Upcoming Performances

November 18, 2018
4:00 pm Central

Guest recitalist, St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Columbus, Miss.

December 4, 2018
8:00 pm Eastern

Organist, Appalachian Chorale, Rosen Concert Hall, Appalachian State University

February 12, 2019
8:00 pm Eastern

Organ-plus-one concert with ASU faculty, Rosen Concert Hall, Appalachian State University

April 28, 2019
3:00 pm Eastern

Guest recitalist, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Kingsport, Tenn.

May 5, 2019
Guest recitalist, St. Paul's Cathedral, Des Moines, Iowa

June 21-26, 2020
Worship Organist, Fellowship of United Methodists in Music and Worship Arts, Lake Junaluska, N.C.


Help Yourself XIV: Places to visit

Here are five more of my re-harmonizations, tunes for which are named for places.

As with all the files available in this tagged series called "Free PDFs: help yourself," click, print, and use freely, with my compliments!

AUSTRIA with descant

DUKE STREET with descant


MADRID with descant

NICAEA with descant


To tail or not to tail

A friend’s Facebook post has started a discussion on the fate of white tie and tails among organists. The friend was asking if he should move away from white tie for his performances, since one so rarely sees white tie any more. He is a self professed “friendly curmudgeon and somewhat old-fashioned crank,” and so he does not take this new idea lightly. The responses he has gotten have leaned toward “keep wearing tails at all costs.” The reasons given, though not always stated, are things like ‘it looks good,’ ‘it’s more proper,’ ‘I just love it,’ etc. But none of those gets to the root of the etiquette, which is where my friendly curmudgeonly friend must suspect something is going on, or he wouldn’t have asked in the first place.

Before I proceed, we should clear up some terminology. White tie and tails go together. Saying “tails” assumes “white tie,” and vice versa. Black tie does not belong with tails. Neither does a black vest. It must be a white waistcoat. There.

Now, what has happened to white tie? Music lovers still see it all the time in symphony orchestras (sometimes mismatched with black vest or black tie with tailcoat). People who attend organ recitals played by men from the major concert artist rosters still see it fairly regularly. That's about all I can come up with right now.

White tie has faded from view in other places. During my graduate school days, my teacher spoke of white tie tending to be more proper for concerto appearances and little else. Even he was moving toward more black tie in his performances, and in his final years, he was wearing a white silk pullover with tux outerwear. Many solo performers and conductors have opted out of white tie to be more comfortable (poor reason to disregard etiquette). Some have opted to give themselves a “look” (just like everyone else, apparently). And let’s not even get started on what proms and weddings have done to fashion etiquette and good sense. As for me, I have worn white tie exactly ONCE since 1996, and it was just last year.

I believe the lust after white tie as a look is no longer relevant; we have to address why it came along in the first place and why it appears to be going away. I would offer a simple rule I learned years ago, which is always to dress one notch above your audience. If they are in white tie, then you should be, too. If they are in black tie, then you should be in white tie. If they are in business suits, then you should be in black tie. If they are more casual, then you should be in a suit.

I believe showing up in white tie to play a recital for people who are in jeans and t-shirts is as awkward as showing up in jeans and t-shirt (or even white tie!) at the business-casual office party. Fashion etiquette has always required us to keep an eye on where we are and whom we are among. Since society has changed, so must we, which just might mean a re-thinking of “white-tie-just-because-I-like-it-screw-everyone-else” mentality. Just as most of society has dressed down in an effort to thumb a nose at the Establishment, it is possible for us clotheshorses to dress the other direction for the same reason. Common ground might need to be established, even if it’s not much respected on either side.

White tie lovers, I feel your pain, but I have made more friends for myself and for the organ by staying only one or two rungs above the local dress code, rather than standing on top of the whole ladder!


Help Yourself XIII: Earth tones

Here are three more of my re-harmonizations. The texts for these tunes deal at some point with earthly beauty. As with all the files available in this tagged series called "Free PDFs: help yourself," click, print, and use freely, with my compliments.


LAUDES DOMINI in B-flat, with descant, two texts

LAUDES DOMINI in C, with descant, two texts

TERRA BEATA with descant


Franck-ly speaking, Part VIII: Fantaisie in A

This is the eighth installment in a series on my take on playing the twelve large works of César Franck. Today’s topic is the Fantaisie in A. See the first post in the series for background information.


