Baroque Iberian Battle Music for the Organ

Maxim Serebrennikov

But the basis for all improvisation must be preparation. If I haven’t prepared, I can’t improvise. If I’ve made careful preparations I can always improvise. 

—Ingmar Bergman, 1968

 

The question of fugal improvisation in the Baroque era has been raised in the pages of musicology literature more than once.² It still remains topical today; yet in the practice of Baroque improvisation, the improvisation of fugue has rarely become an object of independent study. Besides William Renwick’s book, The Langloz Manuscript: Fugal Improvisation through Figured Bass (2001), it is difficult to name any widely known work that is specifically dedicated to the art of fugal improvisation in the Baroque era.³ Much valuable and interesting information about this performance practice of baroque musicians is scattered throughout various books and articles, whose subject matter is not even directly related to improvisation.

The present article therefore aims: 

1) to summarize the existing research on partimento practice;

2) to describe all the stages of fugal improvisation, beginning with the mastery of separate elements and finishing with an organization of the whole, as recorded in German sources of the first half of the 18th century.

 

Introduction 

Today the ability of an academically trained musician to create “on-the-fly” is thought of as exceptional—for the gifted only. Yet it is well known that in the Baroque era every professional musician was expected to possess this “gift.” Within the rich diversity of improvisational genres and forms that made up the standard set for which a Baroque improviser was to be prepared, fugue held the greatest place of honor.

At that time it was not just the great musicians who were skilled at improvisation; every church organist had to be able to improvise a fugue on a given theme. . . . The ability to improvise fugue was considered a requirement for every serious musician to such a degree then that the lack of that skill could serve as reason for ridicule. . . . And, although the testing of organists did not always include fugue improvisation, both Mattheson and Adlung think that no one should be taken as an organist who has not proved his right to such a post through the improvisation of fugue.⁴

In the 18th century if you couldn’t improvise you couldn’t call yourself a keyboard player. Worse than that, you couldn’t get a job, since all organist auditions required extemporaneous performance of a fugue on a given subject.⁵

Truly, the ability to improvise fugue was a necessary skill for organists, because a fugal statement of musical material was stipulated by the very program of the liturgical service. Beginning in the second half of the 17th century, the role of the organist, on whose shoulders rested the burden of the musical life of the church, grew remarkably.⁶ The organ, which had at one time humbly accompanied church ritual, became a most important attribute of the church service—almost its main participant. This was especially true in the northern regions of Germany, where the organ gained such acoustic strength and richness of register that it became like “a second minister,” and the musical compositions that it “delivered” were self-contained “texts” addressed to the congregants. Mattheson emphasized that fugal presentation of the chorale subject on the organ helped “to arouse reverence within the listeners.”⁷

For musicians in the secular sphere, fugal improvisation as a skill was not as necessary as it was for church organists, but the ability, nevertheless, was always appreciated. In the circle of experts and enlightened amateurs, fugal improvisation on a subject proposed by someone among those present could become one of the most intriguing and entertaining elements of a musical program. Success in such improvisation provided the performer with the established reputation of master of the highest order (a reputation that could help in a further promotion).

Although fugal improvisation was a widespread practice among Baroque musicians, we are forced to gather information on its technique literally in bits and pieces. As early as 1702, Andreas Werckmeister, in his treatise Harmonologia musica, points out the reason: “many musicians are secretive and reticent with their knowledge.”⁸ Possibly, musicians divulged their knowledge about improvisation very unwillingly because they considered it a unique commodity, providing a constant supply of students. Perhaps they did not wish to destroy the myth of the divine origin of the gift of improvisation. In any case, even in treatises that are dedicated specifically to improvisation and fantasieren, there are no concrete instructions that would allow us today to understand how fugue was improvised.⁹

Nonetheless, some secrets of Baroque fugal improvisation have already been revealed by scholars. David Ledbetter writes about one of them:

By the early eighteenth century, instruction in fugue in Bach’s tradition grew out of the figured bass, rather than contrapuntal treatises, and so was approached as an improvised genre. The technique of this was practised by using fugato movements expressed as figured basses, called in Italian partimento fugues.¹⁰

To the uninitiated musician such a statement may seem paradoxical, since according to our notion fugue and figured bass represent distinct types of musical thinking and observe a different tradition of notation. However, the discovery during the last decade of a large number of examples of so-called partimento fugue or thoroughbass fugue shows that improvisation of fugue during the Baroque epoch—just like the improvisation of homophonic forms—actually had its foundation in the practice of figured bass.¹¹ The detailed study and comparison of these examples, strengthened by the testimony of contemporary treatises, allow us to take another step forward on the path to understanding the Baroque technique of fugue ex tempore.

That the overwhelming majority of improvised fugues during the Baroque epoch were thoroughbass fugues can be explained from the point of view of psychology. The texture of a “contrapuntal fugue” (i.e., polyphonic texture) is formed by combining individualized melodic lines, each vying for our attention. In contrast, the texture of thoroughbass fugue is predominantly two-dimensional—that is, it can be clearly divided into the leading voice and a complex of accompanying voices. Consequently, improvisation of a multi-part “contrapuntal fugue” necessitates the division of attention into three or more channels, whereas performance of a multi-part thoroughbass fugue demands division into just two. Experience shows that the attention of even a well-prepared musician is capable of maintaining control over only two (a maximum of three) simultaneously proceeding streams of information.¹² As such, for objective (psycho-physiological) reasons, improvisation of thoroughbass fugue is attainable for a broad mass of musicians, whereas improvisation of a multi-part “contrapuntal fugue” is negotiable to a rare few.¹³ 

Having touched on the issue of the limits of human attention, which is so relevant to musical improvisation, it would be remiss to ignore the opportunity to quote Sergey Prokofiev, in an interview published by the New York Times in 1930:

Three melodies remain about the limit that the average ear can grasp and follow at one time. This can be done when the melodies are clearly sounded and contrasted in pitch and tone color. For a short time the ear may perceive and assimilate the effect of four different parts, but this will not be long continued, if the four parts, or melodies, are of equal importance. Listening to a four or five or even six-part fugue, the ear is conscious, possibly, of the presence of all the voices, but it only perceives and follows precisely the most important of the melodies being sounded. The other parts fill in, enrich the musical background and harmony, but they become as blurred lines of the picture. They are not clearly recorded in the listener’s consciousness as separate melodic strands in the tonal fabric. This being true, it behooves the composer to realize that in the polyphonic as well as in the structural sense he must keep within certain bounds.¹⁴

Such is the point of view of a professional musician who possessed extraordinary musical faculties. As for specialists in the fields of psychology and physiology, they have yet to come to a single opinion concerning the volume and capabilities of human attention.

Analysis

The modern theory of improvisation is based on these principles: 1) “improvisation is based on memory” and “the improviser does not create the material, but builds it from prepared blocks, from long-memorized musical segments”;¹⁵ and 2) the improviser always works from a given model.¹⁶ 

What were the building blocks that Baroque performers utilized in the process of fugue improvisation? In what sequence could they combine them? To answer these questions, let us turn to concrete musical material.¹⁷

The overwhelming majority of German samples of thoroughbass fugue follow strophic form in their composition.¹⁸ In addition, organization of the musical material inside the strophes is very often based on the typical Baroque-era structure of “head and tail,” where the role of the “head” is played by a group of statements (more rarely by a single statement) of the subject and the role of the “tail” by sequence based on standard harmonic formulae of thoroughbass. The conclusion of each strophe is marked by a cadence. Such is the method used by Kirchhoff, for example, in his C-major fugue from L’A.B.C. Musical (c. 1734), which clearly presents three strophes (Example 1):

Strophe 1 includes five statements of the subject (bars 1–9), a 2–6 sequence (bars 9–11), and a 7–6 cadence (bar 12);

Strophe 2 includes two statements of the subject in the upper part in immediate succession (bars 12–15), a statement in the bass (bars 16–17) and the 2–6 sequence already used in strophe I (bars 18–20), and a 7–6 cadence (bars 20–21);

Strophe 3 contains a statement of the subject in the bass (bars 21–22), a 2–6 sequence that shifts to 7–7 (bars 22–25), and the more explicit 5–6/4–5/3 cadence (bars 25–26).

The structural similarity among the strophes is evidence of the improvisatory nature of thoroughbass fugue, the result of work that uses a single model. It was specifically the strophe that served as the universal compositional unit, by which through duplication the improviser assembled his fugue. The number of strophes was varied, according to how long the improvisation should last. The structure of the strophe, though, did not vary. In this way the improviser’s task was to quickly and neatly fill out this preassembled structure with concrete musical material.

Obviously, the improvisation of a fugue had as its starting point the harmonization of the chosen or suggested subject. A harmony, as a rule, was kept for all multi-part statements of the subject, becoming, might we say, a retained “counter-harmony” (Gegenharmonie).¹⁹ Changes to the harmonization were made only in cases where a tonal answer was necessary. Frequently, even the counterpoint to the answer (the first countersubject) was drawn out of this same “counter-harmony.” This is easily affirmed by noting the numeral for the harmonic intervals between the answer and countersubject and then comparing the result to the author’s own figures for analogous multi-part statements (Example 2).²⁰ 

In many samples of thoroughbass fugue, all entries of the subject are concentrated at the beginning of a strophe. Following one after another without dividing episodes, the statements form a compact thematic group that serves as an entire syntactic unit larger than just a single statement. The tendency toward an increase in the hierarchical degree of unit complexity is another specific quality of improvisatory technique. The combination of smaller syntactic units into larger ones helps to expand the general volume of information accessible within short-term memory.²¹

The similarity among the strophes of thoroughbass fugue is also increased by the uniformity of the order of entries. In all strophes, a descending order of entries of the parts predominates as the most convenient and intrinsic with respect to technical considerations and notation of thoroughbass.²²

The next syntactic unit of the strophe, following the group of statements, is the episode. This section of the fugue was the most comfortable for the improviser, since here he could use patterns that he had learned. Judging from extant samples of thoroughbass fugue, episodes most often consisted of sequential repetition of one, more rarely two, harmonic formulae stereotypical to thoroughbass. This observation is supported by the theoretical works of that time. As such, to attain success in the improvisation of fugue, Philipp Christoph Hartung, in Musicus Theoretico-Practicus (1749), recommends learning entire musical progressions, which one should be able to freely and confidently play from memory, and not just read from sheet-music.²³ Many of the fragments he suggests are nothing more than textural elaborations of standard thoroughbass sequences. The thoroughbass nature of Hartung’s sequences appears especially clear if we extract their harmonic scheme and supply it by figures (Example 3).

Playing sequences had to become an automatic skill, something that was simply “in the hands” of the performer. The automation of playing skills allowed the improviser to free his attention considerably so as to be directed instead to solving upcoming tasks. In other words, while the hands played out the episode, the mind could be planning out the next set of operations. Given this, the hands had to be able to play for as long as was necessary for thinking out. For this reason, the inert nature of sequential development was not a detriment to fugue played ex tempore. The existing unspoken rule in musical practice that the number of segments in a sequence (in the case of exact repetition) should not exceed three was not observed too strictly during the fugue improvisation. Theoretically, there could be any number of segments in a sequence, as it was defined less by artistic needs than by technical ones. In practice, episodes, composed of sequences made of four to five segments, were the norm for thoroughbass fugue.

The unity of thematic material was not also a problem for thoroughbass fugue. The episode could smoothly continue the subject, but could also introduce  new musical material. In any case, the primary task of the improviser in moving from one syntactic unit to another was to transition as naturally as possible. It follows then that the greater the active memory capacity of the performer and the more formulae he could recall and have “in his hands,” then the higher the likelihood of attaining agreement of intonation between the suggested subject and episodes selected from among those prepared during the process of his musical training. The ability to competently use these preparations from “homework assignments” was very likely a basic craft known to the improviser.

The degree to which the improviser relied upon such materials prepared in advance can be judged by examining, for example, the B-flat-major fugue from Johann Caspar Simon’s collection Leichte Præludia und Fugen (1746). Of its total 37 bars, 20.5 bars (i.e., more than half) are based on material connected neither with the fugue subject, nor with its countersubject. The especially obvious “home preparations” reveal themselves in the second half of the fugue, which is made up of four autonomous sections resembling, in their function, additions in the tonic key (Example 4). At first, Simon builds a sequence on the harmonic formula 7–7, embellishing the bass line with melodic figuration. He then builds a second sequence on the harmonic formula 2–6 in strict chordal texture. Further, he inserts a toccata-like fragment pulled from the fugue’s preceding prelude, a fragment that is also in its nature a sequence. Finally, he concludes the piece with a decisive cadence in solid chordal presentation (Grave). Comparing the “specific gravity” of thematic and non-thematic material in Simon’s fugue, the conclusion suggests itself. Essentially, if the improviser were not restricted by concrete devices of thematic work, then the entire fugue, excepting statements within the exposition, could be designed from elements prepared in advance.

Judging by some samples of thoroughbass fugue, the “stock” material could penetrate straight into the group of statements, replacing separate statements or pulling them out. For example, in Fugue no. 21 (F major) from the Langlo(t)z Manuscript, the second strophe begins not with the restatement of the subject, but with non-thematic counterpoint, and only the bass part enters with the theme (Example 5).

In the D-minor Fantasy from the Mylau Tabulaturbuch, a straightforward “home preparation” in the form of a typical sequence 6/5–5/3 appears in the first strophe between the fourth and fifth statements (Example 6a). Viewed separately, this fragment appears optional—since the other statements work successfully without it (Example 6b).

The energy expended by a performer for fugue improvisation could be conserved by using the same episode for various strophes. This repetition could be identical, but it could also be modified by means of various textural clichés. For example, the second and third episodes of the anonymous G-major Prelude (which is in fugue form) from the Mylau Tabulaturbuch are based on a single harmonic formula, the 7–7 progression, though the shapes of their texture are distinct. In the first case, the lower voice is diminished; in the second, the pair of upper voices (in regular imitative counterpoint). Incidentally, this prelude demonstrates direct application of Hartung’s aforementioned recommendations: the prelude’s second episode (Example 7a) differs from his sequence shown in Example 3a only by key.

The existence of a single stockpile of thoroughbass harmonic formulae inevitably led to the appearance of universal sequences that traverse the pages of thoroughbass literature from one composition to the next, regardless of authorship. Comparison of the episode sections of numerous thoroughbass fugues makes clear that of the great variety of harmonic formulae offered in contemporary thoroughbass treatises and manuals, a precious few sequential patterns predominate: 7–7, 6/5–5, 6–6, 4/2–6.

The manner of sequential motion also deserves special comment. In many samples of thoroughbass fugue, the episodes are based on diatonic sequences that descend stepwise down the scale. On one hand, descending motion step-by-step possesses a certain inertness, which under the conditions of improvisation (i.e., mental and psychological tension and temporal deficit) just plays into performer’s hands. On the other hand, diatonic motion step-by-step provides the sequence freedom in the selection of the target tonality. In reality, the great tonal mobility is hidden in diatonic sequence; a trajectory of such a sequence could be easily and organically turned at any moment into one of closely related keys. Here is a small experiment: the test of the key possibilities of a 2–6 sequence from the second strophe of the C-major fugue from Kirchhoff’s L’A.B.C. Musical (Example 8).

As these examples demonstrate, it is possible to conclude the sequence in any closely related key without applying much effort. Understandably, the target key will influence the length of the sequence. Here it is very important not to lose a sense of balance and good measure. Although the versions represented in Examples 8e and 8f are technically no different than the remaining ones, these two are much less suited to actual artistic use due to their extended monotony. Should Kirchhoff have needed, in the process of improvisation, to expand the fugue by adding another strophe, he likely would have followed version c) or d) in place of the cadence on the C-major tonic.²⁴

Once the fugue’s continuation took a concrete shape in the mind of the improviser, he could stop the potentially endless development of a sequence via the most convenient cadential formula. The playing of cadences (as well as sequences) in any key of the instrument—literally, with closed eyes—was also a necessary skill for every professional keyboardist of the Baroque era. In the opinion of many 18th-century musicians, cadential formulae are the basis, the foundation of thoroughbass; it is specifically this skill that forms the starting point for practical study of the trade. The number and types of cadential formulae varies with each source. The Precepts and Principals (1738) attributed to Johann Sebastian Bach, for example, count seventeen patterns among the most frequently used (Example 9).

Immediately following the cadence, occasionally commencing upon its final tones, the new strophe begins and all events of the described process are repeated. The similarity of the strophes imparts to the unfolding of the fugue’s form a character of repeated expositions. The formal approach to realization of the strophic scheme inevitably aroused the feeling of monotony, which, naturally, stirred up criticism from contemporaries. Mattheson, who regularly attended testing of organists, wrote:

One should restrict oneself even less to the practice of some organists, who first quite respectably, without the slightest embellishment, perform the theme four times through on the entire keyboard in nothing but consonances and pastoral thirds; then begin again just as circumspectly with the consequent from its beginning; always producing the same tune; interposing nothing imitative or syncopating; but constantly only playing the naked chord, as if it were a thoroughbass.³⁰

Here are the impressions produced on Marpurg by a certain organist who attempted to play fugue ex tempore:

Someone often has the good intention to make it better. But what does he do? He slams out the figured bass, and this is terrible to hear. There are no suspensions which make the harmony pleasant, fluent and coherent. It is a jolting harmony. One hears no stretto, no motivic development of the theme. There is no order, and the number of voices one can only surmise at the end, when as, per forma, it ought to be clear directly after the first exposition of the theme through different voices of the fugue. The theme is will never be wisely advised in the middle voices. You only ever hear it above or below—as one hand accompanies another as in an aria. One never hears the theme as comfortable, nor at the appropriate time, expressively and sensitively for the mind and the ear in a sustained and affecting way. It is but a senseless din and tumult—not to mention the discord within the harmony.³¹

The picture described by Mattheson and Marpurg was characteristic of improvisations by mediocre organists. The more talented and gifted performers avoided precise repetition of strophes and brought to each new strophe a certain degree of newness, to which extant samples of thoroughbass fugue eloquently testify. In addition to the aforementioned tonal reinvention of strophes, one can quite often find such methods of refashioning as introducing a new counterpoint to the subject, “register leap” (i.e., a skipping of two or more register pitches where the subject can enter), and the use of stretto in the final strophe.

