Christmas 2021

I enjoyed another Christmas Eve of church hopping this year. Four services in three churches, all capped by playing a ditty or two for the last one. Covid protocols notwithstanding, it was a nice evening. I attended four services in three neo-Gothic edifices, one of which was my first visit. See here and here for previous experiences.

One service was led by an adequate Aeolian-Skinner being played more than adequately. One was led by a horribly inadequate Reuter being played more than adequately. And the last two on the big Schlicker were top-notch, which is why I go in the first place. (Notice that we organists mention the organ and the playing long before mentioning the sermon, if at all.)

I continue to mellow in my old age. While I miss the days of liturgical and musical propriety and am still agape at some things I see going on, I nevertheless made it through all services without leaving in disgust this time. While I would normally be horrified by beginning worship at such a holy time with, "Good evening! [*pause*] Oh, we can do better than that! GOOD EVENING!!" I can still sit there quietly without participating in such a garden party orgy in front of the manger. And when I discovered much to my horror that the fellow I saw in the narthex in the bright red wrapping-paper-patterned suit and tie was the pastor and that he had no intention of covering any of that up with vestments for the upcoming service, I nevertheless stayed on and rode the boat with everyone else. I shouldn't ignore the fact that perhaps some folks there would have been equally horrified to learn that I show up to some services to take in the architecture and hear the organ, not necessarily to celebrate the Nativity. On the other hand, based on the garden-party element throughout one service, I'm not sure anyone else showed up with perfectly upright worshipful intentions, either. It is what it is.

I am letting go of some liturgical snobbery. Facebook lights up each year with my colleagues grousing about how society lets Christmas in at Halloween and then lets it die on December 26, while we liturgical addicts are just getting started on our twelve days on the 25th. But that IS the difference between society and the church. So let's let them be different. Let church have its other-worldly schedule, and let society have its decorations and non-sequitur songs such as "My favorite things" and Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." Church must be different -- that's it's job. I suppose I'll still resist Christmas carols showing up during Advent, but in the kinds of churches I would regularly want to frequent, I don't have to worry about that.

So this is a love letter to the Church and to the World: you two are still different, no matter how hard some folks try to fold you together into the same loaf. You are both man-made, and so I will no longer bemoan the tensions between you. I now celebrate them, even while I hope with a little trepidation that you will always remain separate. If Church stops resembling something other than the World, I'll be done. But by the time that saturation truly occurs, I'll be too old to get out of the house, anyway. Merry Christmas to all. To both.

Sobering up

I miss organist conventions.

Year after year, at just the time when I think I am all alone in the fight against mediocrity, the bureaucracy of teaching, and my own regrets, I attend an organist convention and am nearly instantly encouraged by kindred spirits in kindred situations (or worse). Truly, I am blessed.

Covid has destroyed our ability to get together as large groups for quite some time to come. But recently I was able to have what I call a mini-convention, with another professor several states away. He and I acknowledged our current plights and briefly discussed what we do as the only organ fish in our respective ponds. Here are some of the conclusions we drew:

-- The so-called "organist shortage" is real. I have blogged about it before, but I don't trust anyone's assessment of it anymore, including my own. It is a dynamic situation, but it is clearly aggravated by 1) churches that can't or won't compensate appropriately; 2) organists who won't drive so far out of town for the pay just mentioned.

-- Given the above, a given organ is no longer used and is eventually removed, rarely to greener pastures.

-- There is certainly no shortage of organ DMAs continuing to come out of the larger schools. But I have heard too many of them speak of "taking a church job until ...". For some reason, a church job for an organist became in many minds just a side job until the recital career or teaching post takes off. This is tragic in the mindset of many organists. To them, the real shortage is in organ teaching jobs.

-- Church is in trouble. Gotta acknowledge that. Society is less and less church-bound for spiritual reasons, and this is worsened by the fact that ecclesiastical architecture seems to be fading as a source of art and inspiration. Even among architects today, I am discovering that church architecture is not even of historical interest anymore. "Space for an organ" to today's architect is a broom closet for speakers, and then not even enough of those. Tragedy of the highest order.

