Aging and teaching

As of this writing, I am exactly 43 years 4 months old. My head knows that I’m a youngster and that the best is yet to come; this is corroborated by anyone older than me, who exclaims that I’m but a baby. But my heart remembers that the best days of my life – so far – are still back in college, now more than twenty years ago. “Middle Age” seems to be appropriately named, because I seem to be between best days of my life, with little to hang onto in the Middle.

My gut says that I will be a happy old man. But I am not getting there gracefully. I bemoan the hair loss, the layer of fat, the BPH, the age spots, and the keratosis from a carefree childhood in the sun. But I fear obsolescence and irrelevance even more.

Enter my students.

In teaching, you’re almost completely at the mercy of the market, for you know only through feedback how well you’re doing. We have lots of peer- and administration-generated reviews, but what about the students’ feedback? They don’t write much or very informatively on student evaluations. But they give feedback by continuing to practice what I preached. They give it by making careers out of their training. And they give it by coming back to visit.

Not every teacher’s office is a safe house for students. Mine is, at least in part because it is located near the quiet end of the hall, where some students enjoy hanging out. When I am “in residence,” my door stays open, and I love having visitors. I give directions, help with theory homework, loan stuff, explain how I got all those LPs, explain what LPs are, play amateur counselor, etc. All in a day’s work. It’s in my nature to enjoy doing that, and perhaps that's what will keep me current and relevant into old age. But it does so much for ME for these students of mine to come and visit, especially after they have graduated. They have no idea how much that means and how much it boosts my spirits to see them and catch up. Even if I crossed swords with a student in the past, it means a lot when they come back or send an email to tell me that I was right about the treachery of church politics and to thank me for the warning. Technology is also playing its part, as usual; I’m enjoying “Words With Friends” on my iPhone with about six students at a time.

So to all those students who come to me for advice, for designated driving, for amateur counseling, or just to stay in touch, you have NO IDEA how much that means, and perhaps you won’t know until you experience your own version of getting older. Meanwhile, your loyalty is free therapy for me. Thank you.

In your own words...

Perhaps there’s nothing more difficult to teach than something you know really well. It is too easy to make assumptions that the listener knows more than they do or that they are bored and you should move on. I usually err on moving on too quickly. But I’m getting better.

Likewise, sometimes it is difficult to put into words that which I prefer and strive for AND to make it understandable to a novice. Below is an email exchange that took place out of the blue when a non-music major asked me some questions for a sociology project. See how I did:

-Q: How long have you been in your sacred music profession?
-A: Church organist since 1988. Concert organist since 1990. Sacred music professor since 2004.

-Q: Do you have a preference of musical style of worship in the church? If so, then what?
-A: “Traditional” is the standard word to describe it. Organ to accompany the choir and the congregation. Choral music by noted composers. Carefully rehearsed.

-Q: What is your favorite instrument to play?
-A: String bass, but I can’t play that! So I suppose the piano or organ is my favorite.

-Q: Is there anything you wish you could change about how church music or (sacred music) is done?
-A: Not really. I do prefer that church music be well-written, professionally prepared, and sincerely presented. But the world is a big place, and not everyone needs their church music to be as perfect as I strive to make it!

-Q: What are some of the biggest issues you have encountered with your profession either in a church setting or as a teacher?
-A: Over-administration always threatens creativity. Many clergy are tyrants, and many directors of music are amateur musicians.

-Q: If you could give advice to someone starting their career out in the sacred music profession what would it be?
-A: Decide where you will draw the line between being a professional musician and being a compassionate shepherd for your music department. Then decide how often and how far you will MOVE that line you have drawn. It WILL happen.

