Hugo Distler SIXTY Years Later

Larry Palmer’s first article for The Diapason in November 1962 was “Hugo Distler: 20 Years Later.” Appointed Harpsichord Editor in 1969, he continues to write, record, play, and teach: since 1970 as Professor of Harpsichord and Organ in the Meadows School of the Arts, Southern Methodist University, Dallas.

Entartete—“degenerate”—was a derogatory term used in Nazi Germany to characterize art works deemed to be “un-German” or “impure.” The word itself originated as a biological term to describe a plant or animal that has changed so much that it no longer belongs to its species.
In 1937 a large exhibition of entartete paintings and graphic arts was mounted in Munich, birthplace of the National Socialist movement. Works by Max Beckmann, Marc Chagall, Wassily Kandinsky, Paul Klee, Max Ernst, Oskar Kokoschka, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Emil Nolde and many others were displayed to show the degradation of modern art by artists unacceptable to the regime: Nazi-denounced “Jews, Bolsheviks, persons of color, and perverts.”
As contrast, directly across the plaza, there was another exhibition, many of its pieces chosen by Adolph Hitler himself. This show demonstrated “true German art”—realistic representations of heroic blond Aryan figures by the Führer’s favorite sculptor Arno Breker, and his “court painter” Adolf Ziegler.
That music, too, could be degenerate was a concept put forward as justification for denying performances of works by such contemporary masters as Arnold Schoenberg, Paul Hindemith, and Kurt Weill. For the most part, the creators of these works were forced to flee Hitler’s oppressive totalitarian regime or face incarceration in concentration camps. To find a score by Distler among those deemed modernist and unfit for German ears seems unimaginable to present-day auditors, but such a travesty did occur.
During October of that same year, 1937, a week-long Festival of German Church Music took place in Berlin. Among a plethora of new music, several of Hugo Distler’s compositions were heard. In addition to the choral and organ music that had secured his reputation as one of the most talented composers of his generation, Distler’s secular magnum opus, the Concerto for Harpsichord and Strings, opus 14, was given a prominent place in a Sunday concert at the Philharmonic Concert Hall, with the composer’s Lübeck colleague, Marien-organist Walter Kraft, as soloist. The conductor was none other than Dr. Peter Raabe, president of the Nazi music regulatory board (the Reichsmusikkammer), so one might have expected that the official press would use only superlatives to praise the concert.
Not so! Here is an excerpt from one of the more scathing reviews:

. . . there was the general aggravation of Hugo Distler’s Concerto for Harpsichord, an “in-your-face” example of degenerate art. The delicate domestic harpsichord was utilized in an unnatural way—like a piano. At the Finale the young composer seemed to be driven by the devil! This motoric noisy music chattered endlessly on . . . Listeners could only laugh. Perhaps it would have been better had they whistled and pondered the biblical quotation: He mocked only himself . . .1

An earlier description of the Concerto’s 1936 premiere in Hamburg, read:

Stuttering rhythms, fractured mood and brutal background sounds fulfill the intellectual aspect of the formal side . . . only to a very limited extent. It appears to be difficult for some people to break loose from the idolatry of an outgrown, stereotypical [Kurt] Weill era. Distler must—in our opinion—change a great deal at the human level in order to properly exploit his considerable abilities.2

Distler’s music degenerate, brutal, diabolic? Possibly, perhaps, to ears deafened by militaristic brass bands or the loud general cacophony of the government propaganda, but otherwise, unlikely.
How did church composer Hugo Distler come to write a major composition for harpsichord, a far from ubiquitous keyboard instrument in the 1930s? As Wanda Landowska remarked (about J. S. Bach), to understand the greatness of a master composer, one needs to place it in the context of music by his contemporaries.
Urged by Leipzig professor Hermann Grabner to base his composition studies on music of the past, specifically that of the Baroque, and influenced further by his organ teacher, Günther Ramin, one of Germany’s pioneering harpsichordists during the 1920s,3 Distler was evidently drawn to the instrument. In addition to Ramin’s public performances, there was new music for harpsichord being created during Distler’s student days. In 1927 Carl Orff (who was to become a household name ten years later with his wildly successful choral/orchestral work Carmina Burana) composed a Kleines Konzert nach Lautensätzen for winds, harpsichord, and percussion. Based on lute pieces by Vincentio (Vincenzo) Galilei and Jean-Baptiste Besard, the work is a 13-minute precursor to a similar work by Francis Poulenc, the Suite Française (1935), also based on Renaissance dance music (by Claude Gervaise), and scored for the same instrumental forces.
Forced by economic necessity to leave the conservatory course before completing his degree, Distler auditioned for and won the position of organist at the Jakobikirche in the north German city of Lübeck, a position he assumed on January 1, 1931. There he began a brilliant career as composer of choral and organ music, with the smaller of the church’s two baroque instruments as his special muse and guide.4 Somehow, despite a meager salary, Distler managed to acquire a two-manual Neupert concert harpsichord in November of that same year5 and used it on November 29 for the first performance of his Kleine Adventsmusik, opus 4.6 Through the succeeding years of his tenure at St. Jakobi, Distler frequently employed his harpsichord for a series of vesper concerts, as well as for chamber music in other Lübeck venues.
Distler actually began writing an extended harpsichord concerto during the early 1930s, a fact that went unnoticed until I discovered fair-copy segments of it in a trunk of musical manuscripts recently found and sent from Lübeck, then stored beneath the guest bed at Frau Distler’s post-war home in Bavaria.7 The physical remnants of this work explained a seeming time discrepancy in his letter to Hermann Grabner (dated 17 April 1931): “Work on my harpsichord concerto, which would have soon been finished, was unfortunately interrupted by another task [a Luther Cantata for a Lübeck Reformation Festival] . . .”
In another communication dated 17 August, this one to Gerhard Schwarz, the young composer wrote, “I have also completed a Concerto for Harpsichord and Eleven Solo Instruments that I have given to Professor Ramin to look over; so far as I can tell, he would like to perform it this winter, perhaps even in Berlin. In addition, Frau Mann-Weiss wants to do it in Hamburg for the New Music series, also this winter.”8
However, it was more than additional commissions that prevented the first performance, expected in March of 1933. The presumptive dedicatee and soloist of the Chamber Concerto for Harpsichord and Eleven Solo Instruments, Günther Ramin, did not like the score as it was presented to him, and asked for extensive revisions. In a letter to his fiancée, Waltraut Thienhaus, Distler expressed anger at his former teacher’s request. The work, missing many pages by the time of its rediscovery in 1968, was not performed until 1998. Although it is now available in a performing edition by Michael Töpel, I find it a flawed and unpleasant work.9 Score one for Professor Ramin!
Further annoyance for the young composer may have been triggered by the fact that Ramin DID play a Chamber Concerto for Harpsichord and String Orchestra in the spring of 1933, but it was a work by Distler’s exact contemporary Kurt Hessenberg,10 later to be associated in Frankfurt with another Leipzig fellow student, the blind German organist Helmut Walcha. Although I have not seen a score of Hessenberg’s Concerto, if it holds as much musical charm as several of the Zehn Kleine Präludien für Klavier oder Clavichord, opus 35 (published by Schott in 1949), it may be a work worth searching for.
Hessenberg, too, endured the political idiocy of the 1930s. He recounted,

My Second String Quartet . . . has a special “history”: its premiere by the Lenzewski Quartet was on the program of a concert [sponsored by] the Reichsmusikkammer in Berlin [1937]. However, because I was still very much unknown, the piece was performed before a board from the aforementioned institution in my absence for approval, and provoked the displeasure of that body. So the piece, which in spite of its adherence to tonality reveals the influence of Hindemith, perhaps also of Bartòk, was dropped from the program. This decision was criticized at that time in a music journal, as a result of which more attention was directed toward me than probably would have been the case if a public performance had taken place. The Quartet was premiered soon after in Frankfurt by the Lenzewski Quartet, excellently, and with success, and not much later in an independent concert of this ensemble in Berlin as well.11

Hessenberg apparently had a more sanguine outlook than Distler (whom, he wrote, he had met only twice, despite the fact that both were students at the same time in the same city). Balanced and genial in character as in music, Hessenberg adapted well to pre- and post-war necessities, living until 1984.
Other harpsichord offerings from the Germany of the 1930s include Music for 2 Violins and Cembalo 1932 by Heinrich Kaminski (1886–1946), composed in post-Regerian thick texture by a favorite composer of Thomaskantor Karl Straube, and the appropriately spare 1934 Spinettmusik by Rudolf Wagner-Régeny (1903–1969), composer, pianist and clavichordist of Romanian origin, perhaps historically shunned because he was one of two approved surrogates who wrote pure “Aryan” alternative music to replace the banned Midsummer Night’s Dream music of Felix Mendelssohn (for performance at the 1935 Reichstagung of the Nazi Kulturgemeinde in Düsseldorf).12
Wagner-Régeny’s seven short pieces compare favorably with Distler’s Dreissig Spielstücke of 1938,13 and since Distler, too, joined the Nazi party on May 1, 1933, perhaps one need no longer cast neither aspersions nor stones at either composer for such ancient political miscalculations. At least in Distler’s case, it is evident that he became increasingly unsympathetic with the government authorities, and finally committed the ultimate act of civil disobedience by removing himself from earthly existence altogether.
Unquestionably the compositional high point encountered thus far among examples of Third Reich harpsichord music is Distler’s (Second) Harpsichord Concerto, with its vivacious Stravinskian first movement; hauntingly lovely, lyrical second movement featuring arching solo violin lines above percussive, insistent rhythmic figures from the harpsichord; and culminating with a rollicking third movement based on Samuel Scheidt’s four-part harmonization of the folk song Ei, du feiner Reiter. Distler’s variations on this sturdy German tune certainly display wit and good humor, especially in a solo harpsichord parody of the mechanistic technique-building keyboard exercises of Carl Czerny. Two further keyboard solo variations (six and twelve) show an idiomatic variety of texture. The note C held over by the second violin serves as a breathtaking common tone modulation for the A-flat major return of the theme, set as a phrase by phrase dialog between strings and harpsichord, concluding with a whimsical employment of ever-longer periods of silence, à la Haydn, from which the final expected answer by the harpsichord never occurs at all. This lengthy silence is ended when the exasperated strings plunge, pall-mall, into a repetition of the wildly motoric tenth variation to provide a vigorous finale. Quirky, or even sarcastic, yes, but scarcely degenerate!
At the first performance of this Concerto the work had an additional movement, Allegro spirituoso e scherzando, expanding by more than six minutes a work that already clocked in at more than half an hour! Several critics suggested pruning the composition by deleting this extra movement, and the composer took their advice. Subsequent performances utilized only the three movements described above, and the printed score presents this three-movement version. The additional movement works as a stand-alone piece with strings, the manner in which I played its modern premiere during the 1980 American Guild of Organists national convention in Minneapolis.14
That the composer found the harpsichord to his liking was shown in one further extended work, until recently known only as a reference citation, the Schauspielmusik zu Ritter Blaubart [Theatre Music for Knight Bluebeard]. Parts for this incidental music assembled for a cancelled Berlin production of Ludwig Tieck’s play were among manuscripts turned over to the Bärenreiter-Verlag by Waltraut Distler, a few years after the end of the war. Since there were other items both complete and more marketable to bring into print, the stage music was basically overlooked. Reassembled and organized by Michael Töpel, the score was published, at last, at the turn of the new millennium, and given a first performance in 2002. Now there is a recording (Musicaphon M 56860), issued early in 2008.
Distler recycled quite a lot of his Harpsichord Concerto for this incidental music, with very interesting additions of wind instruments to the original strings. Three short, newly composed vocal insertions have secco harpsichord accompaniments. One movement [War Music] is an orchestral version of two pieces from Distler’s Eleven Piano Pieces, opus 15 [Fanfare; With Drums and Pipes]. Most appealing is the sarabande-like Overture to the Second Act (arranged for harpsichord and strings from the second movement of String Quartet in A minor, opus 20/I), truly one of the loveliest of Distler’s instrumental works. (The recorded performance, however, has the harpsichord consistently anticipating the strings!) A welcome bonus of the recent disc is the digital remastering of the first recording of the opus 14 Concerto, made in 1964 by the superbly musical French harpsichordist Huguette Dreyfus and the Deutsche Bach Solistin, conducted by Martin Stephani.
Concerning his Concerto Distler wrote to a pupil: “It is an angry piece . . . If it is so ‘modern’, then it is not because I wanted to appear really ‘modern’ for once, but because I am such a dislocated puppet.”15 As his last sacred motets demonstrate, he was willing to disregard the government’s strictures against writing new church music. Published after the war as part of his cycle of Sacred Choral Music, opus 12, the two motets conceived as opening and closing choruses for a planned St. John Passion, never to be completed, showed the composer’s increased mastery of form and expanded use of chromatics. (The fugue subject of the last motet, Fürwahr er trug unsere Krankheit [Surely He hath borne our griefs], contains ten of the twelve pitches found in the chromatic scale.)
Five years after the Concerto performance so stigmatized by the Nazi press, the composer’s mounting dread of military conscription fueled his descent into depression, and led him to turn on the gas in the Berlin apartment where he ended his life on November 1, 1942. Ironically, only a few days later his name appeared on the Führerliste—a register of those individuals permanently exempted from the military draft, persons deemed to be more important at home than in the armed forces.
Hitler’s much-vaunted “thousand year Reich” survived Distler by only three years, falling 988 years short of its self-proclaimed longevity. But as we celebrate the composer’s centenary, his music continues increasingly to move and beautify our musical life. Political movements are transient; artistic worth endures.