-- The Church's danger of demise comes with ramifications for church organists and organ teachers. We're seeing it everywhere, and Covid has only worsened it. But we have to say it aloud: "If churches continue to close, there will be no more jobs for church organists and organ teachers." How's THAT for a cold shower to sober up with?

-- However, the organ is not in trouble. It is still a fascinating machine and source of inspiration to thousands of young folks everywhere. We just can no longer count on church to introduce them to it. So THAT is where we organ professors must now turn our attention. I am truly blessed, once again, to be able to go out and preach that gospel often. We have a rich field of creativity in changing how we attract others to learn the instrument. We need help with it, but we also have to grapple head-on with the sobering realities of things that are no longer or may not be around for much longer.

Sorry I don't have better news today. I'm sure better news is coming. This thing called the organ won't die. But we might, if we don't listen to its call.

One more on Commencement, and I’ll be done, I think

I thought I was finished grousing about Commencement, but there’s more.

I do love Commencement, honestly. I love the ceremony. I love the intimacy of the School of Music holding its own ceremony on its own stage, using its own organ and organist. But I have blogged in this little set of posts about some elements of it that gnaw at my patience. When the very nature of ceremony begins to be threatened, I begin to pace like a caged tiger. My displeasure at all that is identical to my displeasure with the ongoing bastardization of liturgy at every turn in every denomination for the past few decades. Hey, it's my job; it's what I do. So here's one more component of our Commencement exercises that has begun to drive me crazy:

This University holds seven separate Commencements, divided by college unit. About four years ago, upper Administration decided that Commencement proper should begin at the advertised hour and that, therefore, the procession should commence at fifteen minutes before the hour. This has necessitated wordier advertisements of procedure and start times, and it has wrought a bit of havoc with the ceremony for the smaller processions that don’t take fifteen minutes (such as the School of Music and some other smaller units – ours takes about 7).

Perhaps the more liturgically-minded reader can appreciate the liturgical incorrectness of this decision. To advertise a ‘service’ for a certain hour but then to say that there will be fifteen minutes of ‘pre-game’ attractions sends the clearest message that those fifteen minutes are not part of the service. But would my Episcopal and Lutheran friends want to concede that the opening voluntary and opening processional hymn are not part of the ceremony? Would anyone want to concede that if the procession is not part of the ceremony, then the network cameras don’t need to be turned on until the princess bride has arrived at the altar? Heavens, no, folks. The procession is half the show. It’s the pretty part. All those pretty colors processing into place. It IS the show, and the rest of the ceremony feeds out of that pageantry. Well, that’s all I have to say about that.

The truth is that none of this will change, I'm sure. I'm howling at the wind to think that Administration will listen to a lowly music professor. On the other hand, wouldn’t it be nice if a music professor were listened to on musical matters, especially if the present matter is also of a [secular] liturgical nature, one of this professor’s specialties. Well, this is why it’s all being blogged about here, rather than being sent to Administration in a memo.

Churchly responsibilities

The musicians in a church tend to have to leave Sunday School early to get to choir warmup, or they have to miss some midweek services for choir rehearsal.

As the organist, I would love to have attended (or even led) some Sunday morning classes, but alas. However, I was certainly "getting some church" each week. The choirs were my Sunday School. The music was my food. The paycheck wasn't the only thing getting me to church each week.

I always felt a responsibility to the choir members and to the congregation. Since the choir was likely having to miss something else to participate in music, then I felt that I should give them the holiest time I could. It was work time, but it was beautiful music preparation time. And it was 'sacred' in that it began and ended on time. And in the course of a routine rehearsal, we'd also joy in just being together, all huddled over beautiful music, cracking a couple jokes, and listening to progress being made at every turn. Dare to tell a musician that THAT is not church!

