Playing when no one is listening

Long ago, I stopped playing for wedding receptions and dinner parties. I can’t stand playing when no one is listening. When I was a kid, I would be asked to play something for company in the house. With the first notes, the conversation in the room would pick up and grow from there, as if conversation didn't have a chance without music. But I wanted to be listened to, rather than be background noise for foreground noise.

Some people don’t feel complete unless something, anything, is playing in the background. In many restaurants, there is muzak playing for the clientele, while the kitchen has a little radio playing different music for the crew. Sometimes I find a louder, third type of music being played in the restroom. Muzak is played in church to cover up some action or silence. Many church preludes turn into little more than “your attention, please” for the announcements that follow. We have ‘traveling music’ in weddings, during which time the wedding party makes their way up the chancel steps for vows and rings. Out of sheer petulance, I once played slow, ecclesiastical renditions of popular cartoon songs for traveling music during a gala event in a new church gym that everyone hated. No one noticed.

Perhaps we have gotten too used to having music all around us. It seems that everyone walks around with earphones on. No one seems to want to listen to birds in trees or even to talk to another human being while they walk or jog. Even students show up late to class because they were searching for something to listen to while they walked 100 yards to class. Can we really not walk across a room or drive a quarter-mile without something playing in the background? And yet, how many of us can remember WHAT we were listening to the last time we drove a car or took a walk? Are we becoming numb to all the glorious music available to us at every turn? How would the composer feel about that? How would the record producer feel? (Actually, the record producer probably doesn't care, so long as he got paid for it.)

How long did it take you to notice that Christmas songs were being played in department stores at Halloween? I had made many visits to a certain restaurant before I realized the rock/love ballad music I thought they were playing was actually Christian music, and later on, that same restaurant began playing only the accompaniment tracks to that same music, lyrics removed. Here is an example in the other direction: I once walked into Wal-Mart and immediately sensed that something was amiss. Twenty minutes passed before I realized that the store stereo system was broken; there was NO music playing. All I had heard during that time was the hum of fluorescent lights and the squeaks of shopping carts, but it took a while to figure that out. Imagine walking into Disney World and not hearing music coming from the speakers hidden in trees and bushes and walls. You’d probably notice that. But what WAS playing from those trees and bushes the last time you visited the Magic Kingbom?

Is the presence, rather than the substance, of music now more important to us? Should music really be used as something we’re not supposed to notice unless it’s missing? Music is more glorious than this, folks. Let’s try to listen to it more carefully rather than more often. When the batteries are dead and the clouds are blocking the satellite, or when you have received the worst news imaginable, the sound of a babbling brook or a friend’s voice just might be the most glorious music on earth.

The rite of the right to write

Computers and email have turned our society into near-constant writers. Many of us communicate all the time, much of it written or typed. Not being a father, I can only guess that members of the younger generation do not even speak anymore as much as their parents would like. And of course, the grammatical errors that email and texting allow, yea even encourage, are another story. For now, I’m just pausing to consider the amount of daily typing in my life. I write lectures for this workshop or that class. I write a weekly blog. I create and respond to emails. I make daily updates to my CV and activity databases. I am currently writing in-house textbooks to use in my organ literature and sacred music classes. I write long emails to organ search committees and organists in need of advice. Just today I wrote a long email to a funeral home explaining why funeral organist fees should be higher than $75. I write memos to school and university administrations. I have written many reports during service on this or that committee. I wrote many front-page newsletter greetings during my term as dean of the Houston Chapter of the AGO, and I wrote countless ads, updates, and one article during my service as director of the AGO national competition. And on and on. You can relate.

In addition to all the words I have written, I have also been known to write music, most of it in the form of hymn harmonizations and other arrangements for organ solo. I have one hymn-anthem in print with AMC; the rest of it is stored neatly in Finale files. I submitted some of it to publishers and got all the usual responses: “The market is saturated.” “Our publishing lineup for this type of piece is saturated.” “We don’t publish this sort of thing.” “The market is not large enough for this kind of thing.” And of course, some publishers commit the cardinal sin of not even responding at all. But all of this is okay for me, for composing/publishing is not my career. I am quite satisfied being a performer and teacher. Nevertheless, I feel I have something to say in these pieces, and I want to share. If publishers don’t find them interesting, perhaps a reader will.