Hugo Distler’s compositions
for (or with) harpsichord
Opus 4. Kleine Adventsmusik [A Little Advent Music], Breitkopf und Härtel 4967. First performed 28 November 1931, using harpsichord as the keyboard instrument. English edition (Concordia Publishing House).
Opus 6/I. Christ, der du bist der helle Tag [Christ Who Alone Art Light of Day], Bärenreiter 636. First performed 26 Februrary 1933, with harpsichord. English edition (Concordia).
Opus 9/I. An die Natur (1933). First performed 16 August 1933 at the Nationalsozialistischen Musikfest in Bad Pyrmont. Bärenreiter 683.
Opus 11/I. Choralkantate Wo Gott zuhaus nit gibt sein Gunst, harpsichord or organ. Composed 1933, published 1935. Bärenreiter 758.
Opus 14. Konzert für Cembalo und Streichorchester (1935–1936). First performed 29 April 1936, Hamburger Musikhalle, Hugo Distler, harpsichordist, Dr. Hans Hoffmann, conductor. Published October 1936; Bärenreiter 7393. An additional movement, deleted from the original published edition Allegro spirituoso e scherzando is now available as Bärenreiter 7393, edited by Michael Töpfel.
Opus 17. Geistliche Konzerte für eine hohe Singstimme [Three Sacred Concertos for High Voice and Keyboard: Organ, Harpsichord, or Piano]. Composed in 1937, published 1938. Bärenreiter 1231. English edition (Concordia).
Opus 18/I. Dreissig Spielstücke für die Kleinorgel oder andere Tasteninstrumente. 1938. Published June 1938. Bärenreiter 1288.
Opus 21/II. Kleine Sing- und Spielmusik: Variations on “Wo soll ich mich hinkehren?” (Piano or harpsichord). Composed 1941 (doubtful according to Lüdemann), published 1952. Bärenreiter 2046.

Without opus number
Kammerkonzert für Cembalo und elf Soloinstrumente (1932). Mss incomplete. First performed 28 November 1988, Martin Haselböck, harpsichordist and conductor. Published 1988. Bärenreiter 7687.
Ritter Blaubart (1940)—Theatre music for Ludwig Tieck’s play. Chamber orchestra includes harpsichord (prominently). First performed 29 September 2002. Bärenreiter 7711, published 2001.
Vom Himmel hoch, da komm ich her. Kleines Konzert and Choral. Neue Weihnachtsmusik für Klavier, Orgel, und andere Tasteninstrumente. Bärenreiter Collection (1935), edited by Reinhard Baum.

A basic bibliography
Books
Larry Palmer: Hugo Distler and his Church Music. St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1967. (Out of print; often available through Amazon.com or Alibris.com).
The most comprehensive (and recent) book on Distler is available only in German, Winfried Lüdemann: Hugo Distler—Eine musikalische Biographie. Augsburg: Wissner-Verlag, 2002 [ISBN 3-89639-353-7]. An exhaustive biography based on all available letters and archival holdings. Complete listing of Distler’s works, analysis of the music; many photographs and musical examples.

Periodical literature in English
Jan Bender: “Hugo Distler and his Organ Music” [An interview conducted by William Bates], The American Organist, December 1982, 42–43.
Mark Bergass: “Hugo Distler’s First Vespers at St. Jakobi in Lübeck,” The American Organist, April 1982, 174–177.
Larry Palmer: “Hugo Distler’s Harpsichord Concerto,” The Diapason, May 1969, 12–13. “Hugo Distler: Some Influences on His Musical Style,” The American Organist, November 2002, 50–51. “Hugo Distler: 60 Years Later,” The Diapason, November 2002, 22.

Discography
The most satisfactory way to “know” Hugo Distler is through his music. The following compact disc recordings are recommended:

Organ works
Complete Organ Works (two discs, also included are works by Bach, Buxtehude, and Scheidt). John Brock plays two Brombaugh organs. Calcante Recordings, Ltd CD022 (1998).
Of historic interest (primarily for the instruments—Distler’s house organ and the Jakobi instruments, all of which have been changed since Distler played them): Complete Organ Works played by Armin Schoof. Thorofon CTH2293 and CTH2294.
Also of “historic” interest: Larry Palmer plays the large partitas and several smaller chorale works: Musical Heritage Society LP 3943 (out of print). Robert Sipe organ of Zumbro Lutheran Congregation, Rochester, MN (1978).

Choral works
Liturgische Sätze (selections from opus 13, opus 5, opus 11, and opus 6/2). Thorofon CTH 2420.
Choralpassion, opus 7. Kammerchor der Universität Dortmund, conducted by Willi Gundlach. Thorofon CTH2185.
Totentanz, opus 12/2 (same choir and conductor), plus Motet and Organ Partita on Wachet auf. Thorofon CTH 2215.
Die Weihnachtsgeschichte, opus 10. Thomanerchor Leipzig, Hans-Joachim Rotzsch. Berlin Classics 0092462BC.
Totentanz und Mottetten, opus 12 (including the opening and closing choruses for the never-completed St. John Passion). Berliner Vokalensemble, conducted by Bernd Stegmann. Cantate C 58007.

Instrumental works
Harpsichord Concerto, opus 14, and Incidental Music to the Play Ritter Blaubart. Musicaphon M 56860 (issued 2008).
Harpsichord Concertos, Martin Haselböck, harpsichord and conductor, with the Wiener Akademie. Both early and late concerti, plus the deleted movement from opus 14. Thorofon CTH 2403.

Special appreciation to my former organ student Simon Menges (Berlin) for sending the Musicaphon compact disc before it became available in the United States.

David McKinney, DMA is Adjunct Professor of Music at Santa Fe College in Florida. He studied the organ works of Hugo Distler with Rolf Schönstedt in 2003–2004 in Herford, Germany as a Doctoral Fulbright Fellow.

This article celebrates the 100th anniversary of Distler’s birth year. It enhances understanding of Distler as a composer and examines performance aspects of his organ works. Relevant biographical information introduces us to Distler’s socio-historical environment. The physical influences of Lübeck’s organs and Distler’s house organ explain Distler’s compositional output in terms of compositional style and playing requirements. Information about playing Distler’s organ music follows.

“A heart ablaze, which in giving of itself, burns out.”1
“I want to break away from contemporary confinements and venture into the realm of the supreme.”2 Here, Hugo Distler (1908–1942) expresses the typical dream of youth to change the world. “I feel an indescribable loneliness, a sense of being separated from everyone and everything.”3 This statement seems the sentiment of someone aged who failed to achieve anything. Distler’s world was fraught with such dichotomies. He thought he lived a life of failure. One hundred years after his birth, we see it was full of successes.
As an organ composer, Distler broke ground and became the first to compose pieces in a modern style that suited the sound of a Baroque organ. Clarity in Distler’s works is of utmost importance. This, above all else, dictates a performer’s interpretive choices. Registration, tempi, and articulation must serve the composition’s ideas. “His entire output is marked with an indispensable truth, clarity, and sincerity of expression.”4

Biography

Nuremberg (1908–1927)
Distler’s short life is divided into different periods according to the cities in which he lived. Hugo Distler was born out of wedlock in Nuremberg on June 24, 1908. Such an event was scandalous back then, and his mother never actually wanted to have him. In 1912, she married a German-American and moved to Chicago. Her abandonment affected him his entire life.5
He grew up with his maternal grandparents, who owned and operated a successful butcher shop and were relatively well off. They gave him a first-rate education at the Nuremberg Gymnasium and an early musical education at the Dupont Music School. After graduation from the Gymnasium in 1927, thrice he tried to gain admission to the local conservatory; thrice he was denied. They claimed he lacked talent, but Distler knew the real reason was his unusual home situation. The conservatory considered such familial backgrounds incapable of providing for regular and timely completion of courses of study.6 Distler again felt rejected and unwanted, and his feelings of unworthiness escalated.

Leipzig education (1927–1931)
Because he failed to gain admittance in Nuremberg, Distler chose to study at the world-famous Leipzig Conservatory. The city’s variety of activities enriched Distler’s education and artistic development. The best artists and pedagogues worked in Leipzig, and opportunities to attend concerts at the Thomaskirche, the Gewandhaus, and the famous Leipzig Opera House were plenty.
His teachers soon discovered his unusual gift for composition. They advised him to study composition and organ, and he entered Günther Ramin’s organ studio. Dr. Hermann Grabner, counterpoint professor, influenced the young, hard-working Distler. Most importantly, he cared for the insecure young man in a very loving and fatherly way. He became a lifelong mentor and friend to Distler; and Distler placed a lot of worth in his judgment and advice.
In 1930 Breitkopf & Härtel published two of his works. Everything went well for Distler until his step-grandfather, who financed Distler’s education, died. Distler was forced to quit his studies because he could not afford them. At Ramin’s advice, Distler applied as organist at St. Jakobi-Kirche in Lübeck. The church leaders debated over two applicants. In the end, they cast a lot, and it fell to Distler!

Lübeck (1931–1937)
Thus, the famous Hansestadt Lübeck and its Mariners’ church, St. Jakobi, where Dietrich Buxtehude once worked, became Hugo Distler’s home. At first, he found circumstances agreeable. A young pastor supported musical activity within the parish, and Distler befriended Bruno Grusnick, the cantor at St. Jakobi. The Lübeck Sing- und Spielkreis,7 under Grusnick’s baton, premiered nearly all of Distler’s choral compositions. Finally, the historical organs of St. Jakobi provided Distler with the inspiration for his first organ compositions. What began as a simple, half-time church music post soon became a fertile creative font.
Distler restored the Vesper series and brought its reputation back to the level when Buxtehude worked in Lübeck. After just four months, Distler also took over the cantor position at St. Jakobi. He became a sought-after virtuoso organist, and he created almost all his entire life’s output here, including two large organ partitas (see Figures 1 and 2).
The organ position, merely half-time, paid only RM70 monthly.8 But the Lübeck State Conservatory opened in 1932, and Distler assumed direction of the church music department. The organist position at St. Jakobi then became a full-time position, and the following year, Distler married Waltraut Thienhaus. He saw the birth of his first daughter, Barbara, in 1934.
Unfortunately, the good times did not last. Distler experienced a total nervous breakdown in 1934. Afterwards, his life and works became overshadowed by the ruling Hitler regime. Despite joining the NSDAP9 in May of 1933,10 things did not improve for Distler. In 1934, the state decreed that new church music must serve the Nazi cause. They forbade performances of Jewish artists and works by Jewish composers. Though he was not Jewish, they condemned Distler’s second harpsichord concerto as Bolshevistic.11 Moreover, the Nazis and Hitlerjugend limited Distler’s own performances. All this became extremely difficult for him to endure, and he decided to leave Lübeck.

Stuttgart (1937–1940)
He began work at the Stuttgart Musikhochschule in 1937 and found great support from his colleagues. The Stuttgart years were generally happy ones for Distler, and his professional career skyrocketed. He assumed direction of the Esslingen Singakademie, taught choral conducting courses, participated in various Singwochen and Musiktagen, and had an active concert career. In addition, he dedicated himself once again to the composition of sacred works, and his fame grew. Several works were performed in Berlin in October of 1937 at the Fest der deutschen Kirchenmusik (see Figure 2). In 1938, the state bestowed the title Professor upon Distler.
Unfortunately, he also soon experienced Nazi opposition here from a student group, Die Fachschaft. Attacks were directed against Distler’s church ties and his clear intentions to foster church music. Alas, the overall political situation soon ruined Distler’s good fortunes. The violent overtaking of Austria and the occupation of the German lands with troops in 1938 indicated an imminent European war, which began on September 1, 1939.
Distler awaited events with deep angst. His mood fluctuated between “confidence and deep melancholy.”12 In the midst of chaos, he wrote and published an important theory text, Funktionelle Harmonielehre. One particularly moving experience for him during this time was a highly acclaimed concert on the large organ in the St. Lorenz-Kirche in Nuremberg. He finally proved his exceptional artistic qualities to the town that had left him embittered.

Berlin (1940–1942)
The final chapter of Distler’s life in the capital city of Berlin brought him further advancements in his career. He was instated as full professor in Berlin, one of only a few, at the state-supported Conservatory for Music in Berlin-Charlottenburg. Distler quickly became acclimated to his new job, and he pursued his passion for choral conducting with vehemence. In addition to his duties with the Conservatory Cantors, he also oversaw the large Conservatory Choir. Even though Distler was already overtaxed due to his duties at the Conservatory, he accepted the position of Director of the Berlin State and Cathedral Choirs on April 1, 1942 and attained his highest goal in life.
Reviews of his concerts were always favorable. For example, in a performance of St. John’s Passion, it appeared as if Distler “had to endure the pain and death of the Savior himself. His rendering of this work was completely convincing.”13
Alas, the ruling political faction disapproved of Distler’s renewed connection with the church. This caused him much mental anguish. Despite his NSDAP membership and his professorial status, the Hitler-Jugend’s repression and threats to his personal freedom left Distler glum. In a fit of unshakable depression, he wrote the following words to his wife fourteen days before his suicide: he felt “an indescribable loneliness, a sense of being separated from everyone and everything.”14
He spent his entire life fleeing from city to city in order to escape trouble. His deep world angst, continual inner unrest, ongoing feelings of worthlessness and rejection since childhood, and feelings of being overworked proved to be too much in the end. In a final state of total spiritual and physical exhaustion, he planned his escape with meticulous detail (see Distler’s suicide letter).
Thus, Hugo Distler prematurely ended his life on All Saints Day, Sunday, November 1, 1942. Hugo Distler was laid to rest in the forest cemetery in Stahnsdorf. A favorite New Testament quote of Distler, one he used in a motet and that likewise stands as the motto for his life and death, was engraved upon the wooden cross: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”15

Organs influence compositions
The Orgelbewegung, Distler’s teachers, and the Zeitgeist of the early 20th century influenced Distler’s compositional output. But nothing influenced Distler’s organ music as prominently as the instruments themselves. Distler wrote his works for two main organs: a historical Stellwagen instrument in Lübeck’s St. Jakobi-Kirche and his own house organ in Stuttgart, built by Paul Ott.