For the congregation, my responsibility was deeper but shared with the choir. Our job was always to lead the congregation in their own musical health and also to offer praise that they themselves couldn't offer (unless they joined the choir and came to rehearsals). But we had to be ready. We had to have rehearsed and practiced. We had to do some nuts-and-bolts, non-holy work to get there each week. And yet when we presented our hard work, it was translated as "worship" for the whole room. That was a non-sequitur I have never really processed fully -- that of training and preparing in order to allow the Spirit to be free.

An old friend always said, "God does not do dishes," which meant that we have to learn the notes and watch the conductor, while everyone else gets to ride the train and experience the holiness of the moment. That was a trade I was willing to make, since I had already "had church" with the choir before the congregation arrived.

Somewhere in there, I hit the right notes. Somewhere in there I allowed everyone a little extra time to hit high notes, spit out lots of words, and breathe between stanzas. Perhaps somewhere in there, I also offered some sort of musical thrill? My job was simply to be prepared on a professional level. There was nothing I could do about the otherwordly of it. 

People who say, "Y'all, we just really need to focus on the Lord when we sing this," are wasting their and my time. God doesn't do dishes. You need to focus on the MUSIC and let the Lord do as he pleases. Count on your professional music leaders to point the way. That's how it works.

Commencement: stirring, not Shakered, please

I deeply regret what COVID has done to our public gatherings, and I sympathize with those students who didn't get to 'walk' during Commencement ceremonies last May and likely won't this coming May. Our Commencement exercises for the Hayes School of Music at Appalachian State are intimate and enjoyable. I always enjoy being part of a smaller exercise than with the cattle call for the other units across campus.

Every large college unit at this university holds its own Commencement ceremonies in the large multi-purpose arena across campus. There are therefore seven separate ceremonies across three days each spring. However, the School of Music holds our ceremonies on our own stage, in our own building, with yours truly providing prelude and processional music on the mighty Casavant. On the surface, I love it; I love the intimacy; I love being in our own house, seeing our own graduates walk by on the stage where they performed, being able to hear each one’s name, and watching them shake paws with our administration as we send them forth.

But of course, for some musicians like me, there are flaws, and I was glad, frankly, not to have to deal with them last year. See here for additional posts. And now see below:

At each ceremony across the entire campus, the crowds stand and sing “Simple Gifts.” What in the world for? Why does “’Tis the gift to be simple…” need to be sung in such a setting?

Answer: it doesn’t.

The text is problematic. "'Tis the gift to be simple...come down where we ought to be...when true simplicity is gained...turning, turning, we come 'round right..." Most of that is archaic, and it refers to imagery and concepts that no longer apply in our particular society. And life is not simple if you’re a college student, and we should stop saying it is or that it should be. I always cringe and fold into myself while accompanying that tune each year, always asking myself, “What does this MEAN? Aren’t there other, more suitable, affirming tunes and texts we could be singing en masse each year? Why am I seated at the world's most complex musical instrument, playing a song about simplicity, with a gathered group who find simplicity too sensational to pursue at face value?”

The local love affair with the Shaker tune apparently comes from the tune's appearance in Aaron Copland's ballet Appalachian Spring. But that is problematic. In 1944, Copland had the entire score written and orchestrated, but he still had no title. Choreographer Martha Graham suggested a title. I can picture it now: “Aaaaaron, behbeh, why dontcha cawl it aaaapp-uh-LAYTCH-un spring?” [Complete with mispronunciation of ‘Appalachian,’ I'd bet. If you're puzzled by that, see here.] And Copland bought it. And the name stuck. And someone at what was then called Appalachian State Teachers College must have thought what a nice idea it would be to sing that tune for our purposes here. Just from self-associating with one word in Copland’s completely after-thought and externally-suggested title? Sorry, but Copland didn't write Appalachian Spring for us here.