Therefore, I’m offering you "all my stuff" in PDF format, scattered throughout this blog in a tagged series called "Free PDFs: Help yourself." Bon appétit if you like any of it! Included:

-- 39 hymn harmonizations, many with descant

-- Malotte Lord's Prayer for congregation/organ

-- Wondrous Love octavo

-- organ solo arrangements of Elijah and Messiah overtures

-- organ solo arrangement of Reger Wiegenlied

-- vocal/organ and vocal/piano arrangements of It is well and Let all mortal flesh

The perfect console, part 2

Wonderful comments are coming in about The Perfect Console. Here are a few more theses for my Lutheran-style posting on the doors of organ builders:

26. Drawers installed under stop jambs tend to serve only two purposes: a) contain vitally important gadgetry that you can't reach in the heat of battle; b) destroy your knees when you enter/exit the bench.

27. Key cheek pistons are OK, I suppose. But are they really necessary if we have room for drawknobs and generals to do what we need to do? And if key cheek pistons are installed on every manual, then there's nothing to hang onto during pedal solos.

28. Clarifying my original thesis regarding sub-octave coupling: I'm not advocating for extensions on all ranks. That would be foolishly expensive and space-hogging. I am suggesting that certain stops make use of the lowest 12 notes of other similarly-voiced stops that already have those pipes installed. Examples: when sub-coupled, the 8' flute could make use of the low 12 notes of the existing 16' bourdon. When sub-coupled, the 8' string could use the lowest 12 notes of the 16' violone. The 8' trumpet could go into the 16' fagott. And so forth.

29. From Part 1: "If there is only one expression shoe, it should be located in the center, not right of center. The right foot is not the only foot that is often required to move the box." I should add that it is most inconvenient for a lone shoe to be recessed into the console so that it is "boxed in" and you must literally "insert" your foot STRAIGHT into the recession to get to the shoe. That wastes precious time, removes the other foot from being considered for box operation, and it turns the kick board black from all the "missed approaches."

The perfect console, part 1

Those of us who play lots of consoles become console snobs, whether we mean to or not. On the other hand, WHY, OH WHY do some builders continue to do things on consoles that just aren't useful?? And in that same vein, why, oh why do churches and builders allow the incumbent organist to design a dream console (or dream instrument, for that matter) that the next organist won't appreciate as much or be able to use as well? One of these days, I'm going to dress up as Martin Luther and tack the following 25 theses to the doors of many organ builders:

1. General piston toe studs must match thumb layout. It is completely illogical to arrange those in different configurations or to have a different number of studs than thumbs. It is much more efficient to hit the “third piston on the top” with thumb or toe than it is to hunt for the correct number among two different configurations.

2. Five or so Generals on the right-hand side would be nice. They must be duplicated on toe studs, too, and also on the right-hand side – see above.

3. Memory level up/down controls needs to be on thumb pistons WITHIN REACH. It’s nice to have them on toe studs, as well.

4. Piston sequencers for the page turner need to be on both sides of the console and completely out of the organist’s way.

5. Thumb pistons should be round, not square. There is no such thing as a square thumb. And thumb pistons should have a diameter greater than that of a shirt button.

6. Ventils on electric consoles are absolutely useless and are usually laughably, distantly located.

7. LCD readouts are too slow to change and too hard to read at an angle.

8. Box position gauges are nice, so long as they are accurate.

9. Make sub-couplers create a real lower octave by wiring the appropriate stops to lower-pitched stops already installed. 8-foots could descend into 16; 4-foots could descend into 8', etc. [EDIT: see this post for more on this concept.]

10. Make standard: I/II transfer, piston sequencer, detachable cables for movable consoles.

11. See No. 1 again, just to refresh your memory.

12. Pedalboard and music rack lights should come on with the blower, but they should also have manual switches to achieve darkness during Holy Week services.

13. Manual keys, pedals, and expression shoes need to be weighted, not merely stiff. And none of them should ever be hair-triggery. And the weighted-ness of all these needs to be about the same. It is silly to have feather-light keys and pedals, only to have to throw hips out of joint to move an expression shoe.

14. Expression shoes should be located BEHIND pedal sharps, along the natural arc that the knee joint creates. It is absolutely ludicrous to have to twist one's leg sideways to get a foot up onto an expression shoe.

