Autumnal Organ Preludes and Postludes

2 September:
attr. J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in F Major, BWV 556
J.S. Bach: Jesu, meine Freude, BWV 1105
9 September:
Dieterich Buxtehude: Praeludium in G minor, BuxWV 149
Johann Pachelbel: Magnificat sexti toni
16 September:
attr. J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in G minor, BWV 558
Johann Caspar Ferdinand Fischer: Fugue in G Major
23 September:
Louis Vierne: Arabesque, Op. 31, No. 15
Pierre du Mage: Fugue (from Suite du premier ton)
30 September:
Marcel Dupré: Te splendor et virtus Patris, Op. 38, No. 15
Louis Marchand: Fond d'orgue
7 October:
J.S. Bach: Fugue in G minor, BWV 578
J.S. Bach: Erhalt uns, Herr, bei deinem Wort, BWV 1103
14 October:
Jehan Alain: Ballade en mode phrygien, JA 9
Nicolas de Grigny: Plein jeu (Deo gratias)
21 October (St. Luke, observed*):
Leo Sowerby: Prelude on Deus tuorum militum
Edward Elgar: Vesper Voluntary No. 2, from Op. 14
28 October (Reformation):
J.S. Bach: Prelude in C Major, BWV 547a
Johann Nicolaus Hanff: Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott
4 November (All Saints, observed):
Olivier Messiaen: Apparition de l'église éternelle
Johannes Brahms: O wie selig seid ihr doch, ihr Frommen, Op. 122, No. 6

* A saint's day, of course, cannot usually take precedence over a Sunday, but a patronal feast can. And St. Luke the Evangelist is patron of the Episcopal church in Dixon.

Further Adventures in Good Drinkery

My most recent favorite drink, if you must know, is of course gin-based. (Gin remains at the top of my hierarchy of liquors. Second is rum, though much of the time it is overtaken by whisky. Down at the bottom are vodka and tequila, which I find pointless and loathsome, respectively.) It is rather more complicated than my standard gin-and-tonic, but it is correspondingly more satisfying when prepared properly. The drink is known as a "Red Cloud". I offer here my recipe for it:

• 1.5 measures Gin (New Amsterdam's almost-citrus flavor works nicely)
  
• 3/4 measure Apricot Brandy
  
• 1/2 measure Lemon Juice
  
• 1/4 measure Grenadine
  
• two dashes Angostura Bitters

My experience suggests one ought not to err on the side of sweetness. The charm of this particular drink is in its subtle tonality (if one may misappropriate musical jargon), the interplay of the juniper (and, depending on the brand, citrus) of the gin with the herbal notes of the angostura bitters. The apricot and lemon flavors, though necessary, are by no means dominant, and the grenadine is more for color than overwhelming sweetness.

Cursory research has not revealed whether the drink has any connection to the Oglala Sioux chief of the same name. Another possible connection is to that bit of weather lore from the Gospel of Matthew (16:1-3):

The Pharisees also with the Sadducees came, and tempting desired him that he would shew them a sign from heaven. He answered and said unto them, "When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather: for the sky is red. And in the morning, It will be foul weather to day: for the sky is red and lowring. O ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times?"

A Word or Two About the Harmonium

As it so happens, this Sunday the Episcopalians of Dixon will be celebrating the holy mysteries out at St. Peter's chapel in Grand Detour. (The name of that town, like so many American town-names, is not pronounced the way you think it is. Locals are wont to pronounce it as one word, with the accent, improbably, on the first syllable. Thus, in IPA: ['gɹæn.diˌtɔ˞].) Rather than have Mass out in the "cheap showiness of nature" (as Reverend Lovejoy once called it), we'll be inside the little limestone building, which has a reed organ in the back. It will be my job to play this thing, and I thus selected appropriate repertoire for such an instrument: a Franck piece from L'Organiste and one of Elgar's Vesper Voluntaries. Both were originally written for the harmonium, which I mistakenly assumed is just a more fancy name for the reed organ. As it so happens, that is not quite the case: one operates with a suction bellows, and t'other with a pressure bellows, apparently. But, not being mechanically-minded, I am not particularly interested in what seems like a pedantic detail.

Browsing the literature composed for the harmonium, it appears it was widespread about a century ago, much like the piano. (On my more pessimistic days I believe the piano will probably follow the harmonium into obsolescence; certainly it is nowhere near as common as it once was in middle-class households, and in this age of decline the state of music education is only getting worse.) Much of the repertoire is charming, and little-heard (at least in its original instrumentation) nowadays. A favorite set, which I hope to someday perform with some string-player friends, is Dvořák's Five Bagatelles, Op. 47.

Dvořák, Op. 47, Nos. 1-3:

Dvořák, Op. 47, Nos. 4-5: