Glenn Gould, when asked his favorite composer, gave an unexpected answer: Orlando Gibbons. At first glance, this seems an irritatingly contrarian thing to say — and indeed, Gould could be irritatingly contrarian in his musical decisions. (The living musician most like that who comes to mind is John Eliot Gardiner, whose relish in smashing musical idols results in performances that are either epiphanic or perversely wrong-headed, with little in between.) Why should Gould profess a fondness for this relatively minor English composer — all English composers are minor, to hear most musicologists speak about them — over every Continental giant of the literature? How, in short, could Gibbons be better than Bach?
The first misconception one must needs clear up is the lingering denigration of English music. Heinrich Heine, whose distaste for the English in general is well-documented, had the misfortune to hear English music at its early-Victorian nadir, and wrote: "These people have no ear either for rhythm or music, and their unnatural passion for piano playing and singing is all the more repulsive. Nothing on Earth is more terrible than English music, except English painting." (Heine's opinion of J.M.W. Turner, to my mind one of the finest painters of his age, or perhaps of any age, is not recorded. Certainly their concerns overlapped in works like Turner's The Slave Ship and Heine's Das Sklavenschiff.) In 1904 the now-forgotten German critic Oscar Schmitz condemned England as das Land ohne Musik ("the land without music"), and the sentiment has stuck. But whatever the state of British music in the two centuries after the death of Purcell (for, you see, we are apparently obliged to treat Handel as merely a foreign import), the music of the English Renaissance was every bit the equal of that on the Continent. (It's a bit harder to argue that the revival in English music at the turn of the twentieth century produced works of comparable quality to European music of the time, but Elgar and Stanford remain underrated, to say nothing of Vaughan Williams, Howells, and Britten.) And yet the average music-lover has heard of perhaps three English Renaissance composers: Tallis, Byrd, and Gibbons.
Tallis, while perhaps the closest to achieving a vision of the divine (in either his Latin or English works), can be so austere as to distance the listener. Byrd, though the best contrapuntalist, is off-putting to me as a performer because he willfully ignores any constraints of instrumentation or technique. Consider the ranges of his vocal parts: what other Renaissance composer regularly expects two-and-a-half octaves? One gets the sense that Byrd's music, like Bach's, was written to be performed by angels rather than mortals. Perhaps we can come close at times, but there is inevitably a sense of disappointment. Weelkes and Tomkins deserve far more recognition than they are given, but their pieces rarely achieve the internal logic achieved by the big three.
And this, really, is what so distinguishes Gibbons from most composers: his innate sense of proportion. (It is for this reason, incidentally, that Handel is on the same tier of composers as Bach: Handel's sense of proportion is marvelous, which can't always be said of his Thuringian contemporary. It's why Mozart is among the very best composers, and why Mozart's innumerable imitators rarely could produce much worth hearing. There are also certain lesser composers, like Widor, whose sense of proportion saves their works from complete oblivion.) Gibbons had a command of counterpoint as learned as any Englishman between Byrd and Purcell, but it is the underlying structure and balance of his works that make them so very fine. Listen for the precise internal logic of "Behold, thou hast made my days", or "Great King of gods" (with its magnificent "Amen", perhaps the best in all English choral music), or the Short Service, or even the deceptively simple-sounding hymn tunes. (Regrettably, the hymn tunes are marred by the lamentable poetry of the texts for which they were originally compiled. Fortunately, later hymnographers have paired them with better texts.) Very few composers can be said to have composed a perfect work, but Gibbons's anthem "Almighty and everlasting God" is perfect.
In scholarship it feels a bit too on-the-nose to find a composer's complete ethos summed up in his own words, but we find this very thing in Gibbons's introduction to his First Set of Madrigals and Mottets (1612): "It is proportion that beautifies every thing, this whole Universe is measured by it, and Musicke is measured by it, which I have endeavoured to observe in the composition of these few Ayres..." Gibbons's fixation on proportion was perfectly in keeping with prevailing thought of his time. Consider George Herbert's notion of Christ making the redeemed Just: the just man "tunes" the three parts of his soul (reason, appetite, and a mediating spirit), just as music is "but three parts vied and multiplied". (The whole thing goes back to Plato, of course.) The best music reflects the underlying proportion of the universe, just as does the rightly-tuned soul. Church musicians sometimes like to think that the right music is not just aesthetically edifying, but morally so.
Is Gibbons "better" than Bach? Good heavens, who on earth cares? Indeed, the idea of ranking composers is absurd, anyway, though I'll still maintain that there are objectively good and bad composers. I'll leave you, dear reader, with one of my favorite musical finds of the past year: the Magdalena Consort, along with Fretwork and His Majesty's Sagbutts and Cornetts, have released the first volume of a projected set of CDs featuring the pre-Restoration English verse anthem, and it's all Gibbons pieces. The title of the album, In Chains of Gold, comes from the introduction to Morley's famous Plaine and Easie Introduction to Practical Musick: music ought "to draw the hearer, as it were, in chains of gold by the ears to the consideration of holy things."
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
17 June 2018
30 December 2017
On New Music
The classical music canon needs little defending. Time has the effect of weeding out bad music, which is why nearly everything we hear from the seventeenth century is so good: the forgettable composers have been justly forgotten. We may tweak that Auden quotation about books to make it relevant here: some music is undeservedly forgotten, but none is undeservedly remembered. This also goes some way towards explaining why so much new music is tedious, pointless, or asinine: time hasn't distanced us from it yet. (As for whose music is tedious, pointless, or asinine? Well, the task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you. / But it really doesn’t matter whom you put upon the list, / For they'd none of 'em be missed.)
So there is reason to mistrust one's senses when appraising new music. (Why do I doubt my senses, you ask? Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. John Rutter may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.) Current broad popularity is no indication of lasting value. Indeed, even things that I like may prove less than durable. We are, all of us, susceptible to novelty, which blinds us. Like every chorally-inclined high-schooler in the year 2004, I liked the works of Eric Whitacre, which I now loathe. (Add him to the list of cheap purveyors of artless unprepared dissonance, a club he shares most prominently with Morten Lauridsen and the late Stephen Paulus.) Seven years ago it was Nico Muhly, about whom the word Wunderkind was tossed about with wearying regularity.
My current new-music infatuation is with the music of Caleb Burhans, which — for now, at least — I enjoy quite a bit. He's of the same New York classically-trained Radiohead-listening crowd, which sets off several alarm bells. But I find his Jahrzeit striking: it is more than the tiresome timbral experiments that comprise most new composition, though of course it does employ extended techniques. Burhans' Magnificat and Nunc dimittis are charming, and practical enough that I would actually consider using them in a liturgy. (That's another bone I have to pick with so many composers: music does not need to be difficult to be worthwhile. Indeed, it takes a more skillful composer to write defensible music that can be performed by the average parish choir than to write music for a professional ensemble, where in theory there are few constraints imposed by the performers.) But what will I think in five years? I simply don't know. One always must assume one's own tastes are unimpeachable, I suppose.
So there is reason to mistrust one's senses when appraising new music. (Why do I doubt my senses, you ask? Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. John Rutter may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.) Current broad popularity is no indication of lasting value. Indeed, even things that I like may prove less than durable. We are, all of us, susceptible to novelty, which blinds us. Like every chorally-inclined high-schooler in the year 2004, I liked the works of Eric Whitacre, which I now loathe. (Add him to the list of cheap purveyors of artless unprepared dissonance, a club he shares most prominently with Morten Lauridsen and the late Stephen Paulus.) Seven years ago it was Nico Muhly, about whom the word Wunderkind was tossed about with wearying regularity.
My current new-music infatuation is with the music of Caleb Burhans, which — for now, at least — I enjoy quite a bit. He's of the same New York classically-trained Radiohead-listening crowd, which sets off several alarm bells. But I find his Jahrzeit striking: it is more than the tiresome timbral experiments that comprise most new composition, though of course it does employ extended techniques. Burhans' Magnificat and Nunc dimittis are charming, and practical enough that I would actually consider using them in a liturgy. (That's another bone I have to pick with so many composers: music does not need to be difficult to be worthwhile. Indeed, it takes a more skillful composer to write defensible music that can be performed by the average parish choir than to write music for a professional ensemble, where in theory there are few constraints imposed by the performers.) But what will I think in five years? I simply don't know. One always must assume one's own tastes are unimpeachable, I suppose.
25 July 2017
An Introduction to Freely-Composed Organ Works
In my former treatise, I explained the chief difficulty of the average organist: (s)he is not an organist at all, but rather a confused and irritable pianist. In the second part of this series, I here recommend a number of freely-composed organ works that should be somewhat accessible to beginners. Links to IMSLP are given, whenever possible.