Measures 1-8 and 13-20: No need to play the left hand, since everything is coupled to the Pedal. You could split the right-hand part among the hands so that the right hand does not have to work so hard to position itself in the lower tenor range.

Measures 1-8 and 13-20: It is compelling to break at the phrase marks, and I do so throughout the piece. (Don’t forget that wall-to-wall legato was an idea that came along just after Franck.) Any breaks have to be executed carefully so that they sound neither like coffee breaks nor panic moments. Compare this with the all-legato approach for, say, the Prière.

Measure 28: I take the lower E with the Pedal (no Pedal stops on), just to preserve all the legato I can.

Measure 34: Ditto for the low A. That means needing a piston for 35.

Measure 40: See those hairpins? I insert them in 36 and 38, as well.

Measure 51: I “thumb” the E in the left hand with the right to preserve legato.

Measure 59: I “thumb” the high A in the left hand with the right to preserve legato.

Measure 84: I “thumb” the A in the left hand with the right to preserve legato. It’s a stretch!

Measure 86 and following: Now we get into the dangers of turning fermatas into events. Franck is exploring form, fantasy, and improvisatory effects. But if we go out for a burger on each and every fermata, then the piece grinds to a halt at every turn, and the emotional impact is lost. I recommend deciding which fermatas are worth some extra time and which are worth barely more than a breath. For example, I don’t hold the fermatas very long in 86, 88, 90, 95, and 98. Even though those measures are pausing for “punctuation,” they are still “telling a story” that needs to go on. Commas, not exclamation marks. In contrast, see 101 below.

I reduce registrations little by little at 87, 96 and 99. I feel this makes a smoother transition down to the voix humaine. And while I observe the fermata in 98, I go into 99 without breaking. I just like that effect, especially if the boxes are capable of closing things down to nothing.

Measure 101: Now THERE is a fermata worth sitting on for some extra time (but not all day). That’s a major seam before introducing the voix humaine theme.

Measure 102: No voix humaine on your instrument? I’m not surprised. Welcome to America. But sorry, the voix celeste is not a suitable substitute. It is often used as a substitute just because it contains the word voix in its name, which is a worse transgression than using it as a substitute in the first place. However: once you get past the “rules” of registering in the French manner, you may start experimenting with registering this section in the absence of any necessary stops. I’ll make a long story short: when faced with no voix humaine, I do use the celeste, but without the string, and add the 4’ flute and the tremulant. That lends an air of mystery to the sound, and it’s probably not a combination that has been heard on a given organ. If the organ is well voiced, I have discovered that this can elicit an audible gasp from an astute audience.

Measures 119 and 121: Notice there are no fermatas like there were in 88 and 90.

Measures 118-132: I do here what I did in 87-101 with fermatas and registration.

Measures 161-162: There are no fermatas there. I go right on without breaking, after some healthy Molto rall.

Measures 165-166: I keep the uppermost note legato. For whatever reason. Same thing in 175-176.

Measure 167: There is no fermata there. Neither is there one in 177. Keep going, and in the “Poco animato” tempo, not the “1º Tempo.”

Measures 170-171: Before this section begins, I have cancelled the Pedal and added only the Récit coupler to it. I play in the Pedal the last two notes of the right hand in 170 and the first note of the right hand from 171. That achieves complete legato. But look at that final D – the Pedal already has that note, but the Pedal will need its stops back on for that note as Franck wrote it. So I also hit a Pedal divisional piston in time for that note, and then hit a General to bring everything back on for 172. This sounds like a lot of trouble, but if you have the pistons and the stomach for all these little details, then we have the technology.

Measures 197-198: I don’t pause or break before 198. Ritard, yes. Stop or break, no. I feel the swell of sound is more effective if we use all that endless wind the organ can use!

Measures 198-213: Franck’s Très largement will have to be gradually (and subtly) sped back up in time for 214, if you want 214 to match the tempo of 47. That is an approach I take; I feel the two themes require different tempos. Or perhaps more accurately, I feel that the theme at 214 is not as effective if it’s slow; those punching triplets suggest a bit of a driving sense to me.

Measures 213-214: I take the final three eighth notes from the left hand with the right. That prepares a smoother move for the left hand to the Positif. Since I’m retaining two voices in the right hand on the Great there, I also “complete” the lower voice by adding an alto A in the right hand on the downbeat of 214, then I release it, and it is then present on the Positif when the left hand arrives there.

Measure 218: I “thumb” the left hand E with the right. Same thing with the left-hand alto A in 226.

