My Stradivarii
Jochen Seggelke, Boxwood, and Finding a New Voice
When Maksim Shtrykov first played a boxwood clarinet made by Jochen Seggelke in 2020, what struck him was more than the instrument’s unusual golden appearance. It was the conception of sound behind it. Seggelke, whose work combines a deep knowledge of historical clarinets with continual experimentation in modern instrument making, describes his philosophy as “Innovating Sonority.” The phrase could hardly have been more fitting.
Shtrykov now performs on a set of Seggelke boxwood clarinets in B-flat and A, as well as a basset clarinet. The experience of discovering them left such an impression that he affectionately began calling the set “My Stradivarii.” The comparison is not one of monetary value or historical prestige. For Shtrykov, it is above all a tribute to the imagination of the maker—the ability of an exceptional craftsman to create an instrument with such an individual conception of sound that the player, in turn, begins to learn from it.
What changed was not Shtrykov’s understanding of what the clarinet should be. The instruments gave him an expressive palette he had not possessed before.
The difference became most apparent at the extremes of the dynamic range. At the softest dynamics, he found that the sound could retain richness and complexity rather than becoming pale or losing its core. At the opposite extreme, greater intensity could be achieved while preserving warmth and color instead of moving toward hardness or shrillness. Learning to work with that broader range of possibilities gradually began to affect the way he shaped sound, dynamics, and phrase.
For Shtrykov, the clarinet has always been an extension of his own voice. He thinks of playing in terms of singing and speaking through the instrument: breath, inflection, color, and phrase carrying musical intention as directly as possible. What the Seggelke instruments offered was greater freedom in pursuing that ideal. Their breadth of color allowed the instrument to follow his musical imagination more closely, with fewer compromises between what he wanted to hear and what the instrument could produce.
In that respect, the instruments also brought him closer to qualities he had long admired in string playing. A violin or cello can move from the most intimate pianissimo to considerable intensity while preserving richness and complexity of sound. The Seggelke clarinets offered an analogous possibility—not by imitating a string instrument, but by allowing the clarinet’s own voice to retain depth and color across a wider expressive range.
The relationship between player and instrument consequently became more reciprocal. A highly responsive instrument does not simply provide additional possibilities; it asks the player to discover how to use them. Familiar habits do not always produce the most interesting result. Over time, Shtrykov found himself listening more closely to what the instruments were capable of giving back and allowing their response to influence the way he played. In that sense, they became not only tools, but teachers.
Boxwood itself has a long history in woodwind making. Before dark tropical hardwoods such as grenadilla became the modern standard, European boxwood (Buxus sempervirens) was widely used for clarinets and other woodwinds. Seggelke’s extensive experience with historical instruments led him to explore what this traditional material could offer in a modern clarinet—not simply as a recreation of the past, but as part of an ongoing search for new possibilities of sound.
For Shtrykov, however, boxwood is only part of the story. What makes these instruments extraordinary is what Seggelke has drawn from the material through craftsmanship, experimentation, and a highly individual conception of sound. In that sense, the nickname “My Stradivarii” is as much a tribute to the maker as to the instruments themselves.
The experience also opened new possibilities in Shtrykov’s approach to repertoire.
Performing transcriptions had long been part of his musical life, following a tradition he had been inspired to explore by his teacher Charles Neidich. But the colors he discovered in the Seggelke instruments gave him a new way of approaching music originally conceived for other instruments. Works such as Robert Schumann’s violin sonatas and Fünf Stücke im Volkston, or Schubert’s Arpeggione Sonata, began to feel less like music transferred to another instrument and more like music capable of finding a new voice through the clarinet.
The distinction is important. The goal is not to make the clarinet imitate a violin or cello, nor simply to enlarge its repertoire. A successful transcription allows familiar music to speak so naturally through another instrument that its new voice becomes persuasive in its own right. The expanded palette Shtrykov discovered in the Seggelke instruments gave him greater freedom to search for that voice while remaining unmistakably within the expressive character of the clarinet.
For Shtrykov, the Seggelke instruments have therefore become inseparable from that search. They did not change what he believed the clarinet should be; they gave him a richer palette with which to realize that ideal more fully—as an extension of his own voice.