The Five Organ Sonatas of Charles Villiers Stanford (1852–1924)

Larry Palmer

Where next?

So, you have mastered Couperin’s eight preludes from L’Art de toucher le clavecin. What harpsichord repertoire should follow these basic pieces?

To my ears Domenico Scarlatti was the ultimate artist/composer when it came to varying textures in writing for our instrument. I have advised more than a few curious contemporary composers to consult the 500-plus keyboard sonatas from this Baroque genius and then to emulate his wide palette of various densities of sound: one of the best ways to create a varied dynamic range.

Suggestions: perhaps the most-assigned to first-semester students have been two A-major Sonatas, K (Kirkpatrick) numbers 208 and 209. There are several fine editions from which to choose, but, once again as with my choice for the first Couperin pieces, I have found that another “made in America” publication works well on several levels. The sometimes-maligned yellow-bound Schirmer Editions offer Sixty Sonatas by Scarlatti in two volumes. Chosen and edited by the formidable scholar and artist Ralph Kirkpatrick (he of the most-used numbering system for this composer), these 60 were published as Schirmer Library Volumes 1774 and 1775. (Too bad they could not have waited until number 1776, which would have been even more patriotic!) K. 208 and 209 are found in the first of these collections.

Kirkpatrick, working midway in the 20th century (the copyright is dated 1953), used source materials transmitted to him via microfilm. In a rare misreading of the dim and hazy film, he mistook the tempo indication for K. 208, transcribing Adº as “Andante” rather than the indicated “Adagio,” providing once again a perfect teaching moment when one presents the proof of this mistake. Also, it does make quite a difference: Andante, a moving or walking tempo, is not at all the same as Adagio, which, in the composer’s native Italian, means “at your ease” and thus should suggest more flexibility with rubato and a quieter, more involved personality—perhaps that of a lovesick flamenco guitarist. As for texture: the sonata begins with only two voices, soprano and bass, and adds a middle line in measure three, introduces a fourth voice in the chords of measure seven, and builds a terrific crescendo in the penultimate measure thirteen of the A section, before cadencing on an open dominant octave.

The B section begins with a single bass note, and in its first measure we are confronted with the instruction “Tremulo,” indicating a needed ornament in the melodic line. There has been much speculation and some gnashing of musicological teeth about this particular instruction in Domenico’s works. I have tried various solutions, but fairly late in my career I decided that it might possibly indicate the mordent! My reasoning: the mordent is one of the two most generally prevalent ornaments in Baroque music, but there is no indication of it in Scarlatti’s sonatas; and the mordent seems to be feasible each time a Tremulo is indicated.

Vis-à-vis that other musical ornament, the trill, it was the Iberian music specialist Guy Bovet who, during our one semester as Dallas colleagues, reminded me that the usual starting note for Scarlattian trills should be the main (written) note! I realize that many of us were heavily influenced by our piano or organ teachers who taught us to begin all Baroque trills with the note above; but in actual musical practice, this is rather silly: trills normally do begin on the written note in this Italian-Iberian repertoire, but here, and in general, I refuse to be bound to one invariable rule, and frequently substitute an upper-note trill, particularly in cadential figures that seem to ache for a dissonance (or, occasionally, simply to avoid ugly-sounding parallel octave movement of the voices). My advice is to follow Bovet’s instruction as a general practice, but also to use one’s musical instincts when required: after all, we have yet to hear those “recordings” from the 17th and 18th centuries that would prove once and for all what the local practice was. (Do, please, let me know if they are discovered.)

The paired sonata, K. 209, could not be more different from its shorter sibling: an Allegro (Happy) with some technical challenges (as opposed to the many musical challenges offered by K. 208) should prove again the inventiveness of the composer, especially in his use of varied textures. One spot that particularly delights is found in measure 70, where, after the vigorous cadence begins with two voices, the resolution is one single soprano E, a totally unexpected surprise! Kenneth Gilbert, in his eleven-volume edition of 550 sonatas for Le Pupitre, adds the missing bass note, choosing the reading found in a different manuscript source in which the next iteration of that same figure (measure 147) does resolve with an open octave in the bass. I still prefer Kirkpatrick’s reading for these passages: rather than adding notes in the first example, he does away with them at the second iteration . . . and thereby preserves an equal surprise for the B section.

Quite a few other sonatas that serve well as technique-enhancing pieces are to be found in the set comprising the first Kirkpatrick numbers 1 through 30: works published in London (1738) as Scarlatti’s Essercizi per gravicembalo. If your student (or you) want a bit of narrative music, the final entry in this set, K. 30, is particularly fun to play and hear: nicknamed the “Cat” Fugue, it is easy to imagine a favorite feline frolicking treble-ward on the keyboard to create a fugue subject spanning an octave and a half. Several years ago, when preparing a program of Iberian music to play on Southern Methodist University’s Portuguese organ (a single-manual instrument built in 1762 by Caetano Oldovini for Portugal’s Evora Cathedral), I turned to the Alfred Edition print of this sonata, which incorporates some of the quite useful (and interesting) minor corrections offered in a second edition from the year 1739, also published in London by the English organist and Scarlatti-enthusiast Thomas Roseingrave. 

Finally, should one become entranced by Scarlatti’s delightful catwalk, there is a rarely encountered piece by the Bohemian composer Antonín Rejcha (1770–1836) from his 36 Fugues, op. 36, published in Vienna (1805). Fugue Nine is subtitled “On a Theme from Domenico Scarlatti.” In it our musical cat, elderly and more reserved, is heard ranging a keyboard that extends to top F, before settling down, finally, with quiet cadential chords. The score, published by Universal Edition, is found in Bohemian Piano Music from the Classical Period, volume 2 (UE18583), edited by Peter Roggenkamp.

 

Some contemporary components

It will come as no surprise to our loyal readers that, during my lengthy tenure at the Meadows School, Southern Methodist University, I required at least one 20th- or 21st-century composition to fulfill repertoire requirements during each semester of harpsichord study. Among the most admired of these pieces were the twelve individual movements of Lambert’s Clavichord by Herbert Howells. These, the first published 20th-century works for the clavichord, are true gems, and equally delightful both to play and to hear. Issued by Oxford University Press in 1928, they are not widely available now, but I have been told that they may be obtained as an “on-demand print” from the publisher. Howells’s own favorite of the set was De la Mare’s Pavane, named for his friend, the distinguished poet Walter de la Mare. Indeed, it was a question about one chord in this piece that precipitated my first visit with the composer in 1974. Dr. Howells did not answer me immediately, but before we parted he took a pen in hand and drew in the missing sharp sign before the middle C on the second half of beat two in measure 24. That had been my concern, that missing sharp! Thus, I was relieved to have a correction from the only person who could not be doubted, the great man himself.

Other works recommended for investigative forays into this literature (works offering a great deal of good examples for the development of dynamic, articulate, and musical playing) include Rudy Davenport’s Seven Innocent Dances (which I have dubbed the “With It” suite): With Casualness, With Resolve, With Playfulness, With Excitement, With Fire, With Pomposity, With Steadiness­—available in the Aliénor Harpsichord Competition 2000 Winners volume published by Wayne Leupold (WL600233); Glenn Spring’s Trifles: Suite Music for Harpsichord comprising the miniatures A Start, Blues for Two, Burlesque, Cantilena, Habañerita, Recitative, and Introspection, lovely pieces indeed, as are Spring’s more recent Bartókian miniatures: Béla Bagatelles (2011). Both sets are available from the composer ([email protected]). Finally, from the late British composer Stephen Dodgson, three movements of his Suite 1 in C for Clavichord: Second Air, Tambourin, and Last Fanfare (published by Cadenza Music in 2008) form a delightful group of pieces. Equally effective at the harpsichord, they have proven to be very audience-friendly.

 

A May reminder

Do not forget Lou Harrison’s centenary (May 2017), the perfect month in which to investigate the American composer’s Six Sonatas, as detailed in Harpsichord News, The Diapason, October 2016, page 10.

Larry Palmer

Some thoughts on programming

A frequently asked question after a recital is: “How did you come up with such a program?” Depending on the tone of voice employed, I am either elated or frightened! The planning of interesting programs took center stage for me during the summer of 2016 when I was faced with choosing repertory for six varied concerts, a task both enjoyable and dreaded, in nearly equal proportions.  As I write this column all six programs have been performed, each designed to engage its very different audience. 

They were, in chronological order: 

1) an annual private program for a Dallas doctor who owns a lovely Flemish-style two-manual harpsichord made by the San Antonio builder Gerald Self; audience: four or five; 

2) and 3) two consecutive organ recitals in the free Friday afternoon concert series at First Presbyterian Church, Santa Fe, New Mexico, where the instrument is a three-manual Fisk organ; usual audience: 50–100; 

4) the opening program of season 33 for our Dallas house concert series, Limited Editions; maximum attendance: 40; 

5) a harpsichord recital on a specific theme for the one-day Waxahachie Chautauqua to be played in the early 20th-century open-air auditorium, an historic building in the Texas town’s Getzendaner Memorial Park: 40–60 auditors; 

6) a season-opening benefit concert for the Dallas-based Orchestra of New Spain, offered in the lofty music room of an architecturally exciting lakefront home with an eight-stop tracker organ by local builder Robert Sipe: audience, a full house of 80.

During my six-decade career of playing, listening, and teaching I have developed some fundamental ideas about effective program planning. Primary among considerations is the expected audience. Are the auditors primarily academics, professional or amateur musicians, or a more general lay group of listeners? What is the purpose of the program: education, entertainment, a general or specific event, sacred or secular—or, as so often happens, a mixture of all these categories?  

Too often, it seems, we performing artists, especially in choosing music for single instrument solo recitals, tend to select works that please us, but ones that too often leave the audience baffled, bewildered, or bored. This result frequently stems from a lack of variety in the music selected—the end result of programs that are based primarily on our personal gratification rather than consideration for our listeners. After many seasons of enduring frequent punishment (and, no doubt, sometimes inflicting the same on my listeners) I am, at last, exercising my elder right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of auditory happiness by leaving the premises at intermission, or simply choosing not to attend that particular concert if I have seen a program that promises little except for “too much of the same.”

“So, Palmer,” you say, “let’s see what you came up with to satisfy the varied audiences you mentioned above.”

For the doctor’s private recital I considered it necessary to pay at least slight homage to the July 3 date, the eve of our national birthday, so I began with George Washington’s March, a short, snappy piece dedicated to the first United States President, published in George Willig’s Musical Magazine, Philadelphia, 1794–95. Next came J. S. Bach’s Capriccio on the Departure of his Beloved Brother, BWV 992, a much-loved early work obviously modeled on the then recently published Biblical Sonatas of Johann Kuhnau, and provided this with narration describing the varied pictorial sections of the work.  For stylistic variety, some contemporary music composed in 2014 by the Michigan harpsichord maker Knight Vernon, a two-page Rondo from his Three Contemplations, followed by the 1982 Triptych (Carillon, Siciliano, and Final) by the American master Gerald Near­—all delightful melodic, witty writing, and not too much for the doctor, whose musical taste is well centered in the eighteenth century. The program continued with François Couperin’s Les Ondes (The Waves), a piece reminiscent of the composer’s better-known Baricades Mistérieuses. The A-major key led directly to the opening notes of W. A. Mozart’s Fantasia in D Minor, K. 397, utilizing my own ending rather than the published final measures, which are not by Mozart.  Finally, to conclude this modest-length recital, the shortest of Bach’s harpsichord toccatas, his Toccata in E Minor, BWV 914.

For the first Santa Fe TGIF recital I chose to title the 35-minute program “Opus 133 Goes to the Opera” and began it with the 16th-century Milanese composer Giovanni Paolo Cima’s two-page Canzona Quarta: La Pace, followed by Herbert Howells’s Master Tallis’s Testament. Then came opera composer Giacomo Puccini’s youthful Salve Regina for tenor and organ, followed by a transcription of his hauntingly beautiful Flower Duet from Madama Butterfly. My favorite opera composer Richard Strauss contributed the Gavotte from his final opera Capriccio, performed here with a short bit of the concert ending he composed for harpsichordist Isolde Ahlgrimm (my first transference of this piece from harpsichord to organ) followed by the signature aria that drives the plot of the opera, the tenor’s Sonnet (with words by the opera’s character Olivier and music by his rival Flamand, both of whom are attempting to win the love of a widowed countess, who cannot decide between them, thus underscoring the main conceit of the drama: which is more important in opera, words or music?). A main reason for choosing this excerpt was the return of Strauss’s final opera to the five-opera repertory for Santa Fe Opera 2016. The program concluded with Di rigori armato il seno, the Italian Tenor’s virtuoso solo from Der Rosenkavalier and segued into the sublime Trio for three sopranos, heard this time in organ transcription.