-Q: What do you think about the different musical styles of worship that are arising in the churches?
-A: It is all sociologically driven. Human beings have demonstrated their love/hatred of the ceremonial throughout all of history. Something becomes boring, and so we make it fancier. Then the fancy goes overboard, and we overreact and strip it away to nothing, which later becomes boring, and so the cycle repeats. The same is true of music — people used to enjoy cerebral, thought-provoking music. Then they wanted something more basic, something more immediately appealing with less effort. Now, I’m seeing people grow bored with that, and they’re asking for more cerebral music again! That is a very sociological cycle, but when it occurs in a church setting, it occurs behind liturgical/spiritual language, which makes it more difficult to see for what it is. Once you look at all this from a sociological perspective, it becomes much clearer.

Screwtape lives on

Looks like I'm not finished with last week's post. A weekend in bed with a summer cold virus can make anyone crabby.

I am no C. S. Lewis. But the voice of his Screwtape character is perfect for some [past, not present] experiences I have had. If you find something here that sounds familiar, it’s because I don’t make any of this up; I only invent the delivery. Enjoy. (On second thought, don’t enjoy – much of this is too sad for words).

Screwtape says:

"Ah, yes, you wish to organize worship. Well, there are many, many things you must do to ensure the most man-centered experience possible. Make your liturgical decisions for convenience, not for liturgy. Then at least someone (you) will be pleased with the services.

"Here is a perfect way to get your organist to cultivate improvisational skills:

1. Allow only fifteen minutes between services.

2. Require three minutes before a given service time for announcements. For example, if a service is published for 9:30, begin making announcements at 9:27. The organ prelude must be concluded by 9:27.

3. Make the previous service run late.

4. Before long, your organist will finally be earning his keep with short, perfectly timed preludes. And when timing becomes less predictable, he will resort to improvising preludes that can be cut off at any time. In some cases, the postlude for the previous service can serve as the prelude for the next. And heaven forbid the organist should ever have time for the restroom.

"As for those announcements themselves, they should not be moved to a more informal moment in the service, such as following the Peace. No, it is much better to add as many speed bumps to the service as possible. And the nature of the announcements should resemble Show & Tell. Under no circumstances should you announce anything that is not already printed in the bulletin. People should never be trusted nor encouraged to read and digest for themselves on their own time.

"When the announcements are over, be sure to say something like, 'Well, it’s time for worship now; let the Holy Spirit prepare your heart as the Choir leads us.' It is vital that you say this, so that no one makes the mistaken assumption that the organ prelude before the announcements had anything to do with worship. And of course, say something about the choir leading. Heaven forbid they should just be allowed to lead. Liturgical flow must be interrupted with play-by-play editorializing.

"Now, for that choral introit. The choir is in the narthex, yes? So, have your media department stick mikes in the narthex to 'pick the choir up.' You and your congregation will be enthralled by the tinny, poorly balanced sound and the inexcusable amount of feedback, week after week. And let’s not forget that the narthex is already abuzz with conversation and mass confusion, all of which is audible from within the sanctuary. And during the processional hymn, make sure there are people elbowing their way through the choir to get to a seat and otherwise beat the choir down the aisle. Have other people lined up to exit up the center aisle while the choir is processing down it. Be sure that your ushers do absolutely nothing about any of that and that they even contribute to it when possible.

"After every hymn, be sure that someone is planted near a microphone to call out, 'Be seated.' Be absolutely certain that those two words are invariably called out while the last chord of the hymn is still ringing throughout the room. And add an awkward 'sit down' gesture, just for good measure. It is folly to think that people could ever get the hint to sit by just observing the clergy and choir being seated or by referring to the bulletin.

"These are just a few ideas to get you started. When in doubt, get in a hurry; proper liturgy has no business 'breathing.' Clumsy and over-planned should carry the day every time."

What to do with that pesky prelude?

Most churches with a functioning organ and a functioning organist hear organ music just before worship begins.

Or is it more accurate to say that most churches with a functioning organ and a functioning organist hear organ music to begin worship?

Will your prelude/voluntary/pre-service music serve as the first act of worship, or will it merely serve as “Your attention, please” so that worship can get underway? I tend to play concert music on Sundays, rather than hymn/chorale-based. Can my preludes be construed as Recital Hour, or can they be considered worshipful to anyone who will listen?