Measures 258 and 260: I reduce a bit. I like to use the entire section as a long cool-down.

Measures 275-276: It’s hard to get a quiet-but-French sound here. I just go to whatever stops are quieter than 274 was. I tie everything from 275-276.

I often get asked the question, “What’s your favorite piece?” I usually respond truthfully by saying, “Whatever I’m working on at the time.” Although the Franck E Major Choral is my favorite Franck, the A Major Fantaisie runs a close second. The E Major thrills me most, but the A Major haunts my ear.


Growing up

Tell me again: when was I supposed to grow up?

For my entire career, I have been doing for pay what I was doing as early as grade school: playing keyboards. At what point was I supposed to transition from being a wunderkind into being a professional? At what point does your typical prodigy transition into being just another performer, if not just another great performer?

When was I supposed to go from being clueless to being respected in the field? It’s really scary to recall that during my work at a certain church, I was thrust into the leadership due to the boss’s illness. We made it just fine, and I didn’t feel any different then, but I am horrified today to think what my immaturity and inexperience might have done.

I did not feel one bit smarter when I turned in my dissertation. I did not feel one bit relieved when I released the final chord of my final doctoral recital. I did not feel one bit more degreed when I got hooded. And I have never been taken by surprise when anyone addresses me Dr. Bell.

I am teaching in the same building where I was an undergraduate student. Sometimes I have to reflect on my past and my present to remind myself that I am no longer a student in that building. (Maybe that's why I grew a beard and wear a coat and tie to work.) I still feel energized in that building, just as I always did. I don’t feel any different now vs. then, but I see external evidence that I’m now making a difference and an impression, which helps when I lapse into kid mode and feel that no one will take me seriously unless I yell and scream.

I don’t need my students to love me in order to make me a good teacher. I just need them to do what I teach them to do, at least until they graduate. I don’t need to win a teaching award to know that I’m doing good work. (Good thing, because I haven’t won a teaching award and probably never will. I just don’t teach enough students directly to generate votes among the student body.) Tenure and promotion are designed to reward good teaching and retain good faculty. But if I may put those under a microscope, isn’t it reasonable to conclude that I became a good teacher at some point before the hiring committee decided I was a good teacher? And that I was a good teacher before the tenure/promotion committee decided I was a good teacher? I did not feel one bit different when my tenure and promotion were approved, nor when they actually went into effect, nor when I saw the raise in my paycheck. My art and my work ethic didn’t change when those things did.

There is deeper therapy to be explored here. At what point was I supposed to stop being a good little boy? My rebellion wasn't much -- it consisted of playing the organ rather than the piano, attending grad school in Texas rather than in North Carolina, joining and leading an Episcopal church rather than a Southern Baptist one, and establishing family and friends among gay people.

Though our statuses rise and change, we are much the same person we were way back when. Now, just as then, there are still accolades and approvals some of us crave, yea even need, to continue doing what we’re doing. I can’t work in the pragmatic vacuum I have discussed here today. I need human interaction and human approval. Therefore, yes, I do need students to love me. I do need audiences to celebrate my work. I do need presenters to keep calling me. I do need committees to consider me worthy. I do need (or at least want) pastors and conductors to acknowledge me as an expert, rather than as hired help.

To many, I am da man. To myself, I am often merely the same man. To those who seek an organist or organ teacher, I am their man. As a boy, I wanted to be a man. As a man, I sometimes miss boyhood. I think I’ll just continue being Joby the organist and good man, if it’s all the same to you. If you’d like to give me an award for any of that, I’ll gladly accept it and proudly display it. But otherwise, I’m still practicing my notes, teaching my students, and continuing to grow up.


Franck-ly speaking, Part VII: Prière

This is the seventh installment in a series on my take on playing the twelve large works of César Franck. Today’s topic is the Prière. See the first post in the series for background information.


“Prière” is one of those titles that seems as if it might have been born of desperation to find a title. Picture Franck agonizing over what to call this piece and then discovering that he could call it what we all need in the first place: a prayer! Not a true story, but the title is perfect, really. The piece sounds like a prayer – more like a litany – with a single theme being presented and re-presented in full and in part for fifteen minutes.