For the second TGIF offering, a program for solo organ, I alternated the varied textures and sounds of Festivity by the British composer Cyril Jenkins, Gerald Near’s Air with Variation (yes, only one) from his Sonata Breve, a 12-measure Bach fragment, Fantasia in C, BWV 573, as extended to 26 measures by various editors, followed by César Franck’s Fantasie in C (in the 1868 version that he may have played for the dedication of the organ at Notre Dame Cathedral, plus the addition of the final Adagio from the usual published version of the piece), and both Prélude and Divertissement from 24 Pièces en style libre by Louis Vierne. As an encore, the enthusiastic audience heard Calvin Hampton’s Consonance, my first ever organ commission, given to my Oberlin classmate in 1957.

Back in Texas I played the opening house concert, program number 99 since the series’ inception. At the Schudi organ (1983) the Jenkins, Near, and Cima works heard in Santa Fe, followed by music performed on Richard Kingston’s Franco-Flemish double harpsichord (1994): Buxtehude’s Praeludium in G Minor, BuxWV 163; three short works by three composers, all of whom have been associated with the University of Michigan School of Music: Knight Vernon’s Rondo, a Dallas premiere of William Bolcom’s The Vicarage Garden (composed in 2015), and Gerald Near’s Triptych (all three movements as listed above). Since the Chautauqua program was imminent, I previewed harpsichord works from that program: Glenn Spring’s clever Hommage to Debussy and the whole-tone scale (Le soir dans la ruelle, 2006), Couperin’s Baricades Mistérieuses (which began on the same B-flat that ended the Spring piece), Water (from Five Elements) by Californian Ronald McKean (one of the Aliénor Contemporary Harpsichord Music Competition winners in 2008), and the Mozart D-minor Fantasia. Finally, acknowledging the concert’s date (September 11), at the organ: New Mexico composer Gregory Alan Schneider’s Melancholy Prelude (composed on 9/11/2001 as his meditative response to that day’s tragedies). After a moment of solemn silence, Eugene Thayer’s America: a fugue a 5 voci (from his Second Organ Sonata, composed in 1865–66) offered an uplifting and patriotic conclusion with music from an earlier time of strife and warfare in our country, based on a tune known by everyone—another tenet that I have been striving to keep: whenever possible include at least one piece that will be, in some way, familiar to all listeners.

By the time of the September 24 Chautauqua date, I had found a singer who could fill the void created when my usual collaborative artist was forced to cancel all his vocal appearances for the fall. Baritone Daniel Bouchard, a recent graduate of Southern Methodist University, enabled us to present a wide-ranging program to complement this year’s theme, “The World of Water.” The organizers had requested Handel’s Water Music, so it was with three excerpts that I opened that program: the first section of the Overture, the Air, and Hornpipe as transcribed for keyboard in the eighteenth century. Two Purcell songs (Fairest Isle and I’ll Sail Upon the Dogstar), the Spring, Couperin, and McKean pieces heard earlier in the month, and the almost-certain premiere performance of Gabriel Fauré’s enchanting four-song cycle L’horizon chimérique with the accompaniment played on a harpsichord. The program concluded with American river songs: Shenandoah and Shall We Gather at the River? The large crowd of interested folk who flocked to the stage to greet us and to ask questions about the instrument seemed to validate the program choices we had made.

The sixth concert showcased the organ, beginning with three centuries of Iberian organ music by composers Cabanilles, Domenico Scarlatti, and José Lidon. Since the organ was built originally for a Lutheran organist, I thought it right and proper to program some Lutheran music: the chorale Dearest Jesus, We Are Here and J. S. Bach’s one-page prelude on that tune, followed by the C-Major Fantasy, and a one-page setting of Gelobet seist du, Herr Jesu Christ by Friedrich Hark, who, like Hugo Distler, was a casualty of the Second World War. As respite from the organ, three pieces on my John Challis clavichord: Bach’s ubiquitous Prelude in C Major (Well-Tempered Clavier Part I) and Howells’s De la Mare’s Pavane (from Lambert’s Clavichord), ending with a one-page song that I composed earlier this year, using as text poet De la Mare’s four-line poem Clavichord, in which I used brief quotations from the two clavichord pieces. After a long intermission, the refreshed (and fed) audience returned for Jenkins’s Festivity, two Hungarian religious folk song settings by Ferenc Farkas, Guy Bovet’s The Bolero of the Divine Mozart, two American river songs, and Thayer’s America: a fugue a 5 voci.

For audience enjoyment of these concerts, perhaps one of the most important elements may be the short spoken introductions that I customarily offer before playing the pieces. It behooves us to remember that, while we may have toiled for many long hours to learn the music, much of what we perform will be new to many in our audience, no matter where or what we play. I usually try to sketch out, in written form, the main points I wish to share. We academics (and, from what I observe, some non-academics) are prone to ramble, when what is needed for communication before a musical work is generally some short but cogent bit of its history or mention of a particular unusual moment—in other words, anything that will engage a listener’s interest and keep it focused on the music. But plan these words carefully, and keep them brief and clearly enunciated!

I hope that these paragraphs may be of some help in suggesting that shorter pieces may provide a welcome variety in programming for diverse audiences. Of course there are times and places for our complete organ symphonies, great and lengthy masterpieces from the harpsichord repertoire, and the many wonderful works that are available for collaborative performance. I continue to find gems that I had overlooked, and I am particularly grateful when friends and correspondents send suggestions from their own unique experiences. Stay curious, read reviews, and keep subscribing to The Diapason.

October 4–6, 2015

Marcia Van Oyen earned master’s and DMA degrees at the University of Michigan, studying organ with Robert Glasgow. She is currently minister of music, worship, and fine arts at First United Methodist Church in Plymouth, Michigan.

The 55th annual University of Michigan Organ Conference, with the theme “Organ Music of Central Europe,” took place October 4–6, 2015. Following Michele Johns’ retirement celebration in 2014, and the Marilyn Mason fête the year before, this conference was a quieter affair, attracting mostly local Michigan alumni and current students. 

 

Renovation and expansion of the School of Music, Theatre, and Dance

Beautiful autumn weather on Monday permitted lunch outdoors, on the terrace of the new William K. and Delores S. Brehm Pavilion, part of a $29.5 million renovation and expansion of the Earl V. Moore Building, designed by Eero Saarinen and originally opened in 1964. Lack of funding when the structure was built led to compromises, and Saarinen’s original vision was not fully realized. The building was never able to accommodate the school’s full spectrum of music courses or faculty. Some of the building’s limitations were addressed in 1985 with the addition of the Margaret Dow Towsley Center, which added the McIntosh Theatre and Blanche Anderson Moore Organ Hall. 

The new Brehm Pavilion includes a rehearsal hall for large ensembles, a music technology center, a state-of-the-art lecture hall, percussion practice rooms, and new classrooms. Substantial renovations resulted in additional practice rooms, a public commons, acoustical, aesthetic, and functional improvements to existing rehearsal, performance and studio spaces, and faculty offices. 

 Sunday conference events

Sunday afternoon at Hill Auditorium, Douglas Reed played a superb concert, “A Tribute to William Albright and William Bolcom.” It was an ambitious program, to be sure, and not for the faint of heart performer, but Reed was more than up to the challenge. He began with two works of Albright’s “public” music, Carillon-Bombarde and Hymn, both published works, then provided a contrast with what Albright considered his “private” music—“Whistler (1834–1903): Three Nocturnes,” which remains in manuscript form. The nocturnes need the reference of Whistler’s three paintings in order to be appreciated, and Reed provided these, in color, in the program. Each painting portrays a scene at twilight, offering variations of light and shade, which is reflected in the music. 

Next, Reed included his own transcription of the last two sections of Bolcom’s Song for St. Cecilia’s Day (originally for SATB chorus and organ), which was composed in memory of William Albright and dedicated to his son, John. Bolcom’s miniature on Abide With Me followed, then the gospel prelude on Amazing Grace. Reed’s articulation was both precise and expressive, elucidating the subtleties of the dense scores, and he deftly negotiated their copious technical demands. 

The last section of the program returned to Albright with selections from Organbooks I and III, which are particularly representative of his works as “a new means of idiomatic expression for the organ.” Albright described them as “part of a much larger scheme implying many more pieces each of which explores other sound and style capabilities peculiar to the instrument: some simple, some complex, some even working with popular idioms; all, however, hopefully demonstrating the richness and variety of organ sound.” Again Reed proved to be more than up to the task of presenting these works in all their intricacies with precision and ease, playing “Underground Stream,” “Melisma,” “Basse de Trompette,” “Jig for the Feet (Totentanz),” “Nocturne,” and the unpublished “Chorale Prelude,” intended to be the fifth movement of Organbook I. This entertaining work served as a reminder of Albright’s penchant for injecting humor into his writing (he includes quotes from film music) and the juxtaposition of opposites. 

 

Fourth annual Michigan 

Improvisation Competition

The fourth annual Michigan Improvisation Competition took place Sunday evening at the First Presbyterian Church of Ann Arbor, providing contestants with the ample resources of the church’s Schoenstein organ (III/42). The Ann Arbor AGO chapter provided a dinner beforehand for conference attendees. 

Preliminary round judges Joe Balistreri (a member of The Diapason’s “20 under 30” Class of 2015), Gale Kramer, and Darlene Kuperus evaluated recorded entries. Each contestant created a set of variations on a hymn tune and a free improvisation on an assigned original theme. From a field of thirteen entries, five contestants were invited to the final round, which involved similar improvisational challenges—a set of variations on the hymn tune Salzburg and a free improvisation on a given original theme. Final round judges Huw Lewis, Pamela Ruiter-Feenstra, and Scott Hyslop evaluated players on thematic development, musical form, stylistic consistency, control of harmonic language, rhythmic interest, and effective use of the instrument. Having heard the final round each of the competition’s four years, I can attest to the fact that the level of playing has improved each year, rendering the judging challenging. 

First prize was awarded to Matthew Koraus of New York, second and audience prizes to Alejandro D. Consolacion, II of New Jersey, and third prize to Brennan Szafron of South Carolina. Additional finalists were Robert Wisniewski of Ohio and Benjamin Cornelius-Bates of Pennsylvania. It is interesting to note that most of the finalists are also composers. The prizes were sponsored by the American Center for Church Music. 

 

Monday lectures

The opening lecture Monday morning took place in Blanche Anderson Moore Organ Hall. Andrzej Szadejko of the Gdansk Music Academy, Poland, gave a lecture-recital, “The Less Known Pupils of Bach: Why we (don’t) care about our masters or generation changes,” sponsored in part by the Poland U. S. Campus Arts Project at the Adam Mickiewicz Institute. Szadejko has performed extensively in northern Europe, made nine recordings, published articles in Polish music journals, and was awarded a prize for his thesis on two pupils of Bach—Friedrich Christian Mohrheim and Johann Georg Müthel. Mohrheim, who was the copyist for Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, was music director at St. Mary’s Church in Gdansk, and composed chorale preludes and trios for the organ. In contrast to the music of Bach, Mohrheim’s works are characteristic of the style galant and empfindsamer Stil. Müthel’s works are very dramatic, in the Sturm und Drang style. Szadejko played works by Volckmar, Gleimann, and Gronau to demonstrate the style prevalent in northern Europe—a mixture of north German, Italian, and new ideas—then works by Mohrheim and Müthel. Szadejko is a skillful, expressive player, and his performances were the highlight of the session. He is deeply immersed in his research, delving into all the details, and one got the feeling he would have happily shared his findings as long as he had a listener.

Joseph Gascho, assistant professor of harpsichord, gave an engaging session on playing continuo in Watkins Lecture Hall, a room outfitted with a grand piano, harpsichord, and portative organ, as well as the ability to project examples from a computer. Gascho asserted that the shape of the bass line drives a piece, referring to it as a “vertebrate being.” In his teaching, he uses singers and dance to illustrate unequal emphasis on notes, or the sense of strong and weak beats. In this session, he worked through a recitative from Messiah and Purcell’s “Lord, What Is Man” from Harmonie Sacrae with graduate student soprano Ariane Abela, demonstrating how the continuo player’s choices affect the singer’s performance and the expression of the piece. His advice to the audience was “You’ll play better with an unrealized continuo part” and “Take the challenge of finding the joy in making decisions regarding what to play.” He discussed different ways to realize continuo and their effects, soliciting feedback as to whether organ or harpsichord was better suited to the music demonstrated. Gascho’s personable approach made this an enjoyable and valuable session. 

