Marie-Claire Alain—80th birthday tribute

The world’s most distinguished concert organist, Marie-Claire Alain, died at the age of 86 on February 26, 2013, in Le Pecq, France

James David Christie

James David Christie holds positions as the Distinguished Artist in Residence at the College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, Massachusetts, Chair and Professor of Organ at the Oberlin College Conservatory of Music, Oberlin, Ohio, and serves as College Organist at Wellesley College, Wellesley, Massachusetts. He has previously held positions at Boston Conservatory, Harvard University, M.I.T., and Boston University. He has served as organist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra since 1978. 

James David Christie has made over fifty tours of Europe and performs regularly in Canada, Asia, Australia, and Iceland. He has recorded for Decca, Philips, Nonesuch, JAV, Northeastern, Arabesque, Denon, RCA, Dorian, Naxos, Bridge, and GM and has received several awards for his solo recordings, including the Preis der Deutschen Schallplatten Kritik and the Magazine d’Orgue: Coup de Coeur. In the fall of 2010, he was on sabbatical in Paris, France, where he served as visiting Professor of Organ at the Paris Conservatory.

 

The world’s most distinguished concert organist, Marie-Claire Alain, died at the age of 86 on Tuesday, February 26, 2013, in Le Pecq, a small French commune located next to her home city of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. She had been in failing health for several months and the cause of her death was reported as a cardiac arrest. Madame Alain performed around the entire world, but always held her many American friends and audiences in her heart as her favorite public. She performed over 2,500 concerts and made over 280 recordings during her lifetime.

Marie-Claire Alain was born in Saint-Germain-en-Laye on August 10, 1926. Her father was the organist-composer Albert Alain (1880–1971) and her mother was Magdeleine Alberty (1890–1971). She had three siblings, all excellent musicians, who preceded her in death: her older sister, Marie-Odile Alain (1914–1937), and two brothers—the renowned organist-composer Jehan Alain (1911–1940) and Olivier Alain (1918–1994). Her father, Albert, was the organiste titulaire of the Church of Saint-Germain-en-Laye from 1924 until his death in 1971. Marie-Claire began assisting her father at the church in 1937 at the age of 11. She was appointed her father’s successor upon his death in 1971 and faithfully served as organiste titulaire for the following 40 years. She resigned in 2011 because of her declining health. 

She studied at the Conservatoire national supérieur de Paris, where she was an organ student of Marcel Dupré; there she also studied harmony with Maurice Duruflé and fugue with Simone Plé-Caussade. At the Paris Conservatory, she won first prizes in organ, improvisation, fugue, harmony, and counterpoint. She studied organ privately with Gaston Litaize and André Marchal; both of these famous teachers were important mentors in her career and played a great role in her artistic development.

Marie-Claire Alain was an extraordinary teacher and her students have won a staggering number of international competitions. Today her students hold some of the most important and prestigious teaching and church positions around the world. Marie-Claire Alain was professor of organ at the Conservatoires nationaux de région in Rueil-Malmaison (1978–1994) and Paris (1994–2000). Prior to and even after 1978, she always had a very large private studio and taught many of the most famous organists of today on her Haerpfer-Erman house organ at her homes in L’Étang-la-Ville and Maule, as well as at the Church of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Madame Alain taught every summer in the Netherlands at the Haarlem Summer Organ Academy with her close friends and colleagues Anton Heiller and Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini from 1956–1972; after 1972, she returned to teach at Haarlem on three occasions in 1974, 1982 and 1994. She also founded and taught at the Académie Jean-Sébastien Bach de Saint-Donat from 1971–1991. From 1991 to 2009, she was a permanent member of the organ faculty for the Académie d’orgue de Romainmôtier, Switzerland. In 1985, Marie-Claire Alain donated the family house organ, built by her father between 1910 and 1971, to the Jehan Alain Association in Romainmôtier. Madame Alain’s last teaching in North America took place at the McGill Summer Organ Academy, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, in July 2007, and her very last trip to North America was as a juror for the First Canadian International Organ Competition in Montreal in the fall of 2008.  She served on that jury with five of her former students: John Grew (Artistic Director of the CIOC), Dame Gillian Weir, James David Christie, Ludger Lohmann, and James Higdon.

The list of awards and honors given to Marie-Claire Alain is immense. She received honorary doctorates from Colorado State University, Southern Methodist University, the Sibelius Academy (Helsinki), the Boston Conservatory, McGill University, and Johns Hopkins University. She was awarded the Prize of Les Amis de l’Orgue, the Edison Prize (Holland), the Golden Disque Award (Japan), the Prize of the President of the Republic (Académie Charles-Cros), and the Buxtehude Prize (Lübeck). In addition, she was awarded the Grand Prix du Disque (Académie Charles-Cros) sixteen times, the Léonie Sonnig Foundation Prize (Copenhagen), the Franz Liszt Prize (Budapest), the Golden Laser Prize of the Académie du Disque Français, and 1984 International Performer of the Year (New York City chapter of the American Guild of Organists). She has received numerous “Diapasons d’or” for her outstanding recordings. Marie-Claire Alain was a member of the Royal Academy of Music, Stockholm and the Royal Academy of Music, London. She was made a Chevalier in the Royal Order of Danneborg (Denmark). She held the rank of Commandeur in the Légion d’honneur, the Ordre national du Mérite and the Ordre des Arts et Lettres. French President François Hollande promoted Madame Alain to the rank of Grand Officier in the Ordre national du Légion d’honneur on July 14, 2012.

Marie-Claire Alain’s impressive list of recordings includes three versions each of the complete organ works of J.S. Bach, François Couperin, Nicolas de Grigny, and Jehan Alain, two versions each of the organ concerti (with orchestra) of G.F. Handel and the organ works of César Franck, and complete recordings of the organ works of Buxtehude, D’Aquin, Bruhns, Böhm, and Mendelssohn. She recorded organ concerti by Poulenc, Charles Chaynes, Haydn, C.P.E. Bach, Vivaldi, Mozart (Church Sonatas), and two recordings of Symphonie III of Saint-Saëns. Madame Alain appeared as a continuo artist on dozens of recordings, many with the Jean-François Paillard Chamber Orchestra. She also has recorded many works by Liszt, Pachelbel, Vierne, Widor, Messiaen, and others. Madame Alain performed and recorded with the legendary flutist Jean-Pierre Rampal and the acclaimed trumpet virtuoso Maurice André. For a complete discography, please consult Alain Cartayrade’s thorough listing in the French publication L’Orgue, Cahiers et Mémoires No. 56, 1996; the listing may also be read online: www.france-orgue.fr/ (to access the listing, type in “Marie-Claire” in the box marked “Recherche rapide organist” on the right side in the middle of the page).

Marie-Claire Alain married Jacques Gommier, a musician and choral conductor, in 1950; he died in 1992. Monsieur Gommier was a wonderful husband and often handled her correspondence and did musicological research for Madame Alain. He never complained or corrected anyone when he was addressed as ‘Monsieur Alain’ when he accompanied his wife on her many North American tours! They had two children: a son, Benoît, who died in 2009 at the age of 57, and a daughter living in Paris, Aurélie Decourt, musicologist and author of several books on the Alain family. Dr. Decourt organized a national French celebration and festival held in Saint-Germain-en-Laye for the 2011 centenary of the birth of Jehan Alain; she also appeared at Alain centenary events in the United States. [See articles in The Diapason: “Marie-Claire Alain—80th birthday tribute” (July 2006), “National French Centenary Celebration of the Birth of Jehan Alain” (November 2011), “Jehan Alain—The American Festival: Wichita State University” (January 2012), and “Jehan Alain: His Life and Works” (July 2012).] She took extraordinary care of her mother in her last years, and this was greatly appreciated by Madame Alain’s family and friends. In addition to her daughter, Marie-Claire Alain’s survivors include six grandchildren, one nephew, and two nieces (the three children of Jehan Alain: Lise, Agnès, and Denis).  

Madame Alain’s funeral took place at the Church of Saint-Germain-en-Laye on Friday, March 1 at 10:00 am. Her coffin was placed under the Grand Orgue in the church before and after the service. The church was full and the congregation was filled with her many friends from Saint-Germain-en-Laye and Paris, as well as musicians and many organists from Paris, France, and western Europe. Several organists played works of J. S. Bach and Jehan Alain for the service, including former Marie-Claire Alain students Vincent Warnier, Daniel Roth, Bruno Morin, Jean-Baptiste Robin, and Jean Ferrard. A small Gregorian choir sang parts of the Requiem Mass. Her daughter, Aurélie, gave a touching eulogy and spoke lovingly of her mother’s last difficult weeks and how optimistic she was about life. When she would ask her mother how she was feeling, she would respond that she was getting ‘better and better each day.’ As Madame Alain held the rank of Grand Officier in the Légion d’honneur, an honor guard carried the French flag into the church and gave a military homage when her coffin was taken outside the church at the end of the service. Marie-Claire Alain was buried next to her husband in the Gommier family plot in the “New Cemetery” of Saint-Germain-en-Laye.  

The world has lost a great artist—we have lost a great inspiration, an exceptional human being, and a great friend. Thank you, Madame Alain, for making our lives so rich and so full of beauty—we will never forget you. May your soul rest in peace, now and forever—Amen.

