Half Windsor, one dimple: Musings on daily attire

When it comes to dressing up, I am a bit of a clotheshorse. My father taught me the full Windsor knot. As I came to hate thick fabric and big knots, I discovered the half Windsor. Then a mentor taught me the dimple. My necktie of choice ever since has been of a medium to thin fabric, tied in a half Windsor with a single dimple. But when I’m off duty, I’m in jeans, shirttail hanging out, tennis shoes, alumni cap, the works. But I think I have finally reached the point where a suit is more comfortable -- psychologically -- than jeans and a T-shirt.

I teach in coat and tie every day, just like my forefathers in this institution did. I feel a certain kinship with them when I do that. Also, I was once a student in these hallowed halls, and so a different “uniform” helps me remember my place as a faculty member rather than as a boisterous student. (That doesn’t always help, because I routinely engage in "lively" conversation with the Phi Mu Alpha boys over the good old days.)

There are written rules in society on what is considered proper attire: 1) Headwear is not allowed in a courtroom, out of respect for the court. 2) Ushers at the Riverside Church used to wear morning coats and white gloves. 3) I have seen dress code spelled out for ushers in some churches I have played for. 4) Back in the day when I was toying with attending funeral directing school, I saw dress codes spelled out for guest lecture days. 5) We all encounter work uniforms every day among such folks as campus housekeeping staff, McDonald’s employees, phone repairmen, Boy Scout leaders, football players, and prep school students.

But there are also unwritten rules regarding attire. How does the President know to wear a suit every day? Is that rule written down somewhere? What would happen if the President showed up for a press conference in shorts and a T-shirt? Perhaps a person’s choice of position or career dictates the dress code. I would find it strange for the pastor of a large urban church to show up each day without having cleaned up after his morning jog. But that rule is probably not written down; it would be followed as a matter of course and out of a sense of propriety for the position. I have chosen to adopt the coat/suit and tie as my teaching “uniform” and when practicing onsite for a recital away from home.

Long ago, I started feeling a little weird wearing jeans to church, even on Wednesday nights. Perhaps I felt like I needed to impress someone. Or perhaps I felt like I needed to look as respectable as possible in the presence of the Almighty. Of course, the two camps on that are diametrically opposed: "we need to look our best in the presence of God" vs. "God accepts us just as we are, and we are but dust without him, so why put on airs with attire?"

No solution offered for that here. I’ll just say that a brief look around in a given situation will tell you what's appropriate. If our individuality is a gift from God, then so is a sense of propriety in all situations.

I feel that casual dress in some situations equals a too-casual approach, one more than I am comfortable exercising. I have encountered far too many people who say when confronted with the prospect of wearing a suit, “Oh, that’s just not me.” They tend to apologize for wearing a suit – not by stating the apology aloud but rather by wearing, say, Birkenstocks with the suit.

“That’s just not me?” Well, sometimes things just aren’t about you, are they! Claim your position and a sense of propriety, and tie that Windsor up!

Wrong notes in the Vierne Sixth?

One is guaranteed to encounter questionable notes in the heavily chromatic music of a nearly-blind organist writing with a large blue crayon before the days of Finale and Sibelius. And, of course, we are no longer able to ask the composer about suspected errata and whether those errors might have been his or the engraver's. This post will be of interest to very few readers, with my apologies, but I just can’t stand it any more! I’m convinced of the following errata in Vierne’s Sixth Symphony for organ and have to share my findings with someone! I have also posted my program notes for this piece here.

[Page/Score/Measure/Beat/Limb: Suggested correction]

12/2/1/3/LH: b natural, like 12/1/2/6 and 12/1/3/6?

16/1/3/5/Ped: e-flat, to match similar half-step relations in preceding 2 measures?

20/1/2/4/LH: second eighth a-flat, to match 19/5/3? I go back and forth on this one.

20/2/1,3/4/LH: pattern altered. Why?

22/3/4/6/RH: d, to match similar half-step relations of all preceding RH figures? I go back and forth on this one.

22/4/2/1,3/RH: a natural rather than c natural, to match intervals in all other counterparts: 23/1/1/1,3 and 26/4/2/1,3 and 27/1/1/1,3?

23/1/3/2/RH: e-sharp to match similar passages such as 22/4/4/ and 26/4/4/ and 27/1/3?

25/4/5/1/LH: f-natural, to match intervals in 30/1/1/? The courtesy/cautionary sharp sign seems unnecessary.

26/2/1/6/LH: f-sharp, to match intervals in 22/2/1/4?

26/3/1/5/RH: d-sharp to match intervals in 22/3/1?

26/3/2/1/LH: completely different intervals from 22/3/2. Why?

26/3/3/5/RH: half-step relation missing. Why?