 

Student recital and masterclass

James Kibbie and Kola Owolabi’s students played a recital Monday morning on the Fisk organ in Blanche Anderson Moore Hall, which featured repertoire celebrating the 350th birthday of Nicolaus Bruhns. The complete extant works of Bruhns (six pieces) were supplemented with works by Böhm, Buxtehude, and Tunder to fill out the program. All the student performers—Dean Robinson, Paul Giessner, Sherri Brown, Jennifer Shin, Andrew Lang, Joe Moss, Mary Zelinski, Stephanie Yu, and Phillip Radtke—played well. At least half of them had been students of Michigan organ alumni. James Kibbie made a point of thanking the alumni in his introduction to the program, crediting them with helping to increase enrollment with student recommendations and scholarship contributions. 

Three students—Joe Moss, Mary Zelinski, and Jennifer Shin—had the privilege of playing for a masterclass with Diane Meredith Belcher later the same day. Belcher encouraged the students to do research about their pieces to provide context, and to practice piston changes, treating them as another note to learn. Working with Joe Moss on David Conte’s Soliloquy, she suggested conducting your own playing, breathing with the music, and attention to details to make the music come alive. With Jennifer Shin, who played Dupré’s Prelude and Fugue in G Minor, she recommended “skeletal” practice—playing only the strong beats to feel comfortable and insert rest into the process. For Mary Zelinski, who played the Grave from Vierne’s Symphonie V, Belcher recommended having your physical motions match the mood of the piece, and for romantic music, pushing through long notes and dwelling on shorter notes. Belcher also spent time talking about making sure you are grounded on the organ bench, using Wilma Jensen’s maxim of being able to bend and touch your nose to the keyboard without falling forward. She also suggested applying techniques from Feldenkrais movement to organ playing.

 

Monday performances

Late Monday afternoon, we returned to Hill Auditorium to hear Andrew Earhart, a fifth-year student pursuing degrees in organ performance and naval architecture and marine engineering, perform Petr Eben’s monumental The Labyrinth of the World and the Paradise of the Heart, for organ and speaker. Eben’s final and largest organ work, it is a fourteen-movement musical allegory, originally improvised during an organ festival in Melbourne, Australia, in 1991. The work was inspired by a 400-year-old book, written by a Czech bishop named Comenius, which fascinated Eben. The book is a sort of Pilgrim’s Progress, relating the experiences and final redemption of a traveler encountering various people and situations. Eben says, “the whole atmosphere of the text is not an idyllic stroll through the world but a bitter, satirical, bizarre, and sometimes almost apocalyptic view of the world—and such is the character of the music.” 

Despite Eben’s description, the music is basically tonal, though certainly full of chord clusters, spiky melodies, strident reed sounds, and sharp contrasts. The fanfare-filled prologue introduces some of the work’s musical themes, which are taken from chorales from Komensky’s Amsterdam Cantional. Excellent and emotive narration by Malcolm Tulip of the theater department helped bring the story to life. At about 80 minutes in length, the work is certainly taxing for the organist. Earhart ably handled the voluminous score, truly engaged in the music, and played with conviction and passion. 

Prior to James Kibbie’s performance Monday evening, I spoke with several people who had heard him perform the same repertoire in Grand Rapids and Detroit recently, and to a person, could not wait to hear the program again. Kibbie did not disappoint. His exquisite playing, from memory, provided no obstacles to a pure musical experience, and the thrill of hearing a performer completely absorbed in the music was a true delight. Kibbie is absolutely at home with the selections of Alain and Tournemire that comprised the concert. Alain’s sonorities are refreshing and light-infused, and hearing six of his works in succession was enlightening. The program began with the Première and Deuxième Fantasies, succeeded by the Première and Deuxième Preludes Profanes. The serene Postlude pour l’office de complies was followed by a dramatic rendering of Litanies to round out the first half. Kibbie’s tempo for Litanies was torrentially fast and frantic, but clear and crisp. He achieved Marie-Claire Alain’s directive that “this piece must be played with great rush.”

As with the Alain works, it was satisfying to hear Tournemire’s Cinq Improvisations all in one sitting, offering the listener insight into Tournemire’s style and idioms as an improviser. The Petite rapsodie improvisée sparkled and the Cantilène improvisée featured the organ’s sweet flute sounds. The improvisations on the Te Deum, Ave Maris Stella, and Victimae Paschali were declamatory and heroic in contrast, with the perfectly paced Victimae Paschali the most striking of the three. Again, Kibbie proved himself at one with the music, giving an authoritative performance, absolutely assured and stunningly played.

Tuesday lectures

Tuesday morning sessions were held in the lovely Assembly Hall in the Rackham Building, which was built in 1935 in Art Deco style. Departing from his usual organ music appreciation session often peppered with sonic curiosities, Michael Barone began with an overview of the most recent Pipedreams tour—Historic Organs of Poland—which took place in June 2015. His photo travelogue also included recordings of some of the instruments the group visited. Many of the instruments have beautifully ornate organ cases with gold leaf and intricate carvings, some still housing the original instrument and some now fronting new instruments. There is a wealth of information about this tour and the instruments visited on the Pipedreams website (see pipedreams.publicradio.org, “Polish Memories”).

Following Barone’s travelogue, Brooks Grantier gave a wonderful lecture, “Cornflakes and Cornopeans: the Collaborations, Collusions, and Collisions of W. R. Kellogg and E. M. Skinner.” His talk focused on the people, personalities, and relationships involved with buying and building organs, based on correspondence from the Kellogg Foundation Archives. Grantier established the scene by relating the tale of W. K. Kellogg’s older brother, who ran a sanitarium in Battle Creek, which became world famous for promoting healthy living. W. K. was the financial manager, discovering corn flakes by accident when some wheat paste was left out overnight. Kellogg refused to market the new “cornflakes” beyond the sanitarium. Following C. W. Post’s theft of the recipe and subsequent success with Post Toasties and Grape Nuts, W. K. Kellogg started his own business, out-marketing Post selling cereal and becoming tremendously successful with the Kellogg Company. 

Having built a lovely home in Battle Creek, Kellogg—not a musician, but a faithful church attendee—sought a house organ. Professor Edwin Barnes, who lived next door, recommended E. M. Skinner to build the house organ. It was to be the finest player organ in the country, fully automatic, and one of the largest house player organs Skinner built. Kellogg also helped fund instruments for the Presbyterian and Catholic churches in Battle Creek, contingent upon them being built by Skinner. When he purchased a home in Pomona, California, Kellogg had Skinner build another house organ there. He also funded the large Aeolian-Skinner organ (four manuals, 72 ranks) in Kellogg Auditorium in Battle Creek, completed in 1933 and designed by E. M. Skinner. This project helped keep Aeolian-Skinner afloat during the Great Depression. Lively, spirited correspondence between Kellogg, William Zeuch, and E. M. Skinner provided insight into the wrangling and strong opinions that were part and parcel of the interactions among these three men. Brooks Grantier is an engaging and entertaining lecturer, and the fascinating tale of Kellogg and Skinner made for delightful listening. He closed by noting that E. M. Skinner died in financial hardship with his work repudiated, while Kellogg died in comfortable circumstances, known for his unparalleled philanthropy.

After lunch, Elizabeth McClain, graduate student in musicology, shared some of her dissertation research in the session “Messiaen’s Pre-war Organ Works: Organist, Theologian, and Non-Conformist,” illuminated through a study of L’Ascension and Les Corps Glorieux. She gave a detailed analysis of the organ works, but it was her commentary on neo-Thomism, neo-scholasticism, ressourcement, and non-conformism in Catholicism in the early twentieth century in France that provided the most insight into Messiaen’s music and world view. McClain asserted that Messiaen’s choice of style indicated his political leanings and discussed how he expressed the totality of human experience through the lens of spirituality, transcending the bounds of sacred and secular. Her rapid delivery made me long for the opportunity to read and digest her material, but her rigorous research is a great contribution to Messiaen scholarship.

Scott Hanoian, director of music and organist at Christ Church Grosse Pointe and conductor and music director of the University Musical Society Choral Union, offered a choral reading workshop at First Congregational Church. At Hanoian’s request, Cliff Hill (of Cliff Hill Music, a highly recommended and knowledgeable music supplier) selected a dozen recently published anthems, which he provided in complimentary packets for conference attendees. As Hanoian led the group in reading through the anthems, he offered suggestions on how to rehearse each piece and when it might be useful. 

Tuesday performances

Kola Owolabi played a program of interesting works on Tuesday afternoon at Hill Auditorium. He began with Fantasia on Sine Nomine by Craig Phillips, a very attractive set of continuous variations, featuring Phillips’s characteristic rhythmic gestures and irregular meters, transformation of themes, and piquant harmonies. The sixth and final variation is a fugue on the opening phrase of the tune, which morphs into toccata figuration to close the work. Bairstow’s Sonata in E-flat, the largest of his thirteen organ works, followed. It employs the full dynamic range of the organ and typically English solo sounds. The first movement has a wandering, pastoral melody, while the second, in stark contrast, is energetic with fanfare-like figures played on a solo Tuba. The third movement, a fugue, is in the form of an elevation—starting softly and calmly, increasing in energy and volume, then ebbing away.

Owolabi began the second half of the program with the rousing Concert Piece in the Form of a Polonaise by Lemare, a bombastic crowd-pleasing work. Next up was Capriccio by Polish composer Mieczyslaw Surzynski. This work is the first movement of Surzynski’s Ten Improvisations, published in 1910. It is romantic in style, with some striking harmonies. Calvin Hampton’s Three Pieces rounded out the concert. “Prayers and Alleluias” is reminiscent of Dupré’s Cortège and Litanie, employing a similar form. “In Paradisum” pays homage to Alain’s Le Jardin Suspendu, while “Pageant” takes cues from both Alain and Mathias. Owolabi’s playing throughout the program was polished and assured. He performs with nonchalance and ease, which allows the music to speak without the performer getting in the way. This was a polished, enjoyable program of refreshing and not often heard works.  

Before the evening concert, Tiffany Ng played a carillon concert consisting of works composed in the last eight years, including two world premieres. Ng has joined the Michigan faculty as assistant professor of carillon and university carillonist. Young and enthusiastic, Ng brings a strong interest in contemporary music and innovative approaches to carillon concerts. She has pioneered models for interactive “crowd-sourced” performances. While in California, she arranged for the collection of data from the Hayward seismic fault, ocean levels, and climate change, which involved hundreds of people sending in information. The data was translated into a musical score, which she sight-read for a concert. She says, “Now that we no longer need the unilateral time-keeping function of the carillon, I like to have a conversation with the audience.” She hopes to initiate collaboration with the engineering school just across north campus and adjacent to the Lurie carillon. A new outdoor gathering area surrounding the area currently under construction has the potential to provide a built-in audience for collaboration. Additional carillon music was heard the previous evening, played by Dennis Curry, carilloneur of Oakland University and Kirk in the Hills in Bloomfield Hills.

Diane Meredith Belcher’s concert attracted the largest audience of the conference events, attesting to her stature as an internationally renowned performer. She began her program with Passacaglia on a Theme by Dunstable, composed by one of her teachers, John Weaver. A powerful and well-written work on the Agincourt Hymn, Belcher played it with rhythmic tautness, seamless transitions, and passion. Belcher dedicated Franck’s Prière to victims of gun violence in the United States, particularly children and families. Her music slid to the floor as she got on the bench, and in unflappable style she quipped, “I’ll be a minute.” Though her tempo was a bit deliberate, from the outset she established a long flowing line, sometimes conducting with her arms. The Hill Auditorium organ provided the requisite beautiful sounds, and though she played with much conviction, the piece remained earthbound, lacking in ecstatic fervor at its climax. She was very much in her element in the Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor, however, playing with subtle yet crystal clear articulation, absolutely at ease.

The second half of the program included three movements from Messiaen’s Les Corps Glorieux—“Force et agilité des Corps Glorieux,” “Joie et clarté des Corps Glorieux,” and “Le Mystère de la Sainte-Trinité.” Belcher performed them with precision and clarity. She closed the program with Organ, Timbrel, and Dance by German composer Johannes Matthias Michel. “Swing Five,” based on the chorale Erhalt uns Herr, borrows rhythm from Dave Brubeck’s jazz classic Take Five, while the “Bossa Nova” (based on Wünderbarer König) is typical of that genre, although its harmonies are quite conventional. The “Afro Cuban,” using the tune In Dir Ist Freude, is largely a toccata based on rhythms borrowed from Bernstein’s “America” from West Side Story. The rhythmic gestures in these pieces, which Belcher handled well, bring them into the realm of jazz, but the tonal palette, though sprinkled with bluesy chords, is too vanilla to fully enter the style. The set of three energetic pieces made for a fun and unexpected end to an excellent concert, though, and a rousing close to the conference.

Kudos to conference administrator Colin Knapp (also a member of the “20 under 30” Class of 2015), who does an excellent job keeping on top of all the conference details, making sure things run smoothly, and thanks to the Michigan Organ Department faculty for collaborating to continue offering the conference.

