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.

But that’s what I’m supposed to do

I once overheard a nice lady praising Rob Landes on his ability to play any tune in any key on the spot. He replied, “Thank you! But that’s what I’m supposed to do.” And he was right. Jazz musicians need to be able to do anything. Church musicians need to be able to do almost anything. It’s what we do.

I suppose I was a bit of a wunderkind. I was doing some things in music that no one my age in that town was doing. Now that I’m old(er), I’m doing much the same things for pay, only now it’s what I’m supposed to do, rather than something a normal kid shouldn’t want to or be able to do. Although I enjoy the praise today, I do hope that I have improved as a professional and no longer play like the wunderkind – nothing is worse than an older person still capitalizing on their child star status.

My former classmates, bless their hearts, seem to be able to talk only about their children, how much trouble they are, how much time and energy they take, how dirty their diapers are, and how being a taxi service for them is a pain. But that’s what parents are supposed to do – that’s how raising kids is supposed to be.

I look back from time to time at my previous Blog and News posts, and I see that about all I can talk about is how busy I am. But I also see that I’m always quick to add that I like it that way and I want it that way. Performing, teaching, planning, mentoring: it’s what I’m supposed to do. I chose it.

Now, I have to get back to work. Quit reading this and go do what you’re supposed to do. See you next week.

Making LIVE PERFORMANCES

Music City Mixture is my new recording. Live Performances is my previous recording. One does not set out to “make” a recording of previous live performances. One just notices that one has some tracks from several performances that sound good, and hey, why don’t we compile all that on a CD and order some graphics and keep it inexpensive and maybe hand it out for free. And that’s what one did. That little recording has gotten a good bit of mileage. It makes a great gift and an easy promotional handout.

You’ll find program notes for the individual tracks on the Program Notes tab of this site. Here are some more tidbits:

Most of these tracks were taken from my faculty recitals at Appalachian State University. When I learn a new piece, I try to trot it out on that stage before taking it on the road. The home stage is a comfortable laboratory. It represents the end of preparation and the beginning of rewarding repetition out on the road. I try to play "at home" each semester.

The Mulet Carillon is a favorite opener of mine. Adding the Zimbelstern was my idea, but there are far too many of those in this country that sound like a blind handbell choir missing a ringer.

The Brahms Chorales represent one of the most basic underlying philosophies behind my program notes: tell the listener what they need to listen for; tell them what they need to know to “get” the piece. If anyone knows the name Johannes Brahms, then they have all the information they need to understand these pieces when they are told that these were probably the very last notes Brahms wrote. If the performer keeps that in mind, these pieces never go stale.

The G major Concerto is a favorite of mine. It is entirely too cute for its own good.

I remember hearing Paul Meier play the snot out of the Mendelssohn f minor Sonata during my grad days at Rice. The piece finally made sense, and knowing Paul’s teacher so well, I then knew how to make the piece make sense myself. I finally got around to learning it about ten years later.

Franck appears to be my favorite composer for a while. I’m learning the complete works, recital by recital, about two pieces per year. The Prelude, Fugue, and Variation is a perennial favorite, and its opportunities for musical expression are limitless.

Finlandia is just perfect; not the way I play it, but the way Sibelius wrote it. Transcriptions pose the balancing act between making the organ sound like the original instrumentation and letting the piece translate however it likes to the organ. Myself, I hear the orchestra and play accordingly. I do the same thing when accompanying; I feel that the original needs to be kept in mind while performing. After all, Sibelius knew what an organ was – he could have written Finlandia for the organ if he liked. I play the fanfares differently now, forsaking the transcription and playing the original rhythm now.

The c minor trio Sonata is one of the nastier ones for difficulty, especially the third movement. I love this piece, and I love how Bach can make one of the quintessential “dark” minor keys sound like a birthday party.

The sixth Howells Psalm Prelude is one long fanfare. Even the quiet parts have a breathless anticipation about them. It has been a while since I played it or heard it, and it came up on my playlist in the car just the other day. I hardly recognized it, but I really like the writing – Howells keeps using the same harmonies in all his works, but they always have something new to say. It’s a very unique style that will hopefully be preserved.