27/1/3/5/RH: b-sharp, to match diminished intervals in 22/4/4/ and 23/1/3 and 26/4/4/?

27/3/3/2-3/LH: different intervallic relations from all other similar passages: 23/2/2-3, 23/3/2-3 and 27/2/2-3. Why?

45/1/1/2/Ped: octave motion inverted. Why?

45/1/1/2/LH-RH: eighth rests; all others sixteenth, such as at 45/1/5 and 45/3/4, and others.

Why train organists?

Situation: The organ is a beloved avocation for a great many players and a full-time profession for others. Both of those groups do many of the same jobs: service playing, recital presentation, wedding music, collaboration with singers and consorts, even teaching. So why bother to train organists when the untrained make the money, too (sometimes more than the fully trained)?

Situation: Perhaps the organ is the most readily lucrative instrument of all. Pre-teens (and younger) often play for their church. Thousands of churches worldwide are in desperate need of someone (sometimes anyone) who can play for services. Many people are pressed into service with trepidation; yet before long, weddings and soloists begin mounting up, and soon the amateur organist is working professionally. So why bother to train organists if it is a self-building enterprise?

Situation: In many cases, one’s abilities at the organ are self-taught and self-apparent and require only small amounts of focus at a time to improve. So why bother to train organists?

Situation: The organ is used most of the time as a solo or single collaborative instrument. An organist’s performance life is often a solitary one. So why bother to train organists?

Solution: As it turns out, there is room for all. The organ and its various organizations support players across the entire spectrum, from the most amateur admirer to the most talented recitalist. Conventions of the American Guild of Organists, the Organ Historical Society, and the American Theater Organ Society are regularly attended by all kinds. (Yes, we get all kinds. But in the good way. Okay, we get them in the other ways, too.)

Solution: The organ is both avocation and art. Those who have not had formal training can still enjoy meaningful careers in other spheres and play the organ according to their abilities and semi-professional requirements. Those who wish to pursue it as a career or a high art form know who they are and ought to be encouraged to do so. I am fortunate to have been able to do both, the fact of which becomes the springboard into my teaching philosophies and goals. Twenty-one years after graduating from college, I still marvel that I am able to get paid for pursuing what I love.

Many students arrive in college and even graduate school with little more than their love for the organ. Only a few are fortunate to have taken the time to hone their abilities, rather than merely amass a repertoire list. The thrill of the organ’s sonic power and ease of tone production often overcome the sense of duty to improve technique. Put another way, playing loud and playing a lot tend to overshadow playing well. My number one priority is to teach students how to practice. Teaching them “how to fish” seems to me a greater service than merely letting them regularly open up the piece of their choice and start plowing indiscriminately. Plowing is fun but is not for public consumption.

I love seeing students uncover their abilities and their horizons simply from observing more closely their technique of organ playing. To do so allows them to see – and more importantly, hear – the difference between good playing and artistic playing. From there, they are better equipped to learn the next piece, and their love for the instrument -- and for recruiting -- grows.

The Rule of Law vs. Compassion: performance competitions as a reflection of teaching

It’s time for me to decompress and debrief after six years of service on the committee for the AGO National Young Artists Competition in Organ Performance:

The Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association’s motto for pilots-in-training says, “A good pilot is always learning.” This implies that the licensed pilot is far from finished with training, and I believe the same is true for teachers. While we hope for learning on the student’s part, learning is virtually unavoidable for the teacher.

Another layer to this concept lies in running a competition, which I discovered requires as much teaching from me as it offers new lessons for me. My work with NYACOP afforded me many glimpses into organ studios nationwide. I learned much about today's organ pedagogy, today’s generation of students, and myself. I have also learned that the scenarios in teaching AND competition administrating are often interchangeable:

I. Most competitors’ [or students’] questions will be answered by the rules [or syllabus]. Write the rules carefully. I have seen ignorance of the rules indicate everything from a moment of innocent forgetfulness to an abiding, blatant disrespect of all authority. Rules are not usually considered interesting reading, and many people are not driven to read them until a crisis occurs that could have been prevented by knowing the rules better. Write your rules carefully, and follow them. Bright young minds will always discover loopholes in even the most longstanding or carefully written rules. Expect those, and keep track of them for clarification next time around.

II. Define your deadlines carefully. Will you impose a postmark deadline or an arrival deadline for competition applications? [Will you accept the assignment immediately after class, or is it due upon arrival to class?] Will online submissions be accepted if they are submitted after close-of-day on the due date? What will you do with the truly excellent but unfortunately day-late application or assignment? Woefully few people respect the difference between completing something at a certain time and completing it by a certain time. Deadlines are usually treated as hazy targets, at which sincere but sloppy aim is taken so that projects are completed only just in time, if not late. Murphy’s Law is real, and the eleventh hour is its life blood. How many times have we teachers walked into class and heard about the printer problems the students experienced for the assignment – on their way to class? Many people regard a deadline as the actual target, rather than as the fine (and therefore dangerous) line between being on time and being late.