And I wonder if Franck suspected that people would resort to prayer to play every note of this piece and still maintain their dignity! This piece is the hardest thing the man wrote, I believe. It’s piano music without a damper pedal. It’s ten-key data entry for a hand missing two fingers. It’s a leap across the Grand Canyon with a sack of bowling balls. Everyone knows that Franck had huge hands, and this piece proves it. [Check out that photo of him seated at the Ste-Clotilde organ. Notice how long his fingers on that stop knob are.] The Prière is full of tenths, elevenths, cross-rhythms, and everything else that makes us want to take up knitting instead. I can usually provide good advice to someone with small hands how to get through a spot or two in a given piece, but when that “spot” is fifteen minutes long, we’d need to publish a separate edition! Ah, but what beautiful music it is. Let’s see what we can do with it:

The entire piece should be ultra legato, which means going to some trouble here and there to preserve the legato. Only melody notes should be broken when they are repeated in the score. Virtually everything else may be tied; the only exceptions I make are when a beat needs to be heard more clearly in another voice.

At the beginning: BUT OF COURSE, couple the manuals to a dead Pedal to help get through the wide spreads. People who don’t do that are just showing off, or they’re compromising the integrity of a complete legato. Franck was fine with using the feet to achieve manual legato – don’t forget that he composed vertically, not linearly in these sections; and he was also saving paper this way. When I use the Pedal in these manual-only sections, I use it only when needed, rather than playing every one of the lowest notes down there. For example, I’ll use Pedal for the first three measures and then I’m able to cover everything with my hands for a few beats, then I use the Pedal to cover the wide stretches in measures 6 and 7, etc. The Pedal here is a convenience, so I use it only when necessary.

Measure 49, beats 2 and 3: The alto has the same melodic fragment that the soprano just played, and so I repeat the alto E notes to announce that fragment.

Measures 50-51: The melodic fragment mentioned just above seems a little obscured here, to my ear. I clean things up a bit by omitting the tenor E in 50 and the alto B in 51. Heresy, I know, but I like how it makes the melodic fragment in the alto clearer. It’s just two little notes, you know…

Measure 71: I “finger” the alto D-sharp with the right hand until the left can get to the scene from the previous measure.

Measure 72: That same D-sharp mentioned just above can be released from the left hand on beat three. The right hand now has it in the alto.

Measure 79: I delay the left hand’s arrival on the Great until 81. I feel that makes a more effective and smooth crescendo. The entire section that follows is full of opportunity to re-distribute notes among the hands. Don’t ask the poor left hand to do all the work there.

Measures 95-96: Most people just jump the left hand to the Positif, and you can hear the bump when they do. That can be smoothed out: in 95, take the alto D-sharp with the right hand on beat 2. Then in the 3rd beat, take the tenor F-double-sharp with the right hand. Now your left hand has only the final C-sharp to play, during which time it can be positioning fingers on the Positif to set up for 96.

Measures 108-109: The transition to the Positif can be smoothed out by moving a beat earlier in the lower two manual voices, leaving only the final G-sharp on the Great.

Measure 110: Theoretically, both hands are still on the Positif here, but on some organs, the right hand may be well served to play those few remaining melody notes on the Great.

Measures 114-158: This is the “development” section, if one is required. It would probably be well served to sound like an ongoing improvisation rather than a series of events. Even Franck indicates at 120 “with a certain liberty…” as opposed to a disorderly one. Keep things moving; it’s still only one theme.

Measures 146-147: I use the (dead) Pedal to help maintain legato in the manuals.

Measures 149-158: Don’t rush through here. That would be out of character with the piece, and you’ll only have to come to a screeching halt again for the recap at 159.

Measures 159-174: Plenty of opportunities to redistribute notes among the hands. Don’t be lazy.

Measures 175-187: This is that section that sends people screaming into the night in their underwear. There are some obscenely wide reaches plus some nasty cross-rhythms. General suggestions: 1) If you have large hands, congratulations. Use them well. 2) Keep the melody legato at all costs. 3) Jump the left hand lightly when necessary. Do not lunge for notes – astute listeners can hear the panic in the sound when you do that. 4) People with small hands deserve every permission to leave out some notes, re-configure some octave placements, etc. Do what you have to do; feel free to ask for help.

Measure 182: In the interest of melody legato, I move the final alto note E-sharp up an octave. Who’s going to notice?

Measures 190-196: Left hand still on Great.

Measures 197-198: I play the left hand on the Positif for some extra decrescendo. The left hand goes back to the Great for 199.

Measure 198: If the left hand takes the final C-sharp in the alto, that will allow complete legato for the right hand’s return to the Great.