Although the opinion does exist that “the part of the fugue related to statements of the subject was created during improvisation,”²⁵ there is reason to suggest that even during these sections the performer could sometimes refer to prepared material. Judging from extant samples of thoroughbass fugue, the study of fugal improvisation included not just the regular practice of sequential progressions and cadences, but the development of a definite set of concrete approaches to working with the most common types of subjects. Describing the demands placed on candidates for the vacancy of organist at the Hamburg cathedral, Mattheson noted: 

I don’t consider it art to concern people [organists] with unknown themes; rather, it is better to take something well-known and flowing in order to work it out even better. That is what matters, and the listener will like it better than some chromatic piddling about.²⁶

If one allows for the possibility that Mattheson was not alone in this opinion, then the chances of being tested on a subject built of familiar melodic patterns, or even on a known subject, were not so small, and thus the entire improvisation could come down to a combination of prepared materials.

Let us recall, for example, the subject that King Frederick the Great suggested to J. S. Bach for an improvised fugue in Potsdam (Example 10). It is not known with certainty whether Frederick himself composed this subject or borrowed it, but judging by its melodic profile, the monarch had chosen to demonstrate to Bach his knowledge in the “learned style” (gelehrter Stil).²⁷ It must be noted that the subject contains four thematic elements, and all of them are conventional within Baroque style: a) movement in the tonic triad, b) a jump of a seventh (saltus duriusculus), c) descending chromatic movement (passus duriusculus), and d) melodic cadence. Any Baroque musician would certainly know these melodic patterns, along with the methods of their elaboration within a fugue. The elements listed here are well represented both in didactic and artistic samples of thoroughbass fugues, and what is especially important is that their musical realization (counterpoint, harmonization) often coincides.

Depending on the conditions of improvisation, “home preparations” could have various degrees of concretization. In those cases where a fugue was improvised on the occasion of a public challenge or competitive auditions, the performer had to hold his prepared materials in his memory. In everyday practice, however, it was acceptable to use the preparations written out on paper. We find examples of such preparations in a Daniel Magnus Gronau manuscript, which is held today in the Library of Polish Academy of the Sciences (Gdansk) as MS. Akc. 4125.²⁸ This manuscript contains 517 (!) sets of preparatory sketches for fugue improvisation in all twenty-four keys. Each set holds three thematic records, written one below the next on individual staves (Example 11). On the upper staff in soprano clef, the subject with figures is written out, and the beginning of the answer with countersubject is outlined in small notes.²⁹ On the second staff in bass clef, the counterpoint to the subject with figures is recorded. On the third staff, also in bass clef, the answer with figures is fixed. In this way, every set encompasses all necessary material for planning any statement of the subject, whether alone or with multiple voices, whether in the tonic or in the dominant.

Thanks to such preparations, the process of fugue improvisation is considerably simplified, since the need to search for a harmonization of the subject, a counterpoint to it, and a suitable answer is taken care of. Essentially, the performer must only care for the episode material, and the fugue, necessary for the church service, is ready.

In summary, the improvisation of fugue during the Baroque epoch was not necessarily the spontaneous nor extemporaneous fruit of inspired fancy. Much more often it was soundly prepared and planned on all levels: from the syntactic to the compositional. Even before the start of improvisation, the performer could clearly imagine the compositional structure that he must fill out using his musical material, the bulk of which could be prepared during “home” practice. One of the most widespread compositional models was strophic form, where the structure of each strophe had identical organization and included three syntactic units: the group of statements, the sequential unfolding, and the cadence. As a result, the entire improvisation could be boiled down to finding the right harmonization for the given subject and thinking up a tonal structure for the strophes; all the rest—textural formulae, cadences, sequences—the performer took from his memory practically in ready form.

 

Postscript

It stands to reason that the strophic form described in this article was not the only compositional model used for fugal improvisation during the Baroque. The discovery of this model, though, in other improvisatory genres of the Baroque era gives reason to consider it as universal within the improvisation practice of that time.

There is reliable evidence that the strophic form was purposefully worked out in the process of musical training. For example, Precepts and Principles contains a set of fourteen keyboard exercises for mastering the harmonic formulae most common to thoroughbass. Surprisingly, all these exercises are precisely identical in form—all are strophic (Example 12).

The outer strophes are in the tonic, while the central ones are in the closely related keys (in dominant and parallel). It is not difficult to imagine how many distinct figuration preludes could be created on the basis of only one model, varying merely harmonic content and textural formulae.³² If one involves methods of structural transformation (extension or compression of strophe), then the number of variants is multiplied.

Examples of such preludes can be found among the sources discussed in this article. Thus, in analyzing some pieces from the Langlo(t)z Manuscript or Kirchhoff’s L’A.B.C. Musical, one gets the impression that the authors had the structure of Bach’s exercises specifically in mind while they composed, so strong are the similarities. The C-minor Prelude from the Langlo(t)z Manuscript, for example, differs from Bach’s exercises due only to one additional strophe and short melodic links between the strophes (Example 13). The F-major Prelude from Kirchhoff’s L’A.B.C. Musical also contains an additional strophe, but the development within the third and fourth strophes is dynamicized thanks to structural transformations: the sequential development is truncated in the third, and the “head” motive is withdrawn in the fourth (Example 14).

The list of works of an improvisatory character that have strophic form with variations of its solutions can be further extended, but this would be a topic for a separate article. ν

 

The list of German sources, containing samples of thoroughbass fugue

“39. PRAELUDIA et FUGEN del Signor Johann Sebastian Bach” (Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin—Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Musikabteilung; shelf mark: Mus. ms. Bach P 296). Published in The Langloz Manuscript: Fugal Improvisation through Figured Bass, With Introductionary Essay and Performance Notes by William Renwick. (New York: 2001), pp. 35–187.

“Des König[lichen] Hoff-Compositeurs und Capellmeisters ingleichen Directoris Musices wie auch Cantoris der Thomas-Schule Herrn Johann Sebastian Bach zu Leipzig Vorschriften und Grundsätze zum vierstimmigen spielen des General-Bass oder Accompagnement. für seine Scholaren in der Music. 1738” (Brussels: Bibliothèque du Conservatoire royal; shelf mark: mr. FRW 27.244). Published in J. S. Bach’s Precepts and Principles for Playing the Thorough-Bass or Accompanying in Four Parts, Leipzig, 1738, translation with facsimile, introduction, and explanatory notes by Pamela L. Poulin. (Oxford, 1994), pp. 41–45.

Händel, Georg Friedrich. Aufzeichnungen zur Kompositionslehre: aus den Handschriften im Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge (Composition Lessons: from the Autograph Collection in the Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge), Hrsg. von Alfred Mann. Leipzig: Veb Deutscher Verlag für Musik, 1978. S. 53–70 (Hallische Händel-Ausgabe: Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Suppl. Bd. 1). Republished in Continuo Playing According to Handel: His Figured Bass Exercises, With a Commentary by David Ledbetter (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), pp. 44–61.

Heinichen, Johann David. Der General-Bass in der Composition. Dresden, 1728, S. 516–520.

Kellner, Johann Christoph. Grundriss des Generalbasses. Op. XVI. Erster Theil. Cassel, [1783], S. 41–45.

Kirchhoff, Gottfried. L’A.B.C. Musical (Amsterdam [c. 1734]), 34 S. Republished as Kirchhoff, Gottfried, L’A.B.C. Musical, Hrsg., kommentiert und Generalbaß realiziert von Anatoly Milka (St. Petersburg: Musikverlag “Compozitor,” 2004), XXVIII, 104 S.

Niedt, Friedrich Erhardt. Musicalische Handleitung. Erster Theil. Handelt vom General-Bass, denselben schlecht weg zu spielen (Hamburg, 1700), Cap. X. Republished as Niedt, Friedrich Erhardt, The Musical Guide, Parts 1 (1700/10), 2 (1721), and 3 (1717), translated by Pamela L. Poulin and Irmgard C. Taylor; introduction and explanatory notes by Pamela L. Poulin (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), pp. 48–49.

“Pral: Kirchhoff” (Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin—Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Musikabteilung, Mus. ms. 11605), published in Kirchhoff, Gottfried, Prelude and fugue for organ from the manuscript Mus. ms. 11605: first edition, edited and with a preface and commentaries by Maxim Serebrennikov (St. Petersburg: Polytechnical University Publishing House, 2009), 16 p.

Simon, Johann Caspar. Leichte Praeludia und Fugen durch die Tone: C. D. E. F. G. A. B. dur (Augsburg [1746]), 14 S.

Simon, Johann Caspar. Leichte und wohlklingende Praeludia und Fugen durch die Tone: C. D. E. F. G. A. H. moll (Augsburg [1747]), 14 S.

Simon, Johann Caspar. Musicalisches A. B. C. in kleinen und leichten Fugetten (Augsburg, 1749), 24 S.

“TABULATUR Buch 1750” (Mylau, Archiv der Evangelisch-lutherischen Kirchgemeinde; shelf mark: MS H 3a). Transcribed in Shannon, John R., The Mylauer Tabulaturbuch: a Study of the Preludial and Fugal Forms in the Hands of Bach’s Middle-German Precursors. Ph.D., Music, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1961. Vol. 2, iii, 184 p.

 

Notes

1. I wish to express my deep gratitude to Prof. David Ledbetter (Royal Northern College of Music), who read the final draft of this article and kindly provided me with helpful comments and constructive suggestions.

2. The topic has been actively discussed especially in the last two decades in connection with awakened interest in the Italian improvisational practice of partimento, which spread throughout Europe in the 18th century. Currently the study of partimento is gaining incredible momentum. The most comprehensive study of this field at the moment is Giorgio Sanguinetti’s book The Art of Partimento: History, Theory, and Practice (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012).

3. Although Renwick’s book contains a special subheading, Fugal Improvisation through Figured Bass, he does not treat the actual process of improvisation. His work is not a theoretical study about fugal improvisation, but an anthology of authentic musical samples for practical mastery of this skill. In fairness, the article “On the fugue improvisation” by the Russian musicologist Sergey Maltsev also should be mentioned: Sergey Maltsev, “Ob improvizacii i improvizacionnosti fugi,” in Teoriya fugi: sbornik nauchnish trudov, otv. red. A.P. Milka (Leningrad: Izd-vo LOLGR, 1986), pp. 59–60. Unfortunately, this work containing many valuable observations about the process of fugal improvisation, because of a language barrier, did not gain wide circulation.

4. Maltsev, “Ob improvizacii i improvizacionnosti fugi,” pp. 59–60.

5. David Yearsley, “Spontaneous fugue,” in Early Music, 2001, Vol. XXIX (3), p. 452.

6. See Marina Nasonova, “Prakticheskaya deyatelnost severonemetskogo organista XVII veka,” in Starinnaya muzyka: praktika, aranzhirovka, rekonstrukciya: Materialy nauchno-prakticheskoy konferencii (Moscow: Prest. 1999), pp. 117–128.

7. Johann Mattheson, Grundlage einer Ehren-Pforte (Hamburg, 1740), S. XXXIII, § 48. Based on the study of ecclesiastical protocols, Reinhard Schäfertöns concluded that the free prelude and the organ chorale prelude and fugue were central points of organ playing at the time of worship (Reinhard Schäfertöns, “Die Organistenprobe— Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Orgelmusik im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert,” in Die Musikforschung, 1996, 49, Jg. Hf. 2, S. 143).

8. “Denn viel Musici sind heimlich und rahr mit ihren Wissenschaften,” Andreas Werckmeister, Harmonologia musica (Franckfurth und Leipzig, 1702), S. 95.

9. In Part I of his Musicalische Handleitung (1700), F. E. Niedt promises to give a “proper instruction on how Fugues are to be improvised” in the next parts (Cap. X). Unfortunately, his death prevented him from fulfilling his intention.

10. David Ledbetter, Bach’s Well-tempered Clavier: The 48 Preludes and Fugues (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2002), p. 99.

11. For more details about the difference between the terms partimento fugue and thoroughbass fugue, see Maxim Serebrennikov, “From Partimento Fugue to Thoroughbass Fugue: New Perspectives,” in BACH: Journal of the Riemenschneider Bach Institute, vol. XL, no. 2 (2009), pp. 22–44.

12. It is also important to realize that there is a notable difference between the resources demanded for perception of information as opposed to its creation (which is precisely what improvisation requires). The latter takes much more energy, and therefore, resources for attention are more quickly expended.

13. One musician alive today who possesses a phenomenal gift for improvising in any style and genre is Richard Grayson. Some of his improvisations (including fugue) on a subject proposed by an audience can be viewed on YouTube.

14. From an interview with Olin Downes, in New York Times, February 2, 1930, Arts & Leisure, p. 112.

15. Mikhail Saponov, Iskusstvo improvizatsii: Improvizatsionnye vidy tvorchestva v zapadnoevropejskoj muzyke srednikh vekov i Vozrozhdeniya (Moscow, 1982), p. 57 [in Russian]. Similar statements can be found also in Maltsev, “Ob improvizacii i improvizacionnosti fugi,” p. 6; David Schulenberg, “Composition and Improvisation in the School of J. S. Bach,” in Bach Perspectives I, 1995, p. 5; William Renwick, Analyzing Fugue: A Schenkerian Approach (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1995), p. 17; Pamela Ruiter-Feenstra, “J. S. Bach and Improvisation Pedagogy: Extemporaneous Composition,” in Keyboard Perspectives II (2009), ed. by Annette Richards, p. 43; Michael Richard Callahan, Techniques of Keyboard Improvisation in the German Baroque and their Implications for Today’s Pedagogy (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Rochester, Eastman School of Music, 2010), p. 10.

16. “The improviser, let us hypothesize, always has something given to work from—certain things that are at the base of the performance, that he uses as the ground on which he builds. We may call it his model.” Bruno Nettl, “Thoughts on Improvisation: A Comparative Approach,” in The Musical Quarterly, 1974, Vol. LX, No. 1, p. 11.

17. A list of German sources, containing samples of thoroughbass fugue, appears at the end of the article.

18. The strophic form of the thoroughbass fugue has roots in the verset fugues tradition and to the sectional structure of motets and ricercar. What we say about strophes of thoroughbass fugue is closely related to Joel Lester’s “parallel sections” and David Ledbetter’s “series of expositions.” See Joel Lester, “Heightening levels of activity in J. S. Bach’s parallel-section constructions,” in Journal of the American Musicological Society, Vol. 54, No. 1 (Spring 2001), p. 49–96; and Ledbetter, Bach’s Well-tempered Clavier, p. 100.

19. The term “Gegenharmonie” first appeared in Abhandlung von der Fuge by Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, where it is given the following definition: “Counterharmony. Thus is named the material in the remaining parts which is set against the subject.” (“Die Gegenharmonie. So heißt diejenige Komposition, die dem Fugensatze in den übrigen Stimmen entgegengesetzt wird.”) Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Abhandlung von der Fuge (Berlin, 1753), S. 18.

20. Since all standard harmonic structures in thoroughbass are noted in shorthand, we have added to the original figuring (where necessary) those signatures within brackets, which were implied by default.

21. By way of numerous experiments, it has been shown that the capacity of short-term (active) memory, without which the process of improvisation is simply impossible, is limited to 7 ± 2 units of information (the so-called Miller’s number). This can be increased only by uniting disparate elements into groups. We refer to a very illustrative example from Maltsev’s article in order to demonstrate the activity of this mechanism: “For example, short-term memory can retain around seven different letters (perhaps, X, J, D, B, G, U, S), but the number of letters drastically increases if we try to remember seven words, and will increase even more drastically if we try to remember seven sentences.” (Maltsev, “Ob improvizacii,” p. 69.) As Michael Callahan emphasizes: “Experts recognize relevant patterns, and therefore perceive stimuli in larger and more meaningful units than novices do; expert improvisers notice patterns in music and conceive of musical units in large spans (e.g., entire voice-leading structures and phrases, rather than individual notes).” (Callahan, Techniques of Keyboard Improvisation, p. 22.)

22. We remind the reader that the harmonic vertical in thoroughbass is constructed upwards from a given note, therefore the part entering with the subject must always be the lowest one.

23. “Alle in bissherigen Numern muessen nicht nur vom Papier, sondern auch auswendig auf das fertigste und deutlichste gelernt werden,” in Philipp Christoph Hartung, Musicus Theoretico-Practicus, Zweyter Theil (Nuremberg, 1749), S. 12, § 42).