Jonatan B. Hall and Joyce Johnson Robinson

Jonathan B. Hall writes frequently for The American Organist, THE DIAPASON, and The Tracker. He teaches music theory and music criticism at New York University and is music director of Central Presbyterian Church in Montclair, New Jersey. He serves on the American Guild of Organist’s Committee on Professional Certification. He is the author of Calvin Hampton, A Musician Without Borders (Wayne Leupold Editions).

 

Joyce Johnson Robinson is editorial director of The Diapason.

The American Guild of Organists 2016 National Convention was held in Houston, Texas, June 19—24. The hot, humid weather in Houston was not an issue indoors—all venues were air-conditioned, as were the buses that transported attendees. This year’s program book was much slimmer and trimmer (only 3/8” thick); many details were handled via an app for mobile devices (neither of the reviewers used it), and concert programs were provided at the venues. We were unable to attend every performance, but present here an account of those we did.

 

Sunday, June 19

Opening convocation, 

St. Martin’s Episcopal Church

The church is magnificently imposing—really, a Gothic cathedral-sized edifice. I sat in the rear balcony, near a window of St. Francis of Assisi with the Wolf of Gubbio and Julian of Norwich and her cat Isaiah. The convocation was impressive, and the only musical issues I had concerned the prelude and some of the choral singing. The prelude, which was most of the Third Symphony of Vierne (the finale was the postlude) and the Feierlicher Einzug of Richard Strauss, was suitable in terms of size and mood, but the music was persistently rushed. Especially in the first movement of the Vierne, the rising anacrustic figures needed much more space. The postlude suffered the same problem. The Gloria Dei Organ, Schoenstein & Co. Opus 145, is a grand four-manual, 80-rank instrument dating to 2004. It produced an imposing and impressive tone and did sonic justice to the French literature, not least in the reed department. The organist was not credited, though two were listed as “participants:” parish organist David Henning and Moseley Memorial Organ Scholar Grant Wareham.

The combined choir (St. Martin’s own choir plus that of St. Thomas) occasionally suffered from balance issues, at least from where I sat. In particular, the familiar I Was Glad displayed these. The anthem, With a Shining Like the Sun by David Ashley White, was exciting and effective, and the hymn arrangements by Craig Philips were energetic. White’s anthem was commissioned for this convention.

 

Monday, June 20

David Goode, 

Foundry United Methodist Church

David Goode’s recital was performed on a three-manual, 62-rank Wolff & Associates, the firm’s opus 45, installed in 2001. The organ has a strong French influence, though the keyboards are not (as Americans say) “reversed.” The organ makes an imposing appearance, classic towers and flats in a streamlined modern case. It harmonized well with the spacious neo-traditional architecture.

Goode opened with the Bach Toccata in E major, BWV 566, an early work showing the influence of the North German praeludium. Goode turned in a clean and convincing performance, the instrument’s clear plenum and lightly flexible wind showing the piece to advantage. The performance was stylishly conservative—not used as an occasion of display—and the result was very musically engaging. Next was a piece by Nancy Galbraith, Sing With All the Saints in Glory, commissioned for the Bayoubüchlein, a compilation created for the convention. This was an attractive piece, full of energy and zest, and featuring an episode on the Swell reeds, which showed them off extremely well. Goode ended with full organ and the obligatory dramatic final stop-pull. 

Next came the Mathias Partita, a difficult and complex work in three movements. The first movement was restless, featuring a recurring rapid figure in dotted rhythm. The second movement displayed Goode’s mastery of registration and especially use of the swell, as the piece beautifully built up and then down. The final movement was the most approachable, full of energy and a splashy ending. 

The Reger Ave Maria came next, and here the soprano ascendancy of the voicing was both noticeable and effective. A soft-spoken zimbelstern developed at one point, then vanished—a lone star on a misty evening. The final offering was the Dupré Variations on a Noël and was played with tremendous musicality; the most difficult variations always managed to sing. This, despite a tempo that few organists should attempt—very appropriate to the music but at the upper end of advisability. Goode’s performance of this piece was thrilling.

The room had decent acoustics, but I felt it would be an intimidating place to play. There was no room to hide; every seat was a front-row seat. In this laboratory-clean acoustical space, Goode handled the organ musically and convincingly. A first-rate job all around.

 

Monday evening

Michel Bouvard, 

Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart

This recital was designated the St. Cecilia Recital, endowed by the late Marianne Webb. 

As the organ console was in the loft and not visible, there were several screens in the nave. The camera work for these was the best I’ve ever seen, with several different angles in use. Michel Bouvard began with a transcription of Mendelssohn’s Variations sérieuses, op. 54, a piano work transcribed by Reitze Smits. Bouvard gave a very clean and professional performance, featuring a fine tempo and warm and room-filling registrations. The tone was continually varied: we heard reeds, mixtures, and flue work in continuous and effective alternation. Bouvard’s reading, essentially Apollonian, managed to release a Dionysian spirit from these elegiac, “serious” variations. After one tumultuous passage, a single high note was set aloft to die slowly. As the solstice had occurred only minutes before, I thought of a single firefly on the first evening of summer. 

Two branles—a branle is a Renaissance dance—came next, one by Claude Gervaise and one anonymous. I like this genre, and found these pieces attractive and representative. We then heard two French Classic organ pieces: the Récit de tierce en taille of de Grigny and the big Couperin Offertoire sur les grand jeux. I would not have minded the omission of either piece on this program, if only because the performances were so matter-of-fact. The former utilized a very penetrating cornet, and the latter was registered with taste and discretion. Ultimately, though, both pieces were exercises in great music played very accurately.

Much more interesting was the next work, Variations sur un noël basque, composed by the performer’s grandfather, Jean Bouvard. This was a very imaginative and wide-ranging piece, by turns mystical and extroverted, pungent and crunchy, flowing and busy. It was played with conviction. I would enjoy hearing it again.

The spirit of poetry had flitted in and out during this program; it was out during the next piece, the “Serene Alleluias” from Messiaen’s L’Ascension. I do not mean to suggest, by any means, that a “poetic” interpretation must include gimmicks such as excessive rubato or the like. On the contrary, it is an indefinable quality—a je ne sais quoi—that takes a correct performance (always the foundation) and makes it speak to the heart as well as the ear. As was the case with the de Grigny and Couperin, the Messiaen was played very accurately and with fine registration, but little more.

Joan Tower is a major name in American classical music. The next piece on the program was commissioned by the Houston convention and was titled Power Dance. Tower’s new piece contained much power but little dance. It consisted largely of chromatic scales in parallel and contrary motion, interspersed with furious toccata work. For me, to dance is to surrender power; the two terms are incompatible, and power won this time, with a long, argument-stopping final triad.

We then heard the Alain Trois Danses. The reeds called for at the outset were done full justice by Bouvard’s great registrational skill. The development of color continued throughout, climaxing in a terrifying roar of 32’ pedal reeds. 

There was some genuine magic in the final piece, the Duruflé Prélude et fugue sur le nom d’Alain, op. 7. I have never before heard a Vox Humana (in any language) so completely mimic wordless singing. The quiet, elegiac moments in the Prelude, especially when Litanies is quoted, were the most memorable moments of the recital. The Prelude, overall, was played rather too fast. The Fugue featured a marvelous buildup towards the final statement of the theme. 

 

Tuesday, June 21

Jonathan Rudy and Patrick Scott, Houston Baptist University 

This recital featured the 2014 winners of, respectively, the National Young Artists Competition in Organ Playing and the National Competition in Organ Improvisation. The program was accordingly devoted half to literature and half to improvisation. The venue, Belin Chapel of Houston Baptist University, is a beautiful circular space dominated by a large three-manual, 58-rank Orgues Létourneau instrument, the firm’s opus 116. Jonathan Rudy opened the program with the Bach Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543ii. I appreciate the programming choice: it is not always necessary to play “both halves” of a prelude and fugue. Rudy was a touch nervous at the outset, but quickly steadied and delivered a ringing, musical performance. He is all concentration and seriousness at the console; all of the expressiveness goes into the music. 

The next piece, the Saint-Saëns Fantasy No. 2 in D-flat, op. 101, is too long for its own good. Well constructed and studded with beautiful moments, it’s nevertheless one of those pieces that acts as its own worst enemy. Despite this, Rudy gave it a well-prepared and thoroughly musical performance. In particular, the climactic crescendo was managed very nicely. 

The first half closed with a movement from Pamela Decker’s Faneuil Hall, titled “Fugue: Liberty and Union Now and Forever.” Rudy came into his own with this piece, handling its manifold ferocities with great skill. The pedal work, in particular, was superb. The performance was seamless, thrilling, and altogether convincing. At the end, the performer graciously acknowledged the composer, who was in the audience—and without doubt, thrilled to the marrow.

Patrick Scott began his half of the program with a Triptych on Duke Street. He began with an epic statement—a tutti effect not heard from the organ yet on the program—and presented a complete piece in ABA form. The second movement, a scherzo, was quite enjoyable. Consistency shone through: he chose an idea and stuck with it, keeping on message during all of the surprising transformations of the theme. He ended with a dignified fugue on the hymn tune. The fugue waxed complicated, but he brought the music to a rousing conclusion.

The next subject for improvisation was Kathleen Thomerson’s hymn tune Houston. Perhaps chosen in part for its name, as well as for its enduring popularity, it’s worth noting that 2016 is the fiftieth birthday of this hymn, also known as “I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light.” Perhaps that was another reason it was used today. In any case, Scott gave the audience warm buttery tones and an elegiac introduction, playing a quiet reed off the harmonic flute. Canon was in evidence. He built up to a final chorus that, while it held few surprises, uplifted and celebrated the tune. 

Deep in the Heart of Texas was an exercise in theatre-organ camp, as well as the heaviest tremulants the organ offered (and they were heavy enough). More a rousing movie-house rendition than anything else, with no subtlety that I could detect, it nevertheless elicited whoops and yips from the audience members who “got it.”

The submitted themes were two: Coronation and Laudes Domini, or “All Hail the Power” and “When Morning Gilds the Skies.” I noted the possibility of a quodlibet approach—some kind of combination of two themes with an upbeat and the same meter—but Scott chose to present the two essentially in sequence, building a chorale that moved to a climax, much in the manner of Gerre Hancock. 

Both Jonathan Rudy and Patrick Scott are rapidly developing artists, and it will be a pleasure to hear from them again in the future.

 

Tuesday afternoon 

Hymn Festival with David Cherwien,

St. Luke’s United Methodist Church

David Cherwien was the organist for this festival (playing the 2001/2014 four-manual, 77-rank Schantz organ), with Monica Griffin reading Susan Palo Cherwien’s poetic reflections between several of the offerings. This was supported by the Chancel Choir of the church, a brass quartet, a flutist, and a cellist. The sight of a massed, vested choir in that space brought to mind a time that has almost vanished, when traditional forms of Protestant Christianity were almost literally the voice of America. I felt a very old power in the room, and a good one at that.

Cherwien studied with Paul Manz, and the kindly and inventive spirit of the late master was clearly to be heard in the improvisations and accompaniments today. We opened with a grand anthem by Cherwien, To God Be Highest Glory and Praise, based on the third chapter of Daniel. A dramatic segue led us into the opening hymn.

I wish that our hymn festivals, this one included, would summon up the courage to focus on the grand, popular hymns of the past, rather than to continue to cheer for loud boiling test tubes like Earth and All Stars. (Here, though, the introduction was sheer delight, playing off a Bach minuet.) Similarly, the effort to lift up a more recent hymn—in this case, Thomas Pavlechko’s tune Jenkins—fell flat to my ears. I found this hymn both didactic and sullen; thankfully, no verse began “when our song says joy.” The text was off-putting in its repeated “we will trust the song,” a vacant sentiment. (Again, Cherwien’s interpretation was first-rate, including a toccata depicting “and the world says war.”) But when we came to When Peace, Like a River, that hymn of hard-won resignation and faith, the depth of shared feeling was palpable and intense. For that moment, I was entirely merged with the community, my critical distance abandoned, my faith in flower.

Cherwien did an excellent job with Yigdal, creating a partita out of the accompaniment. There was a thrillingly unexpected decrescendo, a quiet passage on flutes against the cantus on a principal, a fugal passage leading to the last verse (I thought of the Ninth Symphony), a grand finale with brass—wonderful, all of it.

David Cherwien was in top form for this event, and Susan’s reflections were poetic and thought-provoking. All in all, a memorable hymn festival. Just more oldies next time, please.