Measure 205: Second beat, lower alto: I add a G-sharp (second line) on the final triplet of that beat. I feel we just need another pitch there to keep the texture from thinning so much in that little spot.

Measures 212-222: This is one of the most beautiful passages I know of for the organ. I go into some interesting contortions to keep the right hand legato. It is possible, but it will require your absolutely best Gleason “Finger Crossing” technique. If you’re interested in the details, I’ll send you a copy of those measures with my fingerings.

Our Prayer is concluded. Amen.


Help Yourself XII: Three saints

Here are a few more free PDFs of re-harmonizations of mine. Feel free to click, print, and use in your services at will. Honest!

ST. ANNE descant only




Christmas Eve 2014

Christmas magic never gets old. But I believe that my particular brand of magic might be a little warped from everyone else’s. From 1988 until 2004, I was employed in churches and had Christmas Eve duties. That means that with few exceptions, 2014 was the tenth consecutive year that I did not play anywhere for Christmas Eve. I have enjoyed church-hopping each year, wherever I am.

But I tried something new this year. Last month, I decided that I needed a change of pace for Christmas Eve. I decided that if I can help out a church in need that night, I might as well put my talents to good use. So I emailed a few key friends and posted on Facebook my availability; I included the stipulations that the church must be in need of an organist, not just looking for someone to cover for an organist who didn’t want to play that night. I also stipulated a general geographical area so that I could make it to my sister’s at a decent hour that night. As it turned out, no one needed me. I suppose that’s good news that all organists in the region I was advertising must have been in good health and willing to work that night! I’ll try harder next year.

All that to say that my warped sense of Christmas magic is that I miss the sheer size of Christmas Eve as experienced from the organ bench. I miss practicing for it and preparing a 30-minute organ recital before the services. And I certainly miss the singing of choir and congregation on that night. I also miss that magical feeling that the Willcocks arrangements give off – even when I was playing in warm, humid Houston all those years, it was very easy to imagine that we were in a quaint stone church with snow falling outside and that everyone was going to walk home in the snow with their candles and spend a joyous and solemn Christmas with family near the fire. That’s the Christmas magic I love, the part that I create on my own with just a little musical cueing.

Anyway, since no church needed my services, I church-hopped again this year. I suppose it would take a minimum of two churches attended to constitute church hopping, and that’s all I had time for this year. The magic described above is still present, even though I don’t experience it from the organ bench any more. But we all know that a blog post of mine wouldn’t be complete without some subjective statistics thrown in! Here are some observations by Joby the professional musician. You know I can’t resist:

So this year, I heard half of one service that was perfectly dreadful, and then I scooted across town to a full service that was quite nice. One service had a good organist seated at the worst appliance of an organ I have ever heard. I couldn’t see anything, but I’m figuring that that organ came from the old building when the church relocated in 1973. Perfectly hideous. Another service had a pianist seated at an above-average pipe organ. He played with very good rhythm, but I could tell he misses his beloved damper pedal. One sermon was about death, pain, and how to attain salvation. The other was much, much better. One center aisle runner was crooked; interesting sight on the way back from communion. Speaking of communion, I was struck by the taste of grape juice coming out of a golden chalice; I was expecting some fermentation. Finally, both services had sound systems run by deaf music haters. That will be worth its own blog post one of these days.

I believe it’s no accident that Christmas Eve and Good Friday tended to be my favorite services of the year. They have something in common: at some point, both are done in darkness. I enjoyed hearing a pipe organ played in the dark. I enjoyed working in the dark while so many other people were at Christmas parties or already in bed.

Whatever your magic, embrace it! It’s kind of fun. And a Merry Christmas and a blessed 2015 to you.


Franck-ly speaking, Part VI: Choral in E

This is the sixth installment in a series on my take on playing the twelve large works of César Franck. Today’s topic is the first Choral in E. See the first post in the series for background information.


This is my favorite Franck. I love Franck’s harmonies in these sharp keys, and I feel this piece is perfectly ravishing at every moment. With the three Chorals, we clearly have a much-matured style by a much-matured composer. The titles are troublesome if your audience does not recognize French. I have even heard a Franck Choral announced as a ‘coral’ on the radio. The use of the English “Chorale” in print is perfectly acceptable; I usually send it in one way or the other, depending on the venue.

At the beginning: Of course, couple the manuals to a dead Pedal to make life easier. Franck was saving paper and time by writing on two staves. It might even be convenient to cover two notes in the Pedal here and there. Experiment. On the other hand, there’s no need to play a pedal part all the time in this section; I just use it to keep the wide reaches legato, rather than learning and memorizing a complete Pedal part.

