Little-known facts, Part 3: Big toys

I grew up operating heavy construction equipment. Front-end loaders (of both wheel and track varieties), low-boys, dump trucks, motor graders, bulldozers, etc., even a few minutes on an old trencher. Now I play musical heavy equipment for a living. [How did I miss the blogging fodder in all this until now?]

I have played many organs that I love, but I don't have a favorite that I can think of this minute. But there is one piece of heavy equipment that is my favorite big toy on earth: a Caterpillar 930 front-end loader, born the same year as I. Oh, the earth, gravel, and snow I moved with that one. Responsive steering, intuitive bucket controls, and room for an admirer next to the driver's seat. I might not have picked up any women in it, but I kept them for longer when they sat in it with me.

All this occurred at Bell Construction Company, Statesville, N.C., founded in 1946 by my grandfather W.C. Bell and subsequently presided over by Uncle Boyce and then my father Donald. I was never paid, probably because I was young and a terrible operator, and Dad never wanted me to go into that business as a career, anyway. So I was always a tagalong, but I watched in awe as half the land in Rowan and Iredell Counties, N.C., was graded in site preparation. My dad was da man. And I still drive through those places with a sense of pride and fond memories. I am also happy to report that the company is doing as well as ever, under the leadership of cousin Dwayne Bell, since Dad's death in 2003.

And that Cat 930 is still going strong, which is more than I can say for some organs from that year. :)

The Feast of Memorial Day, Rite x

Since I am no longer employed in a church and if I’m not subbing somewhere on a given Sunday, then liturgical feasts other than Christmas and Easter often pass by unnoticed by me. During a trip last year, I was reminded that it was Ascension Day, when I discovered that most of southern Germany was shut down on a Thursday! This year, I noticed that Trinity Sunday passed me by, when the organ listservs lit up with people complaining about disfiguring their liturgy with the insertion of patriotic music – this year, Trinity Sunday (church) coincided with Memorial Day (state).

Well, first, liturgy gets defaced every Sunday as a matter of course in some places, so I don’t have an opinion on what patriotic music might do to it further! However, I have written before of some interesting church & state (& otherwise) juxtapositions. But it can happen every year. Memorial Day usually “threatens” Ascension Sunday, Pentecost, or Trinity Sunday. And Boy Scout Sunday (first Sunday in February) usually falls during Lent.

For the record, yes, I am offended that some clergy and parishioners insist that God intended the USA to be free, and that we should therefore liturgicize it. Yes, I am offended that Memorial Day went from being a post-Civil War “Decoration Day” to being commanded by God (in some minds). Yes, I am offended that major US holidays honoring our soldiers are celebrated by giving civilians the day off (what’s up with that?). I am offended that many people insist that soldiers fight for our freedom and not for their own. And I am offended that people can sing the National Anthem at the top of their lungs in the middle of an otherwise solemn liturgy but still mumble a sturdy hymn they have known since childhood. Nevertheless, I also know that the sky will not fall if we toss the National Anthem into a service. I know that the national church will not excommunicate a congregation for moving the flag front & center every now and then. I know that churches near military bases are in a better position to make this work than others are. And I know that the writers of liturgy were human and not divine.

May I humbly suggest holding separate, ecumenical services on the high holy state days (and there are many: MLK, Presidents' Day, Armed Forces Day, Memorial Day, Flag Day, Independence Day, September 11, Veterans Day, Pearl Harbor Day)? Liturgy is not sacred. But it is beautiful. And it is beautiful in its own way. If it is added to in certain ways, its impact is threatened. And that can be true for a lot more than just liturgy. Sometimes doing something just because people like-it-by-golly, is not enough.

Help Yourself VII: First & last

My proclivity to creating hymn harmonizations goes back to college days, when I was newly inspired by a church job I had just gotten. Inspiration is kind of like a "commission" from myself. I don't write the reharmonizations out of boredom; I have always composed them sporadically and in response to some visual delight, emotional charge, or earworm that needed to be committed to paper. Because they are my creations, I have always thought they are beautiful (publishers have not, apparently). And I admit that they are not the easiest accompaniment for the less-than-absolutely-confident congregation. But they do exist for better or for worse, and if you find them useful, help yourself.

Now below are my very first and very last (so far) attempts. Click, print, and use freely. NATIONAL HYMN (1989) is available in two different keys, depending on your propensity toward congregational abuse. The version of LASST UNS ERFREUEN (2010) is a slight expansion of a commission by Houston Baptist University for the inauguration of its new organ. It is set for four unspecified stanzas, plus introduction. I love it, if I say so myself.