Both. And both are correct, depending on the listener.

I believe it is more natural for the conscientious observer to consider prelude music part of the service, but the Reformed tradition tends to regard anything before the Call to Worship as peripheral, and by extension, I suppose, dispensable. Well, tell that to the lady who was so blown away by the Walton Crown Imperial one Palm Sunday that she insisted that that piece be played at her funeral. Tell it to the church members who consistently maintain that that organ, that organist, and that choir are the only reasons they attend that church. Tell it to the people who would just as soon hear the prelude, the anthem, and the postlude, call that all the church they need, and ditch the rest. Tell it to the people who nearly left that church but hung around when that new organist started reaching their hearts. Tell the people who love every note that the prelude is not worshipful.

Just this week, I heard of a pastor whose daughter’s wedding will use pop and love ballads during the prelude, even though such music is forbidden in the church’s wedding policies. He is working around that by saying that since it’s part of the prelude, it doesn’t affect the actual ceremony. That is a criminal assessment of the nature of a prelude, and it ought to be writing on the wall for that church’s organist. Organist beware.

I once dealt sternly with a guest minister for a wedding. He insisted that the exit music be stopped after the wedding party exited so that he could invite everyone to the reception, then he wanted to music to resume. My response: “In this church, music is part of worship. While I am glad to stop the music any time you wish, the worship service will then be over, and the music will not resume. And by the way, I am not a CD player with a pause button.” (And let’s be honest – every person who attends a wedding in this country knows about the reception. They don’t need a verbal invitation on top of the engraved invitation they already received.) But he insisted. So he got to make his announcement, and I got to pack up and leave before the room emptied. Early dinner that night was delicious.

Well, why all this discussion? I’m in 'assessment mode' as my tenure as a regular church organist draws to a close on July 17. I’m saying goodbye to church as regular employment in order to focus on my performing and teaching. Substitute playing will always be a welcome activity, and I will always want to share my expertise when possible.

Therefore, I’m currently hyper-sensitive to the comments and thank-yous from church members who will miss my work. This renders my departure bittersweet, but it affirms all those years of experience on the job reaching hearts, edifying the downtrodden, strengthening singing, and thrilling the willing listener.

If we organists worked in a vacuum, we’d have no idea how well we were doing. But the reports we get from people who got just what they needed that day from our music helps keep us on track. Carry on, and let the Prelude be what it wants to be to all who will listen, regardless what a book of laws says about its usefulness.

Recruiting, Part 3: A thin slice of heaven

A colleague of mine, Prof. Laurie Semmes, usually says goodbye with, “Well, it has been a thin slice of heaven!” I routinely agree with that assessment.

I am just returning home from a thin slice of heaven, having played a recital on the l’Organo series at the Spoleto festival in Charleston, SC. Although this will come as a surprise to very few, I am delighted to report that music is still alive and well there. I have found no other place in this country that packs music venues to the gills for three weeks running, for all manner of musical performances. Audiences are appreciative and informed. Performances are high quality. Hosts, though harried, are gracious and quick with words of praise and thanks.

And air conditioning is plentiful. That may be the most heavenly part of the whole thing.

Then there is the beauty of the city itself, a complete assessment of which is far beyond the scope of this blog.

And then there is the food, which is definitely thicker than a thin slice of heaven.

Wait – did I say that venues are packed to the gills? Yes, I did. I’m thinking particularly of the organ recitals, which are played at 10:00 am every day. People actually GO to those things? Why in the world do they do THAT? Those recitals are more often than not held in churches, and churches carry bad connotations for many people these days. Churches look unfamiliar, scary, unwelcoming, closed-minded. I have heard many people say with pride in their voice that they haven’t set foot in a church in years. So what is it about Spoleto that has people creating nearly standing-room-only conditions, to listen to organ music (written by now long-dead composers), day after day, before lunch, for two weeks? In Spoleto’s case, the festival itself probably attracts all kinds, and there is something for everyone, and everyone finds what he’s looking for. Air conditioning may also be a draw. So Spoleto really is a thin slice of heaven, otherworldly, musically utopian.