Dan Gawthrop’s Floral Preludes have made a splash. And Lord knows I have done my part to keep them going! I thrill to the sound of an audience laughing during an organ recital.

The Jongen Toccata was to have been used on an all-French recording made at Rice. But it didn’t happen. However, this track is footage from those recording sessions. Quite a piece. And quite an organ for it.

Feeding time at the organist zoo

We human beings love to eat. Look at how we turn eating into a social event, not just a survival instinct. We gather at major holidays to feast. (Even our major church liturgies are called “feasts.”) We eat cake at birthdays. Church members provide a meal to the family of the deceased after the funeral. And the ultimate eating for Christians is communion. It’s a celebratory meal, taken quite directly from Jewish custom. And Christians have an easy out: they eat in church because Jesus TOLD them to!

And I’m no different. I learned from church how to eat as a celebration, not just as something to quiet down a grumbling stomach. Ever since childhood, I can remember a meal being added on to a gathering. We would go eat Sunday lunch at Redman’s Cafe (oh my, the mashed potatoes and gravy). And we would go eat Sunday supper at the Hungry Bull family steakhouse after Sunday evening church (Baptists do evening church, you know). And we would make our reservations for Wednesday evening supper at the church. The church’s Homecoming celebration always included a huge potluck. Sunday School classes got together over potluck or a restaurant.

I carried the torch into grad school. Choir members and I would eat after Thursday rehearsal and Sunday church. We would gather every year over Mexican food for the boss’s birthday (we still do, actually, lo these 19 years after his death!).

I could go on and on. Couldn’t you?

Today, my regimen still includes lots of social eating. After Monday evening Appalachian Chorale rehearsals, a few of us go to Chili’s for what one student now calls “dinner with the family.” And after EVERY performance where I or any of my students is on stage, we go eat. It’s now a habit, one that no one dares think about changing.

A few weeks ago, after my recital at Bethel Lutheran in Rochester, Minn., it was off to Beetles bar & grill. Yesterday, after my recital at Lenoir-Rhyne University, it was off to da Vinci’s in Hickory. Tonight, after Appalachian Chorale rehearsal, it will be to Chili’s for “family dinner.” And so it goes.

You’re probably hungry now. Call me, and we’ll go eat!

Making Music City Mixture: An unforeseen epilogue

Part seven of this series was to have been the end of it. But the story has more to say:

Picture it: May 2012. Music City Mixture is ready for me to peddle at the organists’ convention. Promotional information is prepared. Free copies of my previous recording Live Performances are ordered and on their way to be inserted into convention tote bags. An announcement card for the new recording is printed up with the special convention price, also to be inserted into convention tote bags. And just for good measure, I have had fresh copies of my promotional brochure printed, also to be inserted into convention tote bags. There is a “party” with friends where we stuff promo CDs, announcement cards, and Joby brochures into two thousand little plastic bags. I ship those little guys off to the convention city, where they will be dropped into convention tote bags for all attendees. What a publicity coup! Imagine the mileage we’ll get out of this! Imagine people arriving at the convention, finding those materials in their tote bag, seeking me out, and purchasing a copy of the new CD! And the national “release party” for Music City Mixture is an enormous success! Master of the universe in the house!

Now picture what really happened: When I arrived for the convention, I discovered that all those promotional materials had not been dropped into the tote bags, after all. They were still sitting in the receiving warehouse, where they did not see the light of day again until convention day two.

So now imagine the sudden uselessness of all that publicity. Imagine all the money and time invested. Imagine two thousand giveaway previous CDs sitting forgotten in a warehouse, and one thousand brand new CDs in my car, now with no buyers who know about it.

My first order of business to salvage this was to retrieve all those publicity materials, which I did. After that, I was in no mood to stay and enjoy the convention, and so I took my bitterness elsewhere. I hadn’t intended to tell this tale publicly, but the passage of time has brought to light some lessons learned and new things to try that are worth airing:

1. The two thousand giveaway CDs, Live Performances, intended for convention tote bags, are still available for giveaway. I’ll be hauling them to recital engagements, family reunions, workshops, doctors’ offices, etc., and giving them to any interested people.