24. Sometimes the tasks that were given to organists for the purpose of testing were limited by a time-frame. For example, the testing of organists for the post at the Hamburg Cathedral (24 October 1725) included the presentation of an entire fugue “created for four minutes,” a prelude of “about two minutes,” a chaconne of “about six minutes,” etc. See Johann Mattheson, Grosse General-Baß-Schule (Hamburg, 1731), S. 33. It is very difficult to improvise a piece with continuous development and at the same time fit everything within a given time-frame. It is much easier to fill the established time limits with standard-size strophes, adding a necessary number.

25. Anatoliy Milka, Muzikalnoye prinosheniye I. S. Basha: k rekonstrukzii I interpretazii (Moscow, 1999), p. 151 [in Russian].

26. “Denn mit fremden Sätzen die Leute zu scheeren, halte ich für keine Kunst; lieber was bekanntes und fliessendes genommen, damit es desto besser bearbeitet werden möge. Darauf kommt es an, und es gefällt dem Zuhörer besser, als ein chromatisches Gezerre” in Mattheson, Grosse General-Baß-Schule, S. 34–35.

27. For more details on the authorship of Thema Regium see Milka, Muzikalnoye prinosheniye I. S. Basha, pp. 153–167.

28. For more details about the manuscript MS. Akc. 4125 see Andrzej Szadejko, “Daniel Magnus Gronau (1700–1747)—didaktische Aspekte in Orgelwerken am Beispiel der Signatur MS. Akc. 4125 aus der Danziger Bibliothek der Polnischen Akademie der Wissenschaften,” in Musica Baltica (Gdansk, 2010), S. 351–361. It is interesting that Szadejko views the given source solely from a didactic perspective: as exercises in counterpoint. In my opinion, considering its intended purpose, MS. Akc. 4125 has more in common with such collections as the Langlo(t)z Manuscript and the Mylau Tabulaturbuch; it is also an anthology containing musical material necessary for the church organist’s everyday activity.

29. Indeed, the written-out figures concern themselves not with the single-part statement at the beginning of a fugue, but to the latter (multi-part) statements.

30. “Vielweniger darff man sich an den Gebrauch einiger Organisten binden, die das Thema erst, ohne die geringste Verblümung, fein ehrbar und viermahl durchs gantze Clavier in lauter Consonantzien und Lämmer-Tertzien hören lassen; hernach wieder mit dem Gefährten eben so bescheidentlich von oben anfangen; immer einerley Leier treiben; nichts nachahmendes oder rückendes dazwischen bringen; sondern nur stets den blossen Accord, als ob es ein General-Baß wäre, dazu greiffen” in Johann Mattheson, Der Vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739), S. 388, § 97.

31. “Ein anderer hat öfters den guten Willen, es besser zu machen. Aber was thun er? Er dreschet den Generalbaß, und dieses ist sehr erbaulich anzuhören. Da sind keine Bindungen, die die Harmonie angenehm, fliessend und zusammenhängend machen. Es ist eine holperichte Harmonie. Da höret man keine enge Nachahmung, keine Zergliederung des Satzes. Da ist keine Ordnung, und die Anzahl der Stimmen erfähret man zur Noth am Ende, da man solche gleich nach der ersten Durchführung des Satzes durch die verschiedenen Stimmen hätte empfinden sollen. Dieser Satz wird niemahls in den Mittelstimmen klüglich angebracht. Man höret ihn nur immer oben oder unten wozu beständig die eine Hand die andere, so wie eine Arie, accompagnirt. Man hört das Thema niemahls bequem und zur rechten Zeit auf eine den Verstand und das Ohr nachdrücklich rührende Art eintreten. Es ist ein hanbüchenes Gelärme und Gepolter; der unharmonischen Gänge nicht zu gedenken” in Marpurg, Abhandlung von der Fuge, Theil II (Berlin, 1754), S. XXIII–XXIV).

32. About the use of ars combinatoria techniques in the 18th-century, see Leonard G. Ratner, “Ars Combinatoria: Chance and Choice in Eighteenth-Century music,” in Studies in Eighteenth-Century Music: A Tribute to Karl Geiringer on his Seventieth Birthday, ed. by H. C. Robbins Landon and Roger E. Chapman (New York: Da Capo Press), pp. 343–363.

Mark J. Merrill

The development of early Spanish organs

At the beginning of the 16th century, organs in Spain resembled those in the rest of Europe. During the last third of the century, Spanish organs gradually began to take on characteristics of their own, becoming transformed into several local organ types. 

The first noticeable development of the Spanish organ was the gradual differentiation of individual registers from the Blockwerk, which also occurred elsewhere in Europe. Little by little, the keyboard compass expanded to cover more than three octaves and windchests began to be constructed larger, especially towards the bass. Divided registers began to be built on Spanish organs in the 1560s. Two separate lines of evolution existed in regard to the increasing versatility of sonorities, namely, adding more keyboards and dividing registers. 

Three different kingdoms coexisted on the peninsula: Castile, Aragon, and Portugal. Due to the occupation of the Moors (711–1497) the Spanish court was forced to take up residency in Barcelona, Spain, located at the heart of the region of Catalonia. It is for this reason that the development of the early organ in Spain finds its beginnings in Catalonia. 

Generally speaking, the instruments were quite large and were frequently built on a 16′ basis (Flautado de 26 = Principal 16′). Flautado de 26 (made of metal) was a stop frequently included in Catalonian organs. It was common to have at least two manuals: a Cadira, and the Rückpositiv. In Catalonia, there were no divided registers until the 18th century, and the windchests were large in size and diatonic by arrangement. It is noteworthy that when divided registers appeared later in Catalonian organs, the division was made between b and c1, while the division point in the Castilian organs was between c1 and c1-sharp.¹

The high point of the Castilian organ was around 1750, considerably later than that of the Catalonian organs. Castilian organs were commonly built on an 8′ basis (Flautado de 13 = Principal 8′). Flautado de 26 was rarely found in these organs. There was usually only one manual, but there could be as many as three in exceptional cases. (For instance, the Gospel organ of the Segovia Cathedral has three keyboards.) There was usually no Cadereta (Swell). The registers were divided, and the windchests were small and chromatic. The largest pipes were placed in the center of a façade, and there was usually a horizontal trompetería (reed division).²

Gabriel Blancafort describes several features of the Castilian organ, which reveal its close resemblance to the positive organ. First of all, the windchest of the Castilian organ always maintains its chromatic structure, which is the origin for other special characteristics of this organ type.³ The dimensions of the windchest, consisting of one single piece or of two pieces, are often small. There are usually 45 channels (for four octaves, the short octave included), of which 21 are for the left-hand side and 24 for the right-hand side—if the windchest is made of two pieces. The structure of the organ permits a different number of registers for each hand, always more for the right hand. It is necessary in many cases to place the majority of the large bass pipes outside of the windchest, due to its restricted dimensions. This has contributed greatly to the development of the techniques of conducting wind to the façade, and later, to the trompetería de batalla (Battle Trumpets). The tablones (channel boards) distribute wind to different parts of the façade and are one of the ingenious inventions of the Spanish organ builders to cope with the tricky problems of guaranteeing wind to all the pipework. The action is always suspended, creating a touch that, according to Blancafort, is “the most sensitive and subtle that exists.”⁴ The mechanism of the draw stops is simple.

Although examples of divided stops exist elsewhere in Europe—in Brescia, Italy, in 1580, for example—“Spain certainly seems to be the first country to have used them systematically for colourful solo effects.”⁵ The principle of the divided registers is simple and ingenious. The keyboard is divided into two halves, both of which possess a variety of stops. Because the descant and bass halves can be registered independently, even rather small one-manual organs offer versatile and rich possibilities for registration. It is common to find a few of the same stops on both halves of the keyboard, but the majority of registers belong exclusively to the descant or to the bass half. The growing popularity of the divided registers gave birth to a new type of organ composition, namely, the tiento de medio registro, in which either one or two solo voices figured in the soprano (tiento de medio registro de tiple/de dos tiples), or in the bass (tiento de medio registro de baxón/de dos baxones), against a softer accompaniment, which was played on the other half of the keyboard. I consider the technique of divided registers to be one manifestation of the Spaniards’ love of fanciful, colorful sounds, contrasts, and variety in sonority.

A variety of surprising special effects could be created by the different toy stops that especially large Baroque organs contained. It is usual to have Tambores or Timbales (drums) in the pedal, providing a timpani effect. Tambores often include D and A. Pajaritos (little birds) produce a twitter resembling the Usignoli (nightingale) of the early Italian organs. There are also a variety of accessories generating sounds of sleigh bells. One is a Zymbelstern-like apparatus.\

 

Characteristics of the early Iberian organ 

The vast majority of Iberian organs are small instruments. In fact, the typical instrument consists of a single manual. Instruments of two or three manuals are the exception and then only found in the largest cathedrals. Early instruments with four manuals simply do not exist. It should also be mentioned that these instruments do not have a highly developed independent pedal division, but rather utilize a minimal octave or pull-downs. 

The organbuilder and writer of many treatises, Mariano Tafall y Miguel, gives the following classifications of early organs based upon their disposition.⁶ Early builders were accustomed to using the following names to describe their organs based upon the size of the instrument and basis of pitch. Such common names are órgano entero/completo (based upon 16′), medio órgano (based upon 8′), cuarto de órgano (based upon 4′), and octavo de órgano (based upon 2′ stopped and sounding at 4′). 

The manuals, órgano mayor (Great) and cadereta (Swell), can also be classified into the following five categories, depending on the number of manuals:

 

1 manual 

Órgano Mayor

 

2 manuals

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta

or

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta Interior

 

2½ manuals 

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta

Cadereta Interior (Arca de Ecos: enclosed within a chamber)

 

3 manuals 

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta

Cadereta Interior (Arca de Ecos: enclosed within a chamber)

Órgano de la Espalda (speaking into the side of the nave from rear façade of the organ)

Cadereta de la Espalda (speaking into the side of the nave from rear façade of the organ)

 

The casework of early Iberian organs

The casework, generally speaking, is either very decorative or very plain. Larger instruments found in cathedrals, however, are highly ornate. Two opposing instruments are located above the choir; they are nearly identical and very ornate: one instrument will have two or three manuals and the other possibly just one manual. The casework of early instruments also has a secondary function, that of adding embellishment and aesthetic value to the artistic integrity of the building.  

 

Pipework on early Iberian organs

Early builders used the term caños (pipes) and cañería (pipe building) extensively until the Romantic and Post-Romantic periods, at which time the term tubo came into use, most likely due to the impact of the French school of symphonic organbuilding, which came from the French term tuyau (tube).  

The term tubo is divided into two distinct classifications, as tubos de boca (labials) and tubos de lengua (linguals). Tubos de boca (or labials) can then be divided into two defined families: flautados (principals) and nasardos (nasard as in the Netherlands, nachsatz), which form two distinct choruses of labial pipes: the coro estrecho or claro, and the coro ancho. The terms estrecho or claro refers to cylindrical open pipes with a 1/4 mouth to circumference relationship. The terms estrecho and ancho refers to the diameter of the pipe in relation to the length. Early Iberian instruments measured pipe lengths oddly enough in palmos (palm or hand widths). 

The following stop names are typical of early instruments.

 

Flautado Mayor de 26 Palmos (16′)

Flautado de 13 (8′)

Octava (4′)

Docena (22⁄3′)

Quincena (2′)

Decinovena (11⁄3′)

Veintidosena (1′)

Lleno* (mixture)

Cimbala

Sobrecimbala

*lleno general or principal chorus.

 

The nasardos can be open or stopped, conical or cylindrical pipes. Generally there is a 2/9 mouth to circumference relationship.

 

Violon Mayor de 26 Palmos (16′)

Violon de 13 (8′ stopped)

Nasardo en 8º (4′ stopped)

Nasardo en 12º (22⁄3′ stopped or open)

Nasardo en 15º (2′ open)

Nasardo en 17º (13⁄5′ open)

Nasardos

Claron

Corneta

 

Generally speaking, nasardos 4′ and above are semi-open or chimney-style pipes. The Swiss-German organbuilders Juan Kiburz y Francisco Otter, who were established in Barcelona, Spain, proposed the addition of several new stops in the organ at the Iglesía de Nostra Senyora del Pi, recommending the inclusion of a Gamba, Quintatón, Fagotto, and Soncional. However, as early as 1587, organbuilder Maese Jorge added a Flautas Tapadas de 14 Palmos, called a Quintaden, deriving its name from the sound that produced a prominent fifth overtone.  

In fact, by the end of the 18th century many early organs in Spain contained such stops as Flauta travesera (traverse flute), Flauta con boca redonda (flute with round mouth), Flauta Alemana (German flute), Salicional, and Gamba.

 

Reeds

Without a doubt, the stops most associated with early Iberian instruments are the lenguas (reeds). The Lengüetería (reed division) makes up the third chorus on a typical Iberian instrument. Reeds are divided into two categories: reales (normal or full length) and cortos (half length) resonators.

Early in the development of the Iberian organ, lenguas cortos (half-length resonator stops) such as Dulzainas, Orlos, and Regalías were introduced. Little by little appeared the Trompetas Bastardas (harmonic trumpets) with half-length resonators, as well as the Trompetas Reales (full-length trumpets). The Trompeta Real (8′) is always an interior stop and vertical in its placement. The Obué and the Clarinete (which is the Cromorno for Iberian instruments) can also be found on many early instruments.  

The Trompetas can be further divided into two distinct categories: Trompetas de Batalla (exterior and horizontal) and Trompetas Interior (interior and vertical). Early instruments almost always had at least one, if not two stops en Batalla even in the event that the instrument might not have a single interior reed stop.  

The most frequently found Trompetas de Batalla (exposed and horizontal) are:

Left hand stops

Bajoncillo (4′)

Clarin en 15º (2′)

Clarin de Bajos (8′)

Clarin en 22º (1′)

Trompeta Magna (16′)

Trompeta de Batalla (8′)

 

Right hand stops

Oboe (8′)

Chirimia Alta (4′)

Trompeta de Batalla (8′)

Clarin (8′)

Trompeta Magna (16′)

Trompeta Imperial (32′)

 

It is also common to find Dulzainas, Orlos (regals), Viejos, Viejas (rankets), and Gorrinitos (clarions) mounted horizontally on the exterior of the case: 8′, 4′, 2′ for the left hand and 16′ and 8′ for the right hand. These batteries of reed stops serve two roles within the literature: one as a solo stop and the other as a complement to the reed chorus. The voicing is formidable, harmonic, and richly distinctive in comparison to the interior reeds, which are sweet and broader in scaling. In the largest cathedrals (Zaragoza, Salamanca, Toledo, Málaga, Granada, Santiago de Compostela, Sevilla) the organs have Trompetas de Batallas mounted on the front façades (speaking into the choir) as well as the rear façades (speaking into the nave), which allows for dazzling echo effects alternating between exterior and interior reeds.

 

Windchests and distribution of wind on early Iberian organs

Windchests on early instruments are always laid out chromatically, never diatonically or symmetrically. Additionally, each chest is divided between bajos (bass) and tiples (treble). The division occurs between c′ and cs′ (c³ and c#³). In Catalonia the division occurs between b and c′ (b² and c³), but is the exception to the rule and is very seldom encountered.  

 

Keyboards (Teclados)

Of course, early instruments always utilize mechanical key and stop action.  The action on most early instruments tends to be extremely responsive and light, necessitating a highly developed level of technique. Divided registers (partidos) predominate the peninsula and, as previously stated, allow the organist to have two distinct registrations on a single manual.

Thanks to the divided registers, it is always possible to register a work with contrasting registrations for the right and left hand. This may explain the existence of so many small instruments with only a single manual, however, one which serves as two! When considering the early Iberian repertoire it is important to realize the significance of a title such as Tiento de tiples (melody in the right hand) or Tiento de bajos (melody in the left hand).  

On the earliest of instruments, it is possible to find stops that were enclosed within an Arca de Ecos (echo chamber) foreshadowing the future Caja Expresiva (expressive box; swell box). Initially, these Arcas were open, non-expressive boxes containing a single stop such as a Corneta or Trompeta placed within the Arca, producing a slightly distant sound quality. Over time, a lid was placed on top of the box and a lever, operated by the foot or knee, would open or close the lid. Initially this effect was referred to as suspensión, referring not to a musical structure, but rather the emotion produced in response to the overall effect.

Earliest examples typically affected only one Tiples (right hand) register or stop, usually the Corneta. Later, the Arca de Ecos came to include a variety of stops. The terms Eco and Contraeco seem to be used quite often in early treatises, which describe the effects created by the Arca de Ecos, the sensation of far (lejanía) and near (cerca), not that of loud and soft. These Arcas de Ecos were not utilized to create a “swelling” sound (crescendo). Aristide Cavaillé-Coll incorporated this concept with his organ at Santa María de San Sebastián, in which the third manual operates in the same manner as an Arca de Ecos, which he called an Organo de Ecos, which in France would be called a Récit Expressif.  