(attr.) J.S. Bach: Little Preludes and Fugues, BWV 553-560
These eight prelude-and-fugue pairings are most organists' introduction to the freely-composed works of Bach, which is a bit odd, because compositionally they don't resemble much else he wrote for the instrument. Nobody is really quite sure whether these were actually intended for the pedal harpsichord, or written by one of Bach's students, or what. The point is, their textures and proportions suggest that... something's up. Questionable provenance notwithstanding, they are useful pieces, and the counterpoint is generally good, even if not obviously Bach's. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Paul Benoit: Elevations
Dom Paul Benoit was not a major composer, but his harmonic language (akin to Debussy or Ravel, at times) is pleasant, and these pieces are quite useful for service playing, particularly during Communion. I use them regularly.
Difficulty: easy
Edward Elgar: Vesper Voluntaries, Op. 14
It is a pity that Elgar wrote only a few organ works, for these voluntaries are both charming and admirably succinct. (As anyone who's heard The Dream of Gerontius knows, Elgar has his longeurs.) They work nicely as a set in recital, though most can also be easily excerpted. They were originally written for harmonium, and thus require little or no pedaling. Difficulty: easy
César Franck: L'Organiste
Franck is one of the giants of French Romantic organ music, but his larger pieces are far beyond the capabilities of the average church organist. Happily, he also wrote this indispensable collection of short pieces for harmonium. Difficulty: easy
Adolf Hesse: Easy Preludes
Nineteenth-century German organ music has a reputation for being, if contrapuntally correct, perhaps a bit stodgy and uninspired. Better composers of the era, however, wrote some perfectly serviceable music. This collection by Hesse is a good place to start, being designed with students in mind. (The fingerings and pedalings in this collection, by the way, are good: you should use them!) Difficulty: easy
Felix Mendelssohn: Six Sonatas, Op. 65
One can say, without any hyperbole, that Mendelssohn was the greatest German organ composer of his century, and that these six sonatas represent the summit of his output for the instrument. They are terribly useful for recitals — they work on just about any kind of instrument — and nearly all of the individual movements can be excerpted for use as service music, too. Difficulty: easy to difficult
Gustav Merkel: Twelve Organ Pieces, Op. 102
Much like the works of Hesse, I don't find these to be especially inspired, but they are easy enough, short enough, and compositionally sound. Merkel's other collections of organ music are much the same. Difficulty: easy
Johann Pachelbel: Preludes, Toccatas, Fantasias, Fugues, and Ricercars
These selected freely-composed works are a good assortment of pieces suitable for preludes or postludes. In the context of American liturgies, the more serious contrapuntal works (particularly the ricercars and longer fugues) serve well as preludes; the toccatas, in particular, can make for short, showy, and effective postludes. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Max Reger: Twelve Pieces for Organ, Op. 59
Reger is not a particularly accessible composer for inexperienced organists, but this collection has all his best freely-composed pieces for beginners. The Benedictus (No. 9) may be Reger's most-performed work, while the Toccata and Fugue (Nos. 5-6) are probably Reger's easiest prelude/fugue pairing. Difficulty: moderate to difficult
Josef Rheinberger: Twelve Trios, Op. 49
These pieces are a good place to start if you're new to playing trio textures, and they can work as pleasant, short preludes or postludes. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Charles Villiers Stanford: Six Short Preludes and Postludes, Op. 101
Stanford is a notoriously fiddly composer: I find it difficult to play anything he wrote fluently without a good deal of work. (Perhaps this mirrors his difficult personality.) But these six pieces are well-worth the effort. No. 2 of the collection is a rousing postlude, and No. 6 (based on St. Columba, "The King of Love my Shepherd Is") suggests Stanford's lyrical side. Difficulty: moderate to difficult
John Stanley: Voluntaries, Opp. 5, 6, and 7
For some reason Stanley is pooh-poohed by many serious (read: academic) organists, but I find his output to be both practical (it is all manuals-only, and generally quite thin, texturally) and compositionally defensible. These are some of the very first pieces I would recommend to beginning organists looking for service music. Difficulty: easy
Louis Vierne: Twenty-Four Pieces in Free Style, Op. 31
This charming selection of pieces, originally composed for harmonium, is an invaluable resource: Vierne's harmonic language provides welcome variety, and the pedaling in this collection poses few, if any, challenges. I particularly recommend the Berceuse (No. 19), Arabesque (No. 15), Lied (No. 17), and Carillon (No. 21) — which is one of my favorite postludes. Difficulty: moderate
The above suggestions are a good place to start, but there is scarcely a limit to the variety of organ repertoire one might suggest. Consider also Buxtehude praeludia (which vary widely in length, complexity, and difficulty), or some of the easier Bach preludes and fugues (BWV 533 or BWV 549, to start). Jean Langlais has a variety of organ compositions, of varying quality, but you could start with his Organ Book, Op. 91. The English keyboard school (Byrd, Gibbons, Tomkins, in particular) offers much in the way of manuals-only voluntaries. The charms of French classical organ music, on the other hand, are so heavily reliant on the particular colors of the French classical organ that I cannot in good conscience recommend the genre for most American organists.
(attr.) J.S. Bach: Little Preludes and Fugues, BWV 553-560
These eight prelude-and-fugue pairings are most organists' introduction to the freely-composed works of Bach, which is a bit odd, because compositionally they don't resemble much else he wrote for the instrument. Nobody is really quite sure whether these were actually intended for the pedal harpsichord, or written by one of Bach's students, or what. The point is, their textures and proportions suggest that... something's up. Questionable provenance notwithstanding, they are useful pieces, and the counterpoint is generally good, even if not obviously Bach's. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Paul Benoit: Elevations
Dom Paul Benoit was not a major composer, but his harmonic language (akin to Debussy or Ravel, at times) is pleasant, and these pieces are quite useful for service playing, particularly during Communion. I use them regularly.
Difficulty: easy
Edward Elgar: Vesper Voluntaries, Op. 14
It is a pity that Elgar wrote only a few organ works, for these voluntaries are both charming and admirably succinct. (As anyone who's heard The Dream of Gerontius knows, Elgar has his longeurs.) They work nicely as a set in recital, though most can also be easily excerpted. They were originally written for harmonium, and thus require little or no pedaling. Difficulty: easy
César Franck: L'Organiste
Franck is one of the giants of French Romantic organ music, but his larger pieces are far beyond the capabilities of the average church organist. Happily, he also wrote this indispensable collection of short pieces for harmonium. Difficulty: easy
Adolf Hesse: Easy Preludes
Nineteenth-century German organ music has a reputation for being, if contrapuntally correct, perhaps a bit stodgy and uninspired. Better composers of the era, however, wrote some perfectly serviceable music. This collection by Hesse is a good place to start, being designed with students in mind. (The fingerings and pedalings in this collection, by the way, are good: you should use them!) Difficulty: easy
Felix Mendelssohn: Six Sonatas, Op. 65
One can say, without any hyperbole, that Mendelssohn was the greatest German organ composer of his century, and that these six sonatas represent the summit of his output for the instrument. They are terribly useful for recitals — they work on just about any kind of instrument — and nearly all of the individual movements can be excerpted for use as service music, too. Difficulty: easy to difficult
Gustav Merkel: Twelve Organ Pieces, Op. 102
Much like the works of Hesse, I don't find these to be especially inspired, but they are easy enough, short enough, and compositionally sound. Merkel's other collections of organ music are much the same. Difficulty: easy
Johann Pachelbel: Preludes, Toccatas, Fantasias, Fugues, and Ricercars
These selected freely-composed works are a good assortment of pieces suitable for preludes or postludes. In the context of American liturgies, the more serious contrapuntal works (particularly the ricercars and longer fugues) serve well as preludes; the toccatas, in particular, can make for short, showy, and effective postludes. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Max Reger: Twelve Pieces for Organ, Op. 59
Reger is not a particularly accessible composer for inexperienced organists, but this collection has all his best freely-composed pieces for beginners. The Benedictus (No. 9) may be Reger's most-performed work, while the Toccata and Fugue (Nos. 5-6) are probably Reger's easiest prelude/fugue pairing. Difficulty: moderate to difficult
Josef Rheinberger: Twelve Trios, Op. 49
These pieces are a good place to start if you're new to playing trio textures, and they can work as pleasant, short preludes or postludes. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Charles Villiers Stanford: Six Short Preludes and Postludes, Op. 101
Stanford is a notoriously fiddly composer: I find it difficult to play anything he wrote fluently without a good deal of work. (Perhaps this mirrors his difficult personality.) But these six pieces are well-worth the effort. No. 2 of the collection is a rousing postlude, and No. 6 (based on St. Columba, "The King of Love my Shepherd Is") suggests Stanford's lyrical side. Difficulty: moderate to difficult
John Stanley: Voluntaries, Opp. 5, 6, and 7
For some reason Stanley is pooh-poohed by many serious (read: academic) organists, but I find his output to be both practical (it is all manuals-only, and generally quite thin, texturally) and compositionally defensible. These are some of the very first pieces I would recommend to beginning organists looking for service music. Difficulty: easy
Louis Vierne: Twenty-Four Pieces in Free Style, Op. 31
This charming selection of pieces, originally composed for harmonium, is an invaluable resource: Vierne's harmonic language provides welcome variety, and the pedaling in this collection poses few, if any, challenges. I particularly recommend the Berceuse (No. 19), Arabesque (No. 15), Lied (No. 17), and Carillon (No. 21) — which is one of my favorite postludes. Difficulty: moderate
The above suggestions are a good place to start, but there is scarcely a limit to the variety of organ repertoire one might suggest. Consider also Buxtehude praeludia (which vary widely in length, complexity, and difficulty), or some of the easier Bach preludes and fugues (BWV 533 or BWV 549, to start). Jean Langlais has a variety of organ compositions, of varying quality, but you could start with his Organ Book, Op. 91. The English keyboard school (Byrd, Gibbons, Tomkins, in particular) offers much in the way of manuals-only voluntaries. The charms of French classical organ music, on the other hand, are so heavily reliant on the particular colors of the French classical organ that I cannot in good conscience recommend the genre for most American organists.
