Help Yourself

Click, print, and use these arrangements freely, with my Christmas compliments:

Messiah Overture for organ solo

Reger Mariä Wiegenlied for organ solo

OK, I lied

In my last post, I said that I would let my students offer their own report after attending the second annual East Texas Pipe Organ Festival. But some things keep coming to mind that need to be said, and said by me:

For the record, this was a festival honoring the splendid work of Roy Perry as manifested in the Aeolian-Skinner organs in East Texas: First Baptist Church, Longview, First Presbyterian Church and St. Luke's United Methodist Church, Kilgore, and First Baptist Church, Nacogdoches. Last year's festival was the first, and I'm told it was utterly splendid. I was determined not to miss this second one. I took FIVE students and a faculty colleague along with me. None of us was disappointed, not in the least.

My students comported themselves flawlessly, making many new friends and offering hope for the next generation. They were the life of all the parties, the subjects of many photo opportunities, and the features in several interviews for newspapers. And they were a constant source of belly laughs for me.

My students' ears have been changed forever. They have now experienced what a sufficient amount of 8-foot tone will do for an organ. They have now heard what reed stops that actually sound different from one another can do. They have now heard what thick boxes can do. They now are full of fresh ideas and a new appreciation for their art and American organbuilding history. For me to literally watch ears be changed forever right in front of me was an experience I won't forget and one that I wish to repeat as often as possible.

My students were the only students there, other than the occasional Kilgore College students who would show up for concert attendance credit. One question that kept coming up during the Festival was, "Why don't more teachers bring their students to these things? There were none here last year!" One could go on and on answering THAT one, but I wouldn't make any friends. Let's just agree on two things:

1) There are more than a handful of healthy organ studios within five hours' drive of these organs. My crowd drove sixteen hours.

2) The Appalachian State University organ studio has thrown down the gauntlet and is saying it's time for American organ teachers to get on this wagon, whether they like the subject matter or not. These organs have stood the test of time in this country. It is time to explore why and to establish the future champions for these landmark, iconic instruments. Batter up!

Texas, Part 5 and Thanksgiving

I have been necessarily brief in this little diary this week. My students are preparing a more comprehensive report from their own perspectives, to be sent to The American Organist magazine. It's going to be good! I am so very proud of them and their attention to American organ building history.

After Kilgore/Longview, it was back to Boone for the students and off to Houston for me, to play a recital at St. Philip Presbyterian. That went awfully well, considering I had not practiced for a week, thanks to Kilgore. Great conferences are usually bad for practicing.

And now, I'm comfortably seated in an easy chair at my sister's in Dothan, Ala., in front of a fire, surrounded by cats and family. That's the good news. The bad news is I'm watching the Cowboys get soundly trounced by the Redskins.

And my thoughts go out to the victims and their families of the pileup on Interstate 10 near Beaumont, Tex., today. It's awfully creepy to know that I passed that very way in my car just a few short days ago.

Texas, Part 4

More recitals and some wonderful meals! And the second annual East Texas Pipe Organ Festival is now concluded. As of this writing, my students are nearly home now, and I have gone to Houston to practice for a recital. Stand by for some stirring assessment by the students on what they heard and what they have learned. Ears and careers have been changed this week, that's for sure. Martha would say, "It's a good thing."

Texas, Part 3

A soothing recital. A delicious Texas BBQ lunch. A thrilling recital. Another recital. A delicious dinner on the lake. And a spectacular silent movie. A great day to be in Kilgore, Texas!

Texas, Part 2

And with Day Four, we arrive at the first full day of the Festival. We are also reminded that a full day of ANY festival means that the late night carousing will be severely cut short, compared to the other days. Everyone now appreciates the benefits of a full night's rest.

So, a jog, two recitals, a lovely catered lunch, a recital. That brings us to a lovely, poignant visit to the local history museum, where there are many photos and other exhibits on Roy Perry and Alexander Boggs Ryan. We also enjoyed an address by Ryan's sister, plus the reading of some heretofore unknown letters between Ryan and Marcel Dupré. A lovely hour, indeed. From there to a gala reception in Ryan's memory, then another recital, and a jam-packed day is complete.

Note: Churches, stop closing your balconies for organ recitals. The best sound tends to be up there, and we'll just go up there anyway. And get your electrical outlets up there fixed. How am I supposed to charge my phone in a balcony where I'm not supposed to be, when the power is not working?

Texas, Part 1

The second annual East Texas Pipe Organ Festival is underway! I have brought five students with me, and we are having a blast.

Saturday, November 10, a.k.a. Day One: 16.5 hours on the road! Lots of laughs, and lots of miles.

Sunday, November 11, a.k.a. Day Two: Church at First Presbyterian, Kilgore, Tex. One airport run for the last student. One recital at First Baptist, Longview. Delicious dinner at Nanny Goat's in Kilgore, courtesy of Lorenz Maycher. Bowling. Whataburger.

Monday, November 12, a.k.a. Day Three: Shopping in downtown Kilgore. Lunch at The Back Porch. A panel discussion with Charlie Callahan and Larry Palmer on "Composers They Have Known." Happy hour in one room, student homework in the next. A recital at First Presbyterian, Kilgore.