The compass of the manuals, as one would expect, increased gradually as newer instruments were being constructed. Bigger is better! Correa de Arauxo makes mention of this fact in his treatise, Facultad Orgánica, 1626: the organbuilders Hernando de Córdoba and Hernando Alonso de Córdoba, father and son from Zaragoza, Spain, were given the task of expanding the compass of the organ for the Parroquia de San Gil de Zaragoza, Spain in 1574.⁷ In order to amplify the compass from Fa to Do they only had to add one natural key and two keys as if they had been accidentals. It is interesting to discover that the Spanish word for a key on the keyboard is tecla (from the Latin, teja), further supporting the hypothesis that the early Iberian organ is much older than originally thought.

The old manual compass was as indicated below until the mid-15th century:

| Fa | Sol | La | b | Si | Do | # | Re | b | Mi | Fa | etc.

 

The new layout was as follows:

| Do | Fa | Re | Sol | Mi | La | b | Si | Do | # | Re | b | Mi | Fa | etc.

 

This manual layout, which ended on La 4, is the format that was prevalent during the 17th century. It consisted of 42 notes: 21 notes for each hand [divided registers]. In the 18th century, the compass was further enlarged in the right hand up to Do 5 and later enlarged in the left hand to complete the octava grave.  

At the end of the 18th century, Julian de la Orden installed in the Cátedral de Malaga three new manuals of 51 notes (Do 1–Re 5), and in the Cátedral de Toledo he renovated the Organo de Emperador in 1770 with two manuals of 54 notes (Do 1–Fa 5). In 1797 José Verdalonga enlarged the Órgano de evangelio to three manuals of 56 notes (Do 1–Sol 5). These 56-note manuals took on the name teclados de octavas segundas, which meant that all of the octaves were like the second octave. Verdalonga also constructed the organ in the Iglesia del Salvador de Leganés in 1790 with a manual compass of 45 notes (Do 1–Do 5), with a diatonic short octave (octava corta). In 1771 Josep Casas renovated and enlarged the Órgano Prioral at the Escorial, where Antonio Soler was the organist. The outcome was an organ of three manuals: Órgano Mayor of 61 notes (Sol 1–Sol 5); Cadereta of 51 notes (Do 1–Re 5): Ecos of 51 notes (Do 1–Re 5).

The tessitura of the manual is divided and labeled in the following manner:

1º Octava = Grave

2º Octava = Baja

3º Octava = Media

4º Octava = Aguda

5º Octave = Sobreaguda

 

The short octave

The limited pedal division is no doubt due to the use of short octaves in these early instruments. The lowest notes of the keyboard, which would normally be E-F-F#-G-G#, were tuned to pitches below their usual pitches; the C/E short octave (octava corta) keys were tuned as C-F-D-G-E. Since the pedal division was so limited, this allowed the performer to play intervals in the left hand that would otherwise be impossible. The use of the short octave was popular for many reasons:

 

Benefits for the organist

1. It allowed the organist to play the lowest bass note and inner voice with the left hand. The short octave was in a sense the pedal on these instruments. 

2. It extends the lowest octave of the instrument, omitting chromatic notes, since the bass part of the keyboard repertoire was predominantly diatonic. 

3. It allowed the organist’s feet to be free for other tasks:

• To operate the Arca de Ecos

• To operate foot-activated stops

 

Benefits for the organbuilder

It was more economical,

• When space was at a minimum

• When cost was a factor

 

The stops are located on either side of the teclado (manual) according to the divided registers, bajos and tiples, left and right, respectively. Stops can be found in the shape of paddles or knobs, ornate or plain. Occasionally, it is possible that the stop knobs can be located beneath the manual and activated by the knees. On organs with a short octave the stops may be located where the pedals ought to be, since on such an instrument, there was no basic need for pedals.

 

The pedals

The use of pedals was limited to emphasizing cadences in early repertoire, so it goes without saying the pedals are very simple in design, usually consisting of wooden pisas (round knobs) or peanas (blocks), but never more than an octave. When the pedals are a pull-down (coupled from the manual) they are called pisas. If, on the other hand, the pedals have their own appropriate pipes, they are called contras. These pedals first appeared diatonically—Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Sib, Si—eight pitches total. Later they were expanded chromatically—Do, Do#, Re, Mib, Mi, Fa, Fa#, Sol, Sol#, La, Sib—twelve pitches total. The usual stop for the Contras is the Flautado 26 palmos (16′). In some instances, the pisa being a pull-down works much like a coupler, so the sound will reflect the registration used in the left-hand, lowest octave.

 

 

 

Notes

1. Gabriel Blancafort, “El órgano español del siglo XVII,” in Actas del I Congreso Nacional de Musicología (Zaragoza: Institución “Fernando el Católico,” 1979),  133–142.

2. Ibid., 121.

3. Ibid., 138.

4. Ibid., 138–139.

5. Peter Williams, The European Organ 1450–1850 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978, third impression), 245.

6. See James Wyly, “The Pre-Romantic Spanish Organ: Its Structure, Literature, and Use in Performance.” D.M.A. dissertation, University of Missouri at Kansas City, 1964, 280–283.

7. This is the eleventh (unnumbered) page in Kastner’s preface to his edition of Correa’s Facultad orgánica, first published as volumes VI (1948) and XII (1952) in the series Monumentos de la Música Española (Barcelona: Instituto Español de Musicología).

John Collins

John Collins has been playing and researching early keyboard music for over 35 years, with special interests in the English, Italian, and Iberian repertoires. He has contributed many articles and reviews to several American and European journals, including The Diapason, and has been organist at St. George’s, Worthing, West Sussex, England for over 26 years.

In 2014 there are several composers whose anniversaries can be commemorated, albeit some of the dates are not known for certain. Some of the names need no introduction but there are also several lesser-known names listed here whose compositions are well worth exploring. No claim is made for completeness, and there is no guarantee that every edition is in print—there may well also be editions by other publishers.  

Giaches Brumel (ca. 1510–64).French composer who worked at the court in Ferrara from 1532. Ascribed to Brumel are two ricercars (one imitative and one chordal) and a Missa de la Dominica in the manuscripts at Castell Arquato, edited by Knud Jeppesen for Norsk Musikforlag, Oslo, in Die italienische Orgelmusik am Anfang des Cinquecento and more recently, albeit in halved note values, by H. Colin Slim for American Institute of Musicology Corpus of Early Keyboard Music 37, volume 3, which contains a wider selection from the manuscripts. It has been postulated that 14 of the set of 17 ricercars known as the Bourdeney Codex may also be by Brumel. These lengthy contrapuntal works have been edited by Anthony Newcomb for A–R Editions (R89).

Francisco de Peraza (1564–98).Organist in Seville, he left a Medio Registro alto de 1 Tono, the earliest known surviving example of this genre, which became popular in the Iberian repertoire. This has appeared in several anthologies, including American Institute of Musicology’s Corpus of Early Keyboard Music 14: Spanish Organ Music after Antonio de Cabezon, edited by Willi Apel. 

Gregor Aichinger (1564–1628).Organist in Augsburg to the Fuggers, six ricercars and four motet intabulations have been edited by Eberhard Kraus in Cantantibus organis, vol. 7, for Verlag Friedrich Pustet. A further motet intabulation is included in Altbaierische Orgelmusik, vol. 1, edited by Eberhard Kraus for Noetzel. 

Giovanni de Macque (ca. 1550–1614). Born in Flanders, he came to Naples ca. 1585, becoming head of the vice-regal chapel in 1599. He was the teacher of Ascanio Mayone and Giovanni Maria Trabaci, both of whom published two volumes of highly influential pieces. De Macque published copious amounts of madrigals but no keyboard works; however, almost 40 pieces survive in manuscripts. These include eight canzonas, four capriccios, two stravaganzes, a consonanze stravaganti, a durezze e ligature, an intrata, a toccata a modo di Trombetta and a set of variations on Ruggiero, which have been edited by Liuwe Tamminga (vol. 1), and 14 ricercars (the first book of 12 published ricercars set for keyboard together with a further two thought to be from the second book), edited by Armando Carideo (vol. 2); both volumes are published by Il Levante (available through La Stanza della Musica). The first set of 12 ricercars has also been edited by Christopher Stembridge for Zanibon. This edition includes a comprehensive discussion of the modes and their affects, along with the registration prescribed by Diruta. The ricercars are the first to present the different subjects at the beginning of the piece. The durezze and stravaganze are highly chromatic compositions. The older edition by Watelet and Piscaer for Monumenta Musica Belgae also contains Partite sopra Zefiro de Rinaldo attributed by the editor to de Macque; this, however, is almost certainly a set of partite on Zefiro composed by Rinaldo dell’Arpa. 

Hans Leo Hassler (1564–1612). Primarily known today for his vocal music, he studied organ in Venice with Andrea Gabrieli and became a leading player in Augsburg. He left a substantial corpus of keyboard works of considerable scope and length, most of it preserved in the Turin manuscripts, including eight toccatas, 18 ricercari, 18 canzone, fourteen Magnificats, an organ Mass, four fugues, and two sets of variations. Problems of attribution have occurred with pieces variously ascribed to Sweelinck, Christian Erbach, and Giovanni Gabrieli. A good selection, as well as the variations on Ich ging einmal spazieren, was edited by Georges Kiss for Schott and Sons. The toccatas were edited by S. Stribos for the American Institute of Musicology, and the Magnificats by A. Carpene for Il Levante Libreria. A few other pieces from other manuscript sources have been included in various anthologies, including 25 of the 39 intabulated songs from his Lustgarten of 1601, edited by M. Böcker for Breitkopf & Härtel. The complete works from the Turin manuscripts are available in two volumes, edited by W. Thein and U. Wethmüller for Breitkopf & Härtel. A further volume containing the complete remaining keyboard works from other sources has been in preparation for some time. These supersede the edition of a small selection of pieces by Hassler and Erbach, edited by Ernst von Werra ca. 1903 for Denkmäler der Tonkunst in Bayern, second series, vol. IV, no. 2. 

Franz Tunder (1614–67). Organist of the Marienkirche, Lübeck, he left about 17 compositions in manuscripts, including five praeludia exemplifying early use of the Stylus Phantasticus and a canzona, along with 11 chorale settings, of which six are fantasias. Auf meinen lieben Gott is set for two manuals without pedal, Jesus Christus, wahr Gottes Sohn is for single manual and pedals, and Jesus Christus, unser Heiland has three separate variations, of which the first includes much use of double pedal. Two further chorale settings in the Pelpin manuscripts originally attributed to Scheidemann have now been tentatively attributed to Tunder. All pieces have been edited by Klaus Beckmann for Breitkopf & Härtel.  

Benjamin Rogers (1614–98). Organist at Eton and Oxford, he left sacred and secular vocal music, consort music, and 17 keyboard works of which the great majority are dances better suited to stringed keyboard instruments. Two, however, are voluntaries and are more suited to performance on the organ. All pieces have been edited by Richard Rastall for Stainer & Bell. 

Charles Racquet (1597–1664). Organist in Paris, he left 12 versets de psaume en duo, which was printed in Mersenne’s Harmonie universelle, Paris, 1636–37, and a large–scale Fantasie in manuscript. All have been edited along with works by De Bourges, N. de la Grotte, and D. Gaultier by Jean Bonfils in L’Organiste Liturgique, xxix–xxx for Schola Cantorum et de la Procure générale de musique.

Georg Leyding (1664–1710). He had lessons with Buxtehude and became organist in Brunswick. Although Walther mentions his many keyboard pieces, only five organ compositions have survived in manuscripts, including three praeludia with demanding pedal parts (C, B-flat and E-flat), a set of variations on Von Gott will ich nicht lassen and a prelude on Wie schön leucht uns der Morgenstern. These have been edited by Klaus Beckmann for Breitkopf & Härtel.

Johann Speth (1664–1720). Organist in Augsburg, he published Ars Magna Consoni et Dissoni… in 1693, which contains ten toccatas, Magnificats on the eight tones that include a praeambulum, five verses, and a finale (some verses are actually by Poglietti, Kerll, and Froberger), and three sets of partitas for manuals only, each with six variations. Although the preface states that these pieces are all playable on the clavichord, the toccatas and Magnificats contain an obbligato pedal part, although this is either octave doubling or long held notes. All were edited (alas, without the original preface) by Traugott Fedke for Bärenreiter and there is a facsimile published by Early Music in Facsimile, Edition Helbling, Innsbruck, with a preface by Rupert Frieberger.  

Pablo Nassarre (1664–1724). Blind from infancy, he was organist in Zaragoza, and is best known today for his theoretical works, Fragmentos músicos and Escuela música, según la práctica moderna, which are available in facsimile. He also left five organ pieces, including three tocatas [sic] edited by José Llorens for Diputación Provincial de Barcelona and a tiento partido and two versos from a manuscript in Astorga, edited by José Alvarez in Colección de obras de órgano de organistas españoles del siglo XVII for Union Musical Española. 

Pierre Dandrieu (1664–1733). Organist and priest in Paris, he left a book of 36 noëls with variations, similar in style to those in Lebègue’s third book, and five other pieces including a carillon. Pierre’s book appeared in several editions from 1714 up to 1759, and 37 pieces were reworked by his nephew Jean-François for a publication that also included 11 of the latter’s noëls. Edited by Roger Hugon for La Sociéte Française de Musicologie and published by Heugel. A facsimile edition of the prints of 1729/59 has been published by Fuzeau.

Guillaume Gabriel Nivers (1632–1714). Organist of St. Sulpice, Paris, his Livre d’orgue contenant cent pieces de tous les tons de l’église of 1665 is the earliest known of such volumes presenting a group of pieces by tone (12 in this case, the first two having 10 verses, the rest eight), with highly individual and specific registrations. There is a comprehensive explanation of the tempi, registration, and ornament signs. He published two further volumes: 2e livre d’orgue contenant la messe et les hymnes de l’église in 1667, which contains a Mass and 25 hymn settings, and 3e livre d’orgue des huit tons de l’église in 1675. He also published some vocal and much liturgical music. The first two Livres d’orgue have been edited by Norbert Dufourcq for Editions Bornemann and the third Livre by him for Heugel. All three Livres are available in facsimile from Fuzeau. The third Livre is also published by Societé Française de Musicologie (EZ.SFM20). 

Franz Matthias Techelmann (ca. 1649–1714). Two sets of pieces (in A minor and C major) comprising Toccata, Canzona, Ricercar, Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, and Gigue (or Minuet in C major set) survive in an autograph manuscript, of which the non-dance elements work well on the organ. Between the ricercar and the dances in the A minor set there is an aria (with 30 variations). The non-dance movements in A minor have been edited by Laura Cerutti for Edizione Carrara, and a complete edition by Herwig Knaus for Denkmäler Tonkunst Osterreich vol. 115 also includes 13 dance suites, which may be by Techelmann or possibly Kerll. 

Diego Xarava (1652–ca. 1714). Nephew of Pablo Bruna and organist of the Capilla Real, Madrid, he left two pieces in the extensive Martin y Coll Manuscript 1357: an Ydea Buena y fuga por a la mi re (the fuga occurs separately in the Jaca manuscript), and an Obra en lleno de 3 Tono. These have been edited by Carlo Stella and Vittorio Vinay for Zanibon, available through Armelin, and by Julián Sagasta in vol. 2 of Tonos de Palacio y Canciones Comunes for Union Musical Española.  

Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach (1714–88). Fifth child and second surviving son of Johann Sebastian, he is well known today for his many sonatas, fantasias, rondos, and miscellaneous pieces for stringed keyboard instruments, as well as his important treatise on playing keyboard instruments (Versuch über die wahre Art…). He left only a few pieces specifically for organ, including a set of six sonatas for Princess Amalie, edited by Peter Hauschild and Gerhard Weinberger and a Prelude in D, six fugues, a trio, two chorale preludes, and five chorale arrangements edited by Jochen Reutter and Gerhard Weinberger, both volumes published by Wiener Urtext. The edition of the organ works as part of the complete C. P. E. Bach edition has been edited by Annette Richards and David Yearsley as volume 1/9 for Packard Humanities Institute (this volume omits the sonata Wq 70/1). Four further fugues have been edited by Wilhelm Poot for Interlude Music Productions. 

Gottfried Homilius (1714–85) studied with J. S. Bach and became organist in Dresden in 1742. In addition to Passions, a cantata cycle, Magnificat settings and motets, he left 41 chorale preludes, of which 38 have been edited by Christoph Albrecht and published by Breitkopf & Härtel, and five organ pieces from a privately owned manuscript in Dresden have been edited by Christoph Albrecht and published by Leutkirch: Pro Organo. Thirty-eight chorale preludes for organ and melody instrument have been edited by Ellen Exner and Uwe Wolf for Carus Verlag. 

Johann Anton Kobrich (1714–91).  Organist in Landsberg, in addition to vocal music he left several sets of Parthien better suited to stringed keyboard instruments, although the two sets of Der clavierspielende Schäfer are described as “Welche sowohl in der Kirche als auch zu Hause können producirt and gebraucht werden.” Of his organ collections unfortunately most, including 20 toccatas, six sonatas, and pieces suitable for Offertory, Elevation, and Communion, remain unpublished in modern editions. Selected pieces from these sets have been edited by A. Maisch and published by Albert J. Kunzelmann. Figuralische Choral–Zierde, his collection of preludes and versets in the eight church tones was edited by Rudolph Walter for Alfred Coppenrath, Alttötting and is now available from Carus Verlag. Several pastorales that were appended to the first set of Der clavierspielende Schäfer have been edited by Gerhard Weinberger and published by Anton Böhm & Sohn.