26 July 2016
An Evensong for Bach, Handel, and Purcell
The Episcopalian sanctorale, to the extent that it is observed at all, is a higgledy-piggledy affair. But it is gratifying, nonetheless, to note that three very good composers — J.S. Bach, G.F. Handel, and Henry Purcell — have their very own commemoration on July 28th. (That this day happens to coïncide with my birthday is merely gravy.) I am not prepared to argue for any particular sanctity of these three men; indeed, sources suggest their moral failings were as plentiful as anyone's. But theirs is some of the best music the Christian tradition has produced. In thanksgiving for this, and for sacred music in general, we at St. Luke's, Dixon put on a nice little Evensong this past Sunday, the musical selections of which I share here.
Organ voluntary: Dieterich Buxtehude - Praeludium in D Major, BuxWV 139
Hymn 432 "O praise ye the Lord!" Laudate Dominum
Preces (by William Smith)
Psalm 150 (Tone VIII, by Basil Kazan)
Magnificat (by Thomas Tallis, from the Dorian Service)
Nunc dimittis (ibid.)
Responses (by William Smith)
Pater noster (by Robert Stone)
Anthem: Henry Purcell - An Evening Hymn, Z.193
Hymn 24 "The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended" St. Clement
Organ voluntary: Herbert Brewer - Carillon
Organ voluntary: Dieterich Buxtehude - Praeludium in D Major, BuxWV 139
Hymn 432 "O praise ye the Lord!" Laudate Dominum
Preces (by William Smith)
Psalm 150 (Tone VIII, by Basil Kazan)
Magnificat (by Thomas Tallis, from the Dorian Service)
Nunc dimittis (ibid.)
Responses (by William Smith)
Pater noster (by Robert Stone)
Anthem: Henry Purcell - An Evening Hymn, Z.193
Hymn 24 "The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended" St. Clement
Organ voluntary: Herbert Brewer - Carillon
30 April 2015
An Introduction to Chorale Preludes
The average church organist is at the distinct disadvantage of not being an organist at all. Rather, most are pianists, cajoled or coërced into playing an instrument with which they have little familiarity. For those attempting to make the case for pipe organs in churches, this situation is, to put it mildly, not ideal. While organ technique can only really be improved by lessons, there is also the issue of repertoire: how does an inexperienced organist select simple-enough literature that is not simply awful? Well, I have some suggestions. Here I present the first in what might be a series of posts featuring simple-to-moderate organ repertoire that will prove useful — and musically sound — for organists who don't know where to begin.
Chorale preludes, relatively simple pieces based on hymn tunes, are an essential part of a church organist's repertory. Whenever possible, use them in conjunction with hymns sung to the same tunes. (One finds that chorale settings of past centuries are very often in a higher key than modern settings, for a variety of reasons not worth examining here. Nevertheless, they can be useful in preparing a congregation to sing a given tune.) The annotated list below suggests collections of chorale preludes that are worth knowing. Whenever possible, I provide links to free scores on IMSLP.
J.S. Bach: Orgelbüchlein, BWV 599-644
Though the Orgelbüchlein ("Little Organ Book") is an essential resource for every organist, not every piece in this collection is suitable for beginners. Some, in fact, are as complex as anything Bach wrote for the instrument. Begin with the easiest settings ("Ich ruf zu dir", "Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland", "Komm, Gott Schöpfer, heiliger Geist") to start the lifelong process of beginning to understand Bach's genius. Difficulty: easy to hard
J.S. Bach: Neumeister Chorales, BWV 1090-1120
An odd assortment of settings by the young Bach, the Neumeister Chorales are accessible for beginning organists chiefly because they are mostly manuals-only. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Dieterich Buxtehude: Various Chorale Preludes, BuxWV 177-224
This great North German master, an important influence on the young J.S. Bach, produced a number of chorale settings, ranging from the simple to the virtuosic. The manuals-only selections, as well as some pedaliter settings (e.g. "In dulci jubilo", "Nun bitten wir den heiligen Geist", "Wir danken dir, Herr Jesu Christ") are good places to start. Difficulty: easy to hard
Marcel Dupré: Seventy-Nine Chorales, Op. 28
These settings of Lutheran chorales (all with references to Bach settings of the same tunes) are an excellent introduction to the harmonic language of Dupré, one of the most important organist-composers of the twentieth century. By far the finest of the set is No. 41, In dulci jubilo. Difficulty: easy
Marcel Dupré: Sixteen Chorales, Op. 38, "Le tombeau de Titelouze"
These sixteen settings based on plainchant hymns are helpfully arranged in order of difficulty, and cover a range of different liturgical occasions. They are an equally useful introduction to the harmonic language of Dupré. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Gerald Near: St. Augustine's Organ Book
This collection has ten settings based on chants for a variety of liturgical occasions. Near's harmonic language is modern enough to be interesting, but not terribly dissonant. The best setting in this collection is "Ubi caritas", an excellent choice for the Maundy Thursday liturgy. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Johann Pachelbel: Various Chorale Preludes
Pachelbel's settings are valuable not just for their accessibility, but also for their contrapuntal integrity. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Max Reger: 30 Little Chorale Preludes, Op.135a
This is a terribly useful collection of brief chorale preludes. Most are short enough to actually be used as an introduction to a hymn without trying the patience of modern American congregations. Hands down, the best place to start with Reger, a titan of German Romantic organ music. Difficulty: easy
Max Reger: 52 Chorale Preludes, Op. 67
A great variety of settings, often in Reger's densely chromatic style. Difficulty: moderate
Max Reger: 13 Chorale Preludes, Op. 79b
Yet more characteristic Reger pieces. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Christian Heinrich Rinck: Collection of the Most Popular Organ Compositions
Rinck, though often overlooked, is perhaps the most important organ composer of the early 19th century (not counting Mendelssohn). This collection contains, in addition to seventy-seven freely-composed short pieces, twenty-eight chorale preludes that are quite accessible for the beginning organist. Difficulty: easy
Johann Gottfried Walther: Complete Works for Organ
Walther's grasp of counterpoint occasionally rivalled that of his cousin Bach — no small feat. This collection presents a large array of chorale preludes, many of which can be played manualiter. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Ralph Vaughan Williams: Three Preludes Founded on Welsh Hymn Tunes
Though not idiomatic for the organ, Vaughan Williams's three preludes on Welsh hymns are tuneful (especially the gem of the set, Rhosymedre) and on very familiar Anglican melodies. Difficulty: moderate
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachow: Various Chorale Preludes
Zachow is best known to history as Handel's teacher in Halle. His chorale preludes, all manuals-only, are more valuable for their accessibility than for their compositional quality. Difficulty: very easy
In general, collections — especially those published monthly or quarterly, featuring "new" compositions and arrangements — are to be avoided. An important exception is 80 Chorale Preludes: German Masters of the 17th and 18th Centuries, edited by Hermann Keller. This collection provides a variety of chorale settings by Lutheran baroque composers (J.C. Bach, Krebs, Pachelbel, Scheidt, Walther, Zachow, and others), with a mix of pedaliter and manualiter selections. Every organist should have this book.
It is no coïncidence that the vast majority of composers mentioned above wrote for the Lutheran liturgy, and, accordingly, most of the chorale preludes are on tunes that Lutherans sing (or used to sing). No other denomination comes close in terms of the number of hymn settings for organ. However, Anglican organists have an invaluable resource in the innumerable collections of Healey Willan. His chorale preludes range from the easy to the difficult, and, though not always terribly inventive, are indispensable for Anglican liturgy. Other resources for Anglican organists are the settings of Alec Rowley (generally easy) and Hubert Parry (though these are moderate to difficult). Finally, one last composer with a good many collections of competent chorale preludes is the Belgian Flor Peeters.
Did you find this information useful? You may eagerly anticipate the next installment in this series:
2. Freely-composed organ works for beginning organists
Chorale preludes, relatively simple pieces based on hymn tunes, are an essential part of a church organist's repertory. Whenever possible, use them in conjunction with hymns sung to the same tunes. (One finds that chorale settings of past centuries are very often in a higher key than modern settings, for a variety of reasons not worth examining here. Nevertheless, they can be useful in preparing a congregation to sing a given tune.) The annotated list below suggests collections of chorale preludes that are worth knowing. Whenever possible, I provide links to free scores on IMSLP.