Stellwagen organ
Armin Schoof claims Distler’s fascination with historical organs was made so intense because of his job at St. Jakobi in Lübeck. There, Distler presided over the kleine Orgel. Although instantly taken by the sound of this organ, Distler was dissatisfied because of its limitations with the organ literature of Bach and later composers. In a report on the renovation of the St. Jakobi organs from 1935, Distler describes it as follows:

[B]y looking at the disposition, a characteristic sound of each manual, is very strongly heard. Above all stands the Hauptwerk, with its Renaissance-like, strict principal chorus. The noble Mixture and the (unfortunately dampened) Trommet unite to a plenum of celebratory, unapproachable splendor. The Rückpositiv has a powerful principal chorus of steely clarity, and it can also be used as a solo manual with its inimitably beautiful flute voices and the silky, tender Krummhorn. A Scharf and a clarinet-like Trechterregal provide the necessary, complementary, equalizing force to the Hauptwerk. Lastly, the Brustwerk possesses a plenum with an almost bawling ferocity—a deadly scream. Its elementary allure, first obvious to one only after he has freed himself from any ideal of sound, landed here in bacchanal self-sufficiency at the turn of the century.16
Due to these limitations, Distler intently studied music by early Baroque composers, became fascinated with the keyboard works of Samuel Scheidt and Dietrich Buxtehude, and began to write his own organ pieces with modern harmonies, but which were fit for this historical instrument. Thus, this organ inspired him to write his first large-scale organ composition, the partita on Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, Op. 8/I.17
In a foreword to Opus 8/I, Distler pays tribute to the kleine Orgel in St. Jakobi. He says that the partita’s genesis, principles of design, and existence are due to his memorable years of experience with the organ. He also states that performers should strive to replicate the “old sound” when playing his works on modern instruments. While registrations of his performance of this work on the kleine Orgel are published in the partita, Distler maintains in the foreword that they should not be made into the standard, as the Jakobi organ was “far from being balanced in its specifications. Most of all, the weak pedal disallow[s] a suitable registration.”18
In his second partita, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, Op. 8/II, he only gives general descriptions of the type of sound he wants because the organ was under renovation. However, after renovations were completed in 1935, he once again gives detailed stoplists and registrations in the Kleine Orgelchoral-Bearbeitungen, Op. 8/III. These reflect the changes made to the organ. They are noticeable in the comparison of the printed organ specifications (see Figures 3 and 4). Note how detailed Distler was in his original listing of the specifications. He even lists dynamics of each stop, so desirous was he to emphasize the type of sound he envisioned. Today, the Stellwagen organ is the only remaining organ in Lübeck from the 16th and 17th centuries; it is one of the oldest playable historical instruments altogether (see Figure 5).19

Ott house organ
The house organ built by Paul Ott in 1938 (or rather the idea of it) inspired Distler to compose the two works of Op. 18. As outlined in correspondence between Bornefeld and Distler, the collection of 30 Pieces (Op. 18/I) was originally conceived with the idea that they could be played on a small positive organ. Bornefeld offered to write the preface, and Distler was very much excited about the possibilities. For reasons unknown, this original plan was never realized, and the information published in the collection contrasts with this inside information. Furthermore, as the organ was not actually completed and delivered until after the publication of 30 Pieces, it could only have been the idea of the house organ, rather than the actual instrument itself, which provided inspiration.20 Nevertheless, Distler’s Op. 18 was written to be performed on small organs that call to mind an ideal, early Baroque sound.
The house organ concept originated because Distler accepted an instructor post at the Stuttgart Musikhochschüle in 1937. The ever-increasing political difficulties forced Distler to shift his focus of composition from sacred to secular music;21 but he greatly missed his precious instrument at St. Jakobi. Thus, he began to make plans for a house organ. The specifications and scalings (see Figure 6) were given to organ builder Paul Ott of Göttingen. In order to help finance the construction costs (a sum of 8,000 Marks),22 Distler sold his harpsichord.23
Paul Ott, a pioneer in the field of Baroque organ construction principles and the first organ builder to assiduously work according to the precepts of the Orgelbewegung, completed his examination of Master in Organ Building and Cabinet Making in 1937, and he delivered Distler’s organ in September 1938. Despite careful calculations, the instrument displayed flaws upon arrival. Low wind pressure and low-placed mouths of the pipes caused uneven voicing, and the pedal reeds were thin. However, all in all, the instrument was a successful union of Distler’s style with Ott’s concept of sound, as well as a successful realization of Distler’s vision of the purpose of a small house organ.24
One oddity about the house organ, which is important for the performance of Distler’s Opus 18: the width of the keys was narrower than normal. Each octave was only 161 mm. This width, three mm narrower than usual, may at first seem insignificant. It does, nevertheless, make a meaningful difference: it eases phrasing, namely making it cleaner.25 This fact is worth emphasizing because it relates to Distler’s overall compositional philosophy: transparency.
As noted above, the organ displayed certain problems upon arrival to Distler’s home. He must have ordered some alterations to be made because in his epilogue to the 30 Pieces, the specifications differ from those listed in Thienhaus (compare Figures 6 and 7).
The new house organ’s influence, as well as that of the Nazi regime, upon Distler is evident in his statements within the epilogue to his 30 Pieces. The works composed during the Stuttgart period were not written for a sacred purpose. 30 Pieces for House Organ or Other Small Keyboard Instruments was composed to “encourage the re-institution of the organ as a household instrument. . . [and] to inspire joyful music-making at home.”26
However, Distler’s religious ties and biases are still more than present in other comments. For instance, he says the organ is particularly suited to helping make home music-making more “holy.” Also, despite the fact that the collection consists mainly of untitled works or of variations on secular tunes, Distler ends the collection with variations based on the chorale, “Wo Gott zu Haus nit gibt sein Gunst,” which he had previously included in his choral collection, Der Jahrkreis, Op 5.27

Performance Aspects

Distler’s own playing: written records
To understand the spirit of performance in Distler’s works, I consulted reviews by contemporaries of Distler’s playing. All accounts agree: Distler did not merely play his works, he brought them to life.

[Distler’s] composition and playing were here fully ‘in uno.’ Since then, I have never heard such a oneness of interpretation of Distler’s works; his playing was appropriate for his works. They were of kindred spirits—which is not always the case with composers.28
Fred Hamel critiqued Distler’s Bach playing on May 5, 1940 as follows:

How Distler frees these inner powers, how he seizes the polyphonic logic, the energy of movement, the rhythmical tension and the phrasing: this is a unique and likewise a conquering art . . . In this relentless, considerable, concentrated, fanatic, and shaping power, even the most famous of Bach’s organ works become new.29
Erich Rhode wrote a review of the important concert Distler gave in Nuremberg in 1940:

Of Distler’s own works, we experienced the partita on Jesus Christus, unser Heiland—the liveliness of the filigree technique in its interesting “Bicinium” won a special cachet—and the trio sonata, whose melodic sprightliness is unmistakable . . . Distler’s technical ability on both the positive organ and the main organ elevated his congenial composer-personality. He showed his amazing ability equally on both. . . . Prof. Distler is a virtuoso of passionate temperament and a Bach specialist of the highest caliber.30

The following philosophy of Distler is important to highlight: the technically demanding performances of Bach’s and Distler’s pieces should not serve to show off one’s virtuosic technical capacity, as is the case with Reger et al. Rather, one’s playing should strive to portray the spirit of the compositions, indeed, even the personalities of the composers. These things interested Distler, and he conveyed them in performances: precision, control, musicality, the spirit of the Baroque, clarity, and transparency.

Distler’s own playing: aural records
Lastly, the recording of Hugo Distler playing works by Praetorius, Frescobaldi, and Pachelbel on the historic organ in Kiedrich, Germany, provides an important primary source for understanding Distler’s performance practice. No written record of registrations exist, but a disposition of the organ is available (see Figure 8).
Distler played works from the Renaissance and early Baroque on a restored Gothic organ. The first selection is an organ chorale by Michael Praetorius (1571–1621) on the hymn “O lux beator trinitas.” The interpretation clearly intends for the listener to be able to hear all lines clearly and evenly, as it is quite simple, straightforward, and without agogic emphasis or exaggerated mannerisms. The sound heard in this recording is in keeping with the style of the registration given for the initial chorale statement in Distler’s Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland. Each line is fairly neutral in color, the cantus firmus takes precedence, yet the other lines are transparent and obvious.
The second piece is one of Girolamo Frescobaldi’s (1583–1643) many canzonas for organ. Once again, Distler wishes to convey clarity of line to the listener. Similarities to the registration indications in Distler’s partita Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme are easy to hear.
The third piece on the recording is the Fantasie in G-dur for organ by Johann Pachelbel (1653–1706). The texture is similar to the opening toccata of his Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland.
Thus, it is most apparent that in Distler’s compositions, one must strive for absolute clarity of line above all else, for this is what Distler brought to early Baroque organ music. His understanding of form, line, counterpoint, articulation, tempo, and registration of Baroque music is exactly the same as required in his own organ works.

Regarding registration
The clarity and transparency of Distler’s works are also present in his registration technique. Distler details exactly which stops he uses in Op. 8/I and III. Schoof claims that Distler’s works are not playable on every organ because they are meant to be performed on a Baroque style organ.31 The general character of his given registrations, indeed, is best realized on an early Baroque or neo-Baroque organ. However, Distler said that pre-Bach music adapts easily enough to a modern orchestral organ, as these pieces are characterized by their colorful solo voices with many contrasting sections. He further maintains that this effect can easily be achieved on the modern orchestral organs if one bears in mind the construction of the composition and tries to imitate the intended character of the piece.32
Because Distler’s works are based on models of Baroque masters, it follows that Distler’s own compositions should be adaptable to a modern orchestral organ. Distler even says that his registrations in Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland should not be made into the standard, as he imagined a much stronger pedal division.33 Thus, it is obvious: Distler may have prescribed a certain registration, yet posterity only need adhere to the spirit of the listed specifications.
Op. 8/II, the partita on Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, contains no specific registration guidelines. At the time Distler composed this piece, the kleine Stellwagen organ was undergoing reconstruction. Thus, Distler writes only general guidelines to follow. In following these guidelines, however, one must keep in mind Distler’s thoughts on the registration techniques of Bach’s works. In one of his essays, Distler notes that the plenum should be strong and full, the individual manuals should sound as contrasting as possible, and usually they should be independent and uncoupled. The manual changes and compositional structure within the piece provide the necessary variety to hold the interest of the listener.
Deciding upon an appropriate registration for the works in Distler’s Op. 18/I and II proves more problematic for organists in the U.S. today. Modern organists generally do not have contact with exemplars of small positive organs, which Distler had in mind when he wrote these pieces. Furthermore, the organ is now rarely used for home use or in chamber works. These pieces were neither intended for the concert halls, nor to be played in church. In the U.S., however, there are seldom other options. Thus, if Distler’s chamber works are to be performed in the U.S., a compromise has to be made.
Helpful comments regarding registration on the compositions in Op. 18/I and II, 30 Pieces and the Orgelsonate, are found in the epilogue to 30 Pieces and in the performance notes to the Orgelsonate. These guidelines assist in preserving the spirit of Distler’s intimate pieces. These pieces are akin to Baroque forms, and because they are to be performed on a small house instrument, the registration should be based on 4? instead of 8? tones, few voices (yet characteristic ones) should be employed, old positive-style registrations combined with mutations can be used in movements with arpeggios and unison writing, and reed stops should be used sparingly as solo voices or in the full chorus. Concerning the pedals, if they are available, they are to be used ad libitum.34
Above all else, when registering Distler’s organ works, recall that Distler strove for clarity and transparency. This should dictate one’s choice of registration in all his pieces, on all organs, and in all settings. Schoof’s summary further emphasizes this point:

One idea unites all of Distler’s compositions, his endeavor for clarity. This is made apparent even in his manuscripts, which are written in a thin, sensitive, and clear hand. This is all the more appropriate because, as a composer, he did not allow for foggy emotions. He composed in a style of “elective affinity for generations and centuries past:” strictly motivic, thematic, and contrapuntal.35

By following these guidelines, a performer may still in good conscience perform the smaller, intimate organ works of Distler in the venues available today. Distler strove to embody the spirit of his and Bach’s works in performances. He did not refuse to perform Baroque works on orchestral instruments simply because of registration problems. Rather, he chose from available stops and made the piece fit the room. Indeed, we should as well.

Articulation instructions
The touch Distler used in his organ works is the same as that which he employed when playing works by Buxtehude, Scheidt, Bach, and others. In his essay on playing Bach’s Dorian Toccata and Fugue, he says that articulation is to be martellato, not legato.
In many instances throughout Distler’s pieces, he dictates a desired articulation. Often, he requests varying articulations simultaneously. The bicinium of variation one in Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland is a prime example. In certain instances, three different articulations must be played together, e.g., variation five of Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland. Here, the right hand on the Hauptwerk uses a leggiero touch, Distler suggests a legato touch with the slurs and phrase markings of the left hand on the Brustwerk, and the pedal is clearly separated by a sharp marcato (notated by markings typically found in brass music) to set apart the ascending quartal harmonies. Rolf Schönstedt maintains that Distler is the first composer since Bach to require this technically demanding aspect in the organ literature.36
Distler, furthermore, clearly states in the Spielanweisung to the Orgelsonate that the desired articulation is an easy-going non legato to martellato, excepting the ben legato of the peaceful middle movement. Thus, one should assume at least a clear leggiero in all of Distler’s works, unless otherwise designated by Distler.