And Spoleto audiences are smart. They know where to find the next performance. They know where to sit in case they need to hurry out. They know where to sit to get a good view or good sound. I overheard one woman arriving for my recital tell her companion that they should sit on THAT side so that the page turner wouldn’t block their view of the console. That was admirable advance planning, but she was in for a pleasant surprise – I don’t use page turners.

Well, for what it’s worth, the organ is making its generational comeback, regular as clockwork. Young people are discovering it, even if a little later in life due to decreased church attendance. The organ continues to hang in there and will probably never die. Its lifeblood will continue to be 1) organists who program for the audience; 2) audiences who continue to show up and bring friends; 3) young people who are allowed access.

I have preached that last line before. But I am not yet blue in the face, and so the preaching will continue. At least until a thicker slice of heaven arrives.

’Til we meet again

Last night, I said goodbye to my seventh church choir, that of the First Presbyterian Church of Lenoir, N.C. My time with them comes to an end on July 17, after two years’ service.

I remember vividly every church I have played for regularly, and I remember all the goodbye parties for each. Every group is different, and they all say goodbye in different ways, and they all remember different things about me. About the only constant to the goodbyes is the covered dish meal, and such a thing makes saying ANY goodbye easier. (And last night’s cooking should not be missed by anyone, if you can help it. Get to Caldwell County, N.C., and feast as soon as possible.)

If you’re the organist, the choir of a given church becomes your family, your Sunday School class, your eating/drinking buddies, your support structure in times of need and in times of celebration. They become your traveling companions, your fellow Super Bowl partiers, your fellow warriors against mediocrity, and your faithful few in the dead of winter. The Lenoir choir is no exception, and they have my thanks and enduring fondness.

The First Presbyterian Church of Lenoir, N.C., houses a lovely Aeolian-Skinner from 1949 that I have enjoyed playing and maintaining. It also houses wonderful, supportive people who love music and who have enjoyed my work. I know this because they have told me. They have also told me that I came along at a critical juncture in their life as a congregation, infusing fresh energy and sincerity into their musical lives. I am grateful to them for telling me so, and I am pleased that my work does such a thing for people. I hate to leave a place where I can still do good, but leave I must.

This church job represented the first time I had kept all three careers of teaching, performing, and service playing going at the same time. It has been rewarding, but it’s time to cry “Uncle!” and drop back to maintaining only two of those careers. My hat is off to my colleagues worldwide who pull all three careers at the same time. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it, and I’m not sure I want to. Teaching consumes about 60% of my life, and performing consumes about 80%. That’s a total of 140%, and that’s quite enough for one life.

This is a good time to reflect on my professional life so far and to acknowledge that my work does, indeed, change lives. I used to think it was just part of the job, but many years on that job helped open my ears and my mind to people around me who know how refreshing it is to get more out than you put in. It is also worth noting that the work I do as a musician is the very kind of work I was actually trained for, AND I enjoy doing it. What is a hobby or avocation for many others is my bread and butter. I am truly fortunate, blessed, lucky, and devoid of any excuse to complain about my lot in life. I’m sure I’m not alone, and to all organ teachers, performers, and church musicians, I say, “Thank you, and hang in there.”

To my other six churches listed below, I say, “Thank you for all you taught me. I like where I am and how I got here, and I look forward to where I’m going:”

-- Crossnore Presbyterian Church, Crossnore, N.C., 1988-1989 (college junior year; the learning curve begins)
-- Boone United Methodist Church, Boone, N.C., 1989-1990 (college senior year; top of the world)
-- Church of St. John the Divine, Houston, Tex., 1990-1994 (the most formative of all; I'd be nothing without this one)
-- Church of the Holy Spirit, Houston, Tex., 1994-1995 (a quiet interim period)
-- St. Philip Presbyterian Church, Houston, Tex., 1995-1997 (the smartest congregation on earth)
-- First Presbyterian Church, Houston, Tex., 1997-2005 (the choir, director, and organ from heaven)

Now that I have the other two careers where I want them, it may be a long time before I add another church to this list. Substitute work will beckon, of course, and I will gladly heed its call when possible.