15. If there is only one expression shoe, it should be located in the center, not right of center. The right foot is not the only foot that is often required to move the box. [EDIT: see this post for more.]

16. Boxes should have movement across the entire range of motion of expression shoes.

17. Allow some extra play in the Crescendo shoe before the first stage engages. Better for the shoe to have some “forgiveness” built in when it is accidentally grazed in performance.

18. Organists need spacious key cheeks to hang onto for dear life during pedal solos. Let’s not install drawknobs too close to the cheeks.

19. Install no locks requiring keys. Keychains will swing while hanging from a lock and scratch whatever they’re rubbing against.

20. Pencil troughs are nice to have below the coupler rail, above the top manual.

21. Every bench is too tall for some short person. And every bench is too short for some tall person. Solution: make it really short, and provide a crank AND bench blocks. If the crank doesn’t crank it up far enough, add the blocks. If the crank doesn’t lower it enough, remove the blocks.

22. AGO Standard is nice, but there is no such thing as an AGO standard body.

23. Low C and high G of the pedalboard must be unimpeded by stud mounts or console frame construction. It is not encouraging to go for low C with authority, only to hit General 26 or the console frame instead.

24. Include a large plate glass on top of the console cabinet. You’ll need it to protect the console from the inevitable choir folder, Kleenex box, Coke can, and CCTV equipment.

25. See No. 1 one more time, just to be sure.

In closing, see No. 1.

It’s not creating something from nothing. It’s inspiration, stupid.

I'm inspired by beautiful mountain and/or ocean scenery. I'm inspired by striking architecture, warm acoustics, well-voiced and tuned organs, and congregations singing lustily. I’m inspired by organist conventions and reunions. I’m inspired by great playing. I’m even inspired by bad playing. I am inspired by a performance I heard, by yesterday’s progress on a new piece, by the mountain view out the windows, by the good news that came in, by the thawing of the ice storm, by breaking bread with friends and the needy, by a relaxing drive over unfamiliar land. It’s all potentially inspirational, and I choose to turn all inspiration toward my playing and teaching.

Recently, I subbed for David Arcus on a Sunday morning at the Duke Chapel. It isn’t often that a non-incumbent enjoys the inspiration of cubic footage such as that. The momentum to pursue excellence continues for months after such an experience. It’s times like those that I understand the phenomenon of inspiration drawn from outside stimuli. Many great composers’ greatest pieces were written while on vacation. But what about those composers who are inspired by their regular jobs, not just their vacations? I experienced flashes of understanding when I played the Widor Toccata at St-Sulpice, the Franck E Major Choral on the Cavaillé-Coll stops at Ste-Clotilde and the Duruflé Veni Créator at St-Étienne-du-mont. Surely Bach was inspired by the organs he played, but we have little evidence that his inspiration came from anywhere but a boundlessly fertile imagination to use the resources at hand. What an interesting study THAT would be.

It has slowly dawned on me that some corner of every house should be set up for creativity. The obvious corner in mine is where the organ console sits. But other corners of that same house can be used for exercise while watching movies or for repairing bicycles or for reading helpful books on everything from opera to local architecture to biographies to entrepreneurship. Living in a house is different from merely residing in it.

Getting stuck finding some inspiration? Go through Gerre Hancock’s book on improvisation. That is a great way to develop inspiration where none exists otherwise. In that respect, my most recent inspiration came from improvising at the organ at St. John the Divine in New York City. That is a room in which, as an organ builder friend of mine puts it, “a train wreck would sound good.” The momentum from that experience lasts, and the inspiration to continue carries on. And let’s not forget the inspiration drawn from hearing the genius of Bruce Neswick and his staff and choirs do their work in that space.

In this cash-poor time and in a society where mediocrity is consistently rewarded and celebrated, it’s time to look outside ourselves. There is plenty of beauty to absorb and to contribute to. There is plenty of excellence left to pursue. Find your way! If you need me, I’ll be practicing.

Someone ought to do a study of this!

How do students choose where to study the organ? Do they seek out the teacher or the institution? Do they want to study with Dr. Popular or Professor Gottastudywithher, not being concerned that s/he teaches at Awful Regional University located in Armpit, Greatstate? Or do they choose to go to Can’tResist State University because it’s located near great outdoor life and a big city, and they don’t care who the teacher is? Someone ought to do a study of this.