Tempi, ornaments, etc.
Distler gives specific metronome markings in each piece from Op. 8/I and II, and general tempo descriptions in the remaining organ works. One should realize, however, that Distler’s metronome markings were determined as he composed at home. Jan Bender says Distler always performed his pieces slower than the metronome marking specified when in church because of the acoustics.37 He also states that Distler strove for clarity, above all, which meant modifying tempi, registration, and articulation according to the requirements of the room.
Regarding ornamentation in the organ works of Distler, Bender maintains that Distler adopted the “Baroque manner” of executing ornaments as taught at the Leipzig Conservatory. They were played on the beat, excepting certain grace notes which required a pre-beat interpretation because of the musical context. The mordant was played main note, lower auxiliary, main note, and the praller was executed in the opposite manner. Trills usually began on the principal note rather than on the upper auxiliary, which is opposite from the current understanding of Baroque trill execution.
Bender, furthermore, gives certain miscellaneous details regarding the performance of Distler’s organ works. For example, Distler played pedals almost exclusively with his toes, often crossing his feet. Also, Distler never played the second statement of the Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland toccata when performing the entire work, and he forbade his students to do so as well. He even regretted that it was so published. Furthermore, as has already been established, Distler did not consider his registration suggestions immutable. They merely represented his ideal: clarity of line. In the toccata of Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, Distler removed the 16? Posaune at the end of the pedal solo, even though this is not indicated in the score, in order to make the manual figurations more distinctly heard.

Conclusions
The historical study of composers’ biographies helps provide a degree of humanity to otherwise untouchable musical geniuses and their creations. At times, this study can be intriguing and perplexing. At other times, it is nothing more than routine and mundane. In the case of Hugo Distler, it is inspiring and disturbing, awing and disheartening, exciting and depressing. In studying Distler, one discovers the life of a genius filled with a multitude of the lowest lows and the highest highs—a roller coaster of emotion and experiences.
While Distler’s life experiences, dealings with the Nazi party, and death were dramatic, his musical accomplishments were no less noticeable. He successfully melded all the neoclassical elements of composition with old compositional practices and forms. During his short life, he achieved fame as a church musician, conductor, and virtuoso performer of Bach’s works and of his own compositions. His contributions to the organ repertoire were the very first to use modern harmonies and alternative scales while being best suited for the unique sound of Baroque organs. His works, though seldom performed due to their technical difficulty, remain staples in modern organ repertoire, a mark of their significance.
The ideology of clarity in Distler’s works is of utmost importance. It should be apparent that this dictates the performer’s choices regarding how to interpret them. Registration, tempi, and articulation are servants to the composition, which strives for transparency of line and clarity of expression. In his closing statements, Bender emphasizes this aspect of clarity with the following advice for aspiring composers of organ music:

Write music that is absolutely clear and transparent, music in which every note can be explained theoretically. . . . “There is no such thing as music that is beautiful or ugly, just music that is correct or incorrect.”38

The same can be said of a performance. If what one does is not clear, it is probably incorrect. However, if one realizes the spirit of Distler’s works and makes choices guided by the simple principle of clarity, even on modern organs, then it is likely that Distler would approve.
It is my observation that Distler remains more popular in Germany and Europe than in the United States even today. I imagine this is due to the unwillingness of Americans to perform neoclassical works on modern instruments. It is my hope that the insights gained here will encourage and enable more American performers to program Distler’s organ works in more venues.

Acknowledgments: The author thanks the Fulbright Commissions of Germany and the U.S. for funding this research.

Earliest known harpsichord recording

The first publication of Wanda Landowska's 1908 Berlin cylinder recordings forms the rarest track of the compact disc included with Martin Elste's new book Milestones of Bach Interpretation [Meilensteine der Bach-Interpretation 1750-2000], (Metzler/ Bärenreiter, 2000). The great 20th-century harpsichordist committed her art to sixteen cylinders at the request of Carl Stumpf, founder of the Berlin Phonogramm-Archiv. The present disc gives us the the contents of two cylinders in a performance of the first movement of Bach's Italian Concerto, BWV 971.

So here we have documentation of the performance which led Albert Schweitzer to write, "Any one who has heard Frau Wanda Landowska play the Italian Concerto on her wonderful Pleyel clavecin finds it hard to understand how it could ever again be played on a modern piano." (Schweitzer: J. S. Bach [English translation by Ernest Newman of the 1908 German edition], v. 2, p. 353).

I wish that I could report great aural delight at hearing this historic issue, but, alas, there is almost as much surface noise as there is music to be heard here. But these near-four-minutes of harpsichordery now take pride of place as the earliest known harpsichord recordings, predating Violet Gordon Woodhouse's 1920 acoustic recordings by twelve and one-half years.

Sixteen additional musical examples serve as aural illustrations for Elste's 421-page traversal of the changing styles in Bach interpretation during the centuries since the composer's death. Schweitzer's own magisterial organ performance of Bach's Fugue in G minor (BWV 578) recorded in London in 1936, contrasts most sharply with Carl Weinrich's stringently no-nonsense contemporaneous reading of the ubiquitous Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565, recorded by Musicraft on the "Praetorius" Organ at Westminster Choir College, Princeton NJ. An absolutely dry and unforgiving acoustical enviroment makes the total accuracy of the playing seem even more astonishing!

Early music pioneer Arnold Dolmetsch's 1932 playing of the Prelude in B-flat minor (Well-Tempered Clavier, I) on the clavichord is splendid music making, complete with a wonderful improvised cadenza. Two contrasting performances of the Siciliano from the Sonata in C minor for Violin and Harpsichord, BWV 1017, showcase the art of Licco Amar and Günther Ramin (1928) and that of Alexander Schneider and Ralph Kirkpatrick (1948).

Among non-keyboard-specific examples, Alfred Cortot leads a Parisian school ensemble in a 1932 performance of the first movement of Brandenburg Concerto II (BWV 1047), treating us to an idiosyncratic lift before the entrance of the concertino, a musical view in sharp contrast to the third movement of the same concerto, led with unremitting staccato articulations, by Otto Klemperer in 1946. This conductor's work, too, is idiosyncratic (and unique) in that he employs soprano saxophone in place of the notated clarino trumpet part. Two recordings of a dramatic excerpt from the Saint Matthew Passion—the recitative describing the rending of the temple veil and and the resurrection of the saints—both employ the same Evangelist (Karl Erb) but show a marked trend toward a less romanticized aesthetic as one compares Willem Mengelberg's April 1939 rendition with the Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra to a March 1941 performance conducted by Thomaskantor Günther Ramin with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra.

Elste's book is a fascinating and comprehensive contribution to the story of our changing expectations regarding the performance of earlier music. In the first part of his volume the author traces the development of historical musicology, urtext editions, the growing acceptance of harpsichords and historically-informed organs as musical media for concert performances, and details (in a ten-page, easy-to-read chart) important dates at which various "trend setters" of Bach performance in concerts and on recordings were achieved [beginning in Vienna, 1816, where the Kyrie and Gloria of the B-minor Mass were performed in houseconcerts sponsored by lawyer R. G. Kiesewetter; through such "milestones" as the first recording, in 1927, of movements from a Brandenburg Concerto with harpsichord as the keyboard instrument; and continuing to 1986, Gustav Leonhardt's first recording using a German-inspired harpsichord by William Dowd, based on the instruments of Bach's contemporary, Michael Mietke of Berlin].

In the second part of his study, Elste surveys nine decades of Bach recordings, genre by genre (vocal works, orchestral works, chamber music, works for keyboards), including an admirable number of recordings from this side of the Atlantic: among them The Haydn Society, Musicraft, Allegro, and Columbia, as well as English and German labels, some of which have been available here.

The text is, of course, in German (ISBN numbers: Metzler-Verlag: 3-476-01714-1 or Bärenreiter: 3-7618-1419-4). With its wealth of unusual black and white illustrations, its easily decipherable time lines and charts, and, especially, the fascinating compact disc of historic performances from the Bach repertoire, Martin Elste's book is a must for the connoisseur. And for the slight-of-German, it is still a desirable acquisition. Who knows? Perhaps an English edition might be hoped for in the future.

Features and news items are welcome for these columns. Send them to Dr. Larry Palmer, Division of Music, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, TX 75275, or via e-mail:

<[email protected]>.

Larry Palmer is harpsichord editor of THE DIAPASON.

Expensive as national conventions of the American Guild of Organists have become, it was still a bargain to be in eastern Minnesota enjoying an extensive program of musical treasures from France, England, and Germany, without the financial challenges of elevated euros or precious pounds. Add the Twin Cities advantages of near-perfect cool summer weather, many events scheduled within walking distance of the central city hotels, and a well-organized charter bus transport package available for travel to sites farther away, for further incentives to participate in the morning-to-midnight musical marathon detailed in the lavish (and heavy) 252-page program book.
Each of the nearly 1800 registrants attending the AGO’s 49th biennial gathering (held June 22–28 in Minneapolis and St. Paul) will have unique impressions of the meeting, based not only on individual tastes, but also on which of the presentations were heard. Many recitals and all workshops were offered concurrently. This report describes what I chose to experience, in this, my 50th year of attending such national meetings. Comments about several events I did not attend are treated as “convention buzz.”

From France: Messiaen Plus
France was represented with quite a lot of music by Olivier Messiaen: it is, after all, the centennial year of his birth. The first organ recital heard on Monday, the first full day of the convention, was played by Stephen Tharp, who gave a masterful account of Messiaen’s Messe de la Pentecôte as the climax of his all-French program on the bright and forthright 2001 Lively-Fulcher organ in St. Olaf Catholic Church. Tharp’s brilliant playing recalled again the visceral shock of this music when first encountered at Oberlin, presented by Fenner Douglass as very recent music. Even now it is not possible to hear the most evocative and accessible movement of the cycle, the Communion Les Oiseaux et les Sources (The Birds and the Springs) without remembering Douglass’s trenchant, if acidic, review of a 1972 performance in a non-reverberant Dallas sanctuary: “The birds . . . called out weakly as they died on the branch, and the drops of water more resembled curds of old cottage cheese.”1
I suspect the late, lamented Professor Douglass would have been happier with Tharp’s account! This time the birds sang jubilantly and chirped ecstatically before flying off into the stratosphere, while the springs burbled gently as they descended to subterranean depths at the piece’s ending.
Following a riveting performance of the final movement from Widor’s Symphonie Romane and works by Jeanne Demessieux, the Mass served as a bracing reminder of just how much hearing a dose of Messiaen’s organ music helps to balance some of the pabulum so often served up as modern church music. But it does remain difficult listening, and oft times more fun to play than to hear. Tellingly, a perusal of the entire convention program revealed no other organ works by Messiaen listed for performance during the entire week! For National Young Artist Competition in Organ Performance [NYACOP] contestants, for the Rising Stars organists, as well as for more established recitalists, the French notes of choice were most often penned by Langlais, Dupré, or Naji Hakim.

. . . at Orchestra Hall
Kudos to the convention program committee for making certain that nearly everyone got some exposure to works by one of the 20th century’s most eminent masters when the entire convention attended the most discussed program at Orchestra Hall on Tuesday evening. All-Messiaen, the concert contained no organ music at all (not surprising, since there is no organ in this major symphonic space); live music was followed by a post-concert showing of Paul Festa’s mesmerizing 52-minute documentary film, Apparition of the Eternal Church.
For more than two hours the assembled church musicians and organists heard readings of three poems by the composer’s mother Cécile Sauvage and secular pieces by Messiaen, performed almost exclusively by women. These were all early works: Theme and Variations for violin and piano, 1932; voice (selections from Poèmes pour Mi, (1936); three of the Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus for solo piano (1944); and, best of all, two of the eight movements from the composer’s chamber masterwork, Quartet for the End of Time (1940–41)—Abyss of the Birds for solo clarinet; and the final eight-minute transcendent Praise to the Immortality of Jesus, for violin and piano—performed with maximum expressivity and intensity by clarinetist Jennifer Gerth and violinist Stephanie Arado with Judy Lin, piano.
Programming the 35-minute closing piece, Festival of Beautiful Waters (1937) for a sextet of Ondes Martenots, provided a probable once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to hear this work expertly played by L’Ensemble d’Ondes Martenot de Montréal. The delicate electronic instruments, their sounds inspired by the changing frequencies of radio dials, produced tones somewhat like Benjamin Franklin’s eerie glass harmonicas (tuned water goblets). Capable of playing only single notes, the keyboard instruments have considerable dynamic and touch-sensitive possibilities. The audience dwindled markedly as the clock approached ten, and passed it: sad, because the short explanation and demonstration of the Ondes Martenots following the performance was both instructive and charming.
I missed the first part of the subsequent film showing while attending a posh Eastman Organ Department reception in the Orchestra Hall Green Room, an especially celebratory event since the first place NYACOP winner this year was current Eastman doctoral student Michael Unger. Something—perhaps as simple as not wishing to walk back alone to my hotel—led me to look in on the film in progress. I stood, totally engrossed, for the remaining third (arriving just as the late harpsichordist Albert Fuller described an early life-changing experience in the low C pipe of Washington Cathedral’s Skinner pipe organ. The unexpected sight and story grabbed my attention!).
A program book disclaimer read, “Please note that the film deals frankly with sex and violence in explicit language . . . However, DVDs are available for sale [at an Exhibition booth], should curiosity get the better of you afterwards.” The filmmaker, Paul Festa, writing of his creation, explained that Messiaen regarded one of four tragedies, or “dramas” of his life experience, to have been that “he was a religious composer writing, for the most part, for nonbelievers.” This film concerns “what . . . the nonbelievers see when they hear his music,” in this case the 1931 organ composition Apparition of the Eternal Church. The film shows responses to Messiaen’s creation by 31 individuals. They range from Yale professor Harold Bloom and filmmaker John Cameron Mitchell to fringe culture and drag figures, as well as Fuller and the composer Richard Felciano, a student of the French composer.2