Meanwhile, 'til we meet again...

Recruiting, Part 2: Stories of Horror and Success

I’ll never stop saying that the future of the organ lies in allowing young people access to it:

-- I once contacted a professor about visiting the university instrument, whose builder was a friend of mine. The requested day was the professor’s day off, and he lived too far away to come in, blah, blah, blah, and that was that.

-- Another professor taught at a particular church because the university didn’t have an organ. I was scheduled to play the Duruflé Requiem at that church for a visiting choir. But I wasn’t allowed to practice the day before the gig because the professor had lessons in there that day. This was in a big city full of organs, so something could have been worked out. But instead, I had to make two 300-mile round trips to practice for and play that gig. Most inconvenient and inhospitable.

-- A historic, urban church in the Midwest was “closed” the day I dropped by to see the new organ while I was passing through town. “Oh yes, we’re very protective of the new organ!” was their apparently proud conclusion when I called. (Yes, they were there to answer the phone – the church was not “closed.”) Such “protection” will kill the new organ’s momentum in the community. I’m not so sure that I’d brag about being so “protective” of a new organ. Oh, but they did offer some ‘hope:’ “We’ll be here on Sunday morning.”

Really? I hadn’t thought of that.

I wonder where I’d be with the organ today, had I been a young person in any of those conversations.

Well, let’s hear some good news now. My students and I have been allowed as much time as we like at the following venues:

Friendship Missionary Baptist Church, Charlotte, NC. Thank you, Monty Bennett!
First Presbyterian Church, Hickory, NC. Thank you, Denise Filip!
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Winston-Salem, NC. Thank you, John Cummins and Don Grice!
Wait Chapel, Wake Forest University. Thank you, Don Armitage!
First Baptist Church, Longview, TX. Thank you, the Rev. David English!
Augsburg Lutheran Church, Winston-Salem, NC. Thank you, John Coble!

I’ll stop there for now, but there are many more such venues, whose incumbents deserve thanks.

Of course, in this post-9/11 society, arriving unannounced at a church and asking to admire the architecture and play the organ may be a thing of the past. But let’s be realistic about how much of a security threat an organist really poses. I would suggest:

1. Train whomever answers the church phone to answer “Yes” when someone wants to visit the organ.
2. Be reachable when you're not onsite.
3. Train proxy hosts for those times when you are away.
4. Post house rules at the console so everyone knows what is expected. More on that in a forthcoming post.
5. Feed and water your console regularly and carefully. MUCH more on that in a forthcoming post.
6. Insist on playing a part in fostering interest in the organ. REFUSE to play a part in the opposite direction.

You never know when you will hook a kid for life because you let him play to his heart’s content one day. You also never know when any person will be turned off forever to the organ (and maybe to church entirely) because he was denied access to what might be to him a wonderful instrument, no matter how much you may hate it. We are no longer in the position to pick and choose. We’re no longer trying to interest people in the organ because it’s there – we’re now to the point of needing to interest them because it’s NOT there in a lot of young peoples’ lives.

I may not have proof that failure to do this would turn a kid off forever. But I am living proof that success with it hooks a kid for life. See my success story in Part 1 of this series.