Honestly, I think it’s possible for the student to win either way. When it comes to pursuing excellence and self-improvement, if a student wants to learn the organ, we teachers ought to oblige to the best of our ability. A great teacher offers great teaching. A great institution offers great learning. If the student has either, s/he’s in good shape. The student’s responsibility lies in claiming the good stuff and ditching the rest. And there’s always graduate school, if the student needs more.

Even professionals go one way or the other in their familiarity with the field: some might be able to rattle off teachers’ names but might stumble over the institution at which each one teaches. And some folks can rattle off the big schools but have to think a moment about all resident teachers’ names. And in some places, there is a University Organist who does the public playing, but there is another Professor of Organ who does the teaching. Either of those names might get more press than the other. I feel all this is significant, and I think it would make a nice dissertation topic – for someone else, of course. I just ask questions and then go hide.

Consider the fame and attraction of these teachers, and ponder what makes it so: Langlais, Dupré, Alain, Leonhardt, Hakim, Marchal, Litaize, Heiller, Wunderlich, Robilliard, Latry, Roth, Cauchefer-Choplin, Chaisemartin, Higgs, Holloway, Keiser, Murray, Jean, Labounsky, Davidsson, Eschbach, Fishell, Smith, Young, Jacobs, Weaver, Cowan, Belcher, Christie, Mitchener, Mueller, Jones, Mason, Coci, Andrews, Gleason, Crozier, Saunders, Craighead. Yes, familiar names. Now, where does/did each one teach?

Who might have been the first teacher to be sought out for WHO he was, regardless of WHERE he was? Paumann? Sweelinck? Virgil Fox? What brought the students to him? How did they get the word before email or telephone?

Most importantly, what attracted YOU to your teacher or school? What got you there? And has the teacher or the school bothered to ask you that, in the name of enhanced future recruiting? And did you get what you expected there? Perhaps that quick dialogue between students, teachers, and institutions might be informative for all. I have started the ball rolling at my university to find out what attracts a given student to us. Seems awfully important, wouldn't you say?

Getting into character

Does the music begin with the first piston? The first note? On your way to the console? Does the music end with the final release? With General Cancel? With the applause?

When should we get into character for a given piece? Perhaps pistons for a rocket launcher of a piece should be hit with more insistence than those for a quiet or slushy piece. I often sense a disconnect between what I see and what I hear. Consider a hypothetical performance of the fiery piece of your choice. The organist:

-- slides onto the bench slowly and carefully;
-- gets situated on the bench, rocking back and forth slowly to set the derrière in place just so;
-- gives the score a friendly pat to make sure it doesn’t fall off the rack;
-- sits a moment in meditation with hands in lap and head bowed;
-- straightens up, gives the score one more pat; shifts hiney one more time;
-- presses the first piston gingerly and/or elegantly (Note: if this is a gutbuster of a piece, then the console will go THOK while it draws all those stops. It’s almost as if the console knows something exciting is about to happen, and it makes an appropriate noise in preparation.);
-- checks boxes open;
-- places hands;
-- places feet (or not, unfortunately);
-- plays the piece with all manner of fiery attack OR plays with a dainty touch, relying on the registration to produce the excitement;
-- lifts the final chord slowly and delicately (and unevenly);
-- moves right hand immediately to Cancel and left hand to music rack to clear the score away;
-- OR moves both hands to lap;
-- OR stares at score, waits for applause;
-- slides off slowly.

A blazing fire of a piece suggests to me a completely different, “in-character” approach, where the organist:
-- glides onto the bench in character;
-- punches the first piston in character (perhaps even in tempo!);
-- sets hands and feet;
-- LAUNCHES;
-- releases final chord with great energy;
-- breaks (or maintains) character with applause, hits Cancel, and slides off.

On the other end of the energy spectrum: I once ended a Lenten recital with the Langlais Kyrie from the Hommage à Frescobaldi. The piece was apparently unfamiliar to the audience, as was the notion of ending an organ recital quietly. After the release of the last chord:
-- nothing happened;
-- I lingered over the keys;
-- nothing;
-- I slowly came away from the keys;
-- nothing;
-- I sat;
-- nothing;
-- I very slowly approached and pressed Cancel;
-- nothing;
-- I sat again;
-- nothing;
-- I slowly began to slide off;
-- the applause finally began and grew, now that character was finally broken.