. . . and in workshops
Messiaen’s music was the featured topic for a pedagogy track during the workshops, a new concept implemented to replace the pre-convention pedagogy workshops of previous years. Charles Tompkins filled in as master teacher for the indisposed Clyde Holloway. His “Windows on Lessons” featured students Brent te Velde (Trinity University), Tyrell Lundman (University of Montana, Missoula), Julie Howell, and Erin MacGowman Moore (both from the University of Iowa).
Youthful scholarship was represented in two juried papers, selected by the AGO Committee on Continuing Professional Education (COPE). I attended the presentation by Yale student Christopher White—“Creating a Narrative in Messiaen’s La Nativité du Seigneur”—in which he assigned certain extra-musical associations to various individual pitches and chords (an example: E=Jesus, E Major=Jesus on earth, as human) and made a convincing case for such an analysis of Messiaen’s nine-movement Christmas cycle. The University of Iowa’s David Crean followed with a complex discussion of “Messiaen’s Sixty-four Durations” (from the extraordinarily complex Livre d’Orgue, possibly the composer’s most abstract organ work).
Indiana University faculty member Christopher Young gave a workshop on “Understanding the Theory Behind the Art in Messiaen’s Organ Works.” However, it may have been the quiet mysticism of the Frenchman’s lush Communion motet O Sacrum Convivium, sung as the opening work at Thursday’s finale concert, that made the most friends for Messiaen’s elusive art.
A fully subscribed workshop (on a non-Messiaen topic) was musicologist John Near’s “The Essence of Widor’s Teaching: Interpretive Maxims.” I arrived slightly after the appointed starting time, learning later that I had missed a brief recorded example of Widor’s voice! Pithy exhortations from the composer—“Let’s learn to breathe,” “Derive tempo from the space in which you are performing,” and an oft-repeated “Slow down” (borne out by each subsequent lowering of the metronomic indications for the composer’s signature work, the Symphonie V Toccata) as well as his instruction to “Respect the work, not the performer”—all ring as true today as they did in the previous century! Dr. Near, currently working on a biography of Widor to complement his stellar editions of the composer’s organ symphonies, continues to do service to our profession by reminding us of the basic root values underpinning the French symphonic tradition. Nearly all the auditors stayed on to engage in further questions and comments.

A French recitalist
French organist Marie-Bernadette Duforcet Hakim’s opening de Grigny Ave Maris Stella was more effective than a jolt of double-strength espresso as a wake-up aid for her early-morning recital on the House of Hope’s large C. B. Fisk magnum opus. This organ’s Grands jeux, weighty, noble, and thrilling, provided a filling mass of sound in this Presbyterian Gothic edifice, which unfortunately lacks an extra five seconds of reverberation that would allow the loud and brilliant organ to bloom. That virtual coffee may have had an adverse effect on the recitalist, resulting in an overly brisk tempo for Franck’s Pièce Héroïque (after all the composer did mark it Allegro maestoso). Mme Hakim’s nuanced performance was stylistic, but any majesty was decidedly of the jet age. It seemed perverse, as well, to be hearing this beloved Romantic work on such unforgiving sounds, when directly before us stood the sanctuary’s other organ, an 1878 instrument by Merklin, created in exactly the same year and country as Franck’s composition.
Like most fine instruments, the Fisk took on the character of its player and served her especially well in her own composition Vent Oblique. After hearing an abundance of bright upperwork, it gave pleasant aural relief to encounter warm and lovely 8-foot sounds in the mid section of Jean Langlais’ Jésus, mon Sauveur béni, based on a hymn popular in his native Brittany. The program concluded with a set of well-crafted short variations on Pange lingua by husband Naji Hakim, and an improvisation that seemed to be based on the Ave Maris, but with an unexpected appearance, near the end, of the hymn tune Ein’ feste Burg as an offering, apparently, to the many Lutherans who call Minnesota their home.

English visitors
From St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, the choir of men and boys was in residence for three convention appearances, repeating a highly successful visit to the 1980 national meeting in the Twin Cities. Mark Williams, a former assistant sub-organist and director of music at the Cathedral School, stood in as the choir’s conductor, replacing an indisposed Andrew Carwood. Visually arresting in black cassocks, with bright red stoles and music folders, all seemed in good shape chorally (save for the occasional trumpeting tenor), and organist Tom Winpenny displayed his sensitive musicianship over and over again, both as soloist and impeccable choir accompanist.
The Monday evening concert took place in the Cathedral of St. Paul in St. Paul—the most apt of venues, a magnificent 1907 Wren-like domed structure blessed with ample reverberation. Major offerings of early English motets by Weelkes, Peter Phillips, Orlando Gibbons, and the Mass for Five Voices by William Byrd were interspersed with organ works: Fantasia in G by Byrd, and the Fantasia of Foure Parts from Parthenia by Orlando Gibbons. The cross relations in these Tudor pieces sounded forth pungently from the three-stop portative organ in the chancel.
Employing the cathedral’s gallery and chancel organs for maximum surround sound, the second part of the concert offered Judith Bingham’s Cloth’d in Holy Robes (2005), an entirely engrossing and striking setting of a poem by Edward Taylor, with spinning wheel-evoking accompaniment supporting both the opening lines and subsequent allegorical references to clothing in this beautiful text. Anthems by Gerald Hendrie (Ave Verum Corpus, sung by the men of the choir) and Stephen Paulus (Arise, My Love) were separated by Paulus’s challenging Toccata for Organ, given an absolutely flawless and viscerally exciting performance by young Mr. Winpenny, who then returned to his accompanying duties for Benjamin Britten’s cantata Rejoice in the Lamb, a performance made particularly memorable by the male treble soloists in the fourth and fifth sections “For I will consider my cat Geoffrey” and “For the Mouse is a creature of great personal valour.”
Is there anything more sublime in Britten’s choral output than the quiet “Hallelujah” that ends this memorable setting of Christopher Smart’s idiosyncratic poetry? It provided an inspired conclusion to an enchanting concert.
Back on the other side of the river, the choir sang both Matins and Evensong in the Minneapolis Basilica of St. Mary. The afternoon program on Tuesday gave us baroque music of John Blow (Cornet Voluntary in D Minor) and his prize pupil Henry Purcell (Hear My Prayer, the anthem Jehova Quam Multi Sunt Hostes Mei, and Evening Service in G Minor) with responses by Thomas Tomkins. The hymn, Bishop Thomas Ken’s 1695 text “All praise to Thee, my God, this night” was sung to the familiar Tallis’ Canon tune (for one retrospect of the Renaissance), the psalm to a 20th-century chant by Walford Davies, and the closing voluntary brought us back to the baroque with music by Purcell’s Danish contemporary, Dieterich Buxtehude, his oft-played Praeludium in G Minor, BuxWV 149, in a stylish, virtuoso performance by Winpenny. The basilica was overflowing with rapt conventioneers who had arrived by bus before our walking group made it to the church. Seated in a far rear pew that was probably in another zip code, it was difficult to hear much except a soothing, but beautiful, wash of reverberated sound.
Matins, early the next day, was quite another matter (conventioneers like to party till the wee hours, so there were only a third as many worshipping at this morning service). I found a pew with good sight lines only several rows back from the chancel; both sound and repertory were worth the early rising! A full program of British 20th-century cathedral music, from Herbert Howells’s Rhapsody in D-flat, complete with a seamless decrescendo at its conclusion; Edward Bairstow’s I Sat Down Under His Shadow, the ecstasy of Bernard Rose’s responses, one of William Walton’s most inspired canticle settings, Jubilate Deo for double chorus (who would not be joyful in the Lord with such music as this?), and the somewhat less inspired, but serviceable Te Deum in G of Ralph Vaughan Williams. Elgar’s The Spirit of the Lord was the anthem, its extended organ introduction beautifully rendered, and the service concluded with organist Winpenny’s brilliant traversal of Fernando Germani’s Toccata, opus 12. That evening the Londoners flew back to Britain, these three convention appearances their sole purpose for the trip across the Atlantic.

Otherworldly Holst
What a gem of an organist is Peter Sykes! Perhaps even better, what a fine musician, whatever instrument he plays or music he chooses to program!3 His own transcription of Gustav Holst’s orchestral suite The Planets was beautifully made and impeccably realized in a Wednesday recital at St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral. From the lowest rumblings of the opening movement (Mars, the Bringer of War), with growling reeds and a flawless quick crescendo, to the final Vox Humana above strings (a most satisfactory sound for evoking Holst’s wordless female chorus) as Neptune, the Mystic subsided in echoes of the spheres, Sykes missed nary a nuance with his clever use of organs fore and aft (perhaps most fittingly in Mercury, the Winged Messenger). The Welte/Möller/Gould and Sons organ was an apt partner (continuing this convention’s fine record for careful pairing of instruments and players), but then, how could one go wrong with an instrument possessing a Divine Inspiration stop?4

A welcome German recitalist and some Americans playing
German music
My second recital of the convention introduced an outstanding German artist new to me, Elke Voelker (whose U.S. connections include study with Wolfgang Rübsam at the University of Chicago). Ms. Voelker is the first to record the complete organ works of Sigfrid Karg-Elert. Her program in the Basilica of St. Mary utilized a good-sounding four-manual Wicks organ (1949), greatly enhanced by the spacious six-second reverberation of this domed, marble-interior building, America’s first basilica (according to pew cards in the church). Two major works by Karg-Elert, his Symphonic Chorale: Ach, bleib’ mit deiner Gnade and the monumental Passacaglia (55 Variations) and Fugue on BACH, opus 150, were flanked by Wagner’s Festival Music from Die Meistersinger and Bach’s celebrated Air from Suite in D, BWV 1068, both in arrangements by Karg-Elert: so, in essence an entire program of music by the German impressionist.
Elke Voelker made convincing music from these many notes, handling the organ with panache and ease, managing her own page turns, and giving us many thrilling moments. The opening Wagner brought chills to the spine at the pedal entrances in familiar music from the opera, and the addition of the Chamade Trumpet to the final chord was a capping effect. The Symphonic Chorale, one of the composer’s better-known works, is of a reasonable length and very appealing. As for the lengthy BACH work, I am pleased to have heard it, but would not seek to repeat the experience in the near future.
Further musical highlights of this “German theme” were provided by the sterling American artist Stewart Wayne Foster (winner of the first Dallas International Organ Competition). I have never heard Foster play poorly, and his concert for the convention (heard in its second iteration on Thursday) was another example of superb results made possible by his carefully calibrated articulation always employed in service to the musical line. Foster’s attention to each voice, including the bass, reflects his extensive background in harpsichord continuo playing.
Partnered with the 2004 Glatter-Götz/Rosales two-manual organ of 50 stops, Foster showed what a small number of keyboards could be made to accomplish with skillful use of a sequencer coupled to an ear for color and utilizing stops in various octaves. Karg-Elert again, this time three of his lovely Pastels from the Lake of Constance (not necessarily what one would expect to be played so idiomatically on a two-manual tracker instrument) were prefaced by an attention-gripping reading of Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in G Minor, BWV 535, and a rhythmically infectious treatment of Buxtehude’s baroque dance-based chorale fantasy on Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, brightened with two appearances of the Zimbelstern, the second as counterpart to an improvised cadenza leading into the final cadence.
Three North American works, especially Rising Sun by Brian Sawyers, provided the “wow” factor for this program. It was good also to hear two of Samuel Adler’s Windsongs, and the winning work of the AGO organ composition competition, Canadian Rachel Laurin’s Prelude and Fugue in F Minor, with its reminiscence of the Dupré opus 7 work in the same key. Foster’s overall theme for the program, “Atmospheres: A Prayer for the Environment,” demonstrated his special affinity for unusual thematic programming. The organ, with both 16-foot flues and reeds on all divisions, and added 102⁄3 flue and 32-foot reed in the pedal, possessed a gravitas that was welcome in the favorable acoustic of Augustana Lutheran Church, St. Paul.
More German offerings were, of course, to be found in various convention programs. One could characterize Carla Edwards’s program as Germanic (Buxtehude, Bach), or German-inspired (Planyavsky’s lively Toccata alla Rumba, neatly dispatched on the recent two-manual Fisk organ in Shepherd of the Hills Lutheran Church, Shoreview; and Petr Eben’s astringent take on the ubiquitous Prelude, Fugue and Chaconne in C, his Hommage à Dietrich Buxtehude). A non-Teutonic exception was provided in Triptych of Fugues, an early work by Gerald Near. Though Minnesota-born, Near seems often to be curiously under-represented in programs featuring Minnesota composers. His three lovely contrapuntal movements were played here without the requisite suppleness of line needed for this composer’s idiosyncratic amalgam of lyricism with strict fugal form.
And, of course, the convention buzzed about Cameron Carpenter’s version of THE Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, an arrangement using selected added material from Romantic-era transcriptions by Busoni, Friedman, Godowsky, Grainger, Liszt, Tausig, Stokowski, and Sir Henry Wood, that turned the possibly-not-by-Bach work into a “ . . . sort of cumulative celebration flinging wide the gates of possibility.”5 I did not hear Mr. Carpenter’s program (there were simply too many concerts in one day), but his awesome technical prowess and showman’s style may mark a return to ”the good old days” of the Virgil Fox versus E. Power Biggs opposites in America’s concert life. Carpenter’s popularity seems a positive development if it signals a healthy resurgence of bankable diversity in organ playing. Anyone who can attract more people to organ concerts has my admiration and support. And having fun at a recital? What a great concept!