There is no way to describe the beauty of the Aeolian-Skinners at First Presbyterian and St. Luke's Methodist, Kilgore, and First Baptist, Longview. And there is even less way to describe my joy at watching my students get acquainted with them and enjoy the company of fellow Aeolian-Skinner fans. We're having a ball.

Texas bound

SEVEN of my nine students are heading to Kilgore and Longview, Tex., on Saturday to attend the second East Texas Pipe Organ Festival. We have made our plans, paid our registration fees, procured a university van, found a hotel expense angel, and gotten excited about hearing some creamy American organs. Organs courtesy of Aeolian-Skinner, G. Donald Harrison, and Roy Perry. Festival founding by Lorenz Maycher.

My students have treated their ears to the Aeolian organ in Duke Chapel, plus the E.M. Skinner organ at St. Paul's Church in Winston-Salem. And so it was easy for them to recognize the excitement behind my voice when I told them of the Festival in Texas. And SEVEN of nine students are going, and they are missing an entire week of classes for it. An exciting enthusiasm, indeed.

So far, only three organs have brought tears to my eyes on first hearing. One was the Cavaillé-Coll in St-Sulpice, Paris, the sounds that Widor knew. The second was the Cavaillé-Coll in Ste-Clotilde, Paris, the sounds that Franck knew. And the third was the Aeolian-Skinner in First Baptist Church, Longview, Texas (of all places). Those of you who know your organs know what I'm talking about. The history represented in Aeolian-Skinner has been defended in many corners and destroyed in others. But that little pocket in northeast Texas still knows what it has, and the organs have been cared for and are being celebrated anew. Let the good times roll. We can hardly wait!

Nine beautiful minds

My undergraduate professor H. Max Smith always called his students his "children." I do the same, and I enjoy the fresh dynamic every year with students coming and going. Anyone majoring in music is also majoring in their applied music teacher. The "family" element is unavoidable unless you go to some trouble to avoid it. My first couple semesters at Appalachian, my studio was "tight," but I believe the studio I have now represents the greatest level of mutual support, "family," and new ideas I have seen so far.

These guys have gotten excited about a trip to the second East Texas Pipe Organ Festival in a couple weeks in Kilgore, Tex. SEVEN of my nine students are going on that rather lengthy road trip, and they're missing a week of classes to do it. That's excitement in action, and it's exciting to behold. The other two students must be left behind, sadly, but they surely wanted to go with us. And we hate to leave them behind.

These guys are excited about the studio's new Facebook page and YouTube account (which the students set up), and a science experiment going on at my house that we are currently calling 'Frankenorgan.'

Represented in this studio is a wide range of graphic design skills, fine aptitudes for improving the art of organ playing, blossoming professional demeanors, increasing eyes toward effective self- and studio marketing, Halloween ideas, eyes toward helping each other and helping me with non-teaching workload issues. I used to have only one or two right-hand men at a time. Now I have seven, plus two right-hand ladies.

So, I raise my glass (tonight at "family dinner," Hurricane Sandy permitting) to Chase Branham, Nathan Brickman, Carol Brown, Jake Hill (coiner of the term "family dinner"), Caroline Kimrey, Jonathan Poe, Johnson Ramsaur, Rodney Ward, and Shane Watson.

app-uh-LATCH-un

It’s all in a name.

The latest spell-check is now “fixing” my name from ‘Joby’ to ‘Jobie.’ I got an email from a dear friend just the other day, addressed to ‘Jobie.’ What gives? Since when was ‘Jobie’ more recognizable than ‘Joby’ to a computer? Mercy, they’re BOTH weird.

My mother Judith spelled her name Judi, not Judy. And her “best friends” always misspelled her name. Best friends, indeed. They also didn’t know the names of her children very well, either.

I have been called ‘Jody,’ ‘Toby,’ ‘Joe,’ and ‘Joe B.’ quite enough, thank you very much. I was once ‘Roby’ in a school yearbook. I have been ‘John’ in junk mail. And I was once ‘Mr. Ray Bell Joby’ on an insurance claim. The dentist’s receptionist once called me ‘Jaby.’

My sister is named Talana. That’s pronounced ‘tuh-LAH-na.’ The poor girl has endured ‘tuh-LAA-na,’ ‘tuh-LAY-na,’ ‘tuh-LOO-la,’ ‘banana,’ and ‘TAAL-uh-nuh.’ But her grandchildren call her ‘la-la,’ which is wonderful.

My alma mater and employer is pronounced app-uh-LATCH-un, not app-uh-LAY-shun nor app-uh-LAYTCH-un. Yes, I know. I can hear you now. If you don’t live in this area, then you think it should be pronounced otherwise. But verily I say unto you, them what live here know what they be doing. When our football team was on top a few years ago, having won three straight national championships plus a surprise win against Michigan in 2007, even the sportscasters had corrected their pronunciation to LATCH.

Well, this is an organist’s blog. Shall we move on to stop names? I’ll not list examples here; organists can provide plenty. But I’ll say that I cut a lot of slack on stop names. After all, they’re usually in some other language, and their pronunciations can be taught and learned. All are forgiven.

For the record, I am named after Job. Mother decided that after 22 hours of two-week-premature breach labor and after a first breath that consisted nearly entirely of amniotic fluid, that I was a pretty patient fellow. Still am. Call me crazy. Actually, call me Joby.