 

 

During the two years I spent with her she frequently took me along to pull stops when she traveled to play recitals. Helping with registration on various organs in France and Holland and observing her perform were additional valuable learning experiences.
Going to Paris to study with Marie-Claire Alain was the best thing I ever did for myself. Not only did I learn so much from her, but we formed a close friendship which I cherish to this day. Bon anniversaire à ma chère amie!

The book

When Marie-Claire Alain compiled the 1971 edition of Jehan Alain’s organ music she asked me to translate the new preface. Then during the 1980s I spent several summers housesitting for her in France, and while there I began some preliminary comparisons of the Jehan Alain manuscript photocopies she had to the three editions of his organ works. We spoke about the possibility of her doing a new edition and perhaps a similar but thorough study of the music. At the Atlanta AGO convention, she approached me about translating such a book on Jehan Alain’s organ music that she had decided to do, along with a new edition based on all the manuscripts.
With that began a project that lasted nearly a dozen years. We struggled at first to find a format that would be clear to the reader, yet be easy to lay out for publication. Leduc took on the publication of the book in both French and English. All the known manuscripts, including many found in 1975 after the death of Jehan Alain’s wife, were compared side by side, measure by measure. Many of the pieces exist in multiple autograph manuscripts, because Jehan Alain would make copies for friends. Thus a piece might include the comparison of its several manuscripts plus the three Leduc editions. Throughout we found few note changes from one manuscript to another, although rhythms might be rewritten in some cases. On the other hand, registrations could be very different among manuscripts.
This book of critical studies of Alain’s organ music, along with the new edition, will provide organists with all the information they need to play this beautiful and timeless music, written by a young man of genius. It is thanks to the tireless efforts of his sister that this music has been disseminated and has become beloved by organists worldwide.

Alain as a performer

Marie-Claire Alain’s playing style has constantly evolved, as does that of any first-rate performing artist. She was never a proponent of the strict legato style of playing in Bach and other Baroque composers’ music. While the prevailing style of organ playing in France (and here as well) was very much the Dupré school with its grand legato, ties of common notes between chords, and exact half-value repeated notes, Marie-Claire Alain had different ideas for touch and did not use legato as much as most performers of her generation. Her earliest recordings reveal her use of a variety of touches as befit the music.
She has continually studied and learned, never relying on her reputation to carry her forward in her career. In more recent times she has studied early fingerings as they relate to touch and phrasing. While not necessarily using early fingering, she has based her ideas of touch and phrasing on them. She has always been interested in the historical aspects of performance. She has not, however, followed every new trend. She studies new ideas and adopts only those that are befitting the music. The music comes first, not virtuosity.
Her sense of style has also evolved along with the kinds of organs she has played. That is to say, she has learned from the organs. Being able to study and play early French music on early French organs brought her to the absolute apex of performance practice of that style. Playing Franck, Widor, and others on Cavaillé-Coll organs taught her that music—not to mention hearing her father and brother play at home and hearing her brother play his own music. Working with organs of every type and every size around the world has also given her insights into registration that few organists have.
Add to this her compelling sense of joy in the music, her infectious rhythm and her exquisite taste and style, and you have one of the finest organists of all time, Marie-Claire Alain.
—Norma Stevlingson
Professor of Organ and Harpsichord
University of Wisconsin-Superior
 