Organ literature and dinner parties

For my course in organ literature, I often have students discuss topics as if they were attending a hypothetical (but quite possible) dinner party teeming with organists and organ enthusiasts. Just as there are subjects one does not mention in polite or unfamiliar company outside the organ world, such as politics, religion, or sex, so are there subjects within the organ world that are guarded and defended by alligators hiding in shallow pools. Students need to know the hot topics capable of launching lively conversation or killing it dead in its tracks. In such company, one must be careful before declaring a preference for:

Virgil or E. Power
Diane or Cameron
Pipe or digital
Allen or Rodgers
Memorized or not
Open judging or blind judging
Prescribed repertoire or free
Bach or Widor
Straube or Heiller
The way Crozier did it or the way Weinrich did it
“French Symphonic” or “French Romantic”
Aeolian-Skinner or Holtkamp
Romantic or Neo Baroque
“French Classical,” “French Classic,” or “French Baroque”
Bach wrote it or Krebs did
Flat or radiating concave
Flat or radiating non-concave
Flat or non-radiating concave
Flat or flatter
Flat or outright convex
Pistons or assistants
Hymns or recitals
Legato or detached
Legato or pecked at

Journalistic and LISTSERV blood has been spilled over these kinds of things. Fortunately, careers have not been completely dismantled over dinner party conversation. But it may be remarkable that some organists have any friends at all. Perhaps all this has now reminded you of all kinds of situations you have been in or would like to have avoided. You may now be reminded of this or that opinionated loudmouth, and your blood is boiling all over again. But let’s back up – I brought all this up in terms of how to teach a classroom course in organ literature AND how to get students in the habit of interacting in organ society without getting themselves ostracized before their time.

Some facts are not negotiable, such as composers’ dates or their influence on succeeding generations. It is on those hard facts that I have my students hang their knowledge. This accomplishes two things: it allows the students to stay engaged in meaningful conversation on organ topics in mixed company, and it gives the students framework on which to gauge incoming data. For example, if they hear conversation about 17th-century Italian keyboard music, they can immediately filter it through the lens of their knowledge of, say, Frescobaldi. If they hear something about double mouths or Wanamaker, then they don’t need to search their knowledge of BWV numbers to keep up.

Students, you may need waders or steel-lined pants in some pools you wade in. When in doubt, listen and keep a lid on it! Unless you’re writing a blog.


Man is Lord

'Fess up. You know there's a point in history to which you'd like the church to return. Yet you would still like to color that return with modern influence. I’d like liturgy to return to Medieval times, where the pageantry and architecture were all there. Then I’d add a good helping of Lutheran reform, where the congregation can actually see, hear, and understand what’s going on. And I would certainly include an Aeolian-Skinner to play, plus a choir directed by John Yarrington.

I laugh when I hear anyone drag out the same old blanket statement, “We need to get back to the basics,” or, “We need to get back to the way church used to be.” Well, what are the basics? The Ark of the Covenant? Candles? Vestments? Communion? Self-flagellation? Monastic life? And what about “getting back to the way church used to be?” You have a multi-millennial history to wade through there, Jack. Just how far back would you like to go? To last year before your pastor resigned? To 20 years ago, when people dressed up for church? To Luther? To the Upper Room? To the Promised Land? To the Garden of Eden? Or are you going to conveniently pick and choose – taking us back to the Upper Room but with microphones and PowerPoint?

And so I return to the first two words of this post: “’Fess up.” You, like I, would like to pick and choose and build the “perfect” church. That is fun to daydream about but terribly dangerous to try to put into practice. It hasn’t worked yet; if it had, we’d all be members of this perfect church. When you start that in earnest, Man becomes Lord. The creation of Rite II is about as far as I’d be willing to go. But Rite III is on its way, and so the watering down continues.

All of the following happened in the same church. And I’m not making any of this up:

1) ‘God Bless America’ and the National Anthem were sung on Lent I, just because it was also Boy Scout Sunday.
2) The National Anthem was sung on Pentecost, just because it was also Memorial Day weekend.
3) ‘Onward, Christian Soldiers’ was sung on Advent III, just because it hadn’t been sung in a while.(!)
4) A bride had wonderful classical music including that of harp, boychoir, string quartet, trumpet, organ, and vocalist. But the congregation was assigned a campfire chorus to sing.
5) A family requested The Stars & Stripes Forever for a funeral.

Guess the denomination.

Episcopal.