Final concert: Siegfried Matthus’s Te Deum (2005)
At 8:40 trumpets from the rear gallery sounded the opening fanfare to the ten-minute opening movement of Matthus’s monumental work, composed for the dedication of the reconstructed Frauenkirche in Dresden. One hour later the same trumpets signaled the start of the final movement (Amen), with most of the same music, though some appeared in different sequence. Most magical of all, the cathedral tower bells were used in the very last measures, gently dying away as the chorus quietly intoned over and over again Te Deum laudamus.
English visitors having departed, it was left to local singers to provide the choral forces for this great work. Magnum Chorum, the Minnesota Boychoir, the National Lutheran Choir, and VocalEssence Ensemble Singers and Chorus, each group garbed distinctively, comprised the voices assembled under the confident baton of conductor Philip Brunelle. There were six vocal soloists, plus John Scott (ex London St. Paul’s) playing the significant organ part, not the least of which was his fine rendition of the Bach Toccata in D Minor, above which composer Matthus had set a text from The Organ by Friedrich Wilhelm Zachariae, beginning “Listen to the rushing wind in the silently expecting organ which it is preparing for its sacred song.” Herr Matthus was in attendance for this highly successful first American performance. Ovations were lengthy, loud, and deserved.
The first third of this closing concert united the three European national strands together with a fascinating selection of choral music: the Messiaen motet mentioned earlier and an excerpt from Dupré’s early De Profundis; the curiously moving avant garde work by John Tavener (“Verses Written on an Ecstasy” from Ultimos Ritos) in which four soloists in the chancel, the Magnum Chorum behind us in the nave, with larger forces split on both sides of the transepts, provided a cruciform arrangement of choral forces. The singers mused in ever more significant phrase fragments based on an underlying taped performance of the Crucifixus from Bach’s B-Minor Mass, at first barely audible, but ultimately overwhelming by the end of this effective work. An intense rendition of Stephen Paulus’s modern choral masterpiece, the Pilgrims’ Hymn that concludes his church opera The Three Hermits, realized the exquisitely chosen harmonies that find the simplest of resolutions in the work’s octave unison Amens.
John Scott played a convincing first performance of an appealing organ work commissioned for the convention. Finnish composer Jaakko Mäntyjärvi took his inspiration from a poem by Emily Dickinson, And Hit a World, at Every Plunge. In program notes the composer mused, “. . . it is certainly not a comfortable piece. At some point I realized that I was . . . harking back to the very first time I heard an organ piece by Messiaen.” Organized as variations on an underlying twelve-tone row, the piece is “restless.” In a disarmingly honest description the composer noted that “the variations are very different in character and length, from funeral march to moto perpetuo. Although [the piece] aspires to a triumphant ending, it never quite seems to get there.” Indeed the work ended with three tonal chords, interrupted by cluster-crashes, leading to an ultimately quiet culmination. I found it engrossing, a work I would definitely want to hear again.6
Another convention choral commission, The Love of God by Aaron Jay Kernis, suffered from pitch problems in its first performance. The pre-Matthus part of the concert ended with an audience sing-along of Hubert Parry’s O Praise Ye the Lord (1894), cementing the English choral music arc of the week.

Organ concertos, American and “Jacobean”
Benson Great Hall of Bethel University was the site of this convention’s organ concerto program: four works for organ and instruments, conducted by Philip Brunelle, with organists Stephen Cleobury and James Diaz. A fine American eclectic three-manual 67-stop instrument by Blackinton Organ Company dominated the ample stage and was well balanced in this large, yet intimate-feeling, auditorium.
Ron Nelson’s Pebble Beach, commissioned for the 1984 AGO national convention in San Francisco, opened the program. Diaz’s sparkling playing was abetted by brass and percussion in this loud, lively curtain-raiser. Winner of the 2000 Dallas International Organ Competition, Diaz was also the brilliant soloist for Stephen Paulus’s Grand Concerto (Number 3), a Dallas Symphony commission first heard in 2004 (with the most recent Dallas Competition winner, Bradley Hunter Welch, as soloist).
Paulus is a composer who not only knows his craft, but one who has something to say with that facility. This major work has many impressive moments from its beginning with the organ and lower strings, through a second movement featuring the organ’s Harmonic Flute, then orchestral flute and strings, and finally the organ’s strings—a lovely blend of timbres. Building to a climax, the movement ends with a reference to the hymn Come, Come Ye Saints (a favorite of the composer’s father) and pizzicato lower strings. In the final movement (marked Jubilant) there is joy in virtuosity, especially in the rapid jumping between manuals, a lovely bit of lyricism when the high strings introduce the folk melody O Waly, Waly, and a knock-your-socks-off pedal cadenza. The audience loved this piece, the only one requiring a complete symphonic complement of instruments. Woodwinds and brass having joined the strings, the orchestra made its best showing of the day in this culminating performance. Cheering and ovations were deserved.
The other two concertos were in the capable hands of Stephen Cleobury, who had a rather thankless assignment in Calvin Hampton’s Concerto for Organ and Strings. Understandably, the program committee chose this work commissioned for the previous Twin Cities national meeting in 1980. Preparing at that time for my own concerto program in Orchestra Hall, I did not hear this work by a dear friend from undergraduate days at Oberlin, although subsequently I learned that Calvin himself did not regard the piece highly. Hearing it now I did not find the string writing particularly apt, and I am sad that this was the only piece to represent such a gifted American composer during this 2008 convention. The ending, at least, is memorable, with organ arpeggios providing a bit of filigree above orchestra strings, which were, unfortunately, not well tuned.
Cleobury’s second stint on the organ bench was as soloist in Judith Bingham’s convention commission, Jacob’s Ladder—Concerto for Organ and Strings. (In her notes for the program book, she wrote that her inspiration was derived from the first view of a photograph showing the laddered effect of the attractive organ façade.) Four brief movements bearing programmatic titles showed a fine correlation of component parts to produce an appealing ensemble work. Once again the upper strings were quite messy.
Hindsight is, of course, always more successful than foresight, but it did seem as if three ensemble works rather than four could have allowed more rehearsal time for each, and in a day jam-packed with musical events, would have been quite enough for the audiences as well.
Pipedreams Live (and program long)
We all owe much to Michael Barone for his continuing contributions to the public awareness of the pipe organ, its wide range of literature, and many diverse styles of instruments, as heard weekly in the successful Minnesota Public Radio series. The service he renders to the profession is unparalleled in today’s media. That said, it was fortunate that this Wednesday evening audience in Wooddale Church consisted almost exclusively of the already convinced. Anticipatory at the beginning, fatigued or comatose after a two-hour and fifteen minute program without intermission, many of us would have appreciated an earlier employment of the organ’s cancel button.
As for repertory, it was a program in which the oldest piece heard was Joseph Jongen’s 1935 Toccata, opus 104, the program opener, given a brilliant rendition by this year’s NYACOP winner Michael Unger. Then followed a steady stream of new and unfamiliar pieces played by first-rate players who slid on and off the bench either of the movable console or of the attached mechanical-action one of the large Visser-Rowland organ: Herndon Spillman, Calvin Taylor, Barone himself, splendid jazz player Barbara Dennerlein, Ken Cowan, Aaron David Miller, and Douglas Reed (who brought the marathon to an end with William Albright’s Tango Fantastico and Alla Marcia, aka The AGO Fight Song!).
Along the way, Jason Roberts, winner of the National Competition in Organ Improvisation, perhaps sensing the encroaching weariness, gave a brief example of his art in a French Classic idiom; well-loved Lutheran church musician Paul Manz was warmly applauded after the playing of his chorale-improvisation Now Thank We All Our God by Scott Montgomery; and Isabelle Demers, in the penultimate program slot, played with consummate musicianship a gentle and moving Prelude in E Minor by Gerald Bales and Paulus’s As if the whole creation cried.

AGO business/The business of music
The business meetings of the Guild during national conventions have been fun and musically rewarding during the six years of outgoing president Fred Swann’s administration. This time the afternoon event was held at Central Lutheran Church, where Marilyn Keiser gave first performances of a prize-winning work and a commissioned movement to be featured at the Organ Spectacular (officially scheduled for 19 October 2008) during this International Year of the Organ: Bernard Wayne Sanders’ Ornament of Grace for organ and solo melody instrument (published by Concordia Publishing House) and Stephen Paulus’s Blithely Breezing Along, a seven-minute solo organ piece (available from Paulus Publications).
An impressive number of exhibitors (102) displayed their wares in the exhibition spaces of the Minneapolis Hilton Hotel. From Nada-Chair back slings (for organists with “Bach Pain”) one could wander to composer Stephen Paulus’s booth, often manned by father and son Andrew; or stop by the AGO national headquarters table, where a newly released compact disc of Conversations and Lessons with David Craighead preserves some taped lessons with Judith Hancock as well as more recent responses to queries about various pedagogical topics as posed by an unidentified interviewer. (Buzz has it that the interlocutor is Richard Troeger.) The purchase of this disc also triggered the bonus gift of “A Grand Occasion,” an AGO cookbook from the past. This brought on extreme nostalgia for several familiar figures who contributed some favorite recipes: Robert Anderson [caramelized carrots], Howard (Buddy) Ross [Shrimp Howard], and L. Cameron Johnson [Philly-Miracle Whip Dip]!
Some random items of interest found in various publishers’ displays: the recently republished Distler organ works in an “Urtext” edition at Bärenreiter; a reminder via a special brochure from Breitkopf that 2009 will mark the 200th anniversary of Mendelssohn’s birth; Calvert Johnson’s valuable new edition of Frescobaldi’s Fiori musicali (with variant chromatic alterations from the Torino Manuscript) at Wayne Leupold; from ECS Publishing, free copies of their prize-winning anthem heard at the opening celebratory service, Stephen R. Fraser’s Rejoice, the Lord is King (SATB and organ), with its especially haunting, chromatic shift from a melodic F-sharp to F-natural between the second and third measures of the idiomatic and very effective organ accompaniment; from Oxford University Press, a special brochure on the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams, in commemoration of this year’s 50th anniversary of his death.
A pre-convention mailing had brought advance word of a special recording titled Real French Sounds to be had at the convention, the promotional gift from the Association of French Organ Builders. This two-compact disc set comprises an elegant set of performances by various French organists, including such well-known players as Olivier Latry, Daniel Roth, Thierry Escaich, and Pierre Pincemaille, playing fifteen historic instruments (restored by the firms Atelier Bertrand Cattiaux, Jean-Baptiste Gaupillat, Michel Jurine, Patrick Armand, Giroud Successeurs, Nicolas Toussaint, and Jean-Pascal Villard). It is, overall, a useful demonstration of some lovely organs.
American pipe organ builders were well represented here, as were makers of digital instruments. The Twin Cities provided good examples of outstanding organs from many of the exhibitors, as identified throughout this report. Happily, I acquired only one new trinket, a black stop knob key chain from the Wicks Organ Company. It joins useful previous white ones, giving my collection some needed diversity. A year’s worth of compact discs and DVDs were available for purchase, and all this commerce, especially that transacted during late night hours, was made more pleasant by an accessible cash bar.

Summary thoughts
I heard it expressed several times that “this was Philip Brunelle’s program.” The wide-ranging, often challenging exploration of new music (seventeen commissions and competition prize-winning works were listed on the Convention Evaluation Form), plus the programming of other recent works surely new to a majority of the convention goers, reflected both appetite and taste of the prodigious program chair, this year celebrating his 40th anniversary as organist-choirmaster of Plymouth Congregational Church in Minneapolis. Brunelle certainly generated a great deal of musical excitement, not only as planner, but also as conductor for the two major orchestral and choral/orchestral programs.
That the music of Stephen Paulus held such a prominent place at this convention was particularly gratifying. Currently AGO’s composer of the year, the Minnesotan is one of America’s finest, an artist who consistently produces challenging music for organ and for choral forces as part of his ongoing artistic efforts. He is also a genuinely kind person whose many interactions with convention-goers was much appreciated.
A personal regret was that there was not at least a tad more celebration of Hugo Distler’s centenary, which actually occurred on Tuesday, June 24, right in the midst of this gathering. One workshop, one choral composition (the motet Singet dem Herrn, heard on two days at one of four concurrent worship services presented on Monday and Thursday), and that was all. In Lutheran territory? (At least St. Paul’s Luther Seminary had presented a March symposium on the composer’s life and works!)
Appreciated amenities: possibly the easiest to see, least self-destructing name tags of any convention in my experience, and a many-pocketed, multi-zippered convention tote bag with an external water bottle holder, the whole a classy production that also ranks with the best ever: no expense spared here, and usable at home, too.
And, certainly not least, a smoothly functioning hospitality/information center at the hotel, staffed by Twin Cities AGO chapter volunteers. There one could find nibbles, coffee and water, transportation schedules, gay pride guides, and the occasional leftover workshop handouts, among which two of the more interesting were on Latin American Organ Literature from Cristina Garcia Banegas and Organ Music from Czech Composers from Anita Smisek.