This piece is an ultimate challenge in deciding what to tie and what to break. Do take the time to figure out how you’re going to play every note. But don’t consider it a chore; consider it an opportunity to get to know some beautiful notes more intimately. I break only when a beat needs to be heard or when a voice needs its line clarified.

Measure 8: Keep going. Don’t stop for coffee before moving to the Récit. This is a long piece, and it will get longer and disjointed if there are too many stops and starts. (The Grande Pièce Symphonique is particularly dangerous in that regard.)

Measure 64: Let that be a moment of completion before moving on. The whole piece is stated in measures 1-64. Everything else is derived. Although the audience might not catch all the connections, you will be discovering interactions from section to section for the rest of your life.

Measure 65: This is the beginning of a variation on what we have heard up to that point. If you’ll phrase it just like before, it will carry itself to its own completion in 105. No need to work too hard at squeezing juice out of it.

If your Great is in the middle, I recommend coupling the Positif to the Great for this same section [from 65]. That will facilitate many instances of “thumbing” across manuals to preserve legato. Here are but a few of the spots I thumb (or finger) into the other hand:

Measure 79: I take the alto G with the left hand.

Measure 80: I take the alto Ds with the left hand. That makes a smoother transition for the hands to exchange manuals.

Measure 85: I take the alto G in the second beat with the right hand.

Measure 86: I take the alto F# in the second beat with the right hand. 

Measures 89-92: This will probably be the most unorthodox thing I have mentioned in this series. From the last beat in 89 all the way through 92, reverse the hands! Play the left-hand part with the right and vice versa, hands crossed. The “recovery” will occur naturally at 93. This will eliminate those lightning-quick and dangerous substitutions on the last beat of 89 and the last beat of 92. Go on – give it a try; you know you want to.

Measure 93: As if all the above weren’t enough, if you also put on the Récit to Pedal here, you can cut out some of those lowest notes in the left hand and facilitate better legato. The coupler will need to come off at the end of 94. If you value legato and are willing to spend some extra time working all this, it’s worth the trouble. As I’ve said before, anything to preserve legato is legal. I haven’t played notes with my nose, but I’d be willing to, even if it saved just one note from eternal detachment and damnation.

Measure 101: This is another good time to bring on the Récit to Pedal for the duration of the phrase.

Measure 106: This is only an interlude, so don’t give away the store just yet.

Measures 123-125: I reduce during every rest. And see Wayne Leupold’s discussion of 121 for permission to reduce the Pedal there.

Measures 138-140: I use echo effects by opening and closing the box for the re-statements of those little phrases. I just can’t resist.

Measure 147: If you’ll take the first note of the right hand with the left, you won’t have to have a coffee break for the Positif entrance. But you’ll need to hit your piston carefully in between.

Measure 148, second and third beats: I take the bottom notes of the right hand with the left. Same for 150.

Measures 152-166: Opportunities abound for thumbing/fingering across manuals to preserve legato. This section kicks off one of those places where it’s helpful to provide fingerings for both locations of your Great manual. See my discussion of that in the post on the Cantabile.

Measure 167: The Récit to Pedal may come on here to facilitate legato. It should come off again in 169.

Measure 174: This is probably the trickiest thumbing exercise I have encountered [invented]. The left hand E-flat should be released on the final sixteenth of the measure, because it has to be repeated at 175. On top of that, in the third beat of 174, if you’ll take the second and fourth sixteenths with the left hand, AND in 175, if you’ll take the right hand’s lowest two voices on the first beat with the left hand, all this will facilitate the right hand’s journey up the octave in 175. It takes practice, but you will then understand how Cameron Carpenter plays every piece. [Actually, I have heard him play this piece, and he doesn’t go to the trouble in that measure. However, he goes to a lot of trouble in a lot of other places to create counter-melodies where Franck didn’t write them. Whatever.]

Measures 183-192: thumb/finger across manuals freely to facilitate the wider intervals. Too many to list here.

Measure 200: Life is easier if you reverse the hands here. Right plays left hand part and vice versa.

Measure 205: I release the manual first chord early to give the Pedal some space to assert itself.

Measure 209: I add some more stops here, especially if they’re under expression. Same for 218.