Johann Mattheson (1681–1764). Better known today for his numerous theoretical works, he left a small collection of keyboard works, mainly for stringed keyboard instruments, but Die wolhklingende Fingersprache (containing 12 fugues, some with dances) of 1735 and 1737 is also suited to the organ. Edited by Lothar Hoffman-Erbrecht for Breitkopf & Härtel. 

John Reading (ca. 1685–1764). Organist at Lincoln and various London churches and an influential teacher, he compiled several volumes of keyboard music for organ and harpsichord, in addition to vocal music, of which three containing organ pieces (voluntaries and psalm settings) are preserved at Dulwich College, one at Tokyo, and one at Manchester. They are unique sources for many pieces, including his own compositions. A comprehensive selection of the Dulwich volumes has been edited by Robin Langley as volume 3 of the ten-volume series of English organ music for Novello; it includes early versions of voluntaries by Stanley. 

Johann Xavier Nauss (ca. 1690–1764). Organist in Augsburg, he published several volumes of keyboard music, of which the two parts of Die spielende Muse—consisting of preludes, verses, finale, aria (1st to 6th tones) or pastorella (7th and 8th tones) and fugue on the 8 tones, plus a set in E major—have been edited in one volume by Rudolph Waters for Alfred Coppenrath, Alttötting, which is now available from Carus Verlag. 

Wilhelm Hieronymus Pachelbel (1686–1764). Son of Johann, and organist in Nuremberg, he left two Praeludia und Fugen, a toccata, and two chorale settings, which have been edited by Hans Möseler and Traugott Fedke for Bärenreiter. 

Charles Burney (1726–1814). Also better known today for his numerous writings on music including The Present State of Music in France and Italy, The Present State of Music in Germany, the Netherlands and the United Provinces, and his monumental General History of Music in four volumes, which just beat the similar publication by Sir John Hawkins. He also wrote articles for Rees’s Cyclopaedia. Burney left some vocal music, a set of concerti, and several sets of sonatas for harpsichord solo and duet, along with chamber pieces, and a set of VI Cornet Pieces and a Fugue (1751), which comprises an Introduction in E minor followed by six Cornet movements and concludes with a fugue in the still-rare key of F minor. Around 1787, Burney published Preludes, Interludes and Fugues Book I, which includes pieces in keys from A to C; no trace of the second book survives, if indeed it was ever printed. These two publications have been edited by David Patrick and published by Fitzjohn Music. 

Abbé Georg Vogler (1749–1814). Widely traveled with the electoral court, organ designer and teacher, he left theater productions, symphonies, and concerti, and several collections of organ music, which remain largely unpublished in modern editions. 112 Petites preludes pour l’orgue ou le clavecin, op. 16, has been edited by Joachim Dorfmüller for Rob Forberg. A collection of 32 preludes has been edited by Armin Kircher for Carus Verlag, and, together with his Pièces de clavecin of 1798, by Floyd Grave for A–R Editions (C24).

Nicolò Moretti (1764–1821) left some 29 organ works; 17 (including 13 sonatas, a pastorale, two rondos, and an adagio) have been edited by A. Aroma, the others (including four sonatas, a sinfonia, Elevazione, versets, concertino, rondo, marcia, pastorale, and polacca) by Aroma, S. Carmelos and G. Simionato. Both volumes were published by Paideia Brescia for Bärenreiter, and are now available from Armelin.

Matthew Camidge (1764–1844). After time as a chorister at the Chapel Royal under Nares, he returned to York, where he became organist of the Minster. He published mainly church music, a set of instructions for the pianoforte or harpsichord, and left a set of six multi-movement (including a fugue) concertos for the organ or pianoforte in (ca.) 1815, in which he endeavored to imitate the styles of Handel and Corelli. Edited by Greg Lewin and published by Greg Lewin Music. 

An increasing number of pieces, ranging from complete original publications/manuscripts (which present the usual problems of multiple clefs as well as original printer’s errors) to selected individual works, are to be found on various free download sites, most noticeably IMSLP; however, the accuracy of some modern typesettings is highly questionable, and all should be treated with caution before use. Publishers’ websites include: 

Schott Music: www.schott-music.com 

Breitkopf & Hartel: www.breitkopf.com

Bärenreiter: www.baerenreiter.com 

Armelin: www.armelin.it

Carus Verlag: www.carus-verlag.com 

Butz Verlag: www.butz-verlag.de 

Edizioni Carrara: www.edizionicarrara.it

American Institute of Musicology—Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series: www.corpusmusicae.com/cekm.htm 

Fitzjohn Music: www.impulse-music.co.uk/fitzjohnmusic.htm 

Wiener Urtext: www.wiener–urtext.com  

Denkmäler Tonkunst Osterreich: 

www.dtoe.at

C.P.E. Bach complete works (Packard): www.cpebach.org 

Interlude Publications: www.interlude.nl 

A–R Editions: www.areditions.com 

Editions Bornemann: 

www.alphonseleduc.com 

Fuzeau: www.editions-classique.com   

Société française de musicology: 

www.sfmusicologie.fr 

Verlag Friedrich Pustet: 

www.verlag-pustet.de 

Greg Lewin Music: www.greglewin.co.uk

Heinrichshofen Verlag and Noetzel: www.heinrichshofen.de  

Norsk Musikforlag: 

www.norskmusikforlag.no  

Stainer & Bell: www.stainer.co.uk 

Schola Cantorum: 

www.schola-editions.com

Helbling Verlag: 

www.helbling-verlag.de 

Douglas Reed

William Albright would have celebrated his seventieth birthday on October 20, 2014. Born in 1944 in Gary, Indiana, he died unexpectedly at his home in Ann Arbor, Michigan, on September 17, 1998. One of the most significant composers of organ music in the 20th century, Albright was known mainly for his keyboard works, although he composed for nearly every medium. He received many commissions and awards including the Queen Marie-José Prize for Organbook (1967), two Fulbright grants, two Guggenheim fellowships, two National Endowment for the Arts grants, and two Koussevitzky Competition Awards. His three Organbooks explore new means of idiomatic expression for the organ. A brilliant pianist and organist, he commissioned and premiered many new works for organ. He also performed and recorded the music of James P. Johnson, the complete piano music of Scott Joplin, and his own rag compositions.

The following interviews with Sarah Albright and John Carlson shed light on William Albright’s formative years and his creative process. 

 

Interview with Sarah Albright

Sarah and William Albright were married from 1966 to 1985. Sarah earned her Bachelor of Music degree from Salem College where she studied organ with John Mueller, and received the Master of Music degree from the University of Michigan as a student of Marilyn Mason. She studied in Paris for a year with Marie-Claire Alain. From 1985–2007, she was director of music at the First Unitarian Universalist Church in Ann Arbor. Presently, she teaches a large class of private piano students. 

 

Douglas Reed: How did you meet Bill?

Sarah Albright: I came here to graduate school in 1964 to study with Marilyn Mason. I first recall hearing Bill play in a student recital that fall. In the following months, we became good friends, and on Valentine’s Day, 1966, he proposed to me. We got married in June at the Presbyterian Church in Martinsville, Virginia. We had great music! Mr. Mueller came from Winston-Salem and played for the wedding and Rosemary Russell sang. She was my roommate and later taught at the University of Michigan. We went to Asheville, North Carolina, for our honeymoon and a week later, to Tanglewood where Bill was going to study with George Rochberg. We also met Bill Bolcom that summer. 

 

Let’s talk about your time in Paris. 

The first time we lived in Paris was in ’68–69. Bill had a Fulbright grant to study with Messiaen at the Conservatory. He also studied with Max Deutsch, who was a student of Schoenberg and conducted several of his works. Bill enjoyed being in Messiaen’s class. Messiaen played a lot of recordings for the class and frequently commented “c’est beau ça”. Messiaen also had a fondness for Ives, which Bill really liked, as Bill and Ives have the same birthday, October 20! Bill also looked forward to his lessons with Max Deutsch. They had many conversations about music, composition, and life, which Bill found stimulating and meaningful. 

Bill won the Queen Marie-José prize for Organbook (1967). Sargent Shriver, U.S. ambassador to France, gave a big reception at the American Embassy to honor Bill. The mayor of Geneva also had a dinner for us when Bill was invited to play a concert at the Geneva cathedral on a large Metzler organ. We did a lot of traveling out of Paris. One of Bill’s close high school friends and his wife came to Paris on their honeymoon and we traveled with them to play several organs in Germany, at Ebersmuenster and Marmoutier, and in Holland where we played the organ at Alkmaar and the beautiful Schnitger in Zwolle. 

We lived in Paris again in 1977, this time with our four-year-old son John and four-month-old daughter Elizabeth. Bill had a Guggenheim grant and we lived in an apartment in Neuilly. Here, he composed the Five Chromatic Dances for piano, partly inspired by a Chopin mazurka, op. 17, no. 4, which he often played when he was composing the Dances.

 

How do you think the Paris and European experience affected Bill and his music?

He loved Paris. He was very stimulated and inspired in Paris, where musicians, composers, and artists were appreciated. Yes, he was affected by the French music. He used to listen to Debussy’s La Mer and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring all the time. 

 

Can you speak about Bill’s early years? 

He was born in Gary, Indiana, but the family moved to New Jersey when Bill was in junior high. His father was a school administrator in West Orange, and his mother was a math teacher and a graduate of the University of Illinois. Bill and his two brothers were in the Cub Scouts, and their parents gave them many opportunities, including lots of Sunday school and church. In high school, Bill had a church job in a New Jersey suburb. 

In Gary, he was really fortunate to have had a fine piano teacher named Gladys Relph. When they moved to West Orange in 1959, he began studying piano with Rosetta Goodkind and composition with Hugh Aitken at the Juilliard Preparatory Department. When he was a junior in high school, he played the Grieg piano concerto with the New Jersey Symphony. During this time he used to take the train into New York for lessons and concerts and enjoyed walking around in the city.

He often checked out scores from the Newark public library for study, and spent a lot of time with two close friends, Glen Phillips, who sang in the St. Thomas Boy Choir, and Leonard Schaper. He and Len worked on building a pipe organ, and Bill played clarinet in the West Orange High School Band.

 

Please tell us about your children.

Bill loved our children, John and Elizabeth. He was very interested in their activities just as his father had been with him and his two brothers. John loved cars almost from day one and when he was about seven years old, we started going to the Detroit Auto Show. We had a great time admiring the cars, sitting in them, and taking pictures. Afterwards, we would take the People Mover to Greek Town for dinner. 

Elizabeth began dance classes at age four and we always looked forward to her dance recitals. Bill took her to dance concerts at U-M and a couple New York shows. He supported her dancing for years and was there to see her graduate from NYU in Fine Arts.

 

Can you speak about Bill’s work as a church musician?

Bill served as music director at the Ann Arbor Unitarian Universalist Church from 1966–1985. In 1970, he began a campaign to fund a new pipe organ for the sanctuary. To raise money he came up with the idea of having a “Ragtime Bash” to coincide with the rising popularity of classical ragtime music. These concerts were held annually until 2007 and were a huge success. The performers were nationally known ragtime players from southeast Michigan, and the church was overflowing with enthusiastic listeners.

From the money raised at the early concerts and donations from the congregation, the church was able to purchase a Holtkamp organ which was installed in 1973. Dedication recitals were played by Bill and the University of Michigan organ faculty. 

The choir loved working with Bill. They performed many standard choral works as well as music by Bill and other School of Music composers. Many students offered special music to enhance the worship services. Through the Ragtime concerts and installation of the organ, Bill had a very definite impact on the Ann Arbor community. The organ is now in a private home in New Orleans.

 

Do you have any final thoughts?

Bill was always appreciative of the teachers who guided and inspired him during his years as a student. Ross Lee Finney, Leslie Bassett, George Wilson, and Marilyn Mason at the U of M, and Messiaen, Max Deutsch, and George Rochberg, all influenced him with their thoughtful teaching and respect for his talent.

Tragically, Bill’s life and creativity were cut short due to complications of alcoholism. It affected his work, and his relationships with his family, friends, colleagues and students. People often tell me how much they miss him. We all do. 

Thank you, Sarah.

 

Interview with John Carlson

John Carlson was Albright’s roommate for one year at the University of Michigan and a close friend in the following years. Carlson earned bachelor and master of music degrees in organ and a master of music degree in composition from the University of Michigan where he studied organ with Robert Glasgow and composition with George Balch Wilson and Leslie Bassett. Carlson taught at the University of Dayton and the University of Michigan, and maintained a private studio in Ann Arbor where he offered instruction in music theory and electronic music composition. His interest in the history and future of recording technologies led to the invention of a holographic data storage system for which he received two U.S. patents. He lives near Muskegon, Michigan, where he continues to pursue his interest in information storage and the acoustics of performance venues.

 

Douglas Reed: When did you meet Bill Albright? 

John Carlson: I met Bill in the fall of 1963 at the University of Michigan in the old School of Music on Maynard Street in Ann Arbor. We lived in the same dormitory. Bill’s roommate was Russell Peck, a fellow composition major. They played records constantly…mostly contemporary music, things that appealed to them as young composers. I frequently spent time in their room, and I vividly recall the first piece I heard: Stockhausen’s Gesang der Jünglinge. This seminal piece of electronic music was shockingly original, combining electronically generated sounds with conventionally produced singing.

The next year Bill and I became roommates. During that year, I came to appreciate the full extent of his musical capabilities as a composer, a performer…and teacher. He was so enthusiastic about imparting his interest and knowledge of this new music. And, Bill’s work ethic was very rigorous. The task at hand would be completed no matter how long it took. If that meant staying up all night, that’s what he did. 

 

Were there any fun times?

Certainly! We would frequently go as a group to the same concerts, movies, and other events such as the ONCE Festival. The ONCE Festival was not a one-time event. There was a series of festivals between 1961 and 1966. These were music and multi-media presentations by a group of composers, performers, and artists that involved use of drama, lighting, staging, and film. Perhaps a performance would occur but once, since you could never get those people together again under that venue and in that circumstance. Apparently, that’s where the title came from. There was a deep seriousness of intent by the original ONCE Group, which included several young composers, all students of Ross Lee Finney: Robert Ashley, George Cacioppo, Roger Reynolds, Donald Scavarda, and Gordon Mumma. Also involved was the artist Milton Cohen, who specialized at that time in theatrical lighting. Bill and I attended at least one ONCE Festival together, probably in 1964. Each one was held in a different place. One was on the top of a parking structure.

 

Do you remember any specific ONCE Festival events? What kinds of sounds did you hear?

One or two of these composers had access to the early University of Michigan Electronic Music Studio. Others worked with their own equipment. Perhaps they used a tape recorder to make a prepared audio tape which accompanied instruments or other activities. Perhaps a cartoon film was used, or someone made his own film. A projection of this film might accompany one or more people playing various instruments. Perhaps someone would recite a poem with dramatic lighting effects. 

Sometimes the intention was to not have a specific piece, but rather to set up a situation and let it evolve. So, the goal was not to provide a “written-down” piece, except for a set of instructions. It would not be possible to go back, pick something off the shelf and recreate it, nor was that the intent. 

 

This is a fine description of Bill’s TIC (1967), composed entirely of little cartoon bubbles with suggested activities for the performers (see Example 1). His BEULAHLAND RAG (1967–69) also includes much improvisation but more specific musical notation and timing (see Example 2). Bill was also the associate director of the University of Michigan Electronic Music Studio. Is there a relationship between his work with electronic music and his acoustic music?

Yes. Understanding some electronic studio techniques from the mid to late 60s may help performers and listeners understand his organ music from that time. The actual electronic generation of sound was done by signal generators that could be found in any electronic repair shop, but instead of just one or two, the University of Michigan studio had a dozen. A large part of working in the early electronic studio was manipulating these electronically generated sounds—sine waves, square waves, and saw-tooth waves—in order to get some kind of humanness to them, some warmth and shape. 

If a series of pitches were desired, each being a short percussive sound, each one would have to be generated and recorded separately on audiotape. Then the tape would be cut up with a razor blade in what was called a splicing block. Next, we taped the little pieces back together interspersed with paper “leader” tape in whatever order we wished. That segment of tape could be played at its recorded speed, either 15 or 7.5 inches per second, or played back at the alternate speed to raise or lower the recorded pitches by a factor of one octave. The tape could be reversed end for end and played backward. This work was extraordinarily time-consuming. The tapes we ended up with consisted of paper leader interspersed with recorded audio segments sometimes only a quarter or half-inch long. By the way, the old advertisement for Maxwell House with the so-called “drips” of coffee were actually sine waves at various pitches that had been chopped up into short segments in the manner I’ve just described.

This effect was difficult to achieve in the electronic music studio, but it was easy to get on the pipe organ. Bill got the same effect by playing widely spaced intervals staccato and very quickly on flute stops. 

 

In Pneuma (1966) there are several passages that sound like they came right out of the electronic music studio. This type of abrupt juxtaposition of sounds or textures surely has a connection with the splicing block you mentioned earlier. Surprising explosions or reductions of sound were stylistic characteristics in several of Bill’s early pieces. (See Example 3.¹⁸)

There aren’t many examples in his music where he emphasized electronic sound. In fact, tonal, rhythmic, and other traditional musical elements are documented in a number of articles and dissertations on his music. But Bill was quite aware of the ability of the modern pipe organ to juxtapose sounds in a way similar to what was being done in an electronic music studio. To a certain extent it was a lot easier on the organ than on any other instrument. 