And finally . . .
A tally of convention events from Saturday afternoon through Thursday evening gave these numbers: three open performance and improvisation competition rounds; four evening concerts plus two performances of the daytime concerto program; fifteen organ recitals, each performed twice, plus two carillon concerts and nine Rising Stars organ programs; sixty-six workshops including choral reading sessions; an opening evening church service, four individual daytime worship opportunities, each given twice, plus Evensong and Matins services. [For complete details, refer to the convention website <www.ago2008.org&gt;.]
My apologies to artists whose programs I was not able to attend. Many are friends, or friends of friends, or students of friends. It must be obvious that no one person, not even the proverbial little old one in tennis shoes, could cover as large and event-filled a gathering as this national convention. The time in the Twin Cities remained enjoyable primarily because I did not attempt to do everything.
Throughout the week there were many cherished meetings with people not encountered often enough, individuals who trigger memories of shared experiences, ones who make such professional gatherings personal. To mention a very few of them: Marjorie Jackson Rasche, FAGO, now of Galveston, TX, whom I met at my very first AGO regional convention 52 years ago when both of us were young Ohioans; Carl and Kathy Crozier, of happy Honolulu memories; professional colleagues Jim Christie, Susan Marchant, and Cal Johnson; and new acquaintance, Alexander Schreiner’s son John.
Of memorable chats while traveling on the buses two stood out in particular: one with West Point organist Craig Williams; and another with Patricia Scace from Maryland, who told of acquiring a John Challis instrument that turned out to be the first harpsichord I ever played.
And finally, the realization that as the Twin Cities 2008 national convention became part of AGO history on Friday June 28, there remained only 735 days until the July 4 opening of the 2010 meeting in our nation’s capital city. Start saving up for it now!

Recent recordings of Bach’s Goldberg Variations

Now universally known as the Goldberg Variations, Johann Sebastian Bach’s self-financed 1741 publication of his most extensive set of diverse variants on a simple theme bears this title on its cover: Keyboard Exercise Comprising an Aria and Differing Variations for a Two-Manual Harpsichord, composed for Amateurs by Johann Sebastian Bach, Composer at the Courts of Poland and of the Elector of Saxony, Chapel Master and Choir Master in Leipzig. Published in Nuremberg by Balthasar Schmid (translated from the original German).

Following the 1933 first recording of the complete masterwork by pioneering harpsichordist Wanda Landowska (a weighty 78 rpm recording project that has been reissued in every successive record format) the “Goldbergs” have been consigned to disc by a widely varied list of keyboardists, a tradition that continues, seemingly without any ritardandi. Indeed, while writing this report on recent compact disc releases, I have noted at least two more new recordings advertised for sale.

Just as I look at my extensive collection of books and think about the immense amounts of time and energy that are required for each publication (having been a writer all my adult life), I feel a similar empathy for the effort and dedication required when we consign our musical performances to disc (having done a fair number of these, as well). Thus, I try not to be overly critical in my reviews but rather hope that I may serve primarily as a reporter: one who gives enough information about the new offerings so that a reader may decide to seek more information, or even, perhaps, wish to acquire the item being discussed.

In alphabetical order, I present for your consideration three recent recordings of Bach’s magnum opus as performed by Diego Ares (born 1983) [Harmonia Mundi HMM 902283.84]; Wolfgang Rübsam (born 1946) [Naxos 8.573921]; and, as an archival reissue, a legacy from the renowned German organist and teacher, Helmut Walcha (1907–1991) [the last disc in a boxed set of thirteen compact discs comprising all of the major Bach solo harpsichord works, Warner Classics 0190295849618]. To make matters even more interesting, it so happens that I have had personal connections with each of these three keyboard artists.

Diego Ares

I met this brilliant harpsichordist in November 2009 and was blown away by his virtuoso performance of the Manuel de Falla Concerto for Harpsichord and Five Instruments at the opening event of the Wanda Landowska Exhibition organized by Martin Elste of the Musical Instrument Museum in Berlin, Germany. On my way to offer congratulations to the young artist, he met me halfway, as he wished to speak with me. At that time Diego was a student in Basel, and we both expressed our regrets that he had to return immediately to Switzerland for his semester end examinations, especially since we each had a special interest in contemporary harpsichord music.

We have, however, kept in touch since that brief encounter, and Diego has been generous in sending me his compact discs as they are produced. The immediate predecessor to his Goldberg Variations offering, his 2015 premiere recording of previously unknown Soler harpsichord sonatas (discovered in a manuscript now owned by the Morgan Library in New York City) won international acclaim, garnering both a Diapason d’Or and the German Record Critics’ first prize. I suspect that this latest two-disc set may well do the same.

In eloquent notes to the recording, Ares writes of his daily ritual that begins with a complete play through of the entire set of variations, but also he expresses his feeling for the need of a prelude to precede Bach’s opening statement of the Aria. For this recorded performance, Ares made a clever choice: Bach’s own transcription of an Adagio (BWV 968) based on the composer’s Violin Sonata (BWV 1005). It is indeed a lovely piece, but, since Bach left us only this one movement which cadences in the dominant key, it is a difficult work to program. As the desired prelude it makes a perfectly logical opener, connecting smoothly to the Aria in G Major.

Ares’s performance, with the added prelude, spans 1 hour, 29 minutes. He performs on his two-manual harpsichord by Joel Katzman (2002) based on a Taskin instrument from 1769.

Wolfgang Rübsam

Appointed to succeed the far-too-early-deceased James Tallis as harpsichord and organ professor at Southern Methodist University, I moved to Dallas, Texas, in late August 1970, to join the music faculty of the Meadows School of the Arts. Wolfgang Rübsam was, at that time, a stellar student in Robert T. Anderson’s organ class, and he went on to prove his stature by winning the first prize for interpretation at the 1973 Chartres organ competition. He also played a superb organ recital during the dedication year of SMU’s Fisk Opus 101 installation, and we continue to meet at various organ events throughout the United States.

Following a successful set of Bach recordings on the modern piano, Rübsam has turned his considerable musical insights to performing the Goldberg Variations on an instrument known to have been of interest to J. S. Bach: the lautenwerk or “lute harpsichord” of which a postmortem inventory of Bach’s belongings included two examples. Unfortunately, neither instrument is known to have survived the passage of time.

The proud owner of the fifth such instrument to be built by the highly respected American harpsichord maker Keith Hill, Rübsam provides a totally different sound picture for Bach’s variations. The constant arpeggiation certainly gives a different aura to the work, while the gentler plucked tones produced from this single-manual instrument soothe the ear. To record the entire work on one disc with a total timing of 78 minutes and 24 seconds, the artist confided that he made his own choices as to which of the variations would be played with the indicated repeats and which ones would not. I find his selections well made and actually agree totally that not all of the arbitrary double dots at the conclusion of each section need to be observed in any performance. I especially dislike the carbon-copy reruns of the B sections once one has made that trip from dominant cadencing back to the tonic. Most of the time one traversal is quite enough for my ears.

Amazing as it may seem to those of us who require two manuals as specified by the composer, Glenn Gould, Rübsam, and some other players seem quite able to negotiate the crossing of hands and notes, as well as the general awkwardness of compressing such acrobatics to one keyboard only. Bravo to all involved. 

Helmut Walcha

I first experienced a concert by the legendary professor of organ at the Hochschule für Musik und Darstellende Kunst of Frankfurt, Germany, during the unforgettable summer trip that followed my year at the Salzburg Mozarteum as an Oberlin Conservatory junior (1958–1959). In Letters from Salzburg
(Skyline Publications, Eau Claire, Wisconsin, 2006) I mentioned Walcha’s organ recital at the Frankfurt cathedral, with its eight-second reverberation, and noted that the organist was “an inspired player.” While visiting the Hochschule I met its harpsichord teacher, Frau Maria Jäger, and did not realize that Walcha was also a harpsichordist. 

During many summer trips to Europe in the earlier years of an academic career, my German friend and “European manager” Alfred Rosenberger and I often would attend Saturday Vespers at the Dreikönigskirche where Walcha was organist. There we could marvel at his expressive hymn playing and masterful improvisations, while also enjoying both the intimate beauty of the rather sparsely attended afternoon services as well as the post service opportunities to speak with the genial organ master.

Still there was no mention of the harpsichord; so, imagine my surprise when I discovered that the present thirteen-disc set comprising all the major solo harpsichord repertoire of J. S. Bach had been recorded starting in the spring of 1958 in Hamburg, continuing for the next several years, and culminated during March of 1961 with the 75 minutes and 38 seconds of Walcha’s interpretation of Goldberg Variations. And, for one further surprise, the recording engineer for all these sessions was none other than Hugo Distler’s brother-in-law, Erich Thienhaus! 

The two-manual harpsichord used for Walcha’s recording sessions was built at the Ammer Brothers factory located in Eisenberg in the eastern German province of Thuringia. What nostalgia that inspired! My first harpsichord teacher, Isolde Ahlgrimm, made her famous Bach recordings playing an Ammer instrument. My first harpsichord was a small double built at the Passau factory of Kurt Sperrhake, who also provided a larger two-manual model instrument during our Mozarteum year. (Ahlgrimm’s comment: “I’ve slept in smaller rooms than this instrument!”) While I would not want to return to these well-built, but heavy, leather-quilled factory instruments, there is a certain nostalgia for that youthful time of discoveries and the blooming of my first love for the harpsichord.

Would I recommend the Walcha recordings? Perhaps. It is remarkable that he could play absolutely perfectly since he had been struck blind at age nineteen, most likely from a reaction to his vaccination for smallpox. I do not hear any mistakes or smudged notes at all, but I also do not hear much in the way of personality or nuance either. It has somewhat the same effect as reading a dictionary—but as a source for checking the notes as they appear in the original Bach-Gesellschaft Editions there would likely be no deviations from that urtext.

And what a tribute to the human spirit! Every note required for thirteen compact discs full of music was retained in that brilliant memory! One of Walcha’s prize students, my SMU colleague Robert Anderson, told many tales of being summoned to visit his mentor for the purpose of following a score while his teacher played through the complete Art of the Fugue or some other complex set of organ pieces. And, said Bob, “There was hardly ever even one wrong note!”

Larry Palmer is harpsichord editor of THE DIAPASON.

Each one of us surely has an individual concept of sin, generally from direct personal experience: I sometimes describe it as “anything that is more fun for the doer than for someone else!” Defining commission might be slightly more difficult. For the purpose of this narrative, I choose to define the term as “the solicitation of a new musical composition, whether or not money is involved.” In my nearly half-century of commissioning new music, much of the time I have been the recipient of extraordinary generosity: most of my composers have donated their music, while others have asked for only modest fees.

Calvin Hampton

The first time I solicited a composer to write something specifically for me was in 1957, when I asked my Oberlin classmate and fellow organ major Calvin Hampton if he would provide an offertory for a summer service at First Presbyterian Church, Canton, Ohio--my first major (if only month-long) church “gig.” His response came in the form of a lovely three-minute aria, titled Consonance. While not a major work by this important composer, it does illustrate the advantage of choosing the right friends; namely, ones who go on to become well-known, thereby considerably increasing the value of their manuscripts. Equally useful, subsequently such friendships may provide one with material for articles about “what they were like before they became well-known”--a perfectly good academic topic indeed, if one includes the proper footnotes.

Neely Bruce

In the fall of 1960 I moved to Rochester, New York to begin graduate study. There I met the next of my composer friends. On my second day at the Eastman School, as I waited in the fourth floor corridor to meet with my advisor Dr. M. Alfred Bichsel, head of the newly established Church Music Department, a striking younger student walked up to me and asked, with lilting southern inflection, if I could tell him where to find Dr. Bitch-el. I was captivated by Neely Bruce, a freshman who had come to audition for the Polyphonic Choir, a new choral ensemble established for this sacred music area. As Dr. Bichsel’s rehearsal assistant, I saw young Bruce regularly. We became friends, and Neely, a precociously talented pianist and composer, eventually supplied the concluding piece for my 1961 master’s recital Organ Compositions Based on the Kyrie fons bonitatis.

When he left Eastman after that single year to attend the University of Alabama, I was devastated. I wrote sad poems (a la Edna St. Vincent Millay and Dame Edith Sitwell)--filled with lines such as:

Our night for love designed, speeds silent on and on,

And time, which only breathless seconds since had seemed so kind,

Is gone.

Neely didn’t answer letters or write poetry. He did, however, write music, and some months later I received the penciled score of his first work for harpsichord--Nine Variations on an Original Theme. The piece held such emotional intensity for me that it was not until 1979 that I copied it out while on my first sabbatical leave, prepared it for performance, and then gave the premiere the following year. Whatever one may think now of such a youthful endeavor, the work certainly is well-crafted for harpsichord--one result of Neely’s frequent opportunities for experimenting with the instrument’s textures at the small two-manual Sperrhake harpsichord, shoehorned into the third-floor dormer room I rented at one of Rochester’s “organ student houses,” 20 Sibley Place.

During my seven years of teaching in Virginia I played a fair amount of 20th-century harpsichord music: Ned Rorem’s Lovers, the Falla Concerto, the Martinu Sonate. But there I was primarily a choral conductor and organist (and enjoyed premiering several new works written for choir or organ by St. Paul’s College colleague Walter Skolnik and New York composer Robin Escovado). My only harpsichord “commission” of this period went to the builder William Dowd, along with almost half a year’s salary, for my first truly first-rate harpsichord, one of his early Blanchet-inspired instruments, delivered to Norfolk in January 1969.

Rudy Shackelford

Shortly after moving to Dallas in 1970, an unanticipated package reached me at Southern Methodist University. This contained Virginia composer Rudy Shackelford’s piece Le Tombeau de Stravinsky. Since my SMU colleague Robert Anderson was a devoted exponent of wild and wooly new organ music, it seemed fitting for me to take on Rudy’s serialism. I also liked the work, and included it on my first Musical Heritage Society disc, The Harpsichord Now and Then, released in 1975.

