Jonathan Moyer, DMA, is an assistant professor of organ at Oberlin College and organist and director of music at the Church of the Covenant in Cleveland, Ohio; www.jonathanwmoyer.com.
F
rozen fingers, schnitzel and potatoes, too much bread, four-cheese pasta, train platforms in the cold,
Blitzeis . . . but then that remarkable sound! This past January eleven students and four faculty and staff from the Oberlin Conservatory of Music lugged their organ shoes and music across the cold terrain of the Netherlands and Germany to experience the glory of nearly five centuries of organ building.
All the discomforts of northern Europe in winter faded away when our fingers touched those historic keyboards and the sounds of the ages filled hallowed halls with the music that first inspired us to become organists. We followed in the footsteps of Sweelinck, Scheidemann, Reincken, Buxtehude, Lübeck, Pachelbel, Bach, Liszt, Reger, and many more.
Over 13 days, we visited 28 churches and 34 organs, ranging from one of the oldest and most beautiful instruments in all of Europe in Oosthuizen’s Grotekerk (Anonymous, early 16th century) to the newly rebuilt organ of the Nikolaikirche in Leipzig, the console of which was designed by Porsche.
Many of our students where traveling to Europe for their first time. For them, the trip was not only an introduction to new cultures, but also a journey home to the places were our musical tradition was born.
A trip like this is a critical element in the education of an organist. It brings one into contact with the original source of our music. It is from the instrument itself, including its cultural and historical context, that we inform our minds with something deeply profound.
One of the great advantages of a whirlwind tour such as this is the ability to compare a wide range of organs across time periods and geographies. The vocal allure of northern leaden principals befits the Italian characteristics of much seventeenth-century music. Just 250 miles to the south the contrast could not have been more evident. The Thuringian predilection for pipes predominantly of tin and “gritty” voicing reflects an emphasis on congregational singing, enunciating the strength and rhythm of German consonants. Every organ we played told its own story, brought to life as we walked the streets, opened the gates of the church, and climbed the stairs. It is impossible to share them all, but here are just a few.
An often overlooked treasure in Groningen is the marvelous Schnitger organ of 1693 in the Pelstergasthuiskerk, originally a guesthouse chapel to the nearby hospital. In the seventeenth century the church became sanctuary to a French Protestant reformed congregation (Walloon or Waalse). Its two-manual organ with hook-down pedalboard was designed for one main purpose: to accompany the singing of psalms. Each stop of this organ sings with clarity and unique color, enabling a multitude of ensemble and consort combinations. The Rugwerk 4′ Fluit dating from 1627 can seduce one for hours on end.
The new organ of Hamburg’s Katharinenkirche is the product of an important narrative that brings the world of Scheidemann and Reincken together with that of Johann Sebastian Bach. Its vast colors and ensembles are the vestiges of the Schnitger age, yet the Bach-Kellner temperament acknowledges the presence of Bach when he took his Hamburg audition in 1720. This organ demonstrates that Flentrop is still achieving some of the finest construction of organs in the world today.
Another Bach story was revealed during the restoration of the famous Hildebrandt organ in Naumburg’s St. Wenzelskirche. It was discovered that the stops from the old console still bore their original labels—the same labels that Johann Sebastian Bach and Gottfried Silbermann read when they examined the organ in 1746.
Other stops told similar stories. The great Ladegast organ in the Merseburg Cathedral (now fully restored) reveals the enigmatic 16′ Aeoline stop that conjured the imagination of Liszt and Reubke. Today, its dark yet clarion tone ushers us into the mystery of the Romantic age.
The desire to crescendo the vast resources of the organ received its ultimate realization in the smooth Walze (Rollschweller) in Wilhelm Sauer’s 1889 masterpiece in Leipzig’s Thomaskirche, bringing Max Reger’s extreme dynamic ranges into context.
Perhaps our most memorable Thuringian adventure was a snowy day in Waltershausen. Our gracious host was delayed because of the snow, but we were able to make our way into the church as parishioners were taking down the large Christmas tree that had finally finished its season. To our delight the local caretaker of the famous Trost organ was on hand to help with the removal of the tree and took us on an extensive tour of the organ. Even with the reeds suffering from the frigid temperatures, the robust sound of the organ sailed over the central pulpit like a great sermon. It demonstrates how the organ in the Lutheran tradition became a complement to the spoken word, orating from its own gallery pulpit. Lunch in a nearby establishment consisted of more schnitzel, bread, and beer, insulating us from the cold and snow. This was music and food from the heart of the earth.
One of the few free afternoons we had on the trip afforded me a few hours in the Leipzig Museum of Art, where a simple landscape painting of the city caught my attention. It was painted by Johann Alexander Thiele (1685–1752) whose lifespan was almost exactly that of J. S. Bach. In the center of the painting the Thomaskirche towers above the many houses that define the skyline. The work may very well have been painted while Bach was living in Leipzig. The cantor’s house and Thomasschule are visible, and the smoke rising from the surrounding chimneys is almost scented. The paint on the canvas is like a veil that separates us from a time that we so desperately long to visit. We are so close yet so distant.
As organists we have a privilege that few people on earth get to experience. We come closer to history than any painting can ever portray. We touch the keys, pedals, bench, and stops. We engage the wind from the bellows into pipes as the notes on the page guide us to shape sounds into figurations and figurations into phrases. Suddenly the composer’s voice is brought to life.
This is why we journey to the land of these miraculous instruments. They fill our souls with the world that our beloved composers knew. They form memories and experiences that will guide the musical choices we make for the rest of our lives.
Participants:
Faculty: James David Christie, Jonathan Moyer
Staff: David Kazimir, Bradley McClain
Students: Albert Bellefeulle, Mathew Bickett, David Boeckh, Matthew Buller, Tigran Buniatyan, Cory Burris, Celina Kobetisch, Natalie Mealey, Lorraine Mihaliak, Mitchell Miller, Henry Webb