 

Tuesday evening

Richard Elliott with Brass of the Houston Symphony, 

First Presbyterian Church

The program (on Aeolian-Skinner Organ Co. Opus 912A, rebuilt by Schoenstein & Co. in 1993, three manuals, 72 ranks) followed an interesting format: first we had brass alone, then brass with organ, then organ alone. (The concert was preceded by a Texas barbecue, which was brilliant in an entirely different way.) The opening piece, Scherzo for Brass Quintet by John Cheetham, was a charming and effective curtain-raiser, and the playing was as tight and stylish as one could hope for—polished brass indeed!

Next was a piece commissioned for the convention, Rhapsody for Brass Quintet and Organ, by Eric Ewazen. At the outset, the brass takes the lead and the organ joins in on some abrupt chordal punctuations. Here, the timing was perfect and the musicianship altogether impressive. The piece is very attractive, a classical work in a contemporary voice, and it should prove accessible and popular. A spacious and substantial composition, it is also well organized, a trait to be appreciated. The composer took a deserved bow at the end.

At this point, the brass took their leave, and the rest of the program was for organ solo. We heard first the Reger fantasy opus 40, no. 1, on Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern. Richard Elliott rendered this work extremely well; we heard a rich range of sonorities and fine, poetic playing. The pacing was just right, and the architecture of the piece was rendered clearly. The next piece, a chorale prelude on Christe, redemptor omnium by C. Hubert H. Parry, was of course dwarfed by the Reger we’d just heard, but was rendered sweetly and idiomatically. S. Andrew Lloyd’s meditation on Herzlich tut mich verlangen, composed in 2014, began with a hauntingly hollow tone (the Nason Flute of the Choir?) and then presented the tune to a rapid filigree of accompaniment. The music grew more and more energetic, ending on a note of triumph and affirmation. A fine work by a younger composer.

The recital ended with a guaranteed crowd pleaser, Lynnwood Farnam’s Toccata on O Filii et Filiae. What more can be said about this short but imposing piece? Elliott played it to perfection and brought the recital home on a familiar note.

 

Wednesday, June 22

Isabelle Demers, with Michael N. Jacobson, alto saxophone,

Rice University, Shepherd School of Music, Edythe Bates Old
Recital Hall

The program (played on C. B. Fisk, Inc., Opus 109/Rosales Organ Builders Opus 21, three manuals, 84 ranks) contained a nod to the centennial of Max Reger’s death. The five pieces on the program, bookended by Reger, were explained in the program as somehow spelling the five letters in his name, a kind of soggetto cavato.

The opening work was Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, BWV 903, arranged by Reger. I didn’t know what to expect, as I was struck (even intimidated) by the sheer size of the organ in comparison with the room. An organ of that size and tone could easily fill several times the cubic footage of the recital hall. Built out to the very walls and close to the high roof, the instrument looked trapped. However, when the first elegantly phrased runs of the Bach sang out, I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of acoustic the room did offer. Isabelle Demers played from memory and used a very wide variety of registrations to realize the piece—far more color than the original harpsichord would have allowed. Reger added quite a bit to the original score; the final product is almost as much Reger as Bach, and I found it convincing. The performance was a tour de force. 

The Dupré Fileuse from Suite Bretonne was next, and again Demers played from memory. She has an entirely natural and unaffected presence and focuses intensively on the music. There was a great moment of showmanship in the final, lightly rolled chord. The performance was once again thrilling.

Michael Jacobson entered at this point to play the saxophone part of Réverie: Hommage à Francis Poulenc. This composition, by Luke Mayernik, was another commission for the Houston convention. There was a problem at the outset, in that the two instrumentalists didn’t tune. Yes, the organist played a note and then the saxophonist played a note, but they were not quite the same note and nothing was done about it. The music that followed was disturbingly out of tune.

As an organist who regularly works with a classical saxophonist, I was bothered by the haste and carelessness of the tuning process. Saxophones can and should play in tune—to imply otherwise is unacceptable. My sense of the piece may have been negatively affected by this issue. I also felt there were balance issues; the saxophone has uncanny carrying power, and can often outplay full organ, but here the organ frequently overwhelmed it. There were tuneful moments in the piece, and even hints of Poulenc’s wry sweetness. Still, I heard little neo-classical detachment or intellectuality. The piece rambled pleasantly enough in a romantic vein, but was more atmospheric than substantial. Then again, perhaps it was just out of tune. I’d like to hear it again.

A premiere followed the commission: Rachel Laurin’s Humoresque: Hommage à Marcel Dupré, op. 77. Demers shone in this delightful offering. It was a lovely revisiting of the Dupré Fileuse that we’d just heard, both recognizable and stylistically apt. The final coquettish chord—identical to that of the Dupré—was greeted with delighted laughter.

The final piece, Reger’s Hallelujah! Gott zu loben, op. 52, no. 3, was played from memory. The piece was rendered magnificently, and only in the final, massive, plagal cadence did I finally feel that the organ out-played the room. There were jarring clashes of harmonics as wave crashed into wave. This was not altogether the fault of the organist, who should be able to register with a free hand. In any case, it is the only other small concern I might raise about a spectacular recital.

 

Thursday, June 23

Ken Cowan, 

Rice University, Shepherd School of Music, Edythe Bates Old
Recital Hall 

The next afternoon, I was back at Rice, this time to hear the resident organist, Ken Cowan, in another excellent recital that had definite links to Demers’. The term intertextuality, borrowed from literary criticism, is apt here. As Demers’ program featured several works that talked to one another, Cowan’s program talked to Demers’. A fascinating and very advanced programming concept.

After an exceptionally personable and self-confident introduction, Cowan began with Homage to Bach and Widor by Emma Lou Diemer, commissioned for this convention. He played from memory. The music contained feints at the Liszt BACH (if not Franck’s Choral in A Minor!) and the Air on the G String, as well as quotations from the (in)famous Widor Toccata. While the performance was excellent—filled with confidence and superb musicianship—the music itself veered toward pastiche. Some of the quotations seemed gratuitous, and a joke or two may have fallen flat. However, in context of Demers’ recital the day previous, the theme of intertextuality—Bach via Reger, Dupré via Laurin, Poulenc via Mayernik—continued with another “homage” replete with quotation, this time Bach and Widor via Diemer. The programming, not just of this recital but of the previous one considered with it, was utterly fascinating.

The Roger-Ducasse Pastorale was next, and again Cowan delivered a world-class performance. He achieved a real spatial separation in a passage of quick manual changes, a wonderful effect. Virtuosity again reigned in the Toccata of Jean Guillou, a piece one might describe by paraphrasing Alice in Wonderland: furioser and furioser! Cowan handled this vast expressionist work with ease.

After this, I heard the best Danse Macabre of my life. The oft-heard main theme was fleshed out with the rest of what Saint-Saëns wrote. Cowan opened with an uncanny chiming effect that must have been rendered on high mutations. Dawn finally came, to the sweet sounds of the Rossignol. The entire piece was played wonderfully well and made a great impression.

The final piece was by Rachel Laurin (more intertextuality!): her Étude héroïque. This is an arresting and accessible piece, dazzling to watch as well as hear. Cowan brought out its dramatic harmonic progressions and diverse moods. Though very difficult, the work is not grotesquely or impossibly so, and could certainly be performed more widely. I hope that will be its fate!

 

Thursday evening

John Schwandt and Aaron David Miller, with Melissa Givens, soprano and narrator; Houston Symphony, Brett Mitchell, conductor; video production by Stage Directions;

St. Martin’s Episcopal Church

I was very intrigued, upon arriving back at St. Martin’s (to end the convention as it had begun), to see that the opening item on the program was a greeting from Colonel Jeff Williams of the International Space Station. I was hoping for some reference at the convention to the role Houston has played in American’s space program, and I was going to get it. But I viewed the rest of the program with a little trepidation. Space station—Hildegard—something about cornfields—improvisations—concertos—! I wondered if the program had bitten off more than it could chew. My fears turned out to be groundless, literally as well as figuratively.

On the big screen in front of the chancel, Col. Williams sent us a warm, personalized message about the convention, tying it in to the beauty of the earth itself. We then saw glorious images of the Earth from the ISS—a man-made heavenly body one may easily track across the night sky. These images gave way to others from the Hubble Space Telescope. The cosmic imagery continued to play across the screen, offering a visual continuity for the entire concert. Only when the music of Hildegard was sung did the imagery switch to her extraordinary artworks. The music, including improvisations by both of the featured organists, a duet, and two concertos, all harmonized astonishingly well with the context asserted by the visuals. The convention commission was titled Interstellar: Cornfield Chase, by Hans Zimmer, arranged by Aaron David Miller as a duet. The two organists worked very well together, and the music featured one of the organ’s chimes as well as a wonderfully atmospheric (if not entirely chase-like) ambience. Hildegard’s songs, though chant-like, contained wonderfully expressive moments and some daring leaps.

It must be admitted that some of the music was soundtrack-like, reminiscent of the “two hours of cosmic music” videos one encounters on YouTube. However, it was more than that, as it featured a good deal of rigorous invention as well as a “cosmic” flavor. And frankly, I found the latter refreshing.

It would be difficult to prefer one of the improvisers over the other; both are able practitioners and did themselves credit. Both had an eye to improvising on the Hildegard theme that had just been sung, as well as accompanying the images on the screen, silent-movie-like. Likewise, both interacted with the orchestra seamlessly; Miller with the Howard Hanson Concerto for Organ, Harp and Strings, op. 22/3, and John Schwandt with the Poulenc. Both concertos were played with excellent balance and interpretation. An interesting detail involved the transitions from the improvisations into the concertos: in both cases they were handled as attaccas, the orchestra quickly tuning the instant the organ stopped. There was a lot of space but no dead air.

The Poulenc, wisely, was placed last, as it was the most intensely energetic music on the program and guided our re-entry to earth as the convention ended. To use another cosmic metaphor, the Houston AGO convention ended with a big bang.

The concluding reception was exceptional, with Tex-Mex food and the “passing of the torch” to the Kansas City team. What they will cook up, besides barbecue, one can only imagine.

—Jonathan B. Hall

Monday, June 20

Rising Stars Recitals, 

St. Thomas’s Episcopal Church

The recitals were played on St. Thomas’s three-manual, 43-rank Schoenstein & Co. organ, an instrument that could be made to sound much larger than its actual size. Madeleine Woodworth (Great Lakes Region) began, playing a memorized program of Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543, and Dupré’s Variations sur un Noël. The Bach fugue was taken at a very brisk tempo, using the same registration throughout. Woodworth had mastered the counterpoint and accents and recovered well from a minor slipup. The Dupré variations were a fine choice for this organ; especially nice was the flute in the fifth variation. 

Next up was Chase Loomer (Southeast Region), also playing from memory, beginning with Howells’s Psalm Prelude Set 1, no. 1, op. 32, no. 1. He built lovely crescendos and decrescendos and offered sensitive playing in the very soft sections. He concluded with Liszt’s Präludium und Fuge über den Namen BACH, S. 260, a complete contrast in dynamic and mood, delivered with confidence and sensitivity.

David Ball (North Central Region) began with a commissioned work by Ryan Dodge, Psalm 30: For you changed my mourning into dancing, a jazz-tinged, free-form piece that utilized higher-pitched stops against lower, thick chords, then broke out into the “dancing.” This was followed by a nicely done reading of Samuel Barber’s Wondrous Love: Variations on a shape-note hymn, op. 34. Ball finished strongly, with Mozart’s Fantasie in F Minor, K. 608; exploiting the piece’s strong contrasts and moods and most clearly demonstrating the main versus the antiphonal divisions of the organ.

Jeremy Jelinek (Mid-Atlantic Region) played a memorized program, of Alain’s Litanies (quite fast!) and Fantasmagorie (from Quatre oeuvres pour orgue), demonstrating the organ’s lovely flutes, and closing with Duruflé’s Prélude et Fugue sur le nom d’Alain, played with elegance and assurance. In the fugue, he built up a marvelous crescendo, always able to add a bit more.

Monica Czausz (Southwest Region) offered contemporary works, performed from memory: John Ireland’s Capriccio, a pleasant, cheerful piece that began on the flutes and grew dynamically; Alain’s Deuxième Fantaisie, in a wonderful, mystical reading, and Final (from Hommage à Igor Stravinsky) by Naji Hakim, in which Czausz tossed off the rapid manual changes in this difficult piece with aplomb. She certainly displayed mastery of the organ console, with an easy facility of stop and manual changes.

Tyler Boehmer (West Region) presented a refreshing mix of works. He began by accompanying a tenor singing Bach’s aria Ich habe genug, with his own transcription of the accompaniment, then performed a lovely atmospheric piece, Eden (from The Three Gardens), by S. Andrew Lloyd. The flutes and strings were on display, and the work (which I heard quoting Victimae paschali laudes), ended with a whisper. Boehmer concluded with a fine rendering of Dupré’s Résurrection (from Symphonie-Passion).