That was completely unplanned, but it turned out to be a wonderful moment. All of us lingered in that moment: it was Lent; it was quiet; the piece was meditative and beautiful. Only then was it over. All that might very well have been marred by breaking character too early or too quickly. There is merit in awareness of character and when it should be established and broken. It's fun to play with!

Virgin ears

One year at Bible camp, the missionary told of new converts coming to him in a panic, saying, “I’m sinning more than ever, and it’s discouraging.” He told them that they were NOT sinning more than ever – they were just MORE AWARE of sin.

While that illustration is one I no longer buy in that context, I do think it can be used to illustrate the fact that students can reach a point of discouragement in their training, where they don’t like ANY of their playing. Nothing sounds right; everything sounds out of control, poorly phrased, and poorly executed. They have arrived at a point where they are aware of old (bad) habits in their practice and performance, while they have also been shown “the New Way.” But the New has not yet taken up as much space in their practice as the old, and so they feel “empty” and directionless.

As it turns out, that is GOOD news. The pursuit of excellence involves a “repentance” of sorts, just like those new converts experience. Not only does one develop new techniques, but one also forsakes old ones. Those are two separate actions, and when they converge, the student doesn’t have a whole lot left to hang on to. They are learning to pick their playing apart (and that of what they hear others play!) note by note. They are learning to listen with critical ears, and often, they don’t like what they hear! At that point, I ask them to recall the last organ recital they actually enjoyed and WHY. It is verrrrrry telling to see them go back farther and farther in their memories to pull one out. It’s sort of like having virgin ears all over again. And that’s not a bad place to be, when we are pursuing excellence. Saying a performance is great or terrible is one thing. Being able to explain WHY is something else and the loftier goal.


I'm not making this up, you know

Have any of these ever happened to you?

1. The preacher of the day asks you to push hymn tempos along, using vague words such as “upbeat,” “fast,” “energetic,” “peppy,” or “lively.”

2. A hymn is cut from a Sunday service because the preacher of the day doesn’t recognize it.

3. A hymn in a minor key is cut because the preacher of the day deems minor a downer.

4. The preacher of the day wants to insert a hymn into the service (the very same one he inserted the last four times he preached).

5. The preacher of the day insists that the solo or anthem after the first hymn never be slow or in a minor key.

6. The preacher of the day refuses to walk in the procession because it distracts him from his preaching duties that day.

7. Someone makes announcements while you are playing: “Jill and Brantley would like to invite you to the reception in the fellowship hall…” “License plate SYC5483 has left lights on…” “Will the parents of…”

8. The preacher of the day fills up time at the next service just because the previous service ended early.

9. The congregation can’t get enough of you or the organ, but the pastor asks you to pull back on the volume.

10. The preacher of the day turns up his mic and sings at the top of his lungs – in a tempo at the other end of the spectrum from your introduction to the hymn.

11. The associate pastor is already into the first words of welcome and announcements while the final chord of the prelude is still reverberating in the rafters.

I’m not making any of this up! All this and more has happened to me and surely to other Readers. As evidenced in my list of complaints above, I tend to complain most about liturgical clumsiness and lack of professional respect. Bumbling, haphazard approaches to liturgy, music, and worship are unacceptable to me. And preachers do things during our music that they would never tolerate during their sermons.

It is tempting to complain and stop there, as witnessed by blogs and listservs that have longer lists of complaints than solutions. But what might be some solutions to achieving professional deference in both directions (not to mention helping that preacher overcome being victimized in the past by minor keys and slow tempos)?

It helps me to define the balance in my approach between the ministerial and the professional. Am I a minister of music, or am I a professional musician that day, that conversation? That balance moves back and forth, depending on the situation. Once I have defined the parameters for a conversation, then I can find a compassionate solution, which does exist. Trouble is, these things often come up so fast that there is no time to talk them all through with the perpetrators. Often, I must live with a certain baseline level of continuing snafus.

Clergy don’t know as much as we do about liturgy and music, but we don’t know how many people have complained to the clergy about the organist. Everyone hang in there and keep searching for solutions. The solution is a two-way street. Drive on the correct side, and don’t park in the No Parking zones.