 

At the end of Benediction (Organbook I), the alternation of two chords includes the rapid succession of ten different organ timbres (see Example 4).

It must have been a pleasure for Bill to produce such musical gestures so easily. Oddly enough, the Hammond organ has come to be respected as a precursor to the electronic synthesizer because of its unique ability to manipulate various sine waves selected by drawbars. Bill had a healthy respect for that. Also, the attack and decay of the Hammond organ sound is very abrupt. It’s suddenly on, and then it’s off. There is no soft beginning to each specific note. Each has a percussive quality that was very familiar to people working in the early electronic music field. 

 

That attack could be accentuated on the Hammond with various other controls. This relates to several passages in Benediction (Organbook) where the beginning of a sustained chord is articulated, by a louder, more harmonically developed sound on an adjacent manual. (See Example 5.²¹)

Another element you can hear in Bill’s organ music, a direct result of his work in the electronic music idiom, relates to masses of sounds or tone clusters. One of the techniques in the early electronic music studio was to gradually alter the speed of the tape recorder. We could do that with those professional tape recorders by taking them off the line voltage and, employing one of our sine-wave oscillators, generating our own alternating current so that we could operate it not only at 60 cycles per second, but also at 59, then 58, 57, 56, thereby decelerating the speed of the tape recorder’s motor. 

We could take a very complex natural sound—perhaps the low-pitched, sustained singing with complex overtones of a group of Tibetan monks—record it and then slow it down to half that speed to get it extremely low, or we could start the tape recorder playing back at an artificially higher speed and then slow the tape recorder down very, very carefully to make a glissando of this massed sound. You can hear Bill emulating that in his organ pieces where he asks for the palm of a hand to move a note-cluster up and down the keyboard slowly or rapidly. I’m sure this derives from his familiarity with electronic music. 

Of course, clusters and cluster glissandos were a part of a genre of organ technique for at least 40 or 50 years by Bill’s time. That’s how theatre organists simulated the sound of a departing locomotive. And what theatre organist has not slid the palm of the hand up to one of those big major chords with an added sixth?!

 

Did you work with Bill in the electronic music studio? You mentioned Bill’s tapping on the back of a door to create a sound.

My involvement in the studio was simply to assist him. If a dial needed to be turned while he was occupied with starting or stopping a tape recorder, or vice versa, I helped by turning that dial perhaps to make a sound go up or down, or with manipulating that tape recorder. 

And, yes, the door to the electronic music studio in Hill Auditorium was hollow, and it had a nice sound when you rapped it with your knuckles, and, of course, the sound changed as you moved from the edge of the door. If you started at the very top and simply started tapping it rapidly as you moved down toward the center of the door, you could get a descending pitch of sorts. At least the timbre changed. So, we found if you recorded that tapping sound at 15 inches-per-second and then slowed it down to 7.5, instead of having something that went “tic, tic, tic,” it would go “tok… tok… tok… tok.” And then if you re-recorded that sound with a lot of reverberation at 15ips and dropped the result down to 7.5, instead of “tok… tok…tok” it would have become “boom…boom…boom… boom.” It was so mundane, but looking back on it now, it holds some very fond memories. 

 

In the 1960s, the electronic music medium seemed so far removed from traditional music making, but it’s worth remembering that these developments did not just come “out of the blue.” There were numerous earlier developments such as the Theremin, Ondes Martenot, and the Hammond organ. Charles Ives, Edgard Varèse, Henry Cowell, and other composers used sound blocks and clusters.

Using mechanical devices and whatever else was at hand has always appealed to composers. Bill was very fond of the American expatriate composer Conlon Nancarrow who lived in Mexico. Nancarrow found that he could compose for player piano, thereby vastly exceeding the capabilities of the human hand in what became sophisticated and complex music. Bill did meet Nancarrow on at least one occasion when he returned to the United States. Bill not only enjoyed the music itself but also admired the methodology by which the compositions were created, as they demonstrate the lengths to which composers are willing to go to follow an aesthetic arrow. 

 

Yes, Bill spoke enthusiastically about Nancarrow in one of his lectures. He played a recording of Nancarrow’s Study No. 21 (Canon X) and cited these very things: how fast Nancarrow could get the music to go and how complex he could make the rhythm.²⁴ He could have the effect of three or four different hands playing the piano totally independent of one another at different rates of speed.

Much of Underground Stream (Organbook III, 1978) has three different rhythmic layers going on at the same time. The second section of Bill’s De Spiritum, called Celestial Duel, ends with material gradually speeding up from a moderate tempo (quarter=72) to Vivo (quarter=160) and accelerates beyond that to “presto pos.” It sounds just like some of the fast passages in Nancarrow’s Studies for player piano. 

Nancarrow pushed tempo to the limits of the player piano by punching holes in paper sheets. Bill’s formidable keyboard technique allowed him to achieve similar effects on the organ. 

 

Can you talk about your film-making experience?

While we were roommates in 1964–65, we collaborated in making several 8mm films. As students, the possibility of having our own professional video camera was virtually zero. Since 16mm film was terrifically expensive, we resorted to using 8mm film, which was in our budget. One of our productions was good enough to win second prize in the first Ann Arbor 8mm Film Festival.

 

What was it about?

(chuckle) It was…to use that all too frequently abused word…an experimental film. Our main character was the composer, Robert Morris, who willingly did just about anything we asked of him including running up and down the stairwell of Burton Tower. At one point we were aiming the camera down the stairwell and filming at a slow speed. After the film was processed and running at normal speed, it appeared as though Bob was corkscrewing himself right into the ground. We sped up the camera; we slowed it down; we reversed the film; we photographed things in stop action. All the same things we were doing in the electronic music studio, we did with film. We knew that we could splice film together and cut it up in the same way that we did audio tape. So, we could introduce snippets of color with mostly black and white. We even hired some school children to do a small bit part. We asked them if they wanted to be in the movies, and they said, “Of course!” So, we gave them a dime apiece, and they acted for us (laughter).

 

What did you have them do?

I think we told them to stand at attention for a few seconds and then to look to their left, and then all run away…or something like that. Anyway, we pieced this thing together. We had heard there was a new Ann Arbor Film Festival that had an 8mm division, so as a lark, we put it into the Festival, and lo and behold, we won second prize. It was shown to great acclaim and applause that next night in a coffee house in Ann Arbor. We were very proud of ourselves, although it was a silly little thing. But it was fun.

 

Could you tell about your invention and how Bill helped you with that?

When it became necessary for me to establish a legal “date of conception” for a holographic storage system I had invented, Bill spent many hours looking at every single page in a bound notebook, then signing and dating that page. This was a very generous thing that he did for me. In the process of reaching a patentable stage, the inventor is obligated to write his ideas into a bound notebook in his own hand using indelible ink detailing every feature of the invention. Each page must be signed by the inventor and two witnesses, who must be sufficiently knowledgeable about the technology so they can sign every page of the book, “witnessed and understood by….” One person was an old friend of mine, an M.D. with enough technical prowess to understand the technology. The other person was Bill Albright, who did, indeed, sit there for several afternoons looking over all the written material including the detailed diagrams until he understood each page. He would quiz me about things, I would quiz him about his knowledge of it, and when he felt he was comfortable doing so, he signed off on that page, and then we went to the next page and the next page.

 

And the nice bottom line is that you actually got the patent (U.S. Patent 4,420,829—“Holographic System for the Storage of Audio, Video and Computer Data”). 

Yes! 

 

Ross Lee Finney was one of Bill’s major composition teachers.

I barely knew Finney. By the time I became a composition student, Leslie Bassett was the head of the department. But, I had occasion to be at Ross Lee Finney’s house when he invited me for a private conversation, which I understand he did from time to time with all the composition majors. He was a brilliant man and very generous with his time. He was very tough, but in a nice way. That is to say, he wanted the students to employ their talents to the very best of their ability. There was a professionalism about him. 

Finney’s contribution was not only as a teacher, but he was also able to get many other well-known composers to come to the university and donate their time to the task at hand of teaching and associating with the student composers, plus putting together ensembles for performance. He had many contacts throughout the musical world, which he could exploit in the best sense of the word, all for the benefit of his students. When he retired, Leslie Bassett, in his own way, did the same thing. 

 

Then Bill continued that tradition when he became the chair of the department…

…succeeding Bassett, that’s right. And then Bill was succeeded by William Bolcom. So, there’s been a long heritage of top-notch composition teachers.

 

Let’s talk a little bit about the fun, humorous aspect of Toccata Satanique and literary associations. Bill told me it really had nothing to do with Satan, and, in fact, the title may have been an attempt to poke fun at such “devilish” ideas. He also spoke about Poe, Hawthorne, and other 19th-century writers who sometimes dealt with such subjects, and, of course, we have Tartini’s famous “Devil’s Trill” sonata and numerous pieces by Liszt and Berlioz. 

In the notes to his recording of the piece, he writes that Toccata Satanique “is a matinee performance by the devil at the console, an attempt to exorcise those fiendish virtuoso toccatas of Mulet, Widor, et al;…” Bill had a rapier wit. People who knew him well enjoyed his joking, his fun with words, his double-entendres, everything in the bag of tricks of people who enjoy interacting with others in a social environment when everyone is enjoying each other’s familiarities with certain literary things, musical gestures, artistic relationships, and whatnot. Some religious connotations and associations can have a humorous aspect to them, and so church musicians and the organ can be part of that basket of topics as well.

One must be careful not to read in too much into a title. Actually the real purpose of a title might simply be to distinguish one piece from another when you’re talking with someone on the telephone. Sometimes, it doesn’t really get much beyond that. 

 

However, notes and comments on sketches for Night Procession and the Whistler Nocturnes suggest that in some cases Bill may have been thinking of titles right along with the musical concepts.

It’s possible that the title gave to the piece its nucleus, that is, the title might have to do with the style of the piece or it might be reminiscent of a certain performer whom he was trying to emulate. 

 

You performed several of Bill’s organ pieces. Did he have suggestions for you?

Bill coached me on the performance of Melisma. As usual, I was practicing it slowly at first and gradually picking up the tempo. Bill said, “You know that first little group of notes…you shouldn’t be able to hear the individual notes…it’s just baroop.” It’s a glissando. You have to do that fast! I can see him in the old electronic music studio with his hand on the dial of the signal generator and here’s a sine wave coming from the speakers, and he’d be twiddling the dial, making the sound barooarooaroo go up and down. (See Example 6.)

 

…which is like the beginning of Melisma…

Yes, but you can’t be playing the thing da-da-da-da-da-….It has to go so fast that it’s just a blur.

 

And with a traditional chromatic fingering, you can’t get it fast enough. So instead of (L.H.) 2-1-3-1-3, you use consecutive fingers 5-4-3-2-1 with a quick flick of the wrist.

I got the impression that Bill really wanted that thing to be at full bore velocity. Of course, you’re dealing with a person who is a virtuoso performer of great stamina. After all, he could keep up very well with those friends he’d invite over and with whom he’d play ragtime music all night long. You know, there were the legendary “cutting contests” [ragtime playing competitions] of the early ragtime pianists, and some of those fellows were still around, some who emulated that culture, so sheer speed and endurance was something Bill expected. Perhaps in his later years he modified that a little.

 

The question of tempo is a perennial one. When I performed Four Fancies (for harpsichord, 1979) and Symphony (for organ, 1986) he told me not to worry too much about tempo, that the most important thing was good rhythm. He commented specifically on honoring the complex rhythms in the second movement of the harpsichord piece, Mirror Bagatelle. Another time he wanted me to play much faster. When he narrated 1732: In Memoriam Johannes Albrecht (1984), he pushed me to the limit on several sections where he wanted it faster. “Let ’er rip!” he said.

I am reminded there are certain times in our musical past when new standards of velocity were set. I recently read a biography of the pianist Art Tatum who had extraordinary facility. As a young teenager, Oscar Peterson, another famous jazz pianist, thought he had arrived in terms of his technical prowess. He was told that by all of his relatives! Why shouldn’t he believe it? Oscar’s father brought home a record of Art Tatum and played it without telling Oscar anything about it. When it was all done, he asked his son, “Well, what ’ya think of that?” And Oscar said, “Boy, those guys are good!” And his father said, “Oscar, that’s only one man playing.” When Oscar realized his father was telling the truth, he said, “I didn’t go near a piano for three months.” 

When a standard like that is set, it forces people to do more than they think they can. You find that, yes, you can do it. Bill’s fingers weren’t built any differently than anybody else’s. With practice, you can achieve those velocities that he was looking for.

 

Thank you, John.

Thank you. It’s been a pleasure talking about an old friend and colleague and his music. 

An overview of 15th–18th century repertoire, sources, and modern editions

John Collins

Despite the combination of carelessness and wars over the past 400 years, an exceptionally large corpus of keyboard music compiled during the 16th and 17th centuries has survived in manuscript form in Poland. It is extremely rich in liturgical organ music, but secular forms are also prominent. To the best of my knowledge, it is a great lacuna that no treatises on performance practice (such as registration, ornamentation, fingering) with or without examples have survived, if indeed any were produced. I am also not aware of any keyboard music being printed in Poland during the 16th and 17th centuries, unlike the many volumes produced in southern Germany and Italy. The following list, in chronological order as far as dates are known, details many of the manuscripts surviving in libraries in Poland. It should be noted that some places now in Poland were previously under the rule of a different country such as the former Bohemia or Germany. This list cannot claim to be complete, but is at least a starting point for further exploration; modern editions published in the past 40 years, where known, are included, although their ready availability, particularly those published in Poland itself, cannot be guaranteed. It should also be noted that music in these manuscripts is not necessarily by Polish composers; indeed, many pieces that are anonymous in the sources may well be by foreign composers who were active in Poland or whose compositions were known there. 

Much research remains to be done in cataloguing and evaluating sources, particularly those from the 18th century, which have been preserved in manuscripts in Polish and German archives. Many of the pieces that have been made available show this repertoire to be fully deserving of being played today, either as part of the liturgy or in concerts. Although many modern editions are on two staves, because of large stretches in the left hand and sometimes-awkward crossing of inner parts, the use of the pedals will aid clarity.

 

Ca. 1425: Sagan Tablature 

Breslau Staatsbibliothek (Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka), I Qu 438. A single leaf in Old German organ tablature containing three movements from the Gloria has survived; each piece is in two voices only, the lower outlining the chant with the upper consisting of florid figuration based on octave doubling of the chant tones. These pieces have been edited by Willi Apel, in Keyboard music of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (Corpus of Early Keyboard Music, vol. 1, American Institute of Musicology). 

 

Ca. 1450?: 

Dominican Monastery, Breslau 

Breslau Staatsbibliothek (Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka), I Qu 42. A fragment in Old German organ tablature containing two short pieces has survived. The first piece is untitled, the second carries the heading Incipit Fundamentum bonum p(edaliter) in c d a. As with the previous manuscript, each piece is predominantly in two voices with the upper voice occasionally containing up to three, the lower outlining the chant with the upper consisting of florid figuration. A further fragment now in Breslau Staatsbibliothek (I F 687) contains five pieces, of which one is a sequence of clausulae. The other four contain a melody in the lower voice beneath a florid upper voice with occasional extra notes added. These pieces have been edited by Willi Apel in Keyboard music of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (Corpus of Early Keyboard Music, vol. 1, American Institute of Musicology).

 

1520 

Warsaw, Biblioteka Publiczna m. st. Warszawy, akc.3141. Fragments, 19 ff. Old German Tablature. See Brzezińska, 1987.

 

1528

Warsaw, Biblioteka Narodowa mus. 2081. One folio in Old German Tablature; see Brzezińska, 1987, facsimile plate 12.

Ca. 1537–48: Johannes of Lublin Tablature

Kraków, Biblioteka Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 1716. This enormous tablature of 260 folios in Old German organ tablature contains pieces across all genres. There is a modern edition 1964–67 by John Reeves White for the American Institute of Musicology, volume six in the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series, divided into a further six volumes. Volume one: 21 preambula, three organ Masses, and 13 Mass ordinary sections; volume two: 20 introits and sequences and 11 hymn settings; volume three: 38 motet intabulations; volume four: eight German, 13 Italian, and six French intabulations of secular songs; volume five: 36 dances, 11 Polish compositions, and 13 works of uncertain origin; volume six: 19 short compositions based on the tones of the psalms and Magnificat, and a further 26 short examples of fundamentum and clausulae. A facsimile edited by Wydala Krystyna Wilkowska-Chominska was published in 1964 as Tablatura organowa Jana z Lublina by Monumenta musicae in Polonia, Seria B, Vol. 1.

 

Ca. 1548: KrakЧw Tablature 

Warsaw, Biblioteka Narodowa, 564. This manuscript in Old German tablature, from the monastery of the Holy Spirit in Kraków, has been lost but a photocopy survives. It contains some 98 compositions in 362 pages, predominantly intabulations of pieces of a sacred nature, comprising preludes (1–9), fugues (10–15), Mass ordinary compositions (16–24), introits and sequences (25–29), hymns and antiphons (30–40), motets (41–57), and psalms (58–65). The remaining pieces are Polish songs (66–70), compositions of German origin including chorale settings (71–78), of Italian origin (79–82), French origin (83–85), and of uncertain identity (86–98). The great majority of pieces are for manuals only and a number are also included in the Lublin Tablature. Modern edition in two volumes edited by Wyatt Insko for Ludowy Institut Muzyczny, Łódż, 1992.