Colin MacKnight (Northeast Region) closed with a memorized program that began with the Impromptu from Vierne’s 24 Pièces de Fantaisie, Suite No. 3, op. 54, no. 2, all relaxed and pretty, followed by a very nicely done Andante espressivo from Elgar’s Sonata, op. 28. He closed the morning off with a showstopper, Rachel Laurin’s Étude Héroïque, op. 38, a multi-sectional, broadly assertive piece that opened on full organ. After backing off a bit, the piece grew more majestic, and MacKnight displayed much registrational color and rhythm. The opening bravado returned, to close the work on full organ. MacKnight made fine use of the antiphonal division.

 

Monday afternoon

Marie-Bernadette Dufourcet,

Church of St. John the Divine

Marie-Bernadette Dufourcet presented an all-French program on the five-manual, 143-rank Opus 97 (2005) Orgues Létourneau organ at the Church of St. John the Divine. I was seated in the balcony, directly in front of the antiphonal division; it was probably not the ideal location from which to hear the organ, and most every piece sounded quite loud to me. Dufourcet’s recital was bookended by works of Naji Hakim, opening with Arabesques, which exhibited rhythmic outbursts and theatre-organ stylistic elements. Next she presented one of her own compositions, Image, which opened in an impressionistic style using flute and tremolo; she demonstrated many different registrations, including gapped combinations. This was followed by a muscular performance of the Allegro vivace from Widor’s Symphony No. 5, in which the power of this immense instrument was unleashed, including the pedal division’s 64′ stops. 

Her sweet and relaxed performance of Durufle’s Scherzo, op. 2, featured lots of clear upperwork and the organ’s lovely string division. The Fantaisie from Tournemire’s L’orgue mystique, op. 55, no. 7, opened with a rumbling bass and chant snippets, and featured mixture-laden flourishes and heroic chords moving slowly in non-traditional patterns. Dufourcet concluded her program with Naji Hakim’s Fandango, commissioned for the convention; I would describe it as “a Spanish dance goes to a roller rink.” It included a touch of the Zimbelstern and was rollicking great fun—an exuberant close to the recital.

 

Monday afternoon

Ludger Lohmann, 

St. Philip Presbyterian Church

Ludger Lohmann played a mixed program ranging from Buxtehude (born c. 1637) to Chen (born 1983), demonstrating how the 48-stop, unequal temperament Paul Fritts & Company organ could successfully present repertoire of many styles and periods. Like Dufourcet’s, the program design was bookended, here via Bach. Beginning with Bach’s Fantasie und Fuge g-moll, BWV 542, played without registrational changes, he proceeded to Buxtehude’s Choralfantasie ‘Nun freut euch, lieben Christen gmein.’ The variations were solidly played and ornamented, and featured delicious registrational combinations (and chiff!). 

Next up with Chelsea Chen’s delightful commissioned work, Chorale-Prelude on Bethold, a charming piece with dancing lines that sounded lovely with the organ’s flutes. The mood changed with Brahms’s Choralvorspiel und Fuge über ‘O Traurigkeit, o Herzeleid,’ and this lovely recital closed with the matching bookend, Liszt’s Präludium und Fuge über BACH. It was certainly a different experience hearing this work on a Baroque-style organ (especially the winding system), but it was musically successful and a most satisfying close.

 

Tuesday, June 21

The Rodland Duo, 

Episcopal Church of the Epiphany

Organist Catherine Rodland was joined by her sister, violist Carol Rodland. The 23-rank, two-manual, Vallotti-temperament 1983 Noack organ was a delightful counterpart to the rich sound of the viola, in a clear and friendly acoustic. This recital was wonderfully refreshing after hearing large instruments and repertoire to match; the room and the music invited me to relax and drink in the sonorities. The program began with Bach—first the Sonata in D Major, BWV 1028, for organ and viola, including creatively playing the accompaniment on a 4′ stop (thus above the viola’s line), with the bass line on the second manual. Next was Bach’s setting of Vivaldi’s Concerto in A Minor, BWV 593, for organ only—a fine choice for this instrument, and well played. Three works by living composers followed. David Liptak’s Ballast featured high clusters on the organ, with the viola playing bouncing thirds in different ranges, after which things really took off, though still grounded by the thirds. Adolphus Hailstork’s Lenten Mourning Tears, the commissioned work, presented free-form melodies that had a folk-tune or spiritual cast to them; it was lovely and atmospheric. The program closed with John Weaver’s Three Chorale Preludes for Viola and Organ—sturdy settings of Wondrous Love, with a canon at the fifth; the lullabying Land of Rest; and a martial Foundation. 

 

Wednesday, June 22

Edoardo Bellotti, 

Christ the King Lutheran Church 

Edoardo Bellotti presented a captivating program on the two-manual, 35-rank 1995 Noack organ, of eighteenth-century pieces that sandwiched in the commissioned work. Bellotti began with his own adaptation of Vivaldi’s Concerto ‘La Notte,’ op. 10, no. 2. Following the opening Largo, the second movement, Fantasmi (“Ghosts”), demonstrated the clarity a tracker instrument could produce. Movement 3, Il Sonno (“Sleep”), chordal progressions over an arpeggiated tenor line, was played using flute and tremulant; the fourth and final movement featured a do-re-mi-re-do-re-mi melodic pattern that would link this piece to the recital’s final work, Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in D Major, BWV 532. 

The second work, Domenico Zipoli’s All’Elevazione in F, was dedicated to the memory of the late Jacques van Oortmerssen. It was followed by the commissioned composition, Hans-Ola Ericsson’s God’s Angels Are His Messengers, a setting that began dissonantly with the tune in the pedal underneath a heavy ostinato-filled texture, and proceeded to powerful chord clusters. This was followed by Bengt Hambraeus’s chorale, God’s Angels Are His Messengers, sung by the audience; the chorale, part of the Hambraeus St. Michael’s Liturgy, is a sturdy tune in F-minor that ends on the dominant. 

The mood then lightened appreciably, with Haydn’s three-movement Symphonie L’Imperiale as transcribed by J. C. Bach. The first movement was charming (one does not hear an Alberti bass often in an organ recital!); Bellotti changed registrations for the repeats, which kept things fresh. In the Andante con Variationi, he treated us to the Rossignol and high upperwork, then in the closing Minuetto, utilized a full, reedy palette for a strong conclusion. The final work was Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in D Major, BWV 532, authoritatively played at a brisk tempo. From where I sat, some of the organ’s stops were a bit sluggish in the ensemble, and their slower speech in the rapid tempo made for a bit of muddiness. But all in all, a most satisfying and delightful program and performance.

 

Wednesday evening 

The Choir of St. Thomas Church, Fifth Avenue, New York City, 

Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart 

This concert was our second opportunity to hear Martin Pasi’s four-manual, 75-stop Opus 19 (having first heard it played by Michel Bouvard on June 20). The instrument boasts versatility and glorious sound, and it is at home in the contemporary architecture of the Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart.

Surely none of those who planned this concert had any idea that at this convention the Choir of St. Thomas Church, Fifth Avenue would be led by anyone other than John Scott. Scott’s sudden passing on August 12, 2015, shocked the community of organists and church musicians, and some of this feeling still lingered in the air.

But the choir was in the best of hands, and Scott would certainly have been pleased. Benjamin Sheen, St. Thomas’s acting director of music, and Stephen Buzard, St. Thomas’s acting organist, led the St. Thomas choir in a stirring, finely crafted program (mostly chosen by Scott himself) that lacked for nothing. 

The concert began with the choir singing a cappella early music from the front of the wonderfully resonant co-cathedral. After two English works, John Sheppard’s Libera nos, salva nos (in seven parts) and Tallis’s Magnificat octavi toni, the choir took a break and Stephen Buzard played Bach’s Komm, heiliger Geist, O Herre Gott (BWV 651, one of the “Great Eighteen”), a fine, stylish performance on Martin Pasi’s Opus 19. Next was an energetic performance of Byrd’s Laudibus in sanctis, then Bach’s motet Komm, Jesu, komm (BWV 229), with an unobtrusive continuo accompaniment. 

Leaping forward into the twentieth century, the choir sang Bernard Rose’s Feast Song for St. Cecilia, with a marvelous soaring solo treble line, and the Sanctus and Benedictus from Francis Grier’s Missa trinitatis sanctae, again featuring soaring solos in treble and tenor; the blend in the “Hosanna in excelsis” was amazingly pure. 

Benjamin Sheen then switched from his role as conductor to that of organist, delivering a fine reading of Rhapsody in D-flat Major, op. 17, no. 1, by Herbert Howells that put the powerful Pasi instrument on glorious display. During this, the choir made its way up to the balcony (where they sounded even better). They performed John Ireland’s Greater Love hath No Man, then reverenced the memories of Gerre Hancock with their performance of his Judge Eternal (commissioned for the 1988 AGO convention in Houston), and of John Scott, with their performance of his Behold, O God Our Defender. And to crown the program the choir offered a muscular I Was Glad by C. H. H. Parry, with a stirring crescendo on the word “Glorious” that guaranteed goosebumps. The audience’s ovation went on and on, and only an encore would stop it: Gerre Hancock’s thrillingly quiet setting of Deep River. Rest in peace, John Scott.

—Joyce Johnson Robinson

Jean-Emmanuel Filet

Jean-Emmanuel Filet, born in Périgueux, France, in 1986, studied harmony, counterpoint, composition, piano, organ, and chamber music at the Conservatoire de Bordeaux. He earned a doctorate in composition at the University of Montreal, Canada, and studied conducting of contemporary repertoire at the Conservatorio della Svizzera Italiana da Lugano in Switzerland. The winner of several competitions in improvisation and composition, he has composed solo, chamber, and orchestral works, including an opera, H. P. L. Outsider, based on the life and work of American writer Howard Phillips Lovecraft. 

The name of French composer Fernand de La Tombelle is nowadays somewhat forgotten, but this man was renowned during his lifetime, even outside of France. To give but one example, he composed a Fantaisie de concert for organ especially for the inauguration of Chicago’s Auditorium Theater instrument.¹ Moreover, many of his organ compositions were dedicated to American organists, and some of these musicians were the first to perform La Tombelle’s music.²

Baron Fernand de La Tombelle was a composer, pianist, and organist, a pedagogue and lecturer, a poet and writer. He was well versed in folklore and photography and was a talented amateur painter. An excellent cyclist, he was also keen on astronomy and archaeology. 

As a composer, his great concern for form and the clarity of his musical ideas make him a fine example of French Romantic Classicism following his teachers and friends Alexandre Guilmant, Théodore Dubois, and Camille Saint-Saëns. Except for opera, La Tombelle tried his hand at almost every genre, and in abundance (one can estimate his works to nearly 500 opus numbers). Obviously, everything has not the same interest but many compositions have musical value. Among his masterpieces, chamber music has a special place (he was awarded the Grand Prix Chartier de l’Institut for his chamber music in 1896) and also his choral music. In France, during the Belle Epoque, La Tombelle was one of the most important composers of vocal works for male choirs (chœurs d’Orphéon). In the latter part of his life, he turned increasingly towards religious music, writing majestic oratorios and cantatas.³ Furthermore, as a way to democratize classical music and decentralize it from the almighty Parisian Milieu, he composed many hymns, motets, and Masses for a wide range of performers, both professionals and amateurs.⁴ Musical life in France had always been more or less ruled by people in Paris, but fortunately some regional masters tried to make music a vivid reality in other parts of the country.

Moreover, La Tombelle was a fine instrumentalist, first taught by his mother (a pupil of Thalberg and Liszt) and then by Guilmant. He was the official piano accompanist of the Trocadéro concerts, initiated by Alexandre Guilmant at the Paris World’s Fair in 1878. La Tombelle discovered the organ around 1870 at the Cathédrale Saint-Etienne de Toulouse through the local organist, Jules Leybach. His later studies with Guilmant confirmed his affinity for the instrument. He often substituted for Guilmant and Dubois, at La Trinité and at La Madeleine, where he was assistant organist from 1885 to 1898. He played inaugural concerts on several instruments⁵ and was a talented performer.

La Tombelle contributed to the foundation of the Schola Cantorum in 1896 along with Charles Bordes, Vincent d’Indy, and Alexandre Guilmant. There, he taught harmony for about ten years. He was sought after as a lecturer, as he could speak knowledgeably on a wide range of musical topics.

Fernand de La Tombelle composed texts as well as music, with poetry one of his favorite means of expression. Quite often he set his own texts to music. He wrote articles and books on music, theatrical fantaisies, and well-developed travelogues (as a member of the Automobile Club du Périgord he wrote about their excursions around France). More surprisingly, he wrote a small culinary work: Les pâtés de Périgueux!

