No shoes, no shirt? No problem. NOT.

I just completed service on a faculty task force for setting standards for students’ performance attire. I HATE being old enough to talk about how times have changed, but MY, how times have changed!

Private dress gets more public with each succeeding generation. I’m seeing more skin on the ladies and more rags on the guys. I’m seeing more sandals in wintertime (it’s cold out there, people!) and fewer shoes at all in the summertime. I’m seeing tighter clothes on not-so-tight bodies, and I’ve seen quite enough underwear waistbands and trouser cleavage to last the rest of my life. Skirts are getting shorter, and young ladies continually pull them down to compensate. Guys are dressed like they’ve been working at the transmission shop all day. And many people have hair pointing in more directions than Lady Liberty’s crown. [I believe people actually spend money to look that way, whereas I could just climb out of bed in the morning and look that way for free.]

Concert dress has taken a similar dive, and not just in the audience. Performers look increasingly like they’ve just walked in from or are headed to the nightclub. Solo instrumentalists with mid-thigh skirts, no hose, and sandals. Orchestra musicians with skintight pants, blouses hanging out, and sandals.

A two-part rule of thumb to consider: 1) If your audience is cruising your skin, it’s distracting them from the music. 2) If your audience is horrified by your skin, it’s distracting them from the music. If the music is not being served, then we’re off the mark. We owe our composers better than that.

Perhaps choral ensembles represent the greatest possibilities for wardrobe distraction. Chorus members stand, and we can see them from head to toe, whereas orchestra members are seated and hiding behind music stands and each other. This is also true for church choirs, especially those that process up and down aisles. The directors’ rules I have encountered tend to favor flat black shoes, no large earrings, and tamed hair for church choirs.

Mr. Arthur Buckley, choral director at St. Agnes Academy, Houston, knew just what to say to young people who tended to mistake the concert stage for a speed-dating arena. I have taken his ideas and embellished them with my own to develop my official dress code for my chorus:

Visual uniformity on stage is vital to our effectiveness as an ensemble. This dress code policy is in place to avoid disrespecting 1) your colleagues who are trying to look good, and 2) the audience whose attention is diverted from the music when someone’s appearance sticks out. If you are deemed unfit to be seen on stage for the concert, you will be sent away with a grade penalty.

EVERYONE
-- NO cologne. LOTS of deodorant.
-- No dangling or flashy earrings. Small studs OK.
-- Hair out of eyes and off of shoulders.

WOMEN
-- Long-sleeved, solid white, dressy blouse. No sweaters. No knit tops. No off-white. No yellow. WHITE. No open gaps between buttons. Cottons must be ironed. No cleavage. No bare hips. No bare midriff. No navel. Cover everything except face and hands.
-- Ankle-length, solid black skirt or dress pants. No jeans. No tights. No dark blue. No gray. No pinstripes. BLACK. No form-fitting. No hip huggers.
-- Concerning the area of your body where the blouse meets the skirt/pants: Tailored hemlines are acceptable but must be low enough to keep skin covered when arms are raised to hold music. No hemline may drop below the hip joint. If it’s lower than the hip joint, it will have to be tucked in. If it’s otherwise sloppy looking at a distance, it must be tucked in.
-- Black, closed-toe dress shoes. No bare toes. No sandals. No flip-flops. No boots. No sneakers. No dark blue. No gray. BLACK. High heels not recommended.
-- Pearls OK. Nothing shiny or flashy.

MEN
-- Solid black suit or tux. No pinstripes. No dark gray. No navy blue. BLACK
-- Solid white formal or dress shirt. No off-white. No yellow. No patterns. WHITE.
-- Black bow tie. No stud in place of the tie. No long ties. No bolas. No patterns. SOLID.
-- Black socks. No white. No argyle. No skin. BLACK.
-- Black dress shoes. No sandals. No boots. No sneakers. No dark blue. No gray. BLACK.

Sounds awfully detailed doesn’t it! Almost to the point of insulting. But despite all that, I’ve had only ONE concert with NO “wardrobe malfunctions.” Choral singing is a dictatorship, and the conductor is the dictator. I tell my chorus, “I want you to look beautiful on stage. And I will define what is beautiful.”

And so forth. There are as many wardrobe policies as there are conductors, I suppose. But the constant is that it is not about us or our audiences as much as it is about the composers, whose names will be remembered long after our outlandish wardrobes are forgotten. Set rules and don’t apologize; it’s more important than ever these days.