Measure 232: This moment separates the lazy from the diligent. The melody that begins in 233 actually begins on the third beat of 232. Therefore, the additional stops need to be added on that upbeat. But to do so would build the Pedal too much, which is probably why Franck cuts the Pedal note by an eighth. An easy solution is to add all the manual stops you’re going to add on the third beat but actually reduce the Pedal a bit (probably a coupler or two) to keep it from blasting for that one note. Then while your melody is underway in 233, hit another piston to finish building the Pedal.

Measure 233: This section kicks off one of those rapturous moments with few peers in the literature. Make good decisions about tying vs. breaking. And make the Pedal entrances match the manual statements in phrasing.

Measures 243-244: On some organs, it pays to move the left hand to the Récit. And in that case, if your Great is in the middle, it’s also easier to return to the Great from above, rather than from below. In 245, I thumb the first eighth in the left hand with the right; that works best from above (Récit), rather than below (Positif on bottom).

Measure 249: I add the Pedal 32’ reed here, of all places. Kind of like bringing in the tubas and a rolling tympani for the climax to come.

Prepare the final cadence carefully. If 252 rushes, it will ruin it.

Measures 256 and 257: I play the left hand quarters on the first beat (just those two notes) on the Positif, so that we don’t hear that note repeat while being used in two different voices.

Final chord: I add tenor E with my right foot. Might as well!


A road trip report

My students are Guest Bloggers today. They say:

We live in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, and that means we do not live near a big city. We often make up for that by going where the locals call “down the mountain” to attend recitals, Evensongs, workshops, and organ “crawls.” We have enjoyed visits to many organs in Charlotte, Winston-Salem, Burlington, Hickory, and a wonderful all-day crawl in the Duke Chapel, and we are planning future trips farther out-of-state.

In the spring of 2013, we began brainstorming about a different kind of crawl. What if we were to plan a road trip around organ builders rather than organs? It wasn’t long before our teacher, Joby Bell, had identified an area of the country not too far from us that would have several shops along an easy, circular route. After receiving very enthusiastic replies from the builders we hoped to visit, we made our plans and set a date. On June 23, 2013, we embarked on a five-day itinerary to points north in and around Cleveland, Ohio, then westward to Indianapolis, Ind., and Champaign, Ill., then southeast toward Knoxville, Tenn. The following is a short diary of a magnificent week, during which we visited the shops of Schantz Organ Company, Kegg Pipe Organ Builders, The Holtkamp Organ Company, Goulding & Wood Pipe Organ Builders, John-Paul Buzard Pipe Organ Builders, and B. Rule & Company.

Monday, June 24: The entire week was nearly derailed when we discovered the Smucker’s headquarters and factory on our way into Orrville to visit Schantz. But we made the difficult decision to keep to our plan of visiting organ building shops, and on we went! Perhaps our visit to Schantz was the most enlightening. We were already familiar with their work because they have built many organs in our part of the country. But also, with such a huge, comprehensive shop, it was instructive to learn in one place about all aspects of organ building, so that by the time we visited the others, we recognized many more tools, techniques, parts, and jargon. Schantz President Victor Schantz, head pipemaker Neil Jackson, and front officer Darlene Steele were enthusiastic hosts, and we were treated to a full tour and some free goodies afterwards, including CDs and beautiful full-color brochures. We also took Mr. Schantz’s excellent advice to have lunch in downtown Orrville at Heartland Point Café.

Then it was off to the Kegg shop in Hartville, a longer-than-anticipated journey during which we learned that apparently most of Ohio is under construction. But we made it and enjoyed a delightful tour of the shop with Charles Kegg himself guiding the way. The shop had just sent a project “out the door,” which meant that there wasn’t much to see on the floor. But we discussed with Mr. Kegg his tonal philosophies, and he showed us a lot of the beautiful woodworking that is a hallmark of his instruments. The highlight of the shop was a fully assembled Moeller on the floor, being played by original Moeller organ rolls. Mr. Kegg was generous with his time, and we listened to roll after roll. It was for many of us our first experience with player organ mechanisms.

Tuesday, June 25: We spent the morning at Holtkamp’s shop in Cleveland, where we marveled at their beautiful “inner sanctum,” a chapel-like room that was finished with exquisite woodworking and stenciling during the Depression, when Mr. Holtkamp gave unemployed or bored workers something to do. Holtkamp is a large, prolific shop, and we enjoyed seeing room after room full of equipment, supplies, and projects being completed, all with Head Voicer George Cooper as our guide. We got to see pipes being made and soldered, a process that opened our eyes to the meticulous care that goes into building an organ. Pipe making must represent a huge overhead, and we have gained a much greater appreciation for that particular art.