Although born in Paris (on August 3, 1854), La Tombelle had family roots in the Périgord region through his mother. Périgord remained the region closest to his heart, which is why he spent the greater part of his life in his château of Fayrac (see photo above). A staunch supporter of local customs, he set many popular regional themes to music, as did Julien Tiersot, Louis-Albert Bourgault-Ducoudray, Vincent D’Indy, Joseph Canteloube, and Maurice Emmanuel in other parts of France. 

 

Works for organ

For much of his life La Tombelle composed for his favorite instrument, the organ. (See list of his organ works, below.) Two previously unpublished works are now available in print. Epithalame for violin and piano (or organ) was composed around 1897 (Editions Delatour France DLT2479). (Epithalame refers to a nuptial lyrical poem sung for newlyweds in ancient Greece.) The opening measures of the manuscript are shown in Example 1. Jeanne d’Arc is a suite of symphonic episodes for organ (Editions Delatour France DLT2478). 

 

Jeanne d’Arc

Jeanne d’Arc occupies a very special place in La Tombelle’s œuvre. His largest work for organ, it is forty-five minutes in length. La Tombelle was offered the commission to compose this work in 1905 thanks to the bishop of Périgueux and Sarlat. This suite of nine movements narrating the life of Joan of Arc was first performed by the composer on the Merklin organ of Notre-Dame de Bergerac (in Périgord) on June 4, 1905. In France, the law establishing the separation of church and state was enacted in 1905, ending the Concordat, which established the Roman Catholic Church as the majority church of France. Thus, the subject of the composition was not trivial at all in such a period of turmoil. During this time of fracture between Catholics and exacerbated anticlericalists, Joan, a daughter of God and also a child of France, was considered a unifying and comforting figure for a country stricken with doubt over the Concordat. This “hagiographic symphony” is made up of five parts divided into nine movements. It gives a chronological account of the main events in Joan of Arc’s life: from her birthplace in Domrémy, to her death at the stake in Rouen and her subsequent glory. La Tombelle utilizes musical forms in vogue at that time (march, pastorale, cantilena, symphonic poem, and so on), cleverly working them into the narrative. 

We know very little about the genesis of the composition; nevertheless, a letter to Abbé Cyprien Boyer (composer and a professor at the seminary of Bergerac, pupil of Guilmant and close friend of La Tombelle) of March 1905 gives us some information:

 

My Dear Monsieur l’Abbé

Thank you for your kind letter. As it tarried a little to come, I wrote yesterday to Mr Bernachot, but my letter is now useless since you are telling me that everything will be done as I wish. So please let him know that he need not bother himself.

I have almost completed my work on the composition. I just have to write a Triumphal March for Reims. It is quite difficult because I want to avoid a march with big military effects, which would be of the worst taste (though pleasant for many people) and on the other hand, to compose a Triumphal March without bombard, it is a delicate problem to solve.

I recommend to you the beginning Pastorale, n°2, Apparition of St Michael, and n°8 (the voices in the jail). I think you will be pleased. This will be archaism inserted in the most exalted modernism! Palestrina and Debussy!!

With much friendship and see you on June the 4th!⁶

From an aesthetic point of view, the score is closer to Guilmant (the two last movements call to mind his famous Marche funèbre et Chant séraphique) and Saint-Saëns (La Tombelle’s Entrée triomphale reminds one of the Marche du synode from the opera Henri VIII) than to Palestrina and Debussy. The style, however, also reveals occasional colors of the Franckist movement. Besides, there are hints of the early works of Fauré in some mysterious melodic and harmonic progressions. Plainchant is used twice (the Te Deum and the introit Gaudeamus omnes in domino), for the two movements of the coronation of Charles VII. 

The unity of the piece is further ensured through the use of two main themes: one for Joan (Example 2) and one for the Archangel (Example 3). Running through the composition, they are linked together and superimposed using numerous rhythmic and melodic variations as the events unfold. Other recurring motifs also appear at significant times, all of them with a specific meaning.

The first part of the composition, divided into two movements, evokes the life of young Joan in her native countryside of Domrémy and is a true introduction to the whole work by presenting the two main musical ideas. The first piece is a Pastorale, mostly based on a modal theme using the characteristic triplet rhythm and played on the also typical sound of the oboe stop (Example 4). This first movement is also an excuse to introduce wo cyclical elements: the rhythmical pattern symbolizing Domrémy and the melodic theme of Joan (Example 5). 

The short second piece is Apparition de Saint Michel (Vision of St. Michael). The melodic theme of the Archangel is presented in the left hand, accompanied very softly in the high register of the instrument by an ostinato of triplets. This mélodie accompagnée evokes the voices that pushed Joan to leave her birthplace and go to help her country against the English invasion and to help her king to be officially crowned before God at Reims Cathedral (a city held by the Burgundians, allied to the king of England). (See Example 6.)

The second part of the composition, in one developed movement, is a very descriptive symphonic poem using all the cyclical themes or motives of the work. The title is Vers Chinon—Vers Orléans (Toward Chinon—toward Orléans). 

The music illustrates first, on the cyclical pattern representing the Ride, Joan’s journey from Domrémy to Château Chinon where she met the king. La Tombelle uses some bars of an old dance, the pavane, to depict the nonchalant and frivolous court of Charles VII. Then a dialogue is made between this dance and Joan’s theme, the latter each time more persuasive. At last, she convinced the king to action.

The second half of the symphonic poem is a well-prepared crescendo, increasingly stirring and heroic, on the Ride pattern and Joan’s theme. This is the battle to free the city of Orléans! Victory is expressed, at the end, with a fortissimo and by using the Archangel theme (Example 6) and Domrémy’s pattern. Now, the young country girl became the standard bearer of an army.

With the third part of La Tombelle’s work, we find ourselves at the king’s coronation in Reims Cathedral. Two movements describe this episode.

The first movement is a Triumphal March in ABA′ form, with its two specific musical themes (one for A, another for the “trio” part B). During part A′, Domrémy’s pattern is inserted in the solemn procession and superimposed on the other melodic element. A short coda uses the Gregorian chant Te Deum. Everything is ready to start the royal ceremony.

The second piece, Action de Grâce (Blessing), is again a mélodie accompagnée. The right hand plays a cantilena on the trumpet stop. This musical phrase is inspired by the Gregorian chant Gaudeamus omnes in Domino and includes references to Joan’s and the Archangel’s themes. A neutral rhythm of triplets gives a soft background to this time of prayer.

Rouen, Normandy! In the short but expressive fourth part of the composition, Joan has been captured, abandoned by her king, and waits for her trial. The first piece evokes La Prison (the Jail). Thick and tortured sonorities, chromatic lines and harmonies give no comfort to her (Example 7). The dungeon is no place even for thought. Therefore, this movement is the only one where we cannot find any typical pattern or theme.

But after that, in an extreme sweetness, whisper Les Voix (the Voices) on the Vox Coelestis stop. This second movement is based on some fragments of the Archangel’s theme. Very cloudy harmonies gradually disappear in the sky.

The fifth and last part of La Tombelle’s musical epic is Le Bûcher—Le Ciel (the Stake—Heaven). In the first movement, Joan is condemned to death by fire for her heresy. For that reason, the composer employs a merciless Marche funèbre (funeral march) to describe the scene. The Ride pattern is the main element here, but modified, no longer for a run toward victory. Also present is Joan’s theme, diminished and tormented, but fighting to the end. Unfortunately, the scaffold and the flames are stronger than anything. After a great climax and a long diminuendo, one can hear the Archangel melody, amplified and broad. 

Apothéose (Apotheosis) concludes the whole work in the tenderness and peace of Heaven. Arpeggios on the Vox Humana stop surround the two main themes of the composition (Example 8). Afterwards, La Tombelle closes his cyclical masterpiece by quoting all the important elements (the Ride, Domrémy, the Voices, the Archangel, etc.). Of course, Joan’s theme, pure and ethereal, ends the musical tale, very slowly in the high register (Example 9). As a ray of hope, Jeanne d’Arc starts in A minor, seeks its way through nine musical episodes, each time with a different principal key signature, and, at the very end, finds its conclusion in a beautiful A-major sonority.

This short overview of Fernand de La Tombelle as organ music composer aimed to increase knowledge of his French romantic repertoire. Although La Tombelle was not a revolutionary genius, he was a talented and sincere musician, which is more than sufficient to pay him a tribute.

For information, excerpts, and scores for purchase, visit www.editions-delatour.com/fr/744_de-la-tombelle-fernand. ν

 

Notes

1. Organist Clarence Eddy (1851–1937) premiered this piece. For the same occasion, French composer Théodore Dubois (1837–1924) wrote Fantaisie triomphale for organ and orchestra.

2. For example, the Finale from the third organ sonata was dedicated to William C. Carl (1865–1936) who premiered it in 1896. In the same year, Clarence Eddy premiered the paraphrase Et vox angelorum respondet domino at the Trocadéro. Other pieces were also dedicated to American musicians such as Dudley Buck, Samuel P. Warren, Gerrit Smith, and Roland Diggle.

3. Among them, Crux (1904), Les Sept Paroles du Christ (1906), L’Abbaye (1913), or Cantate à Saint Joseph (1923) are to be mentioned for their qualities.

4. To be more comprehensive, we can add to this catalog many songs worthy of interest; piano, harmonium, organ pieces; and also music for band, orchestral suites, incidental music, and ballet music.

5. Mostly inaugurations of instruments in France and Spain: Schola Cantorum (1898), Azcoitia (Spain 1898), Laon Cathedral (1899, with Charles Tournemire), Albi Cathedral (1904, with Adolphe Marty), Saint Etienne de la Cité at Périgueux (1905, with Alexandre Guilmant), Tulle Cathedral (1912), Montauban Cathedral (1917, with Georges Debat-Ponsan), Sacré-Cœur de Toulouse (1924).

6. Fernand de La Tombelle, autographed signed letter to Cyprien Boyer, March 1905, Archives of Diocese de Périgueux and Sarlat.

 

Fernand de La Tombelle: 

Solo organ works 

1883—Offertoire pour le jour de Pâques (Lissarague) 

1883—Pastorale-Offertoire pour orgue (Lissarague)

1884—Six versets (Lissarague)

1885—Marche nuptiale (Lissarague) 

1888—Pièces d’orgue en six livraisons, op. 23 (Richault & Cie)

1ère : Prélude / Echo / Méditation

2e : Magnificat / Marche de procession 

3e : Allegretto cantando / Carillon  

4e : Première sonate en Mi mineur

5e : Prélude et fugue sur la prose de l’Ascension / Canzonetta

6e : 2 fantaisies sur des Noëls anciens/ Marche pontificale

1890—Aubade pour harmonium (Richault & Cie)

1890/91—Deuxième série de pièces d’orgue en six livraisons, op. 33 (Richault & Cie) 

1ère : Fantaisie de concert

2e: Deuxième sonate en Fa # mineur

3e: Variations sur un choral / Andantino

4e: Pastorale / Marche nuptiale

5e: 2 poèmes symphoniques : La Nativité, le Vendredi Saint / Épithalame

6e : Élégie / Marche solennelle

1894—Ad te domine, Abbé Hazé, Album d’auteurs modernes: pièces inédites pour orgue ou harmonium, volume 1 (Gounin-Ghidone)

1895—Sortie, “sur le thème Ite missa est du premier ton,” Abbé Hazé, Album d’auteurs modernes: pièces inédites pour orgue ou harmonium, volume 2 (Gounin-Ghidone)

1895—“Et vox angelorum respondet Domino, paraphrase pour grand orgue” (unpublished)

1896—“Finale d’une troisième sonate en Sol” (unpublished)

1899—Les Vespres du commun des saints (Schola Cantorum)

1900—Rapsodie béarnaise (Costallat & Cie)

1905—Jeanne d’Arc. Episodes symphoniques pour grand-orgue (Editions Delatour France DLT2478) 

1907—Fantaisie sur Deux Thèmes (Profane et Grégorien), “Chanson de Nougolhayro/Hymne de l’Avent,” (Schola Cantorum)

1910—Suite d’orgue sur des thèmes grégoriens (Fête du Saint Sacrement) (L.-J. Biton) 

1910—Cantilène pour grand orgue (L.-J. Biton)

1910—Vox angelorum pour grand orgue (ou harmonium) (L-.J. Biton)

1911—Méditation, Abbé Joseph Joubert: Les maîtres contemporains de l’orgue, volume 1 (M. Senart)

1911—Toccata, Abbé Joseph Joubert: Les maîtres contemporains de l’orgue, volume 1 (M. Senart)

1911—Suite d’orgue sur des thèmes grégoriens (Temps de Noël) (L.-J. Biton)