J.S. Bach: Orgelbüchlein, BWV 599-644
Though the Orgelbüchlein ("Little Organ Book") is an essential resource for every organist, not every piece in this collection is suitable for beginners. Some, in fact, are as complex as anything Bach wrote for the instrument. Begin with the easiest settings ("Ich ruf zu dir", "Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland", "Komm, Gott Schöpfer, heiliger Geist") to start the lifelong process of beginning to understand Bach's genius. Difficulty: easy to hard
J.S. Bach: Neumeister Chorales, BWV 1090-1120
An odd assortment of settings by the young Bach, the Neumeister Chorales are accessible for beginning organists chiefly because they are mostly manuals-only. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Dieterich Buxtehude: Various Chorale Preludes, BuxWV 177-224
This great North German master, an important influence on the young J.S. Bach, produced a number of chorale settings, ranging from the simple to the virtuosic. The manuals-only selections, as well as some pedaliter settings (e.g. "In dulci jubilo", "Nun bitten wir den heiligen Geist", "Wir danken dir, Herr Jesu Christ") are good places to start. Difficulty: easy to hard
Marcel Dupré: Seventy-Nine Chorales, Op. 28
These settings of Lutheran chorales (all with references to Bach settings of the same tunes) are an excellent introduction to the harmonic language of Dupré, one of the most important organist-composers of the twentieth century. By far the finest of the set is No. 41, In dulci jubilo. Difficulty: easy
Marcel Dupré: Sixteen Chorales, Op. 38, "Le tombeau de Titelouze"
These sixteen settings based on plainchant hymns are helpfully arranged in order of difficulty, and cover a range of different liturgical occasions. They are an equally useful introduction to the harmonic language of Dupré. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Gerald Near: St. Augustine's Organ Book
This collection has ten settings based on chants for a variety of liturgical occasions. Near's harmonic language is modern enough to be interesting, but not terribly dissonant. The best setting in this collection is "Ubi caritas", an excellent choice for the Maundy Thursday liturgy. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Johann Pachelbel: Various Chorale Preludes
Pachelbel's settings are valuable not just for their accessibility, but also for their contrapuntal integrity. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Max Reger: 30 Little Chorale Preludes, Op.135a
This is a terribly useful collection of brief chorale preludes. Most are short enough to actually be used as an introduction to a hymn without trying the patience of modern American congregations. Hands down, the best place to start with Reger, a titan of German Romantic organ music. Difficulty: easy
Max Reger: 52 Chorale Preludes, Op. 67
A great variety of settings, often in Reger's densely chromatic style. Difficulty: moderate
Max Reger: 13 Chorale Preludes, Op. 79b
Yet more characteristic Reger pieces. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Christian Heinrich Rinck: Collection of the Most Popular Organ Compositions
Rinck, though often overlooked, is perhaps the most important organ composer of the early 19th century (not counting Mendelssohn). This collection contains, in addition to seventy-seven freely-composed short pieces, twenty-eight chorale preludes that are quite accessible for the beginning organist. Difficulty: easy
Johann Gottfried Walther: Complete Works for Organ
Walther's grasp of counterpoint occasionally rivalled that of his cousin Bach — no small feat. This collection presents a large array of chorale preludes, many of which can be played manualiter. Difficulty: easy to moderate
Ralph Vaughan Williams: Three Preludes Founded on Welsh Hymn Tunes
Though not idiomatic for the organ, Vaughan Williams's three preludes on Welsh hymns are tuneful (especially the gem of the set, Rhosymedre) and on very familiar Anglican melodies. Difficulty: moderate
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachow: Various Chorale Preludes
Zachow is best known to history as Handel's teacher in Halle. His chorale preludes, all manuals-only, are more valuable for their accessibility than for their compositional quality. Difficulty: very easy
In general, collections — especially those published monthly or quarterly, featuring "new" compositions and arrangements — are to be avoided. An important exception is 80 Chorale Preludes: German Masters of the 17th and 18th Centuries, edited by Hermann Keller. This collection provides a variety of chorale settings by Lutheran baroque composers (J.C. Bach, Krebs, Pachelbel, Scheidt, Walther, Zachow, and others), with a mix of pedaliter and manualiter selections. Every organist should have this book.
It is no coïncidence that the vast majority of composers mentioned above wrote for the Lutheran liturgy, and, accordingly, most of the chorale preludes are on tunes that Lutherans sing (or used to sing). No other denomination comes close in terms of the number of hymn settings for organ. However, Anglican organists have an invaluable resource in the innumerable collections of Healey Willan. His chorale preludes range from the easy to the difficult, and, though not always terribly inventive, are indispensable for Anglican liturgy. Other resources for Anglican organists are the settings of Alec Rowley (generally easy) and Hubert Parry (though these are moderate to difficult). Finally, one last composer with a good many collections of competent chorale preludes is the Belgian Flor Peeters.
Did you find this information useful? You may eagerly anticipate the next installment in this series:
2. Freely-composed organ works for beginning organists
03 April 2015
Musical Mysticism & Intellect
It is altogether too easy for students to acquire the prejudices of their teachers. This is particularly true in terms of taste, which is mostly (though not entirely) subjective. Why, I still have a bias against the music of Bruckner, one I am working halfheartedly to cast aside, acquired from the same orchestra conductor who instilled in me my love of Mahler. I remember clearly the opinion of my piano teacher regarding Philip Glass, whom she regarded as "prodigiously untalented". This appears to be a general consensus. Even now, in his venerable old age, critics must carefully mete out their praise of Glass lest it be construed as endorsement. Consider this recent article by Terry Teachout: while Glass is acknowledged as "the only American classical composer whose name is reasonably well known outside musical circles" and "something of an elder statesman of American music", the author cannot bring himself to claim that Glass's music is particularly memorable, well-crafted, or enduring: in short, it isn't very good. The real interesting part of the article comes at the very end, when Teachout acknowledges the very different telos of Glass's music:
Arvo Pärt: Passio Domini nostri Jesu Christi secundum Joannem
Passio text & translation
A good 2010 article on Pärt in the Gray Lady
(It should be mentioned, as well, that my current favorite recording of the Bach St. John Passion is that of John Butt and the Dunedin consort, which is an attempt to reconstruct the entire Good Friday liturgy of its first performance in 1724. It is especially interesting to hear how organ music might have figured into the liturgy.)
Part of the continuing resistance to Glass's music lies in the fact that it raises the question of what one thinks music is for, and answers it in a way that many concertgoers find unsatisfactory. Is music a means to an end, or the end in itself? Do you, the listener, use it in order to induce in yourself an ecstatic state of consciousness, or do you engage with it, as you might engage with, say, the "Unfinished" Symphony or The Brothers Karamazov? Most listeners opt for engagement over functionality. But it is necessary to remember that they are both legitimate goals of art, just as the narrative-based organization of Western classical music is neither innately natural nor historically inevitable. The mere fact that Glass writes music for a reason different from Schubert's does not invalidate the results.This is the crux of the difference between minimalist music and that which came before it, and it is important to recall that not all minimalist music is content (as Glass's) to remain airy persiflage. Bach's Johannes-Passion demands spiritual, emotional, and intellectual attention, while Pärt's Passio secundem Joannem instills in the listener, perhaps, a mystical state of consciousness. The huge difference between Pärt — an unequivocally good composer — and Glass — a bad one — is that Pärt, for all his mysticism, provides countless structures within his music that we can engage with, in addition to the numinous qualities of his music. Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't: Pärt's tintinnabuli technique is the product of a rigorous mind, and its results, though deceptively simple-sounding, are rich indeed.
Arvo Pärt: Passio Domini nostri Jesu Christi secundum Joannem
Passio text & translation
A good 2010 article on Pärt in the Gray Lady
(It should be mentioned, as well, that my current favorite recording of the Bach St. John Passion is that of John Butt and the Dunedin consort, which is an attempt to reconstruct the entire Good Friday liturgy of its first performance in 1724. It is especially interesting to hear how organ music might have figured into the liturgy.)
17 March 2015
Japonisme
Here I shall mention that my absolute favorite recording of Madama Butterfly is the 1966 one directed by Barbirolli, with Renata Scotto in the title rôle. Aside from one clarinet lick that is almost comically off, I find the recording to be nearly perfect. And, fortunately, it has been remastered for posterity.
I will add, as well, that one of my favorite movies is Topsy-Turvy, which, besides being about the making of The Mikado, is one of the best depictions of the artistic process that I have seen on film.
If there is anything in actual Japanese culture that attracts me, it is perhaps the country's apparent obsession with cats, both in this modern age of the internets and in ages past. I should like to see, were I in New York, the current exhibition of cats in Japanese prints of the 17th-20th centuries.