The tune is problematic. Each year, I send in my titles for processionals, and each year, the program proof comes back reading “Simple Gifts, trad., arr. Harbinson.” Long-time faculty member and former dean Bill Harbinson arranged an accompaniment for the brass quintet to play in the arena for the other units’ Commencements. But for our ceremonies here with organ alone, I don't play that version. Each year, I have to remind my Associate Dean that “No, the version I play is not 'arr. Harbinson.' It’s more accurately 'trad., harmony improvised by Bell, melody adapt. Copland, melody further trainwrecked by audience.'” The audience tends to sing the rather altered hymnal version of the tune ("I danced in the morning"), while I play the original. And so this melodic train wreck perpetuates year after year. It’s a classic case of what happens when you don’t provide the notes to go along with the lyrics (hint, hint, screen-dependent churches).

I accept a lot of annoying realities, but this one refuses to get out from under my skin. This ‘tradition’ borne from ignorance makes us look like idiots to those who know. And now that you know, please don't think we're idiots. I'm working on it.

Widor vs. Joby, Part 11: Suite Latine and Trois Nouvelles Pièces

This is the eleventh and final installment in my series on my take on playing the complete works of Charles-Marie Widor. See the first post in the series for an introduction and my philosophies behind this blog series. And as always, refer to John Near’s edition for important corrections in the scores that I might not necessarily mention.

The Suite latine and Trois Nouvelles Pièces are up today. Visit my program notes on the pieces. And of course, feel free to order the recording.

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The Suite latine makes me feel like I’m ‘cheating.’ We’re not used to seeing a Widor organ piece that’s not a Symphony, and so I feel like I’m intruding into a forbidden corner of Widor’s mind! These pieces feel like composed improvisations. And if that is the case, then we have a most valuable glimpse into Widor’s late improvisational prowess, of which increasingly fewer people – if any now – have ever heard in person.

If you have been keeping up all this time with these many posts in this series, you’ll notice that the later the piece, the fewer performance comments I have. With the later pieces, Widor was less inclined to revise, and at that point in his life, he didn’t have time to get around to it, anyway. But there’s also something to be said for him ‘getting it right’ the first time later in life.

I have only two comments for the Latine. First, the final two pages are, in the words of my dear friend John Yarrington, “worth the price of admission alone.” Second, I would point out a magnificent ‘Wagner moment’ in movement 1, measures 59-65. As noted before, Widor admired Wagner’s music, and it may or may not be accidental that tiny moments of Wagnerian inspiration exist here and there.

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And finally, for the Trois Nouvelles Pièces: Widor’s indications throughout are enough, and I have no corrections or performance quirks to offer. Not only did Widor have no further opportunity to revise these later works, but he also ‘got them right’ the first time. In some cases, that may be because he was such a sure composer for the organ and did not need to re-infuse works with a more mature style. In other cases, he did not provide quite the volume of in-score indications he had earlier, in which case, the performer is at more liberty there, requiring less commentary here. Just do as Widor said, and given the choice, don’t go overboard with anything.

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I know of no liturgy to wrap this up, and so I’ll simply announce, “Our Widor series is concluded!” (to which many may enthusiastically reply, “Thanks be to God!”).

Widor vs. Joby, Part 10: Bach’s Memento

This is the tenth installment in a series on my take on playing the complete works of Charles-Marie Widor. See the first post in the series for an introduction and my philosophies behind this blog series. And as always, refer to John Near’s edition for important corrections in the scores that I might not necessarily mention.

Bach’s Memento is up today. Visit my program notes on the piece. And of course, feel free to order my recording.

I feel these pieces are the hardest Widor wrote – not only because the notes are difficult at times but also because the difference in ornamentation from Bach to Widor may threaten the integrity of either composer’s wishes. Matters get further complicated when one is tempted to use ordinary touch on these pieces (because they’re Bach) but then required to play them legato (because they’re Widor). Honoring one composer snubs the other!

At any rate, there is something insightful about seeing Widor's respect -- indeed his love -- for Bach in creating these paraphrases. Playing them is also an interestingly oblique way to include Bach on a recital program.

I'm still puzzled by the English possessive in the set's title (“Bach’s”). It looks to be Widor's own title, but why did he use the English possessive form for it? Had it been in French, the title would have been something like Memento de Bach. Had it been German, it would have been something like Bachs Memento (no apostrophe). I have found no satisfactory answer to this question. Let me know if you have!