NATIONAL HYMN (E-flat)

NATIONAL HYMN (F)

LASST UNS ERFREUEN (4 stanzas)

It's complicated

I have been vindicated by a recent article that tracked down certain graduates from a certain conservatory-type institution. The article explained that the music profession is a horribly competitive one, and that many people make it, while many don’t. I’ll proceed now in a direction that the article does not and ask, “Why is this?”

And, of course, the answer is complicated. But the article does identify the fact that you have to create your niche today, not just seek to fill an existing one. The next question is, “How?” And the answer, of course, is complicated. But it has something to do with providing something that people want and need. And in some ways, it’s about telling people that they want or need this or that. Therefore, it’s complicated.

Many organ teaching posts have opened up in recent months, and the flurry of activity is fascinating to watch from my quiet perch. When I was growing up, the excellent schools of music had artist-teachers, not professors. The doctored professor was the exception, and the title “Dr.” generated a level of respect that not everyone knew quite how to muster. In only ten years or so, all that changed, and the Drs. started pouring out of schools, looking for jobs they now needed a doctorate to get. I was one such person. The tenure track, rather than excellence in the artistry, became the goal. And ASSESSMENT is now the buzzword of the century. Now, another twenty or so years later, I’m seeing the doctored/non-doctored trend reverse again. Non-doctored artists are picking up some positions again. When you consider that all this has happened in only about 30 years, it’s REALLY fast.

It’s time to come clean in job hunting. It’s time to stop parroting the platitudes that have made the world squeak around for years, talking about how wonderful you are and how committed you are to good teaching. Here’s what I’d say now, if I were job hunting:

I haven't studied in Europe. I haven't performed in all the huge venues. I haven't attended the big conservatories and famous schools. I haven't memorized the complete works of anyone. I haven't performed in all 50 states. I'm not under management. I am past the age and weight of winning beauty contests. I don't have full-page ads for my accomplishments and announcements. And I have never won an organ competition.

I HAVE worked my you-know-what off, received good training, and am passing that training along. I HAVE paid attention to real life and have that experience to offer. I DO play well. I DO dress properly. I DO know how to address audiences. I DO know how to behave when things go wrong. I DO know how to manage practice time. I DO NOT require two to three days on a recital instrument before I perform, then charge thousands of dollars for it. I DO respond to every question, every email, every person, every request. I DO NOT miss deadlines. I AM available and accessible. I AM collegial. I AM collaborative. I CAN perform minor organ repairs and save a lot of money. I WILL oversee organ maintenance, and I will not tolerate sloppiness or the blame game. I WILL improve students’ techniques. I WILL be a student's greatest ally and mentor. I WILL teach students far beyond the studio room, by example. And I WON'T accept your big job and then leave soon thereafter for greener pastures -- unless there's something you’re not telling me.

And I HAVE won the audience prize.

A most "moving" Easter

Here’s a little tell-all of one of those decisions made by a church administration that my musician friends and I STILL cringe over, more than two decades later. But it is also a bit of a success story, because I managed to have a little fun with it:

The new "gymnatorium" had just been completed at a church I was serving as organist. The pastor thought it would be a terrific idea to take that room for its first spin with the largest crowd possible.

Hmmm, EASTER SUNDAY would be a good time.

Yes, EASTER SUNDAY. Let’s move all Easter services into the gymnatorium.

All of them.

And that’s what happened.

So picture it:

1) A gorgeous, traditional Georgian room with a splendid acoustic and a 72-rank Aeolian-Skinner installed in 1949 was going to be standing silent and unoccupied on EASTER SUNDAY.

That’s EASTER SUNDAY.

2) A short-order digital organ was to be rented and PATCHED INTO THE HOUSE SOUND SYSTEM in the gymnatorium. Translation: the organ’s sound was to be produced by speakers that were not designed for the dynamic and frequency range of an organ. And the sound system was to be run by non-musicians. Draw your own conclusion regarding THAT particular sound mix.

3) The gymnatorium was (and still is) so poorly designed that there was not enough stage space for the choir to sit onstage. And there was (and still is) virtually NO wing space. Therefore, the 60-voice choir had to travel up and down some little steps, single-file, to and from the stage to sing their anthems. It was decided that the organist would cover up that traveling with pretty music…

…on the digital organ patched into the house sound system operated by non-musicians.