Yes, Episcopal. If a Mack truck were expected to shift gears as much as that church did, the transmission would fall out. I have asked it before, and I’ll ask it again: just WHOM is being worshipped here?

Let’s all slow down, take a deep breath, and ask ourselves why we do some of these things. And let’s be thankful that none of us with our fickle tastes ever landed the job of being God.

Weddings! Part 1: Vocal music

Good morning! Wedding Singer Hotline! How may I help you?

Yes, we always recommend employing either a) a competent soloist or b) no soloist for your wedding.

Oh, you’d like to have as wedding soloist your cousin ‘who sings?’ Well, that’s not very informative. Oh, they sing ‘opera?’ Ah, yes, the Andrew Lloyd Webber Pie Jesu? Um, well, that’s not a wedding song, and it isn’t opera. Perhaps I just need to speak directly with your soloist.

Well, I suppose using an accompaniment track is OK, but the sound system was not installed with that in mind. And since we have a 1949 Aeolian-Skinner and a 9-foot walnut Steinway, plus an above-average musician to play them, it might be more meaningful to use those, instead.

Tradition? No, there is no tradition when it comes to vocal music. If you employ a lousy soloist just to fulfill a tradition, then you’ll have a spoiled wedding video.

As to what music to choose, you’ll need to find out the church’s policies on what is acceptable in that particular church. As you know, a wedding held in a church is a service of worship to God, not an exercise in managing the bridal couple’s taste in public displays. Solos at weddings and solos at receptions are rarely interchangeable. Someone singing John Denver or George Strait in church is the musical equivalent of a bridesmaid processing down the aisle in cutoffs and a halter-top. By the same token, the Lord’s Prayer will probably not fare very well at a reception. The appropriateness of any vocal music may be tested by determining its appropriateness for any service of Christian worship:

We recommend:
-- any text taken directly from the Bible;
-- liturgical prayers set to music;
-- any text which mentions God in some way other than in exclamation;
-- any text which capitalizes the words ‘he’, ‘him’, or ‘his’;
-- any text which illustrates your desire to bring honor to the marriage;
-- any hymn, except one with an obviously non-applicable theme such as funeral comfort, patriotism, etc.;
-- something which may suitably be used in Sunday worship services;
-- any text with applicable, recognizable theology.

We discourage:
-- songs containing the words ‘baby’, ‘darling’, ‘honey’, ‘I swear’, ‘lover’, etc;
-- songs with running themes such as ‘my little girl is all grown up now’, ‘mother’s grief’, ‘daddy’s playfulness’, ‘look how far we’ve come’, ‘how good you make me feel’,  etc.;
-- Pop, Country, Broadway, and movie soundtracks.

Anything falling in the ‘discourage’ category above may be more effective at your reception.

Ah, yes, when to rehearse? Vocal/instrumental rehearsal should occur one hour before the wedding. It is imperative that your soloist have learned all notes and rhythms before arriving for that rehearsal. Have your soloist bring at that time a copy of the printed music for the organist in the soloist’s preferred key. No vocalist should expect two and three meetings with the organist to rehearse. One hour before the wedding will suffice, with one or two runs through. After all, the organist has already played it a thousand times, and if the soloist can’t learn it on his own, then he falls in the ‘incompetent’ category and should never have been asked to sing in the first place.

Many times, a singer wants the organist to make a recording for the singer to rehearse at home with. Those recordings are dangerous. First, the singer will get too used to the recording and will expect the very same thing at the wedding. Second, if soloists must rehearse this way, then they are incompetent and should not be singing in the first place.

Yes, I suppose a lot of this is news to you or has been somewhat discouraging. But many churches are looking to reclaim their houses of worship from the '70s and '80s, when love ballads were the norm in weddings.

I’m sure your wedding will be beautiful, especially if you give music as much thought as you have the dress and the invitations. We are here to help. (And in most cases, ‘help’ means ‘educate.’)

Thank you for calling the Wedding Singer Hotline!