09 June 2014
The Hildebrandt Organ, Naumburg
Today we made the trek out from Leipzig to Naumburg, to play the Hildebrandt Organ there. The weather being unseasonably warm for this part of the world, the trip was unpleasant: today is Pentecost Monday, which I understand is a public holiday in Germany, so trains were full of vacationers returning home after the holiday weekend. (I am, at least, appreciative that Germans are generally quiet when using mass transit.) But despite the oppressive heat and crowded trains, it was well worth it. Indeed, to describe the experience of playing Bach on this instrument so closely linked to the master requires hyperbole. Let me skip that and merely describe. It exceeds in size and variety all other Hildebrandt or Silbermann instruments. So far as we know, it is the one surviving instrument that most closely accords with Bach's ideas about organ design. Every stop on the instrument, I thought, was beautiful. (Other organists in the group largely agreed, though some considered some of the Rückpositiv stops to be less pretty. I have found that Rückpositiv and Brustwerk stops, if present, must be assessed generously by the organist at the console, for they always sound better out in the room.) It seems almost too obvious to say, that every stop on an organ should be beautiful, but in fact that is hardly ever the case: builders include mediocre stops, or even ugly stops, so that they might be combined to make better sounds — if that makes sense! But let us not consider other organs, at the moment. The stops on today's organ were each extraordinary alone, yet also worked well together. (Worthy of special mention are the 8' Hohl-floete on the Oberwerk, the 8' Spitz-floete, and the full Cornets found on both divisions. But I could listen to even just a single 8' Principal all day.)
I should admit that I find organ scholarship, and most Baroque scholarship in general, to be far too Bach-centric. We cannot see all music as merely prefiguring or echoing Bach; this is a disservice to countless composers of great talent. (Perhaps Buxtehude, Walther, and Krebs have suffered the most in this way.) In the same way, we cannot praise the Hildebrandt Organ of Naumburg merely because Bach inspected it and said it was very good. (Besides, he almost certainly had a conflict of interest due to his friendship with Zacharias Hildebrandt.) But it is remarkable, nonetheless, that such an instrument has survived, and it is probably not coïncidental that it happens to be so very special. Peter Williams notes that "Alas, it is simply not true that fine organs are inextricably related to fine music; many times over the centuries organs have been 'better' than the music they were built to play[.]" But we see in this Hildebrandt, I think, an extraordinary affinity between the finest of composers and — surely — one of the finest organs in the world.
(Oh, and, like many important instruments over here, there is a guestbook for organist visitors to sign. There are, of course, many big names in it, with observations and thanks. Perhaps my favorite was that of Thiemo Janssen, the organist at the Ludgerikirche in Norden, with its magnificent Schnitger: "Herr Schnitger grüßt Herr Hildebrandt." Isn't that cute?)
I should admit that I find organ scholarship, and most Baroque scholarship in general, to be far too Bach-centric. We cannot see all music as merely prefiguring or echoing Bach; this is a disservice to countless composers of great talent. (Perhaps Buxtehude, Walther, and Krebs have suffered the most in this way.) In the same way, we cannot praise the Hildebrandt Organ of Naumburg merely because Bach inspected it and said it was very good. (Besides, he almost certainly had a conflict of interest due to his friendship with Zacharias Hildebrandt.) But it is remarkable, nonetheless, that such an instrument has survived, and it is probably not coïncidental that it happens to be so very special. Peter Williams notes that "Alas, it is simply not true that fine organs are inextricably related to fine music; many times over the centuries organs have been 'better' than the music they were built to play[.]" But we see in this Hildebrandt, I think, an extraordinary affinity between the finest of composers and — surely — one of the finest organs in the world.
(Oh, and, like many important instruments over here, there is a guestbook for organist visitors to sign. There are, of course, many big names in it, with observations and thanks. Perhaps my favorite was that of Thiemo Janssen, the organist at the Ludgerikirche in Norden, with its magnificent Schnitger: "Herr Schnitger grüßt Herr Hildebrandt." Isn't that cute?)
27 May 2013
A Few More Preludes and Postludes
26 May (Trinity):
J.S. Bach: Fugue on Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr, BWV 716
Niels Gade: Aleneste Gud i Himmerig
31 May (Visitation):
Girolamo Cavazzoni: Magnificat octavi toni
Johann Pachelbel: Meine Seele erhebet den Herren, P.362
2 June (Corpus Christi, observed):
Olivier Messiaen: Le banquet céleste
Alexandre Guilmant: Strophe sur l'hymne Pange lingua
(On the evening of the 2nd of June I will be presenting an organ-and-voice recital in observance of Corpus Christi, mind you.)
9 June:
Jean Langlais: Suite Médiévale - II. Tiento
J.S. Bach: Nun ruhen alle Wälder, BWV 756
For further reference, please consult past entries:
March 2013 - May 2013 | January 2013 - March 2013 | November 2012 - January 2013 | September 2012 - November 2012 | May 2012 - August 2012 | April 2012 - May 2012 | February 2012 - April 2012 | January 2012 - February 2012 | November 2011 - December 2011
June 11th through July 4th I will once again be in Europe, as it happens. This year's itinerary includes a bevy of Luther and Bach sites, mostly in Thuringia, and then Hamburg, Stade, Lübeck, Magdeburg (with a concert in nearby Niederndodeleben), and Prague.
J.S. Bach: Fugue on Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr, BWV 716
Niels Gade: Aleneste Gud i Himmerig
31 May (Visitation):
Girolamo Cavazzoni: Magnificat octavi toni
Johann Pachelbel: Meine Seele erhebet den Herren, P.362
2 June (Corpus Christi, observed):
Olivier Messiaen: Le banquet céleste
Alexandre Guilmant: Strophe sur l'hymne Pange lingua
(On the evening of the 2nd of June I will be presenting an organ-and-voice recital in observance of Corpus Christi, mind you.)
9 June:
Jean Langlais: Suite Médiévale - II. Tiento
J.S. Bach: Nun ruhen alle Wälder, BWV 756
For further reference, please consult past entries:
March 2013 - May 2013 | January 2013 - March 2013 | November 2012 - January 2013 | September 2012 - November 2012 | May 2012 - August 2012 | April 2012 - May 2012 | February 2012 - April 2012 | January 2012 - February 2012 | November 2011 - December 2011
June 11th through July 4th I will once again be in Europe, as it happens. This year's itinerary includes a bevy of Luther and Bach sites, mostly in Thuringia, and then Hamburg, Stade, Lübeck, Magdeburg (with a concert in nearby Niederndodeleben), and Prague.
21 May 2013
A Recital for Corpus Christi
Last year an organist friend of mine presented what I somewhat derisively called a "Eucharistic Piety Concert". I suppose he'll take some satisfaction in seeing that I am now doing the same, this upcoming June 2nd (which is the Feast of Corpus Christi, observed). So as not to bore the audience too terribly by playing only organ music, I have invited a very talented soprano friend of mine, a Miss Katie B., to join me for some selections. You are, dear reader, as ever, most heartily invited.
"O Sacred Banquet": A Recital for the Feast of Corpus Christi
4:30pm Sunday, June 2nd
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Dixon, Illinois
4:30pm Sunday, June 2nd
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Dixon, Illinois
- J.S. Bach (1685-1750): Prelude and Fugue in D Major, BWV 532
- Mode V: Adoro te devote
- Gerald Near (b. 1942): Prelude and Four Variations on "Adoro te devote"
- César Franck (1822-1890): Panis angelicus, Op. 12, Mvt. 5
- Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992): Le banquet céleste
- Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904): "God Is My Shepherd", Op. 99, No. 4
- Harold Darke (1888-1976): Meditation on "Brother James' Air"
- Mode V: O sacrum convivium
- Louis Vierne (1870-1937): Carillon, Op. 31, No. 21
15 April 2013
Arthur Schopenhauer, Fanboy
Alex Ross (whose The Rest Is Noise you should read. Go get it) alerts us to an account (related in David Cartwright's biography) of Schopenhauer and his musical idol, Rossini:
And yet it is satisfying, somehow, that Schopenhauer took a dim view of Wagner (who, in turn, idolized him, regardless). De gustibus non est disputandum, at any rate.
In 1856, Rossini came to Frankfurt, Schopenhauer's home town, and was seen dining at the Englischer Hof, the philosopher's favorite spot. Alerted in advance, Schopenhauer arranged with the management to be seated near the composer. But he did not rise to say hello; instead, too shy or too proud, he lingered in Rossini's vicinity for the duration of the meal.That Schopenhauer, that titan of Teutonic seriousness, should be so infatuated with the rather silly music of Rossini, is curious. To be certain, Rossini has his moments; the man could write an overture. But one doubts that his musical idiom was really conducive to expressing the full range of human experience. His Stabat Mater is a particularly egregious example. The depth of the despair of the Theotokos, whose heart was pierced also, is expressed as an hour-long overblown extroverted operatic tour-de-force. I heard the tenor aria "Cujus animam" at a recital once, and was hard-pressed to keep from laughing at the incongruïty.
And yet it is satisfying, somehow, that Schopenhauer took a dim view of Wagner (who, in turn, idolized him, regardless). De gustibus non est disputandum, at any rate.