III. Decide how fluid your parameters for compassion will be. Many incomplete competition applications lack only a letter of recommendation, ostensibly out of the applicant’s control (and perhaps representing some Murphy’s Law courtship on the part of the recommender??). Or the birth certificate, carefully set aside weeks ago, gets buried under some papers and does not make it into the application package. At the other extreme, I have seen incomplete applications come through as if to reserve a place at the table for the applicant, who writes, “I will overnight the rest of the materials later this week.” Some admissions offices, competition committees, hiring committees, and compassionate teachers accept late submissions. Airlines, drill sergeants, grant fund agencies, and the IRS do not. The real-world component of deadlines in a competition may be clear-cut, but extenuating circumstances (stolen wallets, hurricanes, and death, to name a few I’ve heard) can sometimes be compelling, and the committee vote on accepting or rejecting could go either way. The fulcrum between adherence to rules and compassion may move around as the competition progresses: more at first, less as the pressure builds into the final rounds, or vice-versa. Maintain a healthy balance between compassion and rigor on a case-by-case basis. The competition has to be run well, while at the same time fulfilling the lofty goal to jumpstart young careers. Forgiveness may make all the difference to the innocent, or it may make none to the habitual offender.

IV. Decide how important presentation is. Required application materials are usually clearly defined, but presentation is usually left open to interpretation. A competition board could “grade” applications like any other assignment requiring adherence to rules. We received everything from incomplete forms to copious information we did not request. We received recordings with neatly typed content titles inserted carefully into the CD case, and we received recordings whose titles were merely scribbled somewhere. We received recordings containing more pieces than requested, were inaudible, exceeded the time limit, or exhibited evidence of disallowed studio editing. Poor presentation may reflect anything from last-minute organization to a language barrier to an apparent lack of seriousness. To disqualify or to forgive – that is always the question.

V. Decide on – then demand – a high level of professionalism. There seems to be no end to the distractions young people invite into their lives. One competitor got married seven days after entering the competition; another entered an international contest at the same time; another was unreachable for three weeks after her application was accepted; and I once heard a newly-selected finalist say, “Well, I guess I’d better learn the finals music now.” One year, I had to remind competitors to answer my emails promptly and not to ignore calls from numbers they do not recognize. I regularly reminded competitors how to dress for live performance rounds. Performance competitions -- and careers -- are about a great deal more than just playing well.

VI. Avoid competition committee service if you care more about the rules than about the competitors. Rules are nice and neat in print, but then they have to be interpreted, enforced, and sometimes bent but never broken. Enter compassion. The opportunity for a competition director to provide gentle guidance for a young performer is daunting yet rewarding, but it could be perceived as an indictment of the competitor’s teacher. Exercise caution, but see it as the opportunity it is; students nearly always respond favorably to a good example.

VII. After the competition, decide if administration is still for you. It most certainly is not, thank you very much. I love teaching too much.

Reader has more on funeral fees

Part 2 of a 2-part series.

My friend Roy Roberts, Director for the AGO Committee on Career Development and Support and AGO Region IV Coordinator for Professional Development, has written the following comments on last week's post on funeral fees. I like it all! The time has long been ripe for this dialogue between organists and their churches. So everyone go and do thou likewise. Thanks, Roy!

Roy says:

"Instead of the funeral home establishing the charge, in my case, the church has done so.

"My employer [the church] issued a pamphlet from which people [families] also select readings, music, and overview of the Mass. Also included are total fees (not individual fees). The funeral home cuts a check for the total fees, made out to the church. The church cuts checks to the individuals and records the taxes. Should there be additional rehearsal time (strongly discouraged) then separate arrangements are made.

"Advantage to the church's making the arrangements are 1) if a fee were to change, the church issues a new memo with the new total, 2) Taxes are withheld by the employer (church), 3) The church remains in charge of the service (it is not shared with a funeral home or family who wants a Disney tune as a communion song), and more. For those who have a "day job", I would assert again that the church should be the one making the agreements with the funeral homes and the funeral homes cut checks to the church rather than the individual.

"A sticky wicket could arise if the funeral home is "cutting the check". What happens should a funeral home call Susan Jones to cover a funeral at your church where you are under contract to have first right of refusal? The home says, not our problem that is between you and Bedside Baptist. The church says, not our problem; Creepy Funerals called the other person.

"It seems for every solution, someone can come up with some kind of challenge. Great article. It is certainly a start; funeral homes, churches, and organists need to discuss this topic more often."

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.”