For the afternoon, we enjoyed some unplanned bonuses! Our comrade Jonathan Poe made some calls and managed to get us some time at the Church of the Covenant, Cleveland, and in Severance Hall. Jonathan Moyer, Organist and Director of Music at Covenant, was a most gracious host, taking time out of his day to welcome us unannounced and to allow us as much time as we liked on the E.M. Skinner/Aeolian-Skinner/Holtkamp organ up front and the Richards, Fowkes & Co. organ in the back.

After treating Dr. Moyer to lunch, we walked just down the street to Severance Hall. We were allowed to walk among the organ chambers and admire the console of the E. M. Skinner. We did not get to play, but just being in that splendid, historic space was a treat, and we thank our guide, house Administrative Assistant Laura Clelland, for her time in welcoming us and sitting down to answer our many questions.

We then headed west, destination Indianapolis. On the way, we took a slight detour into Oberlin to walk around and see what Dr. Bell assured us was a beautiful campus. After a snack downtown, we made our way to the Oberlin Conservatory, where we discovered practice organ after practice organ. Mr. Don VerKuilen, Oberlin student, happened upon us and offered to show us the Fisk in Finney Chapel. What a coup! We all played a bit and enjoyed getting to know Don. The entire afternoon was wonderful, filled with extra instruments and beautiful buildings and the kind hospitality of strangers who were not expecting us. Thank you all.

Wednesday, June 26: In the morning, we made our way to Goulding & Wood, where the firm’s Business Manager Phil Lehman took us on a tour. At this shop, we saw our first pipe bathing facility, a fascinating part of long-term maintenance of older organs. Thanks to some scale models of Goulding & Wood’s designs, we also learned more about the inner workings of windchests.

Thursday, June 27: In the morning, we made our way west to Champaign, Ill., to visit the shop of John-Paul Buzard. Service Department Foreman Dave Brown was our guide. Even if he had done nothing else, he should probably win the prize for most gracious host, because he had doughnuts and coffee waiting for us upon our arrival! We thoroughly enjoyed admiring all the interesting consoles and other parts in the organ console “cemetery” in the firm’s warehouse and maintenance/restoration shop a few blocks away from the new construction shop. In the main shop was a large, new instrument about to be dismantled and delivered to its new home across the country. We marveled at how well organized and clean the Buzard shop was, given the fact that it is spread vertically over several stories in an old downtown building. Also in the building are the Organ Loft Apartments, operated by Mr. Buzard. Some of us are ready to move there, if for no other reason than to live in a place called the Organ Lofts!

After our tour, Mr. Brown took us around town to visit the Buzard instrument in the Chapel of St. John the Divine on the University of Illinois campus, the E.M. Skinner at Wesley United Methodist Church in Urbana, and the Wurlitzer at the Virginia Theatre. It was an inspiring day of generous hospitality and introduction to three completely different organs only blocks apart from each other.

Friday, June 28: Our last stop before heading back home was Brad Rule’s shop just east of Knoxville, Tenn. This was the only all-tracker shop we visited, and the differences in some techniques and machinery were fascinating. Mr. Rule walked us through his charming shop, set up in an old church building. His drafting area is in the former chancel, and the main shop is in the old nave. Mr. Rule also trains local students in the art of organ building.

Throughout the week we noticed some rather entertaining sights. In one voicing room, there were figurines of characters from The Simpsons sitting among the pipes. At another shop, a voicer had on his arm a beautiful tattoo of an organ façade. We also saw here and there the usual girlie calendars and funny signs and notices. One shop had a box of drill bits labeled “bits,” with the word “naughty” scribbled above that. In Brad Rule’s shop, we were apprehensive at asking why there was a photo of Chairman Mao on a shelf. Mr. Rule picked up Carl the shop cat, held him up in front of the photo, and said, “Carl, who’s in the picture?!” Carl said, “Mao!” Mr. Rule also had a clever “doorbell.” A visitor pulls a rope hanging outside, which then activates a small wedge bellows inside, which then discharges into three en chamade pipes tuned to the same pitches as the whistle of the freight train that used to pass through the town.

In every shop, we saw familiar techniques, equipment and concepts at work. Even though different shops are different in their approaches, they are all quite similar in their quest for excellence. We wish them all well and thank them so very much for their time.

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