Well, so let’s try to find some fun in this: the organist put his head together with like-minded musicians and came up with a brilliant idea for what music to play during those onstage/offstage choir moments:

Tunes from South Park: The Movie, played slowly, ecclesiastically, beautifully...

…on the digital organ patched into the house sound system operated by non-musicians, in the ugly room deemed a suitable venue for Easter Sunday just because it was a big, new room.

It was “moving” music. And the choir moved to it, as planned.

Three people in the room knew what was coming, and only one other figured it out during. No one else noticed. (Then again, who would admit it?)

Aeolian-Skinners I have known

I believe in Aeolian-Skinner. I love its history. I love reading about it. I love sitting at those vintage consoles. And I love the sound. Even the ones that don’t sound all that great. They are still history.

I have been bestowed the honor of being invited to perform for the third annual East Texas Pipe Organ Festival in November. ETPOF is a celebration of the work of Roy Perry as manifested in the Aeolian-Skinner organs of East Texas and northern Louisiana. I’ll be performing on the “masterpiece in miniature” (Scott Davis’s term) at St. Luke’s United Methodist Church in Kilgore, Tex. To perform for colleagues is one thing, but to perform for colleagues who share my love of these instruments is something else! I can’t wait, and I’m already practicing feverishly.

I thought I would share a little who’s who of the Aeolian-Skinners I have known, in no particular order. This is as much for my own amazement as for yours. Until now, I had not thought of how long and life-changing this list is. This list is only those organs I have played, not just heard in person:

Op. 883, the National Cathedral. The organ continues to inspire controversy, but that space inspires nothing but the best in mankind. It was on this organ that I played a recital that I got just for the asking. That, too, is a career-enhancing move – ask, and ye shall receive.

Op. 1308, St. Mark’s Cathedral, Shreveport. A treasure, thanks to Roy Perry and Bill Teague.

Op. 150, Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York, N.Y. A magnificent rebuild after the fire of 2001.

Op. 1196, Covenant Presbyterian, Charlotte. My very first. And my first 5-manual console. And my first full-length 32-foot Bombarde. Whoa!

Op. 1159, Duke Chapel. Strictly speaking, an Aeolian. And what a sound! And it is in excellent condition, thanks to Foley-Baker. Go thou and treat thine ears.

Op. 1463, First Presbyterian, Kinston, NC. Buried treasure way out in eastern NC. It’s got some kick, and the space puts one in mind of National Presbyterian.

Op. 1101, First Presbyterian, Lenoir, NC. I ‘presided’ there for two years after moving back to NC. Same vintage as the lovely things I left behind at First Presbyterian, Houston. Basking in history everywhere you go ain’t a bad thing.

Op. 1339, First Presbyterian, Morganton, NC. This one was fun for me and a friend during college years, until the secretary caught us and kicked us out. I guess she didn’t like hymns.

Op. 713, First Presbyterian, Wilmington, NC. Strictly speaking, an E.M. Skinner. And what a sound. Go thou and treat thine ears.

Op. 712, St. Paul’s Episcopal, Winston-Salem. Another E.M. Skinner not to be missed. Go and enjoy the hospitality of John Cummins as he leads you through every breathtaking stop.

Op. 1257, Winthrop University. A stunning G. Donald Harrison signature in an enormous space. And in splendid condition, thanks to Orgues Létourneau. This organ is in danger of not being used much, if at all, these days.

Op. 1029, First Methodist, Beaumont, Tex. A respectable instrument in a perfectly sublime space. Go and at least treat your eyes, if not your ears.

Op. 1149, First Methodist, Houston. A huge, thrilling instrument in the most dreadful space ever rendered by the hand of man.

Opp. 912 and 912A, First Presbyterian, Houston. My favorite organs in Houston in many ways. I ‘presided’ at these organs every Sunday for seven years. Loved them with all my heart. They are in splendid condition, thanks to Schoenstein and the curatorial efforts of my successor, Rhonda Furr.

Opp. 976 and 3013, Christ Church Cathedral, Houston. The big organ has been refurbished to an unknown degree (to me). It is a bit of a sister organ to Op. 912A at First Presbyterian and is equally lovely in different ways.

Op. 1173, First Presbyterian, Kilgore, Tex. Roy Perry’s masterpiece. GO. GO. GO.

Op. 1174, First Baptist, Longview, Tex. A huge G. Donald Harrison signature. A classic, and one of only three organs in the world to bring tears to my eyes on first hearing. My students are believers, too.