Funeral fees

Part 1 of a 2-part series.

Mr. Robert Jones, president of George H. Lewis & Sons funeral directors in Houston, knows how important musicians are to funerals. Years ago, he started the practice of finding out who was playing for a given funeral and bringing for them a check from the funeral home, no questions asked. Good money? YES. Generous Bob Jones? ABSOLUTELY. Did we organists feel appreciated? YOU BET. Bob’s practice spread to other funeral homes from there, and it very much enhanced relations between the musical community and churches.

Can that model be applied universally in this country? I think definitely so. I recommend it to all funeral homes and urge organists to take the initiative to set it up. I think it is a great system that allows churches to leave it to the funeral homes to collect for professional/semi-professional services rendered, as part of the funeral planning process. I feel it makes the best business sense, makes things more consistent for the funeral homes, reduces the to-do list for the family, gets musicians paid regularly and accurately, and makes clearer to families the professional aspects of funeral planning.

That last phrase is the tricky one. Two decisions must be made: 1) Is playing for a funeral a professional or a ministerial endeavor? 2) How much is it worth?

Funerals are always a potential minefield. One never knows how the notion of paying for services rendered will go over. Some families know the value of good music and good musicians and have already made their plans to compensate them handsomely for their time and talents. But other grieving families may not be thinking entirely clearly, especially if the death was sudden. They may balk at the notion of parting with money for receiving spiritual comfort from the organist; they may balk at the notion of paying anyone, including the funeral home, for making money off their misfortune. This discussion gets into drawing the (faint) line between being a minister in music and being a professional musician.

Funerals are services of worship, in which case the argument might be made that payment for them is rolled into the organist’s salary. A quick look at the organist’s contract will answer that for sure. But many organists have day jobs, and this introduces trickier arrangements that must be made in order for the organist to serve. Furthermore, since not just anyone can arrange the flowers or prepare the body, likewise playing the organ is often as professional an activity as anything else involved with arranging the funeral. Many organists are trained and hold at least one earned music degree. This places them on common professional ground with, say, the minister, who is paid a full-time salary with benefits to serve a congregation, in many cases with only one degree. That may be the hardest pill for local folks to swallow, since many organists serve in areas where playing the organ for the smaller or medium-sized churches is rarely considered a career but rather as a service or self-offering to the church.

What about the time factor? Rehearsal time with soloists, plus time spent selecting and playing prelude music and for the service itself can get upwards of several hours. Time spent finding music for odd requests adds to that, as does any extra practice time for more difficult requests.

So, how much to pay? That will have to be decided as a joint effort between the church, the funeral home, you, the cost of living, and your gut. I always recommend a baseline of around $150, much more in larger cities.

I have fielded the question regarding the possibility of the funeral home waiving or reducing a fee if a family makes the request to compensate the organist/pianist privately. I do NOT recommend opening that door. Having too many options allows some families to pay less than the recommended fee or to give the musician some other tangible gift that s/he does not need or appreciate. Given a choice of fees, the lowest fee will almost always be chosen except by those families whose appreciation of music or the musician runs deep. This could also introduce unnecessary bargaining – with the funeral home caught in the middle and the organist on the short end of the stick. It is a critical matter of education to encourage families to respect and pay professional fees out of consideration of those whose livelihoods depend on receiving them. If a family insists, perhaps they could be persuaded to compensate the organist over and above the regular fee already collected by the funeral home and paid to the organist. And of course, if a given musician would like to donate his/her services to a particular family, that should be honored.

Churches might free up some discretionary funds to pay musicians when the family can’t, but that should occur less often as the procedure becomes more familiar to all parties.

No, there should not be a different fee for AGO members. The Guild does not function as a Union, and membership does not elevate one’s credentials as an organist or one's ability to play a service.


Deep breath now: this topic can also apply to weddings. Yes, we need to discuss weddings. And no, I don’t want to. But I will soon. In SEVERAL posts.

Recital programming

With the obvious exception of an all-one-composer or other specialized program, here are my three Musts for recital programs:

1. BACH. Bach can start, end or fill out a program; he fits anywhere. Once he is chosen, the rest of the program fits around him. No ‘routine’ recital should be without Bach.