 

Ca. 1565

Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka contained Magnificat settings and psalm tones but is now presumed lost.

 

Ca. 1580: Martin Leopolita or Warsaw Musical Society Tablature

Warsaw, Biblioteka Warszawskiego Towarzystwa Muzycznego I/220, now known as the Łowicka tabulature, from the town with which it is associated. This tablature contains some 74 compositions in New German organ tablature, mainly intabulations of motets, antiphons, and introits, but including Magnificats on the eight tones. Pedals are required for several pieces. A modern edition by Jerzy Gołos, published by the Akademia Muzyczna im. Fryderyka Chopina w Warszawie (1993) is a revised and corrected version of the edition previously published as Antiquitates Musicae in Polonia vol. XV (1967). Three intabulations and the Magnificat on the Eighth Tone were edited by Jerzy Gołos and Adam Sutkowski in volume 10, part four, of the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series, American Institute of Musicology. See Gołos. 

 

Ca. 1591: Gdańsk Tablature

Gdańsk, Wojewódzkie Archiwum Panstwowe, 300, R (Vv, 123). This tablature contains 45 pieces in Italian keyboard notation on two staves, comprising 17 fantasias, followed by intabulations of hymns, motets, and secular songs. Modern edition by Jerzy Erdman (Polski Institut Muzyczny, Łódż, 1993). The 17 fantasias (broadly similar to extended Italian intonazioni, although some open with imitation that soon dissolves into figuration) have been edited by Jerzy Gołos and Adam Sutkowski in volume 10, part three in the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music, American Institute of Musicology. The manuscript is also included in Franz Kessler’s 1988 edition of Danziger Orgelmusik des 16 bis 18 Jahrhunderts (Hänssler Verlag, now available through Carus Verlag), although with a third stave for pedals that is not a feature of the original manuscript (the great majority of the pieces can be performed as manuals only). Cajus Schmiedtlein (or Schmedecke) (1555–1611), organist of the Marienkirche, Danzig, has been considered as a possible author of this tabulature. 

 

Ca. 1593: Organ Tablature “A F M B”

Kraków, Biblioteka Jagiellońska 40115 (formerly in Berlin Staatsbibliothek). Although the great majority of the approximately 80 pieces in this manuscript in New German organ tablature are of German provenance, one piece, a Polish dance, is included in Musica Antiqua Polonica, Renesans 7: Dances, edited by Piotr Poźniak, published by Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1994. This anthology contains 41 pieces, of which 17 are for lute, with seven organ pieces taken from the Lublin tablatures.

 

Ca.1595: Toruń Tablature

Toruń Archiwum Wojewódzkie, XIV 13a. Tablature

Compiled by Johannes Fischer of Morąg, it contains motet settings and fantasias in New German organ tablature. Two pieces ascribed to Diomedes Cato (Muteta and Fuga) were edited by Jerzy Gołos and Adam Sutkowski in volume 10, part four of the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series, American Institute of Musicology, and a fuga and fantasia by Cato were included in Musica Antiqua Polonica: Renesans 4: Keyboard music, edited by Piotr Poźniak, published by Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1994, but the tablature still awaits a complete modern edition. 

 

Ca. 1618: Adam z Wągrowiec or Samogitian Tablature

Now preserved in Jesuit College, Kroże in Samogitia, Lithuania (Ms LT-Vn 105-67), contains some 35 pieces by Adam z Wągrowiec (d. 1629), including cadences in different tones or modes, several free pieces including a prelude with obligatory pedal part indicated on a separate stave, nine fantasias, four ricercars, and several liturgical paraphrases that show the influence of Frescobaldi. Three canzonas attributed to Adam are preserved in the Pelplin tablatures (see below). Modern edition by Irena Bieńkowska and Mirosław Perz, published by Neriton, Warsaw, 1999.

 

Ca. 1619: Oliwa Tablature

Vilnius, Bibliotece Litewskiej Akademii Nauk (Library of the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences), F 15-284 and a fragment F 15-286. This tablature, originating in the Cistercian Monastery at Oliva, near Gdańsk, contains some 329 pieces (the largest portion consists of transcribed unembellished vocal music including motets, mass movements, madrigals, chansons, and lieder, with only four praeambulas, six fugues, five canzonas, and a wide variety of dances), on at least 180 folios, the bulk of which was written by Jacobus Apfell in New German organ tablature. Unfortunately only two slim volumes of the contents have been published to date. The first volume contains 12 pieces, five of which are ascribed to Piotr Drusiński including two praeambula, and settings of Veni Redemptor Gentium, Resonet in laudibus, and Deus in adiutorium. A canzona is ascribed to Diomedes Cato, and the remaining pieces are anonymous (Lemma, two fugues, Melos, and a fantasia). The second volume contains intabulations of pieces by Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli, Antegnati, Hassler, and anonymous dances. Both volumes edited by Jan Janca (Gdańsk: Wydawnictwo Organon, ca. 1992). 

 

Ca. 1620-30: Pelplin Tablature

Pelplin, Biblioteka Seminarium, 304–8, 308a Pelplin, Cistercian monastery. Among them the six tablatures in New German tablature contain 797 intabulations of vocal works and 91 instrumental compositions by composers from across Europe. A supplement with organ works was copied ca. 1650–80, including chorale settings by Scheidemann, Hasse, and Tunder (these are available in modern editions of the composers’ keyboard works, and some have been edited by Jerzy Gołos and Adam Sutkowski in parts one and two of volume 10 of the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series, American Institute of Musicology). A small part of the intabulations has been edited in modern transcriptions and published in the series Antiquitates Musicae in Polonia (Graz: Akademische Druck und Verlag), including Hieronim  Feicht’s 1970 edition of the 91 instrumental works (volume 8), Jan Węcowski’s 1970 edition  of the intabulations of 54 motets by Andrzej Hakenberger (volume 9), and Jerzy Golos and T. Maciejewski’s 1970 edition devoted to the vocal works by Peter Phillips and Melchior Vulpius (volume 10). A catalogue (volume 1) and facsimile of the complete tablatures (volumes 2–7) is included in the series Antiquitates Musicae in Polonia.

 

Early 17th century

Warsaw, Biblioteka Narodowa, 327 (olim 4577, olim 5229; olim Legnica, Ritter-Akademie 98) [microfilm no. 19, 581]). New German tablature. An intabulation of Schadaeus’s Promptuarium musicum (Strasbourg 1611–17) with a few chorale settings added. No modern edition known. See Gołos. 

 

Warsaw, Biblioteka Narodowa 326 (olim 4579, olim 5231 and D 590–114; olim Legnica, Ritter-Akademie 100) (early 17th century). 328 ff. New German organ tablature. 298 intabulations of vocal works, mostly in skeletal form for accompanimental purposes. No modern edition known. See Gołos.

 

Kraków, Biblioteka Jagiellońska, 24 (olim Legnica, Ritter-Akademie, 101) (early 17th century). 185 ff. New German organ tablature. Intabulations of secular works by Lassus, Marenzio, Gastoldi, Crecquillon, etc. on ff.137v–142v, 160r–165r. No modern edition known. See Gołos.

 

Ca. 1626: Vilnius or Sapieha Tablature 

Vilnius, Bibliotece Litewskiej Akademii Nauk (Library of the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences), F-30-119. In Italian keyboard notation, in addition to organ works, it includes four vocal works for one or two voices and continuo, as well as 25 engravings that portray the life of St. Francis, with captions in Latin and Polish.

Modern edition 2004 by Piotr Pózniak, Album Sapieżyńskie. Sub Sole Sarmatiae, Volume 9: Wileńska tabulatura organowa z XVII wieku obrazami żywota św. Franciszka zdobiona. Published by Musica Iagellonica, Kraków.

 

Ca. 1644: Ostrameczew or Polotsk Tablature

Kraków, Biblioteka Jagiellońska Ms 10002 (originally 127.56). In Italian keyboard notation, this tablature contains pieces by many composers including Marcin Mielczewski, and the single preserved piece by Piotr Żelechowski, a Fantasia sopra Primo Tono, edited by Jerzy Gołos and Adam Sutkowski in volume 10, part four of the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series, American Institute of Musicology, and also by Jan Stęszewski for Polskie Wydawn, Muzyczne 73, Warsaw. No complete modern edition known.

 

Ca. 1680: The Warsaw Tablature

The original, in Italian keyboard notation, is now considered lost during the Warsaw Uprising of 1944, and its provenance remains unknown, although Aleksander Poliński surmised its origin to be in the Polish province of North Masovia. Originally housed in the National Library, Warsaw (hence its name), a fair copy was made by Adolph Chybiński, which in its turn has disappeared, leaving only a partial copy made by his student Czesław Sikorski. This contains 71 pieces, comprising 19 preambula, 13 toccatas, 17 fugues, three fantasias, a capriccio and its proportio, four canzonas, 12 settings of Christmas pieces, and two untitled pieces; excerpts from Pachelbel and Frescobaldi have been identified. A modern edition by Jerzy Gołos ca. 1990 for Ludowy Institut Muzyczny, Łódż, is a revised and corrected version of Chybiński’s copy. Thirteen pieces were edited by Jerzy Gołos and Adam Sutkowski in volume 10, part four of the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series, American Institute of Musicology.

 

1768: Arie z rЧżnych autorЧw zebrine anno 1768

Clarist convent archives Stary Sącz 26. This manuscript on 49 leaves is a collection of arias, which was handed down to a nun in the convent in 1768. Originally comprising 102 compositions, two pages are missing, leaving 97 complete and two incomplete compositions. It is a rare example of an 18th-century compilation that has been made available in a modern edition. In one movement in binary or ternary form, a few have been identified as pieces by Hasse and Zipoli. New edition by Jan Chwałek (Lublin: Polihymnia, 1994). 

 

An in-depth discussion of the 16th century tablatures can be found in Willi Apel’s History of Keyboard Music to 1700, pp. 100ff. An excellent book, in English, is The Polish Organ, which is in two volumes (Warsaw: Sutkowski Edition, 1993). Volume one, The instrument and its history, by Jerzy Gołos, covers the Middle Ages to the 20th century and contains selected documents and comprehensive lists of organ builders, places, location of manuscript sources, and a bibliography of some 36 pages (the majority of the entries are, understandably, in Polish). There is also a map and some 90 black and white illustrations, mainly of consoles and actions. 

Volume two, Organ cases in Poland as works of art, originally by Ewa Smulikowska and thoroughly revised by Jerzy Gołos, discusses in detail the organ case in the church, the symbolic and conceptual meaning of the carved subjects according to medieval and Renaissance metaphysics, organbuilders and wood carvers in the regional centers, evolution of the case, and iconographical themes. Part II of the volume deals with many cases by location; over 200 photographs are included, several in color. 

 

Bibliography

Unfortunately, very little material about this repertoire has been published in English, but there are articles in Italian in certain volumes of L’Organo as listed below.

Apel, Willi. The History of Keyboard Music to 1700. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1972.

Brzezińska, Barbara. Repertuar polskich tabulatur organowych z pierwszej połowy xvi wieku. Kraków: Polskie Wydawn. Muzyczne, 1987.

Caldwell, John. “Sources of Keyboard Music to 1660.” New Grove Dictionary of Music, 2001, 24:19–39. 

Gołos, G. “Il manoscritto 1/220 della Società di Musica di Varsavia, importante fonte di musica organistica cinquecentesca.” L’Organo ii (1961), 129–46. 

———. “Tre intavolature manoscritte di musica vocale rintracciate in Polonia.” L’Organo iii (1962), 123–48.  

Sutkowski, A. and O. Mischiati: “Una preziosa fonte manoscritta di musica strumentale: L’Intavolatura di Pelplin.” L’Organo ii (1961), 53–72.

White, John R. “The Tablature of Johannes of Lublin.” Musica Disciplina 17 (1963), 137–162.

 

The booklets included with The complete Warsaw Tablature and Adam z Wągrowca, Piotr Żelechowski and Petrus de Drusina (Acte Préalable APO164 and APO165, reviewed in The Diapason, September 2014, 18–19) recorded by Rostislaw Wygranienko contain valuable information about the Warsaw and Ostrameczew or Polotsk Tablatures. 

For further information: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polish_organ_tablatures . 

Photo credit: Marijim Thoene

Anne Beetem Acker

Unless you read the White House Blog daily, you no doubt missed a quiet but monumental announcement. On February 11, 2014, the White House issued an executive order essentially banning international trade in items containing ivory, as well as tightly controlling movement of personally owned items containing ivory. Two weeks later, on February 25, 2014, Dan Ashe, director of the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, released Director’s Order 210 giving the draconian details of implementation. The executive order and director’s order were immediately enforced, including being applied to CITES (Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species) import and export applications filed months earlier. Restrictions on intrastate and interstate sales and movement were announced on May 15, 2014, along with other revisions discussed below. The Executive Branch and the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service have ignored federal requirements for publication of proposed regulations and public comment before enforcement.

You have perhaps learned, e.g., of violin bows belonging to members of touring European orchestras being confiscated upon entry to the United States, or of the refusal to give a CITES permit for the import of a significant harpsichord by a United States collector/performer. The new regulations are being enforced through immovable, irrational requirements that ignore personal property rights of owners of legally acquired items containing ivory. Further complicating the situation are diverse actions by individual states, in particular, New Jersey, New York, and California. These actions have far-reaching effects among musicians, collectors, musical instrument dealers and repair people, and everyday citizens.

According to President Obama, the United States needs to “lead by example” with tough restrictions on all trade and movement of ivory. It is unclear why any country—especially China, the primary and nearly sole market for illegal new ivory—would be influenced by restrictions in the United States. The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service has acted, in their words, “to close the loopholes” of transportation and markets for illegal new ivory in the United States, theoretically reducing pressure on elephant populations.

The illogic of thinking a legally acquired musical instrument, or ivory-inlaid 17th- or 18th-century furniture, or ivory Torah pointers, or knives or canes containing antique or pre-Convention (1976) ivory would be conduits for new ivory seems apparent to us, but the new regulations are rigidly defended by the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service staff. Director Dan Ashe also states that they cannot tell new from old ivory thus justifying their methods (guilty until proven innocent, yet worse), a statement that has experts and repair people familiar with antique ivory shaking their heads in strong disagreement. In truth, I think he is speaking more to the lack of expertise among inspectors. In the United States, there are few instances of trade in illegal new ivory, though a few notable episodes have helped fuel this maelstrom, one involving faked African antiques in Philadelphia, and another of faked Asian antique figurines in New York City. Both were caught by appropriate profiling of the merchants and thorough investigations. The nets are being cast far wider now, and being visible targets, musical instruments have been particularly persecuted.

So, why the urgency and drama? The story is that the African elephant is in dire danger of losing 1/5 of their population over the next twenty or thirty years and then extinction. Beware the numbers appearing in seemingly reputable publications, as incorrect, unsubstantiated figures are being propagated. In stark contrast, looking at CITES’ own recent reports,¹ there are currently about 500,000 African elephants in Africa, down from a probable 600,000 in 1989.² About 22,000 elephants have been killed in each of the last several years, an admittedly horrific number, but actually decreasing, not increasing as claimed. 

According to the CITES report referenced above, the poaching rate appears to have leveled off and further affirms that poaching is primarily due to “extreme poverty and lack of governance in the affected areas.” Local farmers and corrupt game wardens earn huge payments for leading poachers to their prey. In some countries elephants are already at risk, while in others they are over-populated, causing serious problems by destroying farmers’ crops and overgrazing their own protected preserves. In these countries, culling is necessary. Their governments want to sell their large ivory stores in a controlled fashion, to raise money for the local human and elephant populations. A regular source of legal ivory sales would dramatically bring down prices and deter the brutal and horrific practice of poaching.³

 

Prior and current rules 

(These are subject to change.)

Previously there were no domestic restrictions for sales or travel of items containing ivory and CITES permits could be acquired for import and export of legally acquired ivory by following instructions, paying a fee, and filling out paperwork, a somewhat onerous but do-able process. Exemptions were granted allowing import or export of items that could be demonstrated to be antique (over 100 years old), or pre-Convention (1989 for African elephant ivory). All of this changed in February. “Commercial” imports of ivory are forbidden. Period. No exceptions. Exports are limited, but the hoops to jump through have made permits virtually impossible to acquire. As of May 25, 2014, the details of the regulations were eased somewhat thanks to various musical instrument related organizations with lobbyists working tirelessly in Washington, D.C., but the limitations and requirements are still unreasonable and unclear and were expanded to severely restrict sales within states and across state lines.

The most up to date summary can be found at www.fws.gov/international/travel-and-trade/ivory-ban-questions-and-answ…. Remember while reading this web page and the explanations of it below, that qualifying for the CITES documents is extremely difficult. Here is the summary, with remarks about qualifying for the exemptions below.

 

Commercial imports

Forbidden. If you buy an instrument out of the country, you will not be able to get it into the United States. Note that the term “commercial” is being applied to any transaction that could be conceived of as resulting in a financial gain. For example, if you want to import an instrument and donate it to your favorite institution, they consider that commercial, since you may be applying for a tax deduction for the donation. Instruments bought overseas before the ban was announced, but awaiting their import permits, had their permits abruptly rejected. 