See John Near’s edition for commentary and corrections to the original Hamelle edition. Meanwhile, I'll offer just a few of my comments on a few movements:

Movement II: Miserere Mei …

This one introduces some ambiguous problems of harmonies and note choices, described in John Near’s commentary in his edition. I wonder if Widor had a preferred harmonic function in mind, different from Bach’s. Or I wonder (more likely) if he might have been working from a faulty Bach edition in the first place. Hey, we have learned a lot since then, you know.

Movement III: Aria

This one has registration problems. Manuals are not indicated at the beginning. If the hands play on a single manual, they run into each other, especially in measure 19. Widor also asks for an expressive division for the right hand, which would preclude, say, the Great. I decided to register each hand separately but similarly, more often with 8-foot flutes. The hands move to the Récit Gambe, a nice contrast, where Widor indicates. If the organ has only two manuals, then I would put the right hand on a flute and the left hand on the string.

Movement IV: Marche du Veilleur de Nuit

This is probably the quirkiest thing Widor wrote for the organ. See what John Near has to say.

Movement VI: Mattheus-Final

I’m not sure I could stand the indicated full organ with this piece. The notes are so high that mixtures (in some countries) will just make the neighborhood dogs howl in pain. Depending on the organ at hand, you may do well with full foundations and 8-foot reeds, with little to no 2-foot or mixtures.

Measures 33-34, 45-46, 101-102: In the passages beginning with piano into the crescendo hairpin, I solo out the lowest manual voice on the Positif, having reduced the Positif a bit first to balance. It helps make a smoother diminuendo to the Récit.

Widor vs. Joby, Part 9: Symphonie gothique and Symphonie romane

This is the ninth installment in my series on my take on playing the complete works of Charles-Marie Widor. See the first post in the series for an introduction and my philosophies behind this blog series. And as always, refer to John Near’s edition for important corrections in the scores that I might not necessarily mention.

Symphonie gothique and Symphonie romane are up today. Visit my program notes on the pieces. And of course, feel free to order the recordings.

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Symphonie gothique is an epic piece I recorded on an epic organ. Just wait 'til you hear the Puer natus on the party horn in the back during the Final. Otherwise, I have no additional ‘tricks’ to offer. Widor got these later Symphonies perfect. They play themselves if you follow Widor’s registrations. Read John Near’s commentary in his edition. Without delay.

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I have played Symphonie romane more than once in performance. Each time, the profundity was palpable. It is utterly astounding how a bunch of black notes on a page can bring an entire room together, right into the palm of Widor’s hand. This piece lives in my heart, and I am glad I learned it.

This piece seems to be the prototype for various figurations and rhythmic quirks that later composers such as Vierne, Messiaen, and Duruflé used, as well. I presented some of that at a workshop at the AGO National Convention in Houston in 2016. Fascinating stuff. Maybe I’ll post that here sometime.

See my extended program notes for this piece, and read John Near’s commentary in his edition.

Movement I

Enjoy all the rhythmic trickery, and put yourself in the audience’s position of having to find the beat sometimes. Make it clear, like Widor surely did. Otherwise, follow his markings, and all will be well.

Movement II: Choral

Measure 60: I move the left hand to the Récit on the second 16th. It helps with balance.

Movement IV: Final

Measure 129, final note: If it sounds good, the horizontal reed works well here. Take it back off in the middle of beat 3 of 133 and begin a smooth decrescendo.

By the way, Widor had a formula for crescendos and decrescendos. He said that the various ‘batches’ of stops (represented on the various ventils) should be added on strong beats and retired on weak beats. Since they were almost always brought in or taken out in the same order, then you could calculate how many steps were needed and therefore when to start in one direction or the other. Works for me, but with modern piston gadgetry, we can have even more gradations and can be even more subtle and smooth, much like a German Rollschweller. If you have the technology or smart registrants, be as subtle as you like. Don't rely on the American Crescendo shoe. Rarely is that subtle enough, especially when the instrument's specification is anything but subtle in the first place. Work with what you have.