Op. 1500, St. George’s Episcopal, Port Arthur, Tex. A respectable late effort of the company. It may no longer be there.

If I omitted one here, it’s a tragedy. None deserves omission. Long live those who keep these organs alive.

Help Yourself VI

It's time for another exciting episode of Free PDFs from Joby Bell. Today's episode is about love, music, and baptism.

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

WONDROUS LOVE octavo

WONDROUS LOVE reharmonization

ENGELBERG ("When in our music" text) in G, with descant

ENGELBERG (Baptism text) in F, with descant

baroqclassicalantic

Ah, terminology.

I prefer “French Symphonic” over “French Romantic.” I feel the Romantic stuff happened in the opera houses and on the concert stage. But French Symphonic was more literal to organ music. “Sym” [‘together’] and “phonic” [‘sound’] form the perfect word to describe what Cavaillé-Coll pulled off, by combining reeds and mixtures together from the Classic organs. He found a way to provide enough wind and proper voicing so that “full organ” (not just “plein jeu”!) might be achieved.

And the work of Cavaillé-Coll was “symphonic,” NOT “orchestral!” A thousand times No.

As for “French Classic” vs. “French Classical” vs. “French Baroque,” I’ll defer to Cavaillé-Coll once again. “Baroque” reminds this writer too much of Bach (wrong country) and the various King Louis-es (wrong audience) to be applied to organ music. “Classical” smacks too much of Mozart (wrong country AND wrong audience). But “Classic” is perfect, especially since Cavaillé-Coll himself referred to the older organs he renovated as classique.

Now, closer to home:

I have dealt with electronics geeks working as “sound engineers” who do not correct you if you call them “acousticians.” I train my students to run the other way when they encounter this. Hanging around that cannot be a good thing.

Then there is “acoustical treatment,” which is described as “necessary to deaden” a room. I prefer it “temper” a room.

In tuning temperaments, certain intervals are characterized as “wide” or “narrow,” rather than “sharp” or “flat.” I can live with those euphemisms, since “sharp” and “flat” may suggest “sour.”

Then there are some committee decisions, with which I sometimes say I am “less than pleased.”

Then there are those brides and/or wedding soloists I describe as “typical.”

I suppose non-organists characterize organists in their own way, too. “Old” tends to come to many minds. So does “crotchety.” And “opinionated.” I can’t imagine why.

We ain't done yet

My studio is in the news again.

They just published an article in The American Organist magazine that sketches their impressions of the 2012 East Texas Pipe Organ Festival.

They and I are about to publish some ads that use some vintage-looking photos they posed for a few weeks ago. Be prepared.

They and I just got back from an organ crawl to Charlotte and environs.

And I just booked a large van for a trip with them to visit some organ builders in the Midwest this summer.

I'm exhausted, but the comments I get from others make it all worth it: "You and your students do lots of things together. That is so wonderful! I wish my teacher had done [this and that]..."

And that family element cannot be denied. It is important, and I have said that before. Honestly, I don't know any other way to do things in this business!

Breaking my own rule

I don't play encores, but I'm about to prepare one for a recital.

Encores have gotten out of hand. There are some pieces – MANY, actually – that need no encore after them. So don’t play one. Any time I hear a downer of an encore played after a major upper, I'm, well, DOWN after that. If a piece ends with a big, fat period, then that should be the end of the sentence for that recital. If they really want more, then they should re-invite the performer back sometime.

I once heard a huge recital end with the Vierne Sixth. No encore is needed after that piece. But the performer played one, but even he said that it is difficult to find something to follow such a monumental piece. And so I say, "Don't! Leave them wanting more." The last encore I played was about 3 years ago, only at the pleading of my host.

But I'm about to prepare an encore. I'll be prepared to play it, but I won't force it if the applause doesn't warrant it. That's another point that needs to be made: encores should be played after at least the second or third curtain call, not the first. Encores are earned, not forced!

Anyway, I'm closing a recital with the entire Symphonie Romane. That is not the easiest listening, especially when a person sees the name Widor and expects something as tuneful as the Fifth or Sixth or the Toccata. So, I'm planning to add the Mulet Carillon afterwards, but only if the audience begs for it with tumultuous applause for the Widor. If they seem exhausted after that, then we should move on to the reception.

The moral of the story is that if you're reading this and plan to attend my recital in Greensboro (see the sidebar to the right), AND if you want to hear the Mulet Carillon, then you should clap the night away and glare at anyone who doesn't!