30 March 2013
There Is but One, and That One Ever
Allow me to present a first in the history of this-a-here web-log: a repost. There is no other Easter poem I like better than George Herbert's "Easter", and Ralph Vaughan Williams's setting of it (from his Five Mystical Songs) is very fine indeed.
EASTER, +George Herbert (1593-1633)
I got me boughs off many a tree:
But thou wast up by break of day,
And brought’st thy sweets along with thee.
The Sunne arising in the East,
Though he give light, & th’ East perfume;
If they should offer to contest
With thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many sunnes to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we misse:
There is but one, and that one ever.
EASTER, +George Herbert (1593-1633)
Rise heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delayes, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With him mayst rise: That, as his death calcined thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and much more, just. Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art. The crosse taught all wood to resound his name, Who bore the same. His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key Is best to celebrate this most high day. Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long: Or, since all musick is but three parts vied And multiplied, O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with his sweet art.
I got me flowers to strew thy way;
I got me boughs off many a tree:
But thou wast up by break of day,
And brought’st thy sweets along with thee.
The Sunne arising in the East,
Though he give light, & th’ East perfume;
If they should offer to contest
With thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many sunnes to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we misse:
There is but one, and that one ever.
25 March 2013
Organ Preludes and Postludes through Whitsunday
17 March (Lent V, Judica):
Flor Peeters: Audi, benigne Conditor
Johann Philipp Kirnberger: Wer nur den lieben Gott läßt walten
24 March (Palm Sunday):
Jehan Alain: Litanies, JA 119
28 March (Maundy Thursday):
Gerald Near: Ubi caritas et amor
30 March (Easter Vigil):
Théodore Dubois: Toccata in G Major
31 March (Easter Sunday):
Johann Pachelbel: Christ lag in Todesbanden, P. 58
Théodore Dubois: Toccata in G Major (reprised)
7 April (Second Sunday of Easter):
Jean-François Dandrieu: Offertoire sur «O filii et filiae»
Joseph Renner: Victimae paschali laudes, Op. 33, No. 6
8 April (Annunciation, transferred from Holy Week):
Dieterich Buxtehude: Herr Christ, der einig Gottes Sohn, BuxWV 191
Max Reger: Wie schön leucht't uns der Morgenstern, Op. 135a, No. 29
14 April (Third Sunday of Easter):
Johann Pachelbel: Jesus Christus, unser Heiland, P. 218
J.S. Bach: Erstanden ist der heilge Christ, BWV 628
21 April (Fourth Sunday of Easter):
Harold Darke: Meditation on Brother James's Air
Max Reger: Christ ist erstanden, Op. 79b, No. 8
28 April (Fifth Sunday of Easter):
Horatio Parker: Revery, Op. 67, No. 2
J.S. Bach: Heut triumphieret Gottes Sohn, BWV 630
5 May (Sixth Sunday of Easter):
Joseph Jongen: Chant de mai, Op. 53, No. 1
J.S. Bach: Jesus Christus, unser Heiland, BWV 626
9 May (Ascension):
Ralph Vaughan Williams: Bryn Calfaria
Marcel Dupré: Nun freut euch, lieben Christen g'mein, Op. 28, No. 58
12 May (Seventh Sunday of Easter):
J.S. Bach: Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele, BWV 654
Johann Heinrich Buttstedt: Christ lag in Todesbanden
19 May (Pentecost):
Dieterich Buxtehude: Komm, heiliger Geist, Herre Gott, BuxWV 199
J.S. Bach: Komm, Gott Schöpfer, heiliger Geist, BWV 667
Flor Peeters: Audi, benigne Conditor
Johann Philipp Kirnberger: Wer nur den lieben Gott läßt walten
24 March (Palm Sunday):
Jehan Alain: Litanies, JA 119
28 March (Maundy Thursday):
Gerald Near: Ubi caritas et amor
30 March (Easter Vigil):
Théodore Dubois: Toccata in G Major
31 March (Easter Sunday):
Johann Pachelbel: Christ lag in Todesbanden, P. 58
Théodore Dubois: Toccata in G Major (reprised)
7 April (Second Sunday of Easter):
Jean-François Dandrieu: Offertoire sur «O filii et filiae»
Joseph Renner: Victimae paschali laudes, Op. 33, No. 6
8 April (Annunciation, transferred from Holy Week):
Dieterich Buxtehude: Herr Christ, der einig Gottes Sohn, BuxWV 191
Max Reger: Wie schön leucht't uns der Morgenstern, Op. 135a, No. 29
14 April (Third Sunday of Easter):
Johann Pachelbel: Jesus Christus, unser Heiland, P. 218
J.S. Bach: Erstanden ist der heilge Christ, BWV 628
21 April (Fourth Sunday of Easter):
Harold Darke: Meditation on Brother James's Air
Max Reger: Christ ist erstanden, Op. 79b, No. 8
28 April (Fifth Sunday of Easter):
Horatio Parker: Revery, Op. 67, No. 2
J.S. Bach: Heut triumphieret Gottes Sohn, BWV 630
5 May (Sixth Sunday of Easter):
Joseph Jongen: Chant de mai, Op. 53, No. 1
J.S. Bach: Jesus Christus, unser Heiland, BWV 626
9 May (Ascension):
Ralph Vaughan Williams: Bryn Calfaria
Marcel Dupré: Nun freut euch, lieben Christen g'mein, Op. 28, No. 58
12 May (Seventh Sunday of Easter):
J.S. Bach: Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele, BWV 654
Johann Heinrich Buttstedt: Christ lag in Todesbanden
19 May (Pentecost):
Dieterich Buxtehude: Komm, heiliger Geist, Herre Gott, BuxWV 199
J.S. Bach: Komm, Gott Schöpfer, heiliger Geist, BWV 667
30 December 2012
Organ Preludes & Postludes through Laetare
5 January (Installation of Fr R.):
J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in G Major, BWV 541
Jean Langlais: Pasticcio, Op. 91, No. 10
6 January (Epiphany):
Johann Pachelbel: Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, P.46
Louis Vierne: Carillon, Op. 31, No. 21
13 January (Epiphany I, Baptism of the Lord):
Anonymous (from the Lüneburg Tablature): Christ unser Herr zum Jordan kam
Gerald Near: Omnes qui in Christo
20 January (Epiphany II):
Niels Gade: Allegretto, Op. 22, No. 2
Gustav Adolf Merkel: Allegretto, Op. 102, No. 1
27 January (Epiphany III; Septuagesima):
Marcel Dupré: Invention, Op. 50, No. 2
Alexandre-Pierre-François Boëly: Fughetta in D minor
2 February (Candlemas):
Marcel Dupré: Élévation (Très modéré), Op. 32, No. 2
Marcel Dupré: Herr Gott, nun schleuss den Himmel auf, Op. 28, No. 31
3 February (Epiphany IV; Sexagesima):
Charles Villiers Stanford: Prelude in Form of a Minuet, Op. 88, No. 1
Max Reger: Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, Op. 138a, No. 14
10 February (Transfiguration; Quinquagesima):
Paul Hindemith: Sonata No. 2 - I. Lebhaft
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachau: Herr Jesu Christ, wahr Mensch und Gott, LV 32
13 February (Ash Wednesday):
Jeanne Demessieux: Attende Domine, Op. 8, No. 3
Gottfried August Homilius: Erbarm dich mein, o Herre Gott
17 February (Lent I, Invocavit):
J.S. Bach: Christus, der uns selig macht, BWV 747
J.S. Bach: Wer nur den lieben Gott läßt walten, BWV 690
24 February (Lent II, Reminiscere):
J.S. Bach: Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, BWV 639
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachau: Ach Gott vom Himmel sieh darein, LV 16
3 March (Lent III, Oculi):
J.S. Bach: O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde groß, BWV 622
Michael Praetorius: Sinfonia
10 March (Lent IV, Laetare):
J.S. Bach: Jesu, meine Freude, BWV 610
Max Reger: Mit Fried und Freud ich fahr dahin, Op. 79b, No. 5
J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in G Major, BWV 541
Jean Langlais: Pasticcio, Op. 91, No. 10
6 January (Epiphany):
Johann Pachelbel: Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, P.46
Louis Vierne: Carillon, Op. 31, No. 21
13 January (Epiphany I, Baptism of the Lord):
Anonymous (from the Lüneburg Tablature): Christ unser Herr zum Jordan kam
Gerald Near: Omnes qui in Christo
20 January (Epiphany II):
Niels Gade: Allegretto, Op. 22, No. 2
Gustav Adolf Merkel: Allegretto, Op. 102, No. 1
27 January (Epiphany III; Septuagesima):
Marcel Dupré: Invention, Op. 50, No. 2
Alexandre-Pierre-François Boëly: Fughetta in D minor
2 February (Candlemas):
Marcel Dupré: Élévation (Très modéré), Op. 32, No. 2
Marcel Dupré: Herr Gott, nun schleuss den Himmel auf, Op. 28, No. 31
3 February (Epiphany IV; Sexagesima):
Charles Villiers Stanford: Prelude in Form of a Minuet, Op. 88, No. 1
Max Reger: Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, Op. 138a, No. 14
10 February (Transfiguration; Quinquagesima):
Paul Hindemith: Sonata No. 2 - I. Lebhaft
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachau: Herr Jesu Christ, wahr Mensch und Gott, LV 32
13 February (Ash Wednesday):
Jeanne Demessieux: Attende Domine, Op. 8, No. 3
Gottfried August Homilius: Erbarm dich mein, o Herre Gott
17 February (Lent I, Invocavit):
J.S. Bach: Christus, der uns selig macht, BWV 747
J.S. Bach: Wer nur den lieben Gott läßt walten, BWV 690
24 February (Lent II, Reminiscere):
J.S. Bach: Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, BWV 639
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachau: Ach Gott vom Himmel sieh darein, LV 16
3 March (Lent III, Oculi):
J.S. Bach: O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde groß, BWV 622
Michael Praetorius: Sinfonia
10 March (Lent IV, Laetare):
J.S. Bach: Jesu, meine Freude, BWV 610
Max Reger: Mit Fried und Freud ich fahr dahin, Op. 79b, No. 5
25 November 2012
Something Rich and Strange
I have succumbed and already begun listening to Christmas music. Well, not just any Christmas music. I had the great fortune of finding that recording of the Praetorius Mass for Christmas Day (by Paul McCreesh and the Gabrieli Consort, recorded in Roskilde Cathedral, which I can attest is a remarkable space) in a used records shop in Iowa City, and I simply had to buy it. It may be one of my ten favorite records. (I couldn't tell you the complete list, though I should say the Klemperer recording of the Brahms Requiem is always on it.) There's something about the music of that era (Praetorius's, that is) that is simultaneously quite familiar (we still sing some of the hymns — In dulci jubilo and Wie schön leuchtet, for example) and yet wonderfully strange. (McCreesh's recording accentuates the strangeness, in a way, by using period instruments. Shawms and krummhorns and sackbutts and all.) It is therefore an excellent fit for the Christmas season, I think.