Widor vs. Joby, Part 8: Symphony No. VIII

This is the eighth installment in my series on my take on playing the complete works of Charles-Marie Widor. See the first post in the series for an introduction and my philosophies behind this blog series. And as always, refer to John Near’s edition for important corrections in the scores that I might not necessarily mention.

Symphony VIII is up today. Visit my program notes on the piece. And of course, feel free to order the recording.

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Movement I

My recording of this movement is going to drive anyone crazy who is following along with a score in their lap. This movement is the most patchworked of all in the entire recording project. I use bits and pieces from various revisions given in John Near’s edition. Good luck following along.

Movement II

The A section sounds like Mendelssohn, through and through. The B section has some of those strange registrations that Widor experimented with over the years. It’s very difficult to make it balance in the U.S.

Movement III

See John Near for various corrections. 

Measure 20: This is a canon between the hands. I choose to play the right hand on the Positif, so that the left hand canon can be heard better. Then I move the left hand to the Positif in 29 to balance with the right hand now on the Récit.

From measure 76, the hands are ‘battling’ for some of the same pitches in different rhythms. I choose to separate the hands on their own manuals so that not only can we hear all those pitches, but also the hands don’t have to work so hard. Beginning in 75, I put the right hand on the Récit and the left hand on the Positif. Then nothing changes in 83.

Measure 90: I move the left hand to the Récit, where it now belongs for the upcoming section.

Measures 152-162: Manage smooth pistons!

Measure 190: I move the left hand to the Récit on the downbeat and the right hand on the last eighth. That makes a smoother arrival into 191.

Measures 226 to the end: I use a previous revision of Widor’s. For all the patchwork I use, I always go with what I consider to be the better music each time.

Movement IV: Prelude and Variations

Widor removed the Prelude in later revisions. But it is such wonderful music that I recorded it and perform it. The Prelude is a slow-moving ‘melody chorale,’ while the Variations are more flowing. Perhaps Widor removed the Prelude because the increased slowness of the theme in the prelude (4/4) rendered it unrecognizable against the actual tune in the Variations (6/8). At any rate, consider it saved from obscurity!

The Variations are a huge, sprawling, rewarding set. Have some fun registering them, because Widor's registrations are a bit ... ho-hum. It's not often I completely ignore him, but here is one such example. I have always found it strange that Widor, having presided for so many years at France's largest and most colorful organ, was often ... so ... colorless ... about registration. We do know that he hated too many kaleidoscopic registration changes, but surely he would be amenable to more colorful basic registrations to start with. And for a movement this long with so few registration changes, I just find it wearying on the ears. I suppose this would be a good time to confess that I can't stand listening to the Bach Passacaglia on a single registration, but that's for another blog post that I probably won't write.

Movement VI: Finale

The main theme of this movement sounds like a minor-key version of "A dream is a wish your heart makes." My apologies to the older readers who now have an earworm they weren’t expecting from a discussion of Widor organ symphonies.

Measure 52: I move the left hand to the Positif during this measure. It makes life much easier to arrive in the next bar.

The final nine measures vex me. My recording is of Widor’s last revision, which includes a thrilling moment on a full C-major chord (Neapolitan, for my fellow theory nerds out there). But when I actually performed this publicly, I used an earlier revision, which has another wonderful ‘lick’ I like. I’ll probably change my mind next time, too. See John Near for all these wonderful options.

Widor vs. Joby, Part 7: Symphony No. VII

This is the seventh installment in my series on my take on playing the complete works of Charles-Marie Widor. See the first post in the series for an introduction and my philosophies behind this blog series. And as always, refer to John Near’s edition for important corrections in the scores that I might not necessarily mention.

Symphony VII is up today. Visit my program notes on the piece. And of course, feel free to order the recording. 

