fan of Orchestras. Yes, I've played in plenty of them, but my heart was in other places. The music that ran through my blood was that of the Symphonic Band and the Marching Band, but as an adult French Horn player, those opportunities were rare. So I was forced to reevaluate.

Oh, granted there were pit bands, and even Broadway. But that involved an even higher level of competition and politics but, at that point in my life, I needed a steady paycheck. So I was forced to demote myself from Aspiring Professional to a mere Hobbyist.

Yet the music still coursed through my veins. I still sought out opportunities to play. I played with the Queensborough Symphonic Band and a number of bands in Long Island until geography became an issue. I then stumbled across the Doctors Orchestra, which was a great experience.

A short tangent -- I remember the first day I stepped into the Doctors Orchestra. I came in and met the other horn players. We just received the music to Beethoven's Fifth. I asked where I was sitting and they had me sitting at the end of the section, which was fine as I was there to play, not to be a Hot Dog. Then I realized something odd. I turned to the other players and asked "Am I sitting at the front or the back of the section?" And they happily replied: "Oh, you're sitting at the front." Without playing a note, I was instantly promoted to Principal. Fast forward a few years and I was to be the first member to get a featured solo (Mozart 2nd Horn Concerto).

Another issue raised its ugly head along the way as well. I felt being a musician wasn't flexing my creativity. So I took up playwriting and, subsequently, I got involved with Community Theater. This took up yet more of my time, leaving less of it to devote to playing. Eventually, those choices led to my leaving the Doctors Orchestra, along with a few other factors. Finally, in 1996 I packed up my horn and stopped playing altogether.

It was many years later, I don't even remember when, that I picked up a horn. But this time it wasn't my trusty French Horn. I discovered the Tenor Horn. After a little bit of practice I discovered a few things. First, music was still running through my veins. Second, I was still very, VERY good. As a matter of fact, I was better at the Tenor Horn than I ever was at the French Horn. Third, I suddenly felt the constraints of the French Horn and found that the Tenor Horn removed the factor of wrestling with the instrument itself. I felt like weights were lifted from around my neck and I was free. I could make the Tenor Horn play my heart's song. It did exactly what I wanted, when I wanted it to. I loved its sound and I loved its literature. And I began to resent the French Horn. Have I dedicated myself to an instrument that held me back?

I played with the Imperial Brass in New Jersey for about nine months, and I loved it. Unfortunately, due to the distance of the rehearsals and the inconvenience of it cutting into my weekends, it almost broke up my marriage. I had to drop out and live my real life.

Then I turned to an old college friend -- the Mellophone. How about that! Here's another instrument that can play my heart's song just as well as the Tenor Horn! I was determined to be the world's premiere Mellophonist! I would practice and practice every morning with joy in my heart. I sought opportunities to play the Mellophone and found that there really were none. I had all sorts of wild ideas, including solo recordings and ensembles. But since I was disconnected with the world of music so long, I had nobody I could play with. I even tried to learn Jazz (which to this day I still suck at) but I found that no matter how good of a Mellophonist I was, I'd just be playing in my basement at 5:30 in the morning.

There is a type of Mellophone called the Circular Alto, or Althorn. To the untrained eye, it can infiltrate a French Horn section undetected. Finally! I can play the Mellophone in the mainstream! Now all I need to do is find an outlet.

In 2007 two Community Bands started up. First was the Manhattan Wind Ensemble and then was the Grand Street Community Band in Brooklyn. For a year I put the bug in my wife's ear to let me join one and, after a year of it, she consented. I contacted the Manhattan Wind Ensemble and pitched myself to them, and they subsequently turned up their noses. I pitched myself to the Grand Street band and was accepted with open arms.

Meanwhile I was still trying to chip out opportunities. I'd get the occasional pit gig in Queens, which I loved.

The Grand Street Band turned out to be a joy. I sounded like a French Horn, so nobody was the wiser. Still, in the back of my mind I knew I was fooling myself. And, in a way I felt the Universe was trying to tell me that if I'm going to play in the French Horn section, I need to play the French Horn. I was a great Mellophonist. At best, I can be a very, VERY good French Hornist. The writing was on the wall -- I was a novelty.

In truth, I really could play almost any instrument if I wanted to. I know I'd be valuable as a Tubaist. I'm also an excellent percussionist. But the truth was I've lived my life as a French Hornist. It's the parts and voice I know. The Mellophone has such a beautiful and versatile tone, in my opinion, whereas the French Horn doesn't really fit into anything as far as I'm concerned. I still resent the instrument. I no longer love the sound. It's much harder to play than it needs to be. I need to give up my aspirations of greatness.

I think it was while I was doing The MelloCast when it hit me. I was talking to Dr. John Ericson, Chris Nalls and Mark Taylor -- three French Hornists who are also superb Mellophonists. Perhaps what I need is to refine my French Horn playing in order to improve my Mellophone playing? Sounds crazy, but it might be helpful.

So, after 13 years I dusted off my Holton H179 and attempted to make a sound, knowing it would be a struggle since I was now used to a radically larger mouthpiece. I mean, I used to play on a Giardinelli C4, which had about a 17.5 mm rim diameter. But now I'm playing on Tenor Horn mouthpieces which have about an 18.5 mm rim diameter. In the world of brass playing, that's pretty significant. But thanks to Mouthpiece Express, I found horn mouthpieces in that ballpark. Suddenly, I was back playing the French Horn.

I'm still not in love with the instrument like I was. I want to hear the sound of the Mellophone, but for now I need to take this journey. It was a familiar and comfortable road I was on for many years, and 13 years later trying to get back on that road is quite the different experience. It's no longer the same road for me, but I'm compelled to travel on it for a while. I'm not sure where it's leading me any more and, at times, I don't like the scenery. But I love the music no matter what I'm playing and for now I'm just happy to be playing.

I was a Hot Dog 24 years ago. With luck and practice, I could be again.