 

Personal imports 

You may import an item containing ivory as part of a household move or inheritance, or as part of your own musical instrument or as part of a traveling exhibition as long as the item contains “worked elephant ivory that was ‘legally acquired’ and removed from the wild prior to February 26, 1976 and has not been sold or otherwise been transferred for financial gain since February 25, 2014.” Thus you will not be able to bring in (or out) of the country any ivory-containing item that was purchased after February 25, 2014. (This is at least a significant improvement of the original specification of not being transferred for financial gain after 1976!) This freezes instrument ownership for touring musicians and amateurs as of the date of the Director’s Order. Additionally, the individual or group must qualify for a CITES musical instrument certificate and the musical instrument containing worked elephant ivory “must be accompanied by a valid CITES musical instrument certificate or equivalent CITES document.” The instructions do not specify what would qualify as an equivalent document. 

Commercial export 

While the rules state that pre-Convention and antique items containing worked ivory may be exported, in reality the new requirements to qualify for a CITES export certificate are extremely difficult-to-impossible to satisfy. Fortunately, in May they did eliminate two of the most ridiculous aspects of the February 25th Director’s Order, wherein 1) no domestically made items containing worked ivory could qualify, and 2) the exporter had to supply evidence that the item had entered through one of the “specified ports” for ivory import/export, despite the fact that these ports did not exist before 1982. If the ivory was repaired or modified after 1973, it will not qualify. If the item was originally imported after 1982, then it must demonstrably have been imported through one of the 13 ports of entry designated for antiques made of Endangered Species Act-listed species (Boston, Massachusetts; New York, New York; Baltimore, Maryland; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Miami, Florida; San Juan, Puerto Rico; New Orleans, Louisiana; Houston, Texas; Los Angeles, California; San Francisco, California; Anchorage, Alaska; Honolulu, Hawaii; and Chicago, Illinois).

To qualify under the antique exemption, the exporter must document the item’s age and identify the species used. Proof of age can be through scientific testing at an accredited laboratory or facility, a qualified appraisal, or provenance through other documentation, such as a detailed history of the item, family photos, ethnographic fieldwork, or other evidence that assigns the work to a known period of time. Fortunately, most musical instruments can be dated quite accurately. The species can be identified through DNA analysis (but this is unusable as the large quantities required would destroy that part of the musical instrument), or a qualified appraisal or other documentation that demonstrates the identification of the species through a detailed provenance. In practice, there have been difficulties with Fish & Wildlife permit examiners insisting on satisfying all of these dating and species methods and requiring a description of the “scientific method” used to make the species determination. Note that there are visual ways to identify the different types of ivory, except that Asian and African elephant cannot be visually distinguished. (See www.fws.gov/lab/ivory_id.php and www.fws.gov/policy/do210A1.pdf.)

Again, the ivory must not have been “repaired or modified.” U.S. Fish & Wildlife agents reviewing applications are insisting on full details of restorations, not just whether the ivory was repaired. This despite that in reality, restorers do not need to, want to, or use (expensive, illegal) new ivory. There are synthetics and ample supplies of surplus antique ivory, e.g., in the form of old piano key tops. Regardless, as the rules are written, if the ivory was repaired, they can refuse the application even if you just filled a crack with dental epoxy. Whether having glued a piece back on would result in denial is unclear.

The burden of proof has been laid heavily on the exporter in an “all are guilty until proven innocent” fashion. Fish & Wildlife agents reviewing applications since February have been virtually impossible to satisfy. Some insist appraisers are trained in biology or wildlife forensics. The director has told them they don’t have to believe any documentation and to “set a high bar.” This writer, who has been importing and exporting antique pianos for over ten years, was informed that the common knowledge, as well as published information, that piano key tops were made from African elephant ivory, was now insufficient. This was despite pointing out that I was initially told by a Fish & Wildlife official years ago that African elephant ivory (Loxodonta africana) was the correct species to specify for ivory key tops and all my other previous applications were all accepted stating this species.

 

The Musical Instrument Certificate or “Passport”

After being besieged by concerned touring musicians, the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service and CITES created a new permit certificate for people traveling regularly with their instruments, called the Musical Instrument Certificate or “Passport.” The application is available on the Fish & Wildlife website (www.fws.gov/international/pdf/permit-application-form-3-200-88.pdf).

They require a signed appraisal or other documentation to demonstrate the age of the ivory-containing item, which must pre-date 1976. You must also include a signed statement (though it does not say signed by whom) that the item has not been repaired or modified on or after December 28, 1973, with any part of any species covered by the Endangered Species Act. That should suffice for antiques (over 100 years old), but for export of younger items, it additionally says the applicant must also state whether the item was bought, sold, or “offered for sale by you or anyone else” since December 28, 1973, in which case “there may be a need for additional information and the Division of Management Authority will contact you directly.”

Confusingly on the form, this last category is apparently not applicable if your instrument includes African elephant ivory. What is worrisome is that the wording opens the door to interpretation by the examining agent to not allow the export at all if the subject item contains elephant ivory. Additionally worrisome is the inclusion of a note that African elephant ivory removed from the wild after February 4, 1977, is not considered to be pre-Convention (for the purposes of this application, since it most certainly is in the rest of the world). Given the recent difficulty in establishing the species of elephant to the satisfaction of the USFWS agents, it will likely be difficult to get approval for any personal musical instrument containing ivory to travel.

Note that you need a different CITES form for each endangered species in your instrument, including rosewood and tortoiseshell. Also note that you and your instrument will need to exit and enter the country ONLY through one of the 13 designated ports for ivory: www.fws.gov/le/designated-ports.html.

If your instrument contains a listed endangered plant species, you are further restricted to exit and enter through a designated port for listed plant species: www.aphis.usda.gov/import_export/plants/manuals/ports/downloads/cites.p….

Obviously this makes travel arrangements even more complicated and there are no plans to expand on the number of designated ports.

A fee of $75 is due with the application, which can take 45–60 days or more for approval, processing, and return. The certificate is good for three years, but you must bring the instrument back into the issuing country before it expires, at which point you can apply for a new certificate.

For all forms applicable to musical instruments, see: www.fws.gov/international/permits/by-activity/musical-instruments.html.

 

Domestic: intrastate and 

interstate trade and movement

Beginning on June 26, 2014, domestic sellers of items containing worked African elephant ivory must demonstrate that any item offered for sale—whether across state lines or within a state—was lawfully imported prior to the CITES Appendix-I listing of the African elephant (January 1990) or under a CITES pre-Convention certificate. Appendix-I covers species around the world most at risk as a result of international trade. Non-commercial movement is still allowed. There has been no clarification of how commercial may be defined beyond sale or what documentation is needed for such things as household moves. Some fear that traveling over state lines to perform at a paid concert could be considered a commercial transaction. Emphasis seems to be on sales, but given the vagueness of the rules both to the populace and the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service agents, and recent aggressive enforcement, it is a concern. At least one piano transport truck has already been stopped and questioned with the result that the firm will no longer move pianos with ivory key tops. Another said they would just leave any questioned piano on the roadside and keep going. 

Unfortunately for musicians and others involved with legally obtained pre-Convention ivory, public support for the ban is being fanned with false numbers, hysteria, dramatic photos, and endorsements by celebrities who apparently can’t do the simple research required to discover the truth. For example, the performer Billy Joel publicly requested people save elephants by not having their pianos made with ivory keys, apparently unaware that no pianos have been made with ivory key tops in the United States since 1956 and in Europe since the 1980s. It appears that there is massive funding for public “awareness” and high-level political influence by some large conservation groups.

 

California, New Jersey, and New York State

Individual states have begun a hodgepodge of their own restrictions. In spring of 2012 California began to enforce a law that has been on their books since 1970 by raiding an auction house in northern California and seizing approximately $150,000 worth of ivory objects. This law has no exemption for antique and pre-Convention ivory and criminalizes possession with intent to sell, with stiff penalties. Introduced on May 8, 2014, both houses of New Jersey’s legislature quickly and quietly passed a draconian bill signed by Governor Christie on August 1, 2014. This law includes elephant, hippo, mammoth (which has been legally used to substitute for elephant ivory in recent years), narwhal, walrus, and whale ivory. It is unlawful to import, sell, purchase, offer for sale, barter, or possess with intent to sell any item containing ivory. 

There are no exceptions for antiques or pre-Convention ivory. It is legal to convey ivory to the legal beneficiary of an estate after death or in anticipation of death. The penalties are stiff, and ivory products will be seized and transferred to the New Jersey Department of Environmental Protection for “proper disposition.” The New York State legislature quickly followed with a ban on the sale of elephant and mammoth ivory and rhinoceros horn that Governor Cuomo supports. The New York Department of Environmental Conservation may issue permits for the sale of documented antiques over 100 years old and containing less than 20 percent ivory and musical instruments made prior to 1976 (this is bad luck for the New York owners of Bösendorfers and Hamburg Steinways made in the 1980s with ivory key tops). Fines are steep and felony charges possible. (See www.governor.ny.gov/sites/thediapason.com/files/GPB44-IVORY_BILL.pdf.)

In all these cases, vagueness of wording is a serious problem. Technically, federal laws take precedence, but until court battles ensue, those with non-antique but pre-Convention ivory or insufficient “proof of provenance” will not be able to sell their items intact.

 

Current and potential effects

Many antique and pre-Convention cultural artifacts contain ivory, including Torah pointers, George Washington’s false teeth, medical demonstration figures, scrimshaw art, and of course, musical instruments. Key tops, guitar nuts, saddles and tuning pins, wind instrument rings, stringed instrument bows, organ stop knobs, and more have been made from ivory for its workability, beauty, availability, density, durability, and tactile and acoustic properties. Many musical instruments remain in active use for generations and commonly travel with their owners.

Already, the international import ban has prevented collectors from importing important pieces for study, performance, and recording in the United States. Because of the abrupt announcement and enforcement, quite a few people buying or selling internationally have found themselves unable to get instruments to their new homes. Reduced to the domestic market alone, musical instrument values will necessarily drop. If domestic trade is further restricted this summer, the value of ivory-containing objects will be reduced to virtually nothing, nor will anyone be able to receive a tax deduction for donations of instruments to institutions since that is considered “financial gain,” a serious potential loss of donations to colleges, universities, museums, and other public institutions.

The restriction of musical instrument certificates to instruments that have not transferred ownership for any financial gain after February 25, 2014, prevents internationally traveling musicians from upgrading, or ever again purchasing any instruments or bows containing ivory that can travel with them. Given the expense and paperwork to obtain the musical instrument passports, along with the aggressive and suspicious stance of the customs officials, it is highly likely there will be less touring of musicians in and out of the United States. Again, musical instruments containing ivory will be significantly devalued. (See www.wqxr.org/#!/story/newark-officials-seize-budapest-orchestras-violin… and www.nytimes.com/aponline/2014/08/05/us/ap-us-travel-brief-bagpipes-at-t….)

Additionally, it will take a great deal of time, paperwork, and human power to administer and enforce all these new regulations. This will cost taxpayers dearly and consume considerable personal time for applicants, while not preventing the loss of one elephant to poaching.

 

Look-alike problem

It is very important to point out that customs agents are rarely skilled at identifying materials and may even presume, for example, that all instruments of a type are suspect. This has resulted in items containing “look-alike” materials and even with no ivory-like material being confiscated from their cases at border crossings with no explanations. It is highly advisable to have prepared and accompany your instrument with copies of an official appraisal or listing by the maker of the materials used in your musical instrument, whether it contains any suspect species or not. Also insist, as is your right, to be present when your instrument is inspected before shipping. Take photos of what is in the crate or case before shipping.

 

Late-summer developments

On July 14, 2014, two bills (H.R. 5052 in the House of Representatives, and S. 2587 in the Senate) were introduced; both would prohibit U.S. Fish & Wildlife from implementing any “new rule, order, or standard regarding the sale and trade in ivory that was not in place before February 25, 2014.” As of August 2, H.R. 5052 had 20 bi-partisan co-sponsors, an encouraging development. In addition, in early July, the House Appropriations Bill for the Department of the Interior included language that would prohibit U.S. Fish & Wildlife from spending any funds to enforce any rules, orders, or standard not in place before February 25, 2014. The appropriations bill has passed the Senate but faces a battle in the House of Representatives. The appropriations bill language is intended to put a moratorium on enforcement until a permanent method of undoing the disastrous actions of February 11 and 25, 2014, can be put in place. The appropriations bill includes other language against other more publicly controversial programs, but I am hopeful the ivory section will be kept as a trade-off against other concessions. The final hurdle is, of course, whether President Obama will sign or veto any of these bills.

 

What you can do to help

It is urgent that we eventually press for a permanent solution to protect cultural artifacts made before any species included in them was declared endangered. The current problems are regulations and enforcement rules, not laws, and can be changed with enough pressure. Lobbyists are working for groups such as the League of American Orchestras, National Association of Music Merchants, and some private individuals (e.g., through the important Podesta Group), and are kindly sharing information and guidance. Thanks to the efforts of many, we have the promising bills to be debated in Congress. Numbers count! It is critical for as many people as possible to write to their members of Congress, the President, the Secretary of the Interior, the Director of Fish & Wildlife Services, those on the Committee for Wildlife Trafficking (www.fws.gov/international/advisory-council-wildlife-trafficking/bios.ht…), Natural Resources, and the Congressional Committee on Fisheries, Wildlife, Oceans and Insular Affairs. See https://www.govtrack.us/congress/committees/HSII/22.

Most useful is to try to get a personal or phone appointment with your senators and representatives and explain why these regulations are harmful and will not save any elephants. E-mails through their websites are also working for some. Ask them to support and co-sponsor H.R. 5052 and S. 2587. You can find your senators and representatives at www.opencongress.org/people/zipcodelookup.

The important talking points are:

• We want to end the poaching of African elephants and illicit trade in new illegal ivory, but banning the domestic sale and trade of legal ivory in the United States and preventing import of antique and pre-Convention items containing ivory will not stop poaching, nor save one living elephant. 

• The July 2014 CITES meeting emphasized that the cause of poaching is extreme poverty, lack of governance, and corruption in the affected areas. Efforts need to help the affected communities and fund intelligence operations that locate poachers and dealers.

• The ban unnecessarily hurts owners of antiques and pre-Convention items containing ivory legally imported into this country by stripping their value, resulting in a taking of billions of dollars from law-abiding Americans. The domestic ban would devastate the current market in worked ivory items, causing legitimate business owners and everyday citizens tremendous economic harm. Note how the ban will hurt you personally. The analysis of the economic effect of this ban by U.S. Fish & Wildlife is grossly understated.

• The proposed ban would make the survival of cultural and historic artifacts much more unlikely, and keep them out of collections where they would be preserved. It is highly likely that the ban and regulations are against the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966. (See www.nps.gov/history/local-law/nhpa1966.htm.)

• Even the author of the African Elephant Conservation Act of 1989 testified at a congressional hearing on June 24, 2014, that this ban will not help to stop poaching and was never the intent of the AECA. (See www.fws.gov/international/laws/aeca_fv.html.)

• The current requirements for the antique exemption for export are still virtually impossible to meet for many legally obtained items due to a lack of documentation never previously required to stay with the instruments.

• Ideally, ivory regulations should revert to where they were on February 1, 2014, which did indeed stabilize elephant populations since their inception.

 

This is one of those times when we all need to stand up for what is right and fair. Somehow we need to get the powers in charge to understand that not one elephant will be saved by these absurd regulations, but our cultural, historical, and musical heritage will suffer, as will private individuals and owners of small businesses.

Here is contact information for the appropriate government officials:

 

Sally Jewel, Secretary of the Interior

Department of the Interior

1849 C Street, N.W. 

Washington, DC 20240

E-mail: [email protected]

Web: Feedback form

 

Daniel M. Ashe, Fish & Wildlife, Director of External Affairs

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

1849 C Street, NW

Washington, DC 20240

E-mail: www.fws.gov/duspit/contactus.htm

1‑800‑344‑WILD (9453)

 

Barack Obama, President of the United States

The White House

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW

Washington, DC 20500

E-mail: www.whitehouse.gov/contact/submit-questions-and-comments

 

Representative Ed Royce

Chairman, Committee on Wildlife Trafficking

1380 S. Fullerton Road, Suite 205

Rowland Heights, CA 91748

 

To write your local senators and congressmen see: www.opencongress.org/people/zipcodelookup. 

For further reading: www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2014/02/11/fact-sheet-national-stra…. ν

 

Notes

1. www.cites.org/sites/thediapason.com/files/eng/com/sc/65/E-SC65-42-01_2… “Interpretation and implementation of the Convention: Species trade and conservation: Elephants: Elephant Conservation, Illegal Killing and the Ivory Trade,” Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Flora and Fauna, 65th Meeting of the Standing Committee, Geneva, Switzerland, July 7–11, 2014, especially pp. 10–11.

2. A. M. Lemieux and R. V. Clarke, “The International Ban on Ivory Sales and its Effects on Elephant Poaching in Africa,” The British Journal of Criminology (vol. 49, no. 4), 2009, pp. 451–471.

3. Testimony of Jack Fields, June 24, 2014, at Hearing of Subcommittee on Fisheries, Wildlife, Oceans, and Insular Affairs. http://docs.house.gov/
meetings/II/II22/20140624/102350/HHRG-113-II22-Wstate-FieldsJ-20140624.pdf.