It strikes me that we don't often recognize how strange the principal feasts of the Christian year are. Consider, for example, Christmas. How bizarre that God, this divine, omnipotent, sempiternal being, should take our flesh! How bizarre that a virgin should conceive and bear a son! This, this is the solution to the string of catastrophes that is human history: this profoundly strange plan that God should become incarnate in order to die. Christians, especially those raised in the faith from an early age, become desensitized to the very oddness of it all. (This is one reason why I am not altogether unhappy that we are rapidly losing any sense of being a Christian society: in a world permeated by Christian belief, one can discount Christian doctrine without the inconvenience of actually considering it. In a society that is materialist by default, Christianity may present a viable alternative.)
I think that the liturgical musician, in planning Advent and Christmas music, should take this into account. The hymns of the Christmas season are undoubtedly the most familiar in all the repertoire: even non-Christians are acquainted with them, thanks to that horrible custom of blasting Christmas music in public spaces from the day after Thanksgiving until December 25th. We church musicians must provide some measure of comfort, of course. I could not countenance a Christmas without Es ist ein Ros entsprungen or In the Bleak Midwinter. But I suggest that it may be beneficial to throw in, occasionally, a lesser-known hymn. Try Quem pastores, or the Huron Carol. (Perhaps the latter is quite common in Canada. But it isn't here.) We all need reminding that religion is not merely a source of thoughtless platitudes: it should discomfort and challenge us, at times, as well.
It strikes me that we don't often recognize how strange the principal feasts of the Christian year are. Consider, for example, Christmas. How bizarre that God, this divine, omnipotent, sempiternal being, should take our flesh! How bizarre that a virgin should conceive and bear a son! This, this is the solution to the string of catastrophes that is human history: this profoundly strange plan that God should become incarnate in order to die. Christians, especially those raised in the faith from an early age, become desensitized to the very oddness of it all. (This is one reason why I am not altogether unhappy that we are rapidly losing any sense of being a Christian society: in a world permeated by Christian belief, one can discount Christian doctrine without the inconvenience of actually considering it. In a society that is materialist by default, Christianity may present a viable alternative.)
I think that the liturgical musician, in planning Advent and Christmas music, should take this into account. The hymns of the Christmas season are undoubtedly the most familiar in all the repertoire: even non-Christians are acquainted with them, thanks to that horrible custom of blasting Christmas music in public spaces from the day after Thanksgiving until December 25th. We church musicians must provide some measure of comfort, of course. I could not countenance a Christmas without Es ist ein Ros entsprungen or In the Bleak Midwinter. But I suggest that it may be beneficial to throw in, occasionally, a lesser-known hymn. Try Quem pastores, or the Huron Carol. (Perhaps the latter is quite common in Canada. But it isn't here.) We all need reminding that religion is not merely a source of thoughtless platitudes: it should discomfort and challenge us, at times, as well.
15 November 2012
Attention Anglophile Organists:
The other day an Orgelbauer friend of mine had an excellent idea that I feel compelled to disseminate. We were watching Midsomer Murders and he commented that its theme would make an interesting basis for a chorale prelude (or, rather, a television programme theme music prelude, as it were).
To wit: I humbly suggest that all interested Anglophile organists select theme music from a British television show and compose a chorale prelude upon it. I shall accept all entries, Finale-ize them, make a very pretty title page and table of contents, and send a pdf copy of the compleat collection to anyone who might want it. To any interested dear reader, I entreat you: please feel welcome to forward this prospectus to anyone you know to whom it might appeal. You might leave a comment on this-a-here web-log, if you wish to express interest. Rather than have duplicates, though, I suggest we each claim a particular show's theme. As for me, I have selected the theme from Blackadder.
(I suppose we might open the idea up to all television shows of any origin, not just British ones. But for some reason the prospect of limiting the project a bit appeals to me. You needn't pay me any heed, though.)
Since organists are, in general, busy folks, I therefore suggest this might be a long-term project, lasting, perhaps, years. Oh well. I offer it for your consideration.
To wit: I humbly suggest that all interested Anglophile organists select theme music from a British television show and compose a chorale prelude upon it. I shall accept all entries, Finale-ize them, make a very pretty title page and table of contents, and send a pdf copy of the compleat collection to anyone who might want it. To any interested dear reader, I entreat you: please feel welcome to forward this prospectus to anyone you know to whom it might appeal. You might leave a comment on this-a-here web-log, if you wish to express interest. Rather than have duplicates, though, I suggest we each claim a particular show's theme. As for me, I have selected the theme from Blackadder.
(I suppose we might open the idea up to all television shows of any origin, not just British ones. But for some reason the prospect of limiting the project a bit appeals to me. You needn't pay me any heed, though.)
Since organists are, in general, busy folks, I therefore suggest this might be a long-term project, lasting, perhaps, years. Oh well. I offer it for your consideration.
05 November 2012
Organ Preludes and Postludes through New Year's
11 November:
attr. J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in C Major, BWV 553
J.S. Bach: Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, BWV 730
18 November:
Louis Vierne: Lied, Op. 31, No. 17
Jacques Boyvin: Grand plein jeu continu
25 November (Christ the King):
Felix Mendelssohn: Prelude in G Major, Op. 37, No. 2a
Gordon Young: Prelude in Classic Style
2 December (Advent I):
Flor Peeters: Creator alme siderum, Op. 75, No. 1
Nicolas de Grigny: Verbum supernum prodiens: Plein jeu
9 December (Advent II):
Johann Pachelbel: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, P.386
Gerald Near: Jerusalem surge
16 December (Advent III, Gaudete):
Gottfried August Homilius: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland
J.S. Bach: Herr Christ, der einge Gottes-Sohn, BWV 601
23 December (Advent IV):
Jeanne Demessieux: Rorate caeli, Op. 8, No. 1
J.S. Bach: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, BWV 599
24 December (Christmas Eve):
Samuel Barber: Chorale Prelude on "Silent Night"
Claude-Bénigne Balbastre: Tous les bourgeois de Châtres
25 December (Christmas Day):
Gerald Near: Puer nobis est natus
J.S. Bach: Der Tag, der ist so freudenreich, BWV 605
30 December (1st Sunday after Christmas):
Dieterich Buxtehude: In dulci jubilo, BuxWV 197
J.S. Bach: In dulci jubilo, BWV 729
1 January (New Year's Day):
J.S. Bach: Das alte Jahr vergangen ist, BWV 1091
J.S. Bach: In dir ist Freude, BWV 615
attr. J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in C Major, BWV 553
J.S. Bach: Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, BWV 730
18 November:
Louis Vierne: Lied, Op. 31, No. 17
Jacques Boyvin: Grand plein jeu continu
25 November (Christ the King):
Felix Mendelssohn: Prelude in G Major, Op. 37, No. 2a
Gordon Young: Prelude in Classic Style
2 December (Advent I):
Flor Peeters: Creator alme siderum, Op. 75, No. 1
Nicolas de Grigny: Verbum supernum prodiens: Plein jeu
9 December (Advent II):
Johann Pachelbel: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, P.386
Gerald Near: Jerusalem surge
16 December (Advent III, Gaudete):
Gottfried August Homilius: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland
J.S. Bach: Herr Christ, der einge Gottes-Sohn, BWV 601
23 December (Advent IV):
Jeanne Demessieux: Rorate caeli, Op. 8, No. 1
J.S. Bach: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, BWV 599
24 December (Christmas Eve):
Samuel Barber: Chorale Prelude on "Silent Night"
Claude-Bénigne Balbastre: Tous les bourgeois de Châtres
25 December (Christmas Day):
Gerald Near: Puer nobis est natus
J.S. Bach: Der Tag, der ist so freudenreich, BWV 605
30 December (1st Sunday after Christmas):
Dieterich Buxtehude: In dulci jubilo, BuxWV 197
J.S. Bach: In dulci jubilo, BWV 729
1 January (New Year's Day):
J.S. Bach: Das alte Jahr vergangen ist, BWV 1091
J.S. Bach: In dir ist Freude, BWV 615
20 October 2012
Elektra at the Lyric
I cannot understand people who consider opera to be boring. Well, no, that is not true at all: there are many examples of opera that can be boring, I readily admit. But this is not an inherent flaw of the genre; indeed, opera, when it approaches the ideal of Gesamtkunstwerk, is perhaps the most captivating of all things. (Several months ago I made an offhand remark to a fellow opera buff and church-musician that liturgy should be like opera. This is not to say that I esteem opera above liturgy, but rather that what is effective in one can and should be effective in t'other. But that is another discussion.) Yesterday's performance of Elektra at the Lyric, which I attended, instilled in me a fascination that straddled the line between rapture and disgust. One may therefore say that it succeeded unequivocally as art. I am getting dangerously close to pontificating about the nature of art; let me restrain myself.