2. I am preparing a mass email to all convention attendees, to announce Music City Mixture. (The special convention price no longer applies.)

3. Meanwhile, I have been plunged into uncharted territory, such as questioning for the very first time the usefulness of the national organization to my career, reconsidering my eagerness to accept service opportunities in it, reconsidering my love of conventions over which I was so enthusiastic in the first post of this series, considering attending other organizations’ conventions, and withholding my trust in others for longer initial periods from now on.

4. HOWEVER: This incident put my quota for grudges over the limit! Were I to add this grudge to all my existing ones, I would start to have trouble keeping up and remembering who’s who. And so one day I found a strange calm in letting all those grudges go, in an instant. You know, folks, when all this is over, the cockroaches will be the only ones left, and I can learn to get over a few first-world problems along the way. I have felt better since arriving at that place of peace. I even accepted a Facebook friend request that I had left untouched for months, from someone who treated me most unprofessionally and uncharitably several years ago. Although I will not mistake a grudge for unfinished business, and although I will always be astounded by how easily Music City Mixture’s initial publicity was derailed, I can let go of the little stuff better. My doctor should be pleased with my blood pressure numbers from now on.

And NOW this series really is ended. Many millions of thanks to Bradley Gawthrop for slapping the software around to accommodate all these photos and sound files. Splendid work.

Making Music City Mixture : Part VII

Part 7 of a multi-part narrative of my new recording on mechanical action organs of Nashville. Music City Mixture is available here.

Wightman Chapel, Scarritt-Bennett Center

Scarritt-Bennett homepage
Organ photos
Organ specifications
Organ builder

I love neo-Gothic college campuses, and Scarritt-Bennett used to be a college. I’m glad the buildings are still being lovingly used, even if no longer for college education. The chapel remains busy for weddings (Jennie reported more than 70 one year), and the organ remains in decent shape, despite having some years on it and not a lot of budget to keep it young.

While Jennie was enthusiastic about my recording there, she warned me as gently as she could that the Casavant might not sound very good these days. When I had played it for a few minutes on Monday, I concurred. But I played some more and discovered that most of the problems lie in the reeds (dirty and old) and in the upper work (Orgelbewegung), which I could easily avoid. When I chose to stay primarily at 4-foot and below, the organ sprang to life. The Buxtehude Praeludium took on a fresh assertiveness, and the Sweelinck Variants, recorded there purely on a lark, very nearly replaced the take at St. Andrew’s! You can hear the Wightman take here:

Finally, just for fun, here are some clips of videos captured during practice times:

I’m practicing the Bobo Appalachian Prelude at First Presbyterian, d’Aquin Noëls at Covenant Presbyterian, and the Gigout Scherzo (not recorded) at Covenant Presbyterian.

* * *

I am glad to have extracted and captured some of Nashville’s beauty on this recording and in these supplemental materials. I hope all these organs have been given a stronger voice for themselves and a pleasant hearing for you on Music City Mixture.

Making Music City Mixture : Part VI

Part 6 of a multi-part narrative of my new recording on mechanical action organs of Nashville. Music City Mixture is available here.

First Lutheran Church

Church: http://First-Lutheran-Nashville.org/
Organ photos: http://www.PhotographyByStein.com/
Organ specifications: http://www.NashvilleAGO.org/AreaOrgans/Specs/FirstLutheranChpl.htm

I visited First Lutheran on Monday to practice. Director of Music Mark Beall was a most gracious host, and he enjoyed chatting with Rich about recording equipment when we came back to record on Wednesday.

The Wolff in the chapel is one of those experiences every organist ought to have. Depending on your perspective, you could imagine yourself somewhere in Europe, where the stairs to the organ are winding and tiny, and the loft is tight. Or you could imagine yourself, as I did, at the charming 1865 all-cedar Wandke organ in the Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Round Top, Texas. Here is a photo of me at the real thing in Nashville:

I knew immediately that the Bach A Major Prelude & Fugue would be lovely here, as would the Froberger Canzona. The CD did not have enough room for the Froberger, and so it is here:

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