Ross Lee Finney

Another challenging work, more thorny than I usually care to learn, is Ross Lee Finney’s unique essay for the instrument, Hexachord for Harpsichord. In four movements (Aria, Stomp, Ornaments, Fantasy), the 12-minute work was commissioned for me to play at a Hartt School of Music contemporary keyboard music festival scheduled for June 1984. Drawing few registrants, the event was cancelled, so I gave the first performance that fall in Dallas, not playing it in the composer’s presence until a concert in Hartford the following year.

Working with Finney was quite daunting. A most distinguished and individual composer, he basically disregarded my several suggestions as to texture, and provided me with a nearly-illegible score, the successful realization of which absolutely required a damper pedal, unfortunately not available on most harpsichords. I struggled to read his chicken scratches and tried to parlay his ideas into something that made sense on a plucked instrument. Eventually I wrote him a detailed letter filled with questions and suggestions for possible improvements, not knowing if I would be ignored, despised, or possibly even removed from the project.

Instead, this generous and intelligent man wrote back that it was all very helpful--reminding him of the careful editing his Piano Sonata had received years earlier from its first performer, John Kirkpatrick. For Hexachord’s last movement, the most unplayable of the four, he promised a revision, although current work on his opera left him little time. When the promised revision arrived, it was accompanied by this note: 

I don’t know whether this is better or worse. I’ve spent the vacation week on it and now am so loaded with commitments that it’s the best I can hope for. . . . I tied my right leg to the piano stool so I hope I didn’t think in terms of pedal. . .

Responding to a tape of the first performance, Finney wrote,

I like immensely your performance . . . It seems to me that you have done a wonderful job of projecting the music and it sounds better to me than I feared it would. I like all of your revisions, particularly the ending of the last movement, and I will see that your corrections get in the copy with Peters so that when it is published, they will be included. . .

Unfortunately, this was not to be the case. The printed score from Peters does not present the preferred ending, but rather a more-protracted, rather anemic one.

Herbert Howells

A major commission from the 1970s was Herbert Howells’ Dallas Canticles, the unique Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis composed for St. Luke’s Church, where I was organist and choirmaster from 1971 until 1980. This lovely work was first performed there in 1975. The dedication and copyright of the work, basically a gift from the generous English composer, led to some early adventures in music publishing and the nurturing of  professional and personal connections with the American composer, church musician, and publisher Gerald Near.

Gerald Near

Undoubtedly the most ambitious of my commissions thus far is Near’s three-movement Concerto for Harpsichord, composed for performance at the 1980 national convention of the American Guild of Organists in Minneapolis. Gerald, a Minnesota resident at that time, had not been included in the group of composers invited to provide new works for the gathering, so I asked him to write a concerted work for my program in Orchestra Hall. He took on the project, and, most generously, accepted no fee for this major work.

The performance was carefully prepared, with the composer conducting a superb string ensemble comprising players from the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. The work was greeted with warm applause and considerable affection by the large crowd of attendees. And why not? The piece is very appealing, with memorable melodies, lush harmonies, and an appropriately balanced scoring. Critic Byron Belt, writing in The American Organist for August 1980, concentrated his remarks on the plethora of new scores heard during the convention. Of the Near he commented “ . . . its obvious popular appeal was instantly audible in a splendid performance by Larry Palmer (to whom it is dedicated) and the orchestra under the composer.” In The Diapason (August 1980), Marilou Kratzenstein opined, “The Distler [Allegro Spirituoso e Scherzando] and Near works are both very idiomatic to the medium. By skillful orchestration, the harpsichord part comes through clearly even when accompanied by a 22-piece string orchestra. Both of these attractive works were given clean, crisp performances. It was a pleasure to be present at the premiere of the Gerald Near concerto, which will likely become a favorite with harpsichordists in the near-future.” A future “for the Near” has taken considerably longer than anticipated, but, at last, Gerald’s lovely work had its second performance in October 2004, this time with the SMU Meadows Symphony under Paul Phillips.

Ever peripatetic, Near lived in Dallas for a time, where he held several church positions. When I needed a piece to conclude a program given in conjunction with the Dallas Museum of Art’s major show of El Greco paintings I turned again to Gerald. He spent some time at my house trying various ideas on the harpsichord. The resulting Triptych, completed in 1982, was first played in public at the Museum in January 1983. It certainly achieved its requisite Spanish flavor in the concluding movement, a brilliant neo-Scarlattian romp. Before that Final there are two lovely miniatures--an impressionistic Carillon, and the lyrically Italianate Siciliano (inspired by the composer’s love interest at the time). All three movements are idiomatically conceived for the instrument.

Vincent Persichetti

Dear Vincent Persichetti responded to questions concerning his then-unpublished 1951 Harpsichord Sonata by sending a copy of the manuscript. I loved the work immediately, and still find this first essay for harpsichord to be Vincent’s most arresting and accessible work for the instrument! By the time I was engaged to play a harpsichord recital for the Philadelphia gathering of the International Congress of Organists in 1977, his Sonata was available in printed form. The concert was scheduled to be played in historic St. George’s Methodist Church in the central city, so Persichetti, who lived in Philadelphia, planned to attend, but heavy rain that afternoon delayed him. (It also knocked out power to many venues, causing consternation, and cancellation, for some concurrent organ recitals.) The composer arrived at the church just as my program ended, so I offered to play his Sonata for him after the audience departed. I did so, he made cogent comments (some of them concerned keeping steady tempi and he advised playing the work exactly as he had notated it), and he autographed my printed score (“Thanks to Larry Palmer for a meaningful Benjamin Franklin performance in my own city.” [The reference to Franklin refers to the bridge bearing his name. St. George’s is adjacent to the bridge access road, allowing considerable noise every few minutes from public transit vehicles.]). Then he drove me back to the hotel.

Thus began an acquaintance, nurtured by a Sonata commission from me, occasional piquant notes, or the random, unexpected telephone call from the composer. When he published an incorrect wording of the dedication in my commissioned Sonata VI (crediting Southern Methodist University with payment of the commission fee, an error that I feared might cause problems with some of my academic colleagues), Vincent assured me that he would think of some way to make it up to me. A year or so later, he telephoned with the news that his latest piece, Serenade Number 15, would bear the inscription “Commissioned by Larry Palmer.” “To make it official,” he said, “send me a check for one dollar.” Because this was a time of high inflation, I sent him a check for two dollars, eliciting the response, “How wonderful--this is the first time I’ve ever had a commission doubled!”

It was even more gratifying for me, since I gained two works from a significant composer for a total fee of $502.

Persichetti’s concise Serenade consists of five short movements: the moody Prelude, marked desolato; a quicker Episode; the even faster Bagatelle; a gentle, cantabile Arioso; and the closing Capriccio--made up of a delicato single line, in the texture of a Bach composition for solo stringed instrument. The seven-minute work reminds that, while Persichetti was a distinguished academic, whose mind espoused complicated serial techniques, his soul remained true to the song-inspired expressivity of his Italian heritage.

Rudy Davenport

The 1990s saw a veritable spate of harpsichord writing by Texas-based composer Rudy Davenport. First introduced to me in 1992 through Fr. Tom Goodwin, a harpsichord-playing Catholic padre on Padre Island, Rudy provided me with nine unique works for solo harpsichord or small ensemble with harpsichord. His first national exposure came at the combined 1998 Southeastern and Midwestern Historical Keyboard Societies’ meeting in Texas, where a program devoted to Davenport’s harpsichord writing concluded with the haunting Songs of the Bride, the composer’s settings of texts from The Song of Solomon for solo soprano, oboe, and harpsichord. (Six of these works comprise the program for the compact disc Music of Rudy Davenport, issued by Limited Editions Recordings in 2003.)

Some of my most enjoyable concert experiences have been those involving making music with others, and none has offered more delight than performing music for multiple harpsichords (usually two prove difficult enough to nudge into some semblance of compatible tunings). A Davenport work of exceptional charm, but one not graced with a completely written-out score, is his At Play with Giles Farnaby, a set of seven variations and a fugal finale on Farnaby’s For Two Virginals (Number 55 in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book). Rudy heard this short piece when it was performed by colleague Barbara Baird and me during our 1994 summer harpsichord workshop in New Mexico. His jaunty take on it, as well as the delightful and crafty contrapuntal ending have been an audience favorite on the two occasions we played together. This duo harpsichord work was an especially intensive collaboration, in its creation as well as its performance. Since the divergence of our ways after 1999, I have missed such exuberant music making, as well as the active involvement in fine polishing and editing Rudy’s engaging works.

Glenn Spring

But that void has been filled by the reintroduction into my artistic life of the Denver-based composer Glenn Spring, first encountered at the 1990 Alienor Harpsichord Composition competition finals in Augusta, Georgia. There his William Dowd: His Bleu was one of the winning works. Eventually Spring’s composition was published in The Diapason’s February 1992 tribute to the eminent harpsichord maker. A short while later Glenn’s son Brian moved to Dallas, giving us yet another reason to “stay in touch.” After Brian’s departure from this part of Texas there were years of diminishing communication, a situation suddenly reversed by Brian’s “out-of-the-blue” early morning call from Korea, where he was employed as an English teacher. He must have told his father about this call, for shortly thereafter I received a copy of a 1999 keyboard work, Glenn’s seven-movement charmer Trifles (now a prize winner in the most recent Alienor Competition, 2004). I liked it, learned it, and began playing it in recitals here and there.

A special confluence of friends occurred when Charles and Susan Mize, having contracted for Richard Kingston’s opus 300 Millennium harpsichord, a spectacular nine-foot Franco-Flemish instrument with contemporary brushed steel stand and computer-compatible music desk, asked me to play the Washington, D.C. dedication concert on the instrument. I thought it desirable that Charles should play on his new instrument at that event, so I commissioned Glenn Spring to write a work for two players at one instrument. The pleasing result was Suite 3-D, comprising Denver Rocket, Big D[allas] Blues, and D C Steamroller (honoring the three D’s of our home cities), interspersed with two quiet, lyrical movements (Romance, Night Thoughts). For a second performance on my home concert series (Limited Editions), long-time colleague Charles Brown brought both his musical and histrionic skills to the work, serving as collaborative harpsichordist as well as creator and reader of witty verses before each movement.

The most recent sins of commission, from the year 2004, have included another ensemble work by Spring, Images from Wallace Stevens for Violin and Harpsichord, first performed February 13 in celebration of the 20th season of house concerts (program number 60). Meeting Glenn’s wife, violinist Kathleen Spring, at the Mize harpsichord dedication program, I invited her to join me in this anniversary season, and inquired about possible violin and harpsichord pieces from her husband’s catalog. He responded by offering to compose something for us. Consisting of seven movements, the Images are inspired by short bits of Stevens’ poetry, so much of which evokes musical connections.

Tim Broege

Tim Broege’s score Songs Without Words Set Number Seven, composed for the SMU Wind Ensemble’s conductor Jack Delaney and me, had its first performance by the group and mezzo-soprano Virginia Dupuy on April 16, 2004. The most notable and prominent part for harpsichord is Broege’s reworking of the famous Lachrimae Pavan by John Dowland as each section is presented by the solo harpsichord, then reprised by the full ensemble, heard as the fifth of the work’s nine movements. (This setting may be extracted and played as a solo harpsichord composition).

Simon Sargon

My 35th annual faculty recital at SMU in September 2004 featured the first public hearing of composition professor Simon Sargon’s harpsichord reworking  of Dos Prados (“From the Meadows”), another lovely pavan, originally conceived for the single-manual 1762 Iberian organ in SMU’s Meadows Museum, and now, with a few changes of texture and tessitura, effectively adapted for solo harpsichord.

Involving composers in our performing lives is one of the most rewarding actions we can take. For us it provides the excitement of adding new pieces to our repertoire; for them, it is an affirmation of their necessary contributions to the ongoing vitality of our art; and perhaps not least, this is one pleasure that is neither life-threatening nor fattening! I urge each of you to join me in committing some sins of commission in the near future.

Sources

Calvin Hampton: Consonance remains unpublished; however an increasing number of his organ works are available from  Wayne Leupold Editions (available through ECS Publishing).

Neely Bruce: Nine Variations is available from <[email protected]> (or 212/875-7011).

Rudy Shackelford: Tombeau de Stravinsky is published by Joseph Boonin (B.319).

Recording: The Harpsichord Now and Then (Larry Palmer, harpsichord), MHS LP 3222.

Ross Lee Finney: Hexachord for Harpsichord is published by Edition Peters (67034).

Herbert Howells: Dallas Canticles, Aureole Editions (available from MorningStar Music).

For additional information about the commissioning of this work, see my article “Herbert Howells and the Dallas Canticles” in The American Organist, October 1992, pp. 60-62.

Gerald Near: Concerto for Harpsichord and Strings 1980 (Aureole Editions 149; performance materials on rental only) and Triptych for Harpsichord (Aureole Editions 02) are both available from MorningStar Music.

Recording (Triptych): 20th Century Harpsichord Music, vol. 2 (Barbara Harbach, harpsichord), Gasparo GSCD-266.

Vincent Persichetti: his nine Harpsichord Sonatas and Serenade 15, are published by Elkan-Vogel.

For additional information see my article “Vincent Persichetti: A Love for the harpsichord (Some Words to Mark his 70th Birthday)” in The Diapason, June 1985, p. 8.

Rudy Davenport: Scores are available from the composer at <www.RudyDavenport. com>.

For additional information, see my article “Rudy Davenport’s Harpsichord Music of the 1990s” in The Diapason, April 2004, p. 18.

Recording: Music of Rudy Davenport (Patti Spain, soprano; Stewart Williams, oboe; Larry Palmer, harpsichord), Limited Editions Recordings LER 9904.

Glenn Spring: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

Tim Broege: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

Simon Sargon: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.