2. Start with a bang, and not too long. The audience wants to know if you’re worth listening to for the duration. Give them a Yes to that question with a rousing first piece, and then you can do what you want. (I do make exceptions to this rule, but only dramatic ones such as starting off with the Roger-Ducasse Pastorale or the Davies Solemn Melody.) In ANY event, start with PLAYING, not with SPEAKING.

3. End with a bang.

These days I have a temporary, fourth Must: FRANCK. I’m in the middle of playing the complete works, scattered thinly across several recital seasons. It makes for wonderful programming, and I highly recommend it.

Those are the Musts. Now, here are my remaining Try To’s for developing a program:

1. Second piece a quiet one. Let the audience know that you are on their side for variety and for preserving their hearing.

2. Vary styles and style periods. Sometimes you have to eat your vegetables with all that dessert.

3. Vary piece lengths.

4. Vary dynamics, for goodness’ sake.

5. Don’t worry about key relationships between pieces. Applause, speaking, and/or just a bit of time will “cleanse the palette” for the next piece.

6. Know your audience. Plan for them!

7. Know the event. Is it a gala? An AGO dinner meeting? A convention? A Christmas concert?

8. Know the time of year. D’Aquin Noëls are wonderful, but is there really a burning need to play them in May?

9. Know the instrument. Are you playing on the Tannenberg at Old Salem or the Ruffatti at Davies Hall?

10. Know your geography. Know if you have played in that area before, so that you don’t play the same things.

11. Have fun with overlapping repertoire to be learned, repertoire ready to be played, and repertoire to be retired for the time being. This is where I have the most fun. I use my faculty recitals on the “home turf” to “try things out” before taking them on the road. The audience here does not mind being guinea pigs, and I am happy to keep bringing out new music for them.

12. Requests: I have discovered that requests usually involve one of two pieces named 'toccata.' But I have also discovered that the requester usually does not request those pieces out of favoritism for them but rather out of concern that the program contains palatable, tuneful, tonal music for the audience. Well, we have arrived at my dual specialty! On one hand, I love tonal music, and I love audiences; so there’s no problem there. On the other hand, if there is something “weird” on the program, the program notes provide the indispensable link between the composer and the listeners. Never underestimate the usefulness (yea, even the power) of program notes! This is why this web site contains an entire section devoted to examples of my program notes. I'm a believer!

Happy recital planning.

More on recitals: On written and spoken program notes

On written and spoken program notes

The program notes speak before I play the first note. In that case, they might as well be informative and engaging and provide anyone who needs it a perspective from which to understand what they are about to hear. That is the notes’ job. MY job is to discern my audience beforehand and compose meaningful notes for them. Am I playing for an AGO convention or a bridge club? Am I playing for professional choral conductors or high school flutists? Am I playing in New York City or in Abbeville, Alabama? Am I playing for a Sunday School class or a Montreat conference? Is my audience familiar with the organ, or do they just like music? Or do they just like that particular air-conditioned church? Are they expecting BWV 565 and the Widor Toccata, or are they open to wider horizons?

Knowledge casts out fear. The more the audience understands, the more they enjoy. Even the organists in the audience can enjoy a familiar piece more if my program notes point out my own approach to the piece. The ultimate acid test lies in how well the notes did: the ultimate satisfaction comes when someone tells me that they heard what the program notes were pointing out. I’d call that a “HIT.”

Concerning spoken program notes, I:

1) Speak to say or demonstrate something that can’t be made clear in writing.
2) Speak to thank the audience and the hosts.
3) Do not say anything already covered in the program notes.
4) Do not say anything obviously covered by the music itself.
5) Do not speak at all if the acoustics won’t support it or if the sound technician can’t be trusted to turn the mic off while the organ is playing.
6) Do not speak before playing the first note. This one is my favorite, and it brings me to my formulas for recital programming, discussed in the blog post linked below. Meanwhile, be sure to visit some digestible program notes on the Program Notes tab of this site. Bon appétit!

More on recitals: Programming

On announcing hymns

Sometimes I do my best writing in casual responses to questions, usually via email. Below is a portion, pasted nearly verbatim, from my original response to a question regarding To Announce or Not To Announce Hymns. Of course, that is not an issue in many denominations. This one is Presbyterian:

“I think we might try to define the duty of the hymn announcement. Is it to make sure everyone has the right hymn number and the right stanzas? Is it to make the transition from what has come to what follows? Is it a necessary link between speaking and singing? Is it a necessary link between silence and sound? Is it just an encouragement to sing? I like your word “calling” the people to sing, rather than, say, “instructing” them.