1911—Suite d’orgue sur des thèmes grégoriens (Temps de Pâques) (L.-J. Biton) 

1911—In Pace, “A la mémoire vénérée de mon cher maître et ami de 40 années Alexandre Guilmant” (Schola Cantorum)

1912—Dix pièces pour orgue sur thèmes grégoriens, populaires ou originaux, en deux cahiers (Janin Frères)

1913—Suite d’orgue sur des thèmes grégoriens (Temps de la Pentecôte) (L.-J. Biton)

1913—Préludes, fugues, chorals et toccatas, extraits de la Méthode d’harmonium (Librairie de l’art catholique)

1914—Andantino, Abbé Joseph Joubert: Les maîtres contemporains de l’orgue, volume 7 (M. Senart) 

1914—Pièce pour harmonium (Schola Cantorum)

1917—50 pièces pour harmonium (L.-J. Biton)

1918—Adagio (A. Ledent-Malay) 

1919—“Symphonie Dominicale” (Introibo, Orate fratres, Pater noster, Agnus Dei, Ite missa est) (unpublished)

1920—Meum ac vestrum sacrificium, offertoire pour orgue (Hérelle) 

1921—Dix pièces dans le style grégorien (L.-J. Biton)

1921—Symphonie Voces belli (Pro Patria, Pro Defunctis, Pro Vulneratis, Pro Lacrymantibus, Pro Deo), Abbé Joseph Joubert: Les Voix de la Douleur Chrétienne, volume 1, Aux Héros de la Grande Guerre (A. Ledent-Melay) 

1922—Offertoire (Schott Frères)

1923—Cinq versets de Magnificat en sol (ou antiennes) (Procure générale des missionnaires et du clergé)

1924—[Trois petites pièces] (Offertoire, Mélodie élévation, Pastorale communion), in Méthode d’harmonium par le chanoine Vincent Bado (Bureau de la Musique Sacrée)

1924—Symphonie Pascale (Entrée épiscopale, Offertoire et Sortie) sur O filii mélodie populaire du XVIIIe siècle et sur la séquence Victimae paschali, in Échos des cathédrales (Procure générale des missionnaires et du clergé)

1927—Requiescant (L.-J. Biton)

1927—Tre pezzi per organo (Introduzione, Offertorio, Finale) (Casa editrice “Musica Sacra”)

1928—Trois pièces (Petite entrée, Communion, Sortie), in Cantantibus organis, “recueil de 25 pièces pour harmonium ou orgue sans pédales” (Société anonyme d’éditions & de musique)

 

Undated, unpublished works:

—“Paraphrase [sur des motifs du chœur Le poème des heures]” 

—“Prélude, variations et finale sur un thème du Frère Albert des Anges”

—“Suite Nuptiale” (Cortège–Entrée, Epithalame–Offertoire, Défilé–Sortie)

(Epithalame published separately: Editions Delatour France DLT2479.)

Gavin Black

Gavin Black is the director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center in Princeton, New Jersey. Gavin Black’s website is www.gavinblack-baroque.com and he can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

Velocity IV

My approach to helping someone to play fast has been rooted in ways of discovering that the fingers of each hand separately can move very fast when playing one line or voice—one note at a time. There are two parts to this. One is discovering that our fingers can move as fast as the music requires—and thus the limitations on velocity are mental rather than physical. Another is exploring ways of knowing what’s coming up in a passage so that we don’t stumble or hesitate because of uncertainty. This permits us to turn the potential to move our fingers fast enough, or faster, into a reality in performance. 

There are several parallel next steps. One is achieving reliable velocity in one hand when that hand is playing more than one voice. There are two meaningfully different subcategories of this: a hand playing two or more contrapuntal lines, and a hand playing chords. (These can shade over into each other.) Another is achieving appropriate velocity with the two hands together. This can also be subdivided: each hand playing one voice, one hand playing a line and the other hand chords, each hand playing multiple-note texture, and so on. 

 

Fingering and relaxation

It is easier to achieve the physical and mental relaxation and focus that are necessary for velocity when you are only doing one thing. If a hand is only playing one note at a time, it is trivially easy for the hand to relax—playing one note at a time can’t require the hand to be in an awkward position, it can’t force tension-prone fingerings, and, in principle, it permits any finger that is not actually depressing a note to relax fully. (Psychologically that can be more easily said than done.) Playing more than one note at a time in a hand doesn’t satisfy any of the above, and it gives us more to think about. So fingering planning is both more constrained (the more notes you must play at once, the fewer different ways there are to deploy the fingers over those notes) and trickier in its relation to the comfort necessary to move quickly. And the need for preparation is even greater. 

The Gigue from Bach’s D minor English Suite is almost legendarily difficult. It is meant to be at least fairly fast in performance. It has a number of moments in which one hand keeps up a sustained trill while also playing other notes. Thus it is an interesting test case here. Example 1 shows this sort of writing.

There is a lot more like this in the movement, but this particular bit is best as a velocity exercise, since there is absolutely no way to isolate the trill in one hand. It is possible to play it in either hand (though significantly harder in the right). This can work as an exercise for the right hand, the left, and then for both together.

Let’s start with the trill into the left hand. Most people would play it that way, since the other material in the left hand is less complex than that in the right hand. (It is certainly how I would play it, but we are again using this passage as an exercise, and thus sort of exploiting it. We will also consider how it works with the trill in the right hand. Just as with the passage from the Toccata in C Major, BWV 564, which we looked at earlier in this series, our shameless exploitation of the passage as an example of unbridled velocity does not imply anything about a good tempo for performance of the piece.)

As Example 2 shows, the notes of the trill can be thought of for this purpose as thirty-second notes, and the trill fingering will almost certainly have to be 1/2. The other (bass) notes can be played with a selection of 3, 4, 5 based on the player’s particular hands, habits, and preferences. (Watch out for a fingering that cocks the wrist outward more than necessary. Avoiding this will probably be easier the more you use 4 and 5 rather than 3.) Once you have decided on fingering, this is the practice protocol for the present purpose:

1) Play middle C and the first seven notes of the trill. That is, get to the moment when you would play the G#, but don’t play that note. 

2) Repeat this, getting it ever faster. Try to feel the trill notes the same way that you did the single-voice velocity exercises from earlier—that is, keep them light, with the hand not bearing into the keys, but rather feeling like it is floating upward a bit. Try not to let playing and releasing the middle C affect you. Notice it just enough to make sure that when you release the note (more or less as you release the fourth note or play the fifth note of the trill) you don’t let that release gesture put any tension into the hand. 

3) After you have done this enough that it feels natural and is at a tempo that sounds and feels very fast, add the G#. Again, the point is not to let the addition of this note change the feeling of anything. Play it, but try not to notice that you are playing it. Keeping the release of the C light is the prerequisite for being able to play the G# lightly. 

4) When this is comfortable, add the next few trill notes, without playing the A, regardless of whether you are adding enough trill notes that you have in theory reached the moment for that note. 

The next step is to do the same thing starting elsewhere: on the second beat, where the prevailing notes are G# and F—going through the moment where the A is played, to the moment where the bass note is a B-natural—or beginning at the A and F, and going just over the barline. After you have done this with each segment, the next step is to string it together. First, remind yourself of the feeling of just the initial segment, then starting at the beginning and going through, say, a half-measure, then starting at the beginning and going through the whole measure. The point is to be doing this at a very fast tempo. As you cross each of the spots where you began drilling new segments, make sure to keep the feeling of relaxation going: use your memory of starting at that point to renew that feeling. 

 

Learning, practicing, 

and lightness

This process is really three things at once: a way of learning this passage; a template for practicing other fast passages with more than one thing going on in a hand; and a way to focus on the feeling of lightness, preparation, and keeping going. In time—that is, after practicing a number of passages this way—the third of these will come to predominate. It will become possible to recapture that feeling without going through a process of this sort or in this amount of detail. 

This is all akin to regular, everyday practicing, in which we break things into small units and add complexity as simpler things become solid. The main difference is that in regular practicing, we start very slowly and increase tempo gradually. It is important never to get ahead of a tempo that feels comfortable. Here, while we don’t want to use a practice tempo that makes things fall apart, we are eager to live in the region of high velocity as promptly and as much as possible. We learn to move our fingers very fast over the notes by—initially and for as long as necessary—keeping the segments that we are playing very short. This is an important difference in emphasis in the structure of practicing.

To use this Bach passage as an exercise for playing two voices together in the right hand at high speed, the procedure would be the same: use the trill notes as an anchor and add notes from the upper voice gradually. The trill will again probably be best played with fingers 1 and 2, and the upper notes probably mostly with 4 and 5: perhaps 5-4-5-5-4-5, etc. It might be a more useful exercise to double the number of trill notes in relation to the sixteenth notes of the upper voice (i.e., make them sixty-fourth notes). The first step is to play the A and the F together and keep the trill notes going without adding any more of the notes from the upper voice. The next step is to start this way, but add the second note of the upper voice—the G#—and so on, following the template that we used above for the left hand. Progress through this passage will be slower than it was for the left-hand version, because there are more notes.

It is equally interesting to use the passage as an exercise in working both hands together up to as fast a speed as you can. Start by going through the process described above for the lower two voices in the left hand. Then go over the upper voice by itself as a right-hand part. Then go back to the beginning and play the passage in extremely short bursts: as short as it takes to enable you to do it fast. This might be a dotted-eighth-note’s worth at a time, or less. The technique of holding a note as if there is a fermata while you remind yourself of the feeling of playing the next note or two, and then playing only that next little bit extremely fast, can work very well in this case.

Example 3 is a contrapuntal passage from Brahms’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor. The student can combine various techniques. In the first quoted measure in the right hand, after working out fingering, one could play the second voice (B-A-G#-rest-F#) a few times, progressively faster, then add the upper voice one note at a time. Or play the two voices on the downbeat (E and B) holding those notes indefinitely long. Then, only when ready, play the second and third beats—both voices together—as fast as possible, not going past the third beat. Then start on the second beat, stopping on the D# in the upper voice. In something like the third quoted measure—with its more consistently active voices—the player can practice each voice separately, in the normal manner, but as a short enough sample that it can get quite fast quite efficiently. Practice each voice—with the intended fingering, in the ways that I outlined for individual voices in the last few columns—until it can go very fast. Then put the two voices together in chunks of perhaps three eight-notes-worth at a time. The principles are always the same: use an amount of planning that makes everything utterly predictable, focus on short bits (which makes the predictability easier to achieve in the first place and to maintain), and keep everything light and relaxed.

In a chordal passage, the notion of practicing voices separately doesn’t apply. In keeping with the principle of simplifying, if we aren’t going to practice separately notes that end up being played together, then it is even more important to practice in small increments. Example 4 is an excerpt from near the end of Scherzo, Sortie in D Major by Lefébure-Wely.

The right-hand part provides a good opportunity to practice chords. The fingering will probably fall into place quite naturally: a lot of 5-3-1, 5-2-1, 4-2-1, and so on, depending on one’s hand shape. Once fingering has been worked out, playing and holding a chord, then playing the next two chords as quickly as possible, will probably be the most fruitful technique. The left-hand part is a typical opportunity to practice playing octaves fast, using this same technique. 

What, in the end, is the point of this discussion of velocity? In using a passage from the repertoire as an exercise here, I have said that in doing so I am misrepresenting that passage—that we are exploiting it or latching onto it as parasites. This happens because no one can say whether a given (fast) passage is or isn’t meant to be played at the outer limits of a player’s ability to play fast. In order to practice playing as fast as we possibly can, we subject passages of music to being played (perhaps) faster than we really think they should go. (Even if a passage will be a candidate for actually being played that fast, we don’t know that until we have worked on getting it that fast.) The overriding purpose of doing this—and especially in its application to our teaching, and therefore to the learning process of our students—is to drive home through example the basic message: command of velocity is about preparation. With rare exceptions, limits on velocity are not inherent or physical. I actually think it is better to practice, as exercises for this purpose, pieces or passages that you know are not going to go that fast. That separates the work on velocity from a host of other normal, musical considerations. Then when you want to work on a passage that does indeed visit the outer reaches of how fast you ever want to play, you will know the techniques for getting it to be solid and comfortable at that sort of speed.

The old-fashioned and very sound idea that you must prepare your pieces beyond 100% (I first heard it in connection with Jascha Heifetz, a quintessential virtuoso performer) for them to be 100% in performance applies here. Certainly correct preparation is not just about speed—it is perhaps more importantly about the inner understanding of everything that you hope to bring to the music interpretively, rhetorically, expressively. But since it is harder to execute a piece faster than slower, it is always prudent to know that you could indeed play your pieces faster than you intend to. This should ideally lead to relaxation in performance—a relaxation born out of lack of fear.