A fond memorial: Richard Forrest Woods (July 26, 1929 – May 15, 1993)

Dick Woods never tired of the beautiful and the excellent. He worked and worked to get a sound just so, and it paid off. He ended up with the finest church choir in Texas (thank you very much), for which I was privileged to serve as Assistant Organist for four years. Dick was a musico-liturgical conservative, but he was progressive in knowing that there is room for everyone in church music. He found a way to maintain excellence and still avoid being classified as snobbish, surely the most delicate balance a church musician can strike, and a particularly difficult task for Dick’s generation.

Dick’s funeral was beautiful. I will never forget that hour with so many current and former choir members in attendance, vested and singing the Vaughan Williams O how amiable, the Tallis If ye love me, and the Mendelssohn He that shall endure, among others. I still see some of the choir members each year; we celebrate Dick’s birthday with Mexican food. (He still draws a crowd!)

Richard Forrest Woods was of “Pennsylvania Dutch” heritage. He studied with Marshall Bidwell at the Carnegie Institute before serving in the Navy band and attending Tulane University. From 1962-1964, he studied in Paris with Boulanger, Langlais and Marchal, and was among the first four Americans to receive the Diplôme Schola Cantorum. Dick served as parish musician at St. James (Wichita), the Cathedral of Holy Angels (Gary), and St. John the Divine (Houston). Prior to Houston, he served as Professor of Music at the Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest.

[Update: On September 30, 2014, I discovered some of Dick's notations in his copy of the 1945 Prayer Book, which indicated the date he acquired the book (1949), plus some additional church positions he held: Trinity Chapel (Sharpsburg, PA), Grace (New Orleans), St. David's (Austin), and St. Matthew's (Austin). Obviously, the church positions were added as he served. He was only 20 years old when he acquired the book. There is also the signature of The Rt. Rev. Girault M. Jones, Bishop of Louisiana, dated April 7, 1957.]

Dick’s death left the choir with me – a 25-year-old whippersnapper with 1) a Baptist background, 2) no idea how to deal with a death like this, and sometimes 3) little more than the knowledge that the show must go on. The choir turned their full support to me, and we managed just fine in the interim, making beautiful music each week. I recently dug out a Nunc dimittis tribute I wrote in the church newsletter soon after Dick died. I have brought it out of the dusty archives of my 20s and posted some excerpts below:

"Dick woods taught me a lot, whether he knew it or not. I learned how to use a computer; I learned what a good choir sounds like…

"I learned that if one was with Dick, one could march directly to the front of the line at Ninfa’s Navigation on a Saturday night and be seated immediately. (Incidentally, Dick was perhaps the only person in the world who drank margaritas straight up with no salt.)...

"The most valuable knowledge I gleaned from Dick was that of the Episcopal tradition. As I began work at [this parish], I found that there was more to being an Episcopalian than many people know. But Dick knew. There is a certain amount that one may know and retain simply through lifelong practice, but there is something more to be said for the person who studies, practices, and teaches what goes on in our great faith. Such a person was Dick Woods. I will always be in awe of his vast knowledge of and intimacy with the liturgy. It was somewhat frustrating at times to learn from him; his humility and general quietness made it necessary for me to ask questions. Dick never volunteered much information, but if one would ask, the wisdom that poured forth was generous, awesome, and inspiring…

"He knew precisely what was Episcopal and what was not, and if he didn’t know something, he knew where to look for answers. Dick was not a fundamentalist but rather a traditionalist. No one was more open-minded toward the current trends in the Church than was Dick. Through that open-mindedness, he provided this parish with a greatly diverse music program that was without equal in its day. From Evensong to Eucharist to Morning Prayer to concerts and tours, somehow he managed the difficult task of incorporating all of the various changing preferences into an unchanging, age-old liturgy – always in good taste and always well prepared...

"Richard Woods was one of the last of an amazingly fertile and prosperous generation of true liturgists … The Choir of [this parish] is most fortunate to have achieved musical and liturgical perfection; the people of this church are a most fortunate people to have had such expertise available to them. And I am most fortunate to have worked with Dick, even if just for a short while …"

Rest in peace, dear peaceful one.