“Perhaps the announcement of the hymn itself is not as important as providing a link between what has come and what will follow. Something like, “Let us stand and sing to God,” might serve the purpose well enough, without announcing the more mundane information such as hymn number or omitted stanzas, which can be found in the bulletin. We could even use different approaches within a single service: Hymns at the more powerful moments might launch better with no announcement, such as the opening hymn or the Doxology (never announced, anyway). Other hymns that serve as a transition themselves (such as after the Children’s Sermon or after the Sermon) might be well served by an announcement. If the opening hymn follows an informal Welcome rather than a more formal Call to Worship, it might need an announcement just to avoid confusion among those who are waiting for a Call to Worship. If the Sermon ends with a prayer, then that prayer might be transition enough.

“With rare exception, I use a moment of silence to let something ‘settle’ before moving on, such as moving from a prayer into a hymn or moving from Moment for Mission into a hymn. I ALWAYS let the Offertory settle for a moment, just so there’s no question to anyone that the Doxology is, in fact, gearing up. I allow much less silence to move from the Call to Worship into a hymn. It depends on the context of the moment, and I think that the context would allow mixing and matching hymn announcements within a single service without being confusing.

“The strongest opinion I have lies in maintaining 1) a routine and 2) a high liturgical IQ among the congregation. I want them to be in the habit of checking their bulletin for service information without waiting to be told, just as we all want them to refer to the inserts and the church newsletter to make note of their duties and opportunities without having them pointed out. If there is no hymn announcement, I always provide enough introduction of the hymn so that everyone has time to find it, stand, and get ready. I’m confident in my ability to provide them enough time to prepare in body. If we feel that some sort of announcement would further prepare them in mind and spirit, I have no problem with it.”

Only someone like me would give something like this so much thought, huh! Nevertheless, it can be a recurring, awkward moment week after week that we’re too used to to do anything about. But as my flight instructor used to say, “Take care of [whatever] now, before it turns into a problem.”

Little-known facts, Part 1

I often need to get in touch with my non-musical side. It’s right up there with my feminine side. People ask about hobbies, but I’ve never been sure that I need any regular hobbies, since my real job is so enjoyable. I do love getting outside and seeing beautiful scenery, but beyond that, I’m happy to practice and study. Enjoy some more tidbits with my compliments:

-- I couldn’t care less about the altar. I want to climb into the steeple!

-- I love funeral homes. Any time I visit one, I ask for a tour. I actually very nearly forsook the organ some years back to go into funeral directing. It is a dual attraction: the fascination with the industry and a tender heart for the grieving.

-- Chocoholic.

-- I hold a Private Pilot certificate (aka pilot’s license). That was my graduation gift to myself when my doctorate was completed. I am certified to fly anything with only one engine and fewer than 200 hp. I am not instrument rated – I find the ground too interesting not to watch, and I take no chances with weather. But maybe someday, just to be a better visual pilot.

-- I’ll take hiking and mountain biking, please. Whenever possible.

-- I was a Southern Baptist at birth in 1968.

-- I come from a family of Ford owners. When my father died, he still had every car he had ever owned, except the very first one, all Fords and Lincolns. I have bought three Fords myself, and I finally own the right combination of high clearance and drive-train that I want and need. I will not buy another car until the current one dies and falls into at least 2,739 pieces.

-- I played for Gene Tierney’s funeral.

-- My favorite place on earth is Big Bend National Park.

-- I love visiting graves of the rich and famous. A few I’ve visited: Rachmaninoff; Bernstein; Col. Sanders; Bert Lahr; Frank Morgan; Conway Twitty; Presidents Washington, Grant, Wilson, Kennedy, and Johnson; my father.

-- I was confirmed in the Episcopal church in 1990.

-- I have not subscribed to TV service in years. Movie rentals are much cheaper and more interesting.

-- I am a conservative dresser but a liberal everything else. I wear coat and tie to school and to church. I would like to wear a tux when I perform on the home turf at ASU, but the new stage lights are too hot.

-- I was a pet owner for one month. It didn’t work out. The carpet couldn’t take it any more.

-- I love to mow grass. I detest pulling weeds and planting.

-- I have been on Presbyterian payrolls since 1995.

-- I act just like my father and my maternal grandfather. When you meet me, you meet them, God rest their souls.

-- Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Christmas Eve is my favorite service. Four days from today!

-- I wish you a blessed Christmas.

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.