Strauss's score for Elektra, though now more than a century old, still sounds fresh. (His dissonances are thrilling; perhaps this is because we'll never overcome a natural inclination for functional harmony? Certainly we won't, as a culture, if our popular music remains limited to four different chords.) The performances, instrumental and vocal, were uniformly excellent, though Christine Goerke, in the title rôle, deserves special praise. The costumes and set resonated with the ghastly splendor of the the plot and music; the Tribune review quite rightly notes the "beautiful ugliness" of the experience. Altogether it was like something out of a fever dream — unnerving, but riveting.
Strauss's score for Elektra, though now more than a century old, still sounds fresh. (His dissonances are thrilling; perhaps this is because we'll never overcome a natural inclination for functional harmony? Certainly we won't, as a culture, if our popular music remains limited to four different chords.) The performances, instrumental and vocal, were uniformly excellent, though Christine Goerke, in the title rôle, deserves special praise. The costumes and set resonated with the ghastly splendor of the the plot and music; the Tribune review quite rightly notes the "beautiful ugliness" of the experience. Altogether it was like something out of a fever dream — unnerving, but riveting.
18 October 2012
Letters from Flannery
Though real work, as I mentioned, is satisfactory, it leaves far less time for leisure. This is particularly true in this particular month, as I have three important Sundays in a row (St. Luke, transferred from today; Reformation; and All Saints) and that upcoming recital, as well as planning for Advent Lessons & Carols and a chamber music concert in December. And I am attending Lectures in Church Music, again, and helping to tune the instruments at my two churches. Why, it barely leaves time for my wonted hobby of late, preparing editions of Hassler motets for CPDL.
Books have begun to pile up. There are, of course, the dozen or so that I have already begun reading and have not finished. (Most of these, at least, are not novel-length fiction.) But people persist in recommending books unto me. I appreciate this very much, but feel I am being set up like a protagonist in a Greek tragedy, doomed to some miserable end. (It remains to be seen what my ἁμαρτία is. Perhaps it is a susceptibility to distraction.) Alas, but oh well. For the meantime, I am occupying myself with the letters of Flannery O'Connor, whose spelling is rather haphazard but whose observations are keenly informed and whose sense of humor is inimitable.
On suffering:
In other news, today I encountered a fine recording of the Bach B-flat Partita (BWV 825). Here it is. I have mixed feelings about playing harpsichord music on a modern piano — it seems as foolish as playing gamba repertoire on a cello — but while listening to such a recording I can suspend my objections.
Books have begun to pile up. There are, of course, the dozen or so that I have already begun reading and have not finished. (Most of these, at least, are not novel-length fiction.) But people persist in recommending books unto me. I appreciate this very much, but feel I am being set up like a protagonist in a Greek tragedy, doomed to some miserable end. (It remains to be seen what my ἁμαρτία is. Perhaps it is a susceptibility to distraction.) Alas, but oh well. For the meantime, I am occupying myself with the letters of Flannery O'Connor, whose spelling is rather haphazard but whose observations are keenly informed and whose sense of humor is inimitable.
On suffering:
I believe that everybody, through suffering, takes part in the Redemption, and I believe they suffer most who live closest to all the possibilities of disbelief.On modern education:
I have what passes for an education in this day and time, but I am not deceived by it.On librarians:
Librarians are the last people you can trust about the insides of books.(I hesitate to add, in deference to any dear reader of mine who may be a librarian, that doubtless Miss O'Connor was referring to a very particular sort of small-town — possibly southern — librarian. Surely.) There's much to unpack in O'Connor's letters; one wishes for the other half of some correspondences. But at least they provide interesting background about her stories, which I find to be consistently good.
In other news, today I encountered a fine recording of the Bach B-flat Partita (BWV 825). Here it is. I have mixed feelings about playing harpsichord music on a modern piano — it seems as foolish as playing gamba repertoire on a cello — but while listening to such a recording I can suspend my objections.
06 October 2012
A Reformation Sunday Recital
Much like having regular examinations in school, I find that regular recitals provide a certain measure of motivation. (Is this due to a certain lack of self-discipline on my part? Or is self-discipline merely knowing what sorts of tricks to play on one's own mind?) To that end, I will be performing a recital on October 28th in Dixon; it oughtn't be more than an hour, I hope. You are, dear reader, of course invited.
Recital on the Karstens organ at St. Paul Lutheran Church, Dixon
28 October 2012, at 3pm
J.S. Bach (1685-1750):
Prelude and Fugue in C Major, BWV 547
Hymn: ELW #308 "O Morning Star, How Fair and Bright"
Dieterich Buxtehude (c.1637-1707):
Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, BuxWV 223
Hymn: ELW #839 "Now Thank We All Our God"
Sigfrid Karg-Elert (1877-1933):
Nun danket alle Gott (Marche Triomphale), Op. 65, No. 59
Hymn: ELW #488 "Soul, Adorn Yourself with Gladness"
J.S. Bach:
Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele, BWV 654
Hymn: ELW #504 "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God"
Cor Kee (1900-1997):
Een vaste Burgt
Chant: "Te lucis ante terminum" (Mode VIII)
Jehan Alain (1911-1940):
Postlude pour l’Office de Complies, JA 29
Louis Vierne (1870-1937):
Symphony No. 1, Op. 14 – VI. Finale
The astute reader will notice that some of these pieces may look familiar. Indeed, I have played many of them over the past fifteen months in Dixon. But most of them warrant a more careful listening (as well as, I should admit, a more careful performance). I wouldn't close with the Vierne, but for the fact that I was deprived of my chance to play it for the Lutherans at Easter. Easter morning I turned the organ at St. Paul on, only to discover that the entire swell and choir divisions were out. If that happens again, I shall take it as a sign that I ought not to play Vierne for Lutherans.
Recital on the Karstens organ at St. Paul Lutheran Church, Dixon
28 October 2012, at 3pm
J.S. Bach (1685-1750):
Prelude and Fugue in C Major, BWV 547
Hymn: ELW #308 "O Morning Star, How Fair and Bright"
Dieterich Buxtehude (c.1637-1707):
Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, BuxWV 223
Hymn: ELW #839 "Now Thank We All Our God"
Sigfrid Karg-Elert (1877-1933):
Nun danket alle Gott (Marche Triomphale), Op. 65, No. 59
Hymn: ELW #488 "Soul, Adorn Yourself with Gladness"
J.S. Bach:
Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele, BWV 654
Hymn: ELW #504 "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God"
Cor Kee (1900-1997):
Een vaste Burgt
Chant: "Te lucis ante terminum" (Mode VIII)
Jehan Alain (1911-1940):
Postlude pour l’Office de Complies, JA 29
Louis Vierne (1870-1937):
Symphony No. 1, Op. 14 – VI. Finale
The astute reader will notice that some of these pieces may look familiar. Indeed, I have played many of them over the past fifteen months in Dixon. But most of them warrant a more careful listening (as well as, I should admit, a more careful performance). I wouldn't close with the Vierne, but for the fact that I was deprived of my chance to play it for the Lutherans at Easter. Easter morning I turned the organ at St. Paul on, only to discover that the entire swell and choir divisions were out. If that happens again, I shall take it as a sign that I ought not to play Vierne for Lutherans.
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