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Movement I

The main theme of this movement is one of Widor’s most angular. I feel this movement foretells the Vierne Second and Third Symphonies. Compare the first movements of those symphonies with this one and see if you agree. And compare Vierne’s Hymne au Soleil, while you’re at it.

Measure 34: Tempo 108 is FAR too fast. Don’t try that at home.

Measure 40, left hand penultimate note: I feel that should be an E. And honestly, I don’t remember what I recorded.

Measures 126-131: I envision an echo effect there, with the Great playing with the Pedal and the Récit playing the rest in between.

Measures 148-154: I bring the left hand motives into relief by playing them on the Great. All left hand upstems I play on the Great; all downstems with the right hand on the Positif. I also keep the right hand on the Positif through 154. I prefer that dialogical descent before the hands join back together in 157.

Movement II: Choral

Measure 105: I just can’t bring myself to full a tempo. It makes the sextuplets frantic. Had Widor called for just a Flute or something light there, it would be more workable, I feel.

Measures 118-119: Wagner!

Measures 126-127: Isolde! Siegfried Idyll!

Movement III

Measure 95: I move the left hand to the Positif for better balance. Notice what that helps achieve next:

Measures 112-115: Widor needs adjacent manuals for the right hand to help with the left hand’s chords, but he has had the left hand on the Great since 86, which for him was two manuals away, which is ‘un-thumb-able.’ However, with my ‘fix’ in measure 95 (above) in the English/American manual configuration, all is well. 

Measures 116-154: I reverse the hands throughout that entire section, to cut down on crossing. That also makes mm. 125, 134, and 141 easier to arrive on.

Measure 173: I think the left hand should be on the Positif for balance and to facilitate the right hand’s thumbing down from the Récit in 181-182.

Measure 196: If my Positif solution in measure 173 is helpful, then 196 is a good place to move the left hand to the Great. Then it can couple as indicated in 207.

Measures 241-244: same problem as 112-115.

Movement IV

Measure 52: I remove Great-Ped.

Measure 52: Widor indicates Positif above the score, suggesting right hand only. But both hands need to ‘share’ the sixteenths. I move the left hand to the Positif on the final four sixteenths.

Measure 98: I agree with the addition of all the Pedal couplers, but I wait until 99, when the notes begin to move. Otherwise the Pedal drones too heavily before the Pedal gets interesting.

Measure 105: I play the left hand on the Positif until 109, when I move it to the Great. That creates a smoother crescendo.

Measure 116: I move the left hand to the Positif in the middle of the second beat, to continue the decrescendo.

Measures 128-131: Wagner! 

Measures 128-131: I play the left hand on the Great. It brings it out into relief and also avoids finger/voice collisions among all those notes.

Movement V

The Récit has only flutes 8 and 4. I see little need to couple those to the Pedal, and I see no need to operate the box during the passages with hands on the Great. One probably will not hear those Récit flutes swelling in and out against full foundations on the Great. Save your energy!

Movement VI: Finale

You’ll need lots of pistons to manage the ups and downs of dynamics. The smoother, the better.

The beginning puts me in mind of Vierne’s occasional modality. The hands ignore the third of the chord, the V chord is minor v, etc. Then notice at 33 the continued similarity with the Final to the Vierne Second Symphony: after the huge opening, then there is a subdued but faster and rhythmic main theme on the Récit. One wonders if any of this was accidental on Vierne’s part.

Measures 123-125: I play the left hand on the Positif to avoid voice/finger collisions. This works better if the Positif is under expression and closed tight.

Measures 215-216, 223-224, 227-228: I play the left hand on the Positif to avoid collisions between fingers.

Measures 235-end: John Near’s edition gives Widor’s various revisions for the ending. I feel Widor’s final revision wanders around too much. I recorded Widor’s first major revision, which I find utterly thrilling, despite some fairly jarring octave parallelisms between the Pedal and the lowest manual voice. Call it hubris if you like, but see if you can figure out what I did on my recording to ‘fix’ those, and then ask yourself honestly if you would have noticed otherwise.