•

It began at an airport. Nearly 40 years ago I met Marie-Claire Alain at the airport in Syracuse, New York, where, as the most junior member of the organ faculty, it was my job to pick up the visiting artists who were performing at the University. It was a job I did gladly. In looking back, I think we talked non-stop during her entire visit. I knew I had made a friend for life. At that time, I introduced Marie-Claire to a young soprano, Phyllis Bryn-Julson, in whom I had a special interest. Marie-Claire said it was no surprise when word of our marriage crossed the Atlantic the following year. A year or so later, Phyllis was performing in a concert at Hamilton College with the Paul Kuentz Chamber Ensemble, with organist Olivier Alain. Wanting to surprise everyone, I picked Marie-Claire up at the airport and we made a hurried drive to the concert, arriving during intermission, where no one recognized her. It was great fun to see the reactions on everyone’s faces when they finally noticed she was there. A dinner with Olivier and Marie-Claire followed the performance, one of the first of many such occasions.
Following our move to Bethesda, Maryland, Marie-Claire played one of the dedicatory recitals on the new Holtkamp organ at Bradley Hills Presbyterian Church. One of my fondest memories of that occasion was watching our then four-year-old son, David, walking hand in hand into Dulles Airport, “helping Marie-Claire with her bags.” We had just had lunch together at a Roy Rogers, which was David’s choice. Marie-Claire looked elegant in her full-length fur, and loved the idea of having an American hamburger. (She said no one ever took her for hamburgers.)
That was the beginning of what can only be described as a love affair between our son and Marie-Claire, one that is going strong to this day. In 1977, with a daughter added to our family, we met Jacques for the first time, in Paris. As expected, Kaaren fell madly in love with Jacques, and he with her. Our family ties were growing stronger. As woman musicians often traveling and staying in hotel rooms alone, leaving husbands and children behind, Marie-Claire and Phyllis had a special bond, and many stories to share.
Fast forward to the present. As a member of the Peabody Conservatory faculty, I had the opportunity to nominate Marie-Claire for an Honorary Degree from Johns Hopkins University. It took almost three years for her schedule to be clear enough to attend a Hopkins commencement, but it finally happened this year. Her citation read as follows:
“Your brilliant performances and hundreds of masterful recordings emerge not only from virtuoso talent but also from superb scholarship. You study the music, of course. But you also investigate the text on which it is based; the composer’s life, work, and theology; the organ you are playing; and even the historically accurate fingering and position of the hand on the keyboard. “This unyielding pursuit of the ultimate interpretation has led you to three magnificent recordings of Bach’s complete organ works. The first, you said, was ‘instinctive’, the second ‘considered’, and the last the beneficiary of ‘a long life of work and . . . research.’
“You also have recorded definitive integrales of more than a dozen other composers. Though known especially for your work on the 17th- and 18th-century masters, you have brought new life and spirit to the Romantic repertoire. And you champion contemporary organ works, including the magnificent œuvre of your beloved brother, Jehan.
“Admired worldwide for your musicianship, acclaimed for your teaching, you are not just one of the great organists but one of the great musical artists of our time. “Marie-Claire Alain, daughter of France’s premier musical family, metaphorical mother to generations of performers, and venerated member of the extended clan of our own Peabody Conservatory, the Johns Hopkins University is proud to confer upon you the degree of Doctor of Humane Letters, honoris causa.” That, of course, is the Marie-Claire Alain that the world knows and loves. But the Marie-Claire that we know and love is the one who is a “member of our family.”
This tribute ends as it began. On the Sunday following commencement, after a wonderful visit in our home, I took Marie-Claire to the airport for her return flight to Paris, and once again watched her disappear down the long corridor toward the gate, alone.
—Donald S. Sutherland
Coordinator of the Organ
Department, Peabody Conservatory of the Johns Hopkins University

Ann Labounsky

Ann Labounsky, Ph.D., is Professor and Chair of Organ and Sacred Music at the Mary Pappert School of Music, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Author of Jean Langlais: The Man and His Music, she studied with André Marchal and Jean Langlais in Paris from 1962–1964.

Performance artists are most often remembered after their deaths through the compositions that they leave behind. Organ students learn to play works written by J. S. Bach or Franz Liszt, César Franck or Marcel Dupré, Olivier Messiaen or Jean Langlais; and thus their names and their works live on from one generation to another. For the rest, great performers are remembered during the lives of audiences who heard their memorable performances—great teachers, through the lives of their students.
David Craighead, legendary organ performer and now retired professor at the Eastman School of Music, has often lamented about the fleeting nature of fame. Some, like Arthur Poister, are remembered principally through competitions named for them, as in the Poister competition sponsored annually by Syracuse University where he taught; but even now, a few short generations after his death, there is included in the competition application a biographical sketch telling of his life and work.
For very many, there is no immortality of memory. In the words of the hymn: “Time, like an ever-rolling stream, soon bears its sons away. They fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the opening day.” It is a sad dictum that those who do not compose most often decompose without leaving a mark on succeeding generations.
There are exceptions, of course. One thinks, for example, of opera singer Enrico Caruso or conductor Arturo Toscanini, great artists whose names continue to resound with their successor performers and audiences beyond specialists in music history. In those cases, they were people who transcended the limitations of the performance practices of their day, and thus left the arts they served transformed forever. For organists, the name André Marchal, the thirtieth anniversary of whose death is commemorated in 2010, must be added.

Marchal’s legacy
There are reasons for which André Marchal will be remembered as a transformational figure in the history of organ building and organ performance. He had an important impact on the organ reform movement in France, and subsequently in America—an influence that is only now beginning to be understood.
In particular, he influenced the Neo-classical style of organ building and aesthetics, through his association with the French organs of Victor Gonzalez. These instruments, in turn, influenced the aesthetics and registration practices of later twentieth-century French organ composers such as Langlais, Duruflé, Alain, and Messiaen. At the same time, Marchal was a forerunner in the formation of the performance practice now common today, especially in the interpretation of earlier organ works.

Life
André Marchal entered the world at the end of the French Romantic era and lived until 1980. He was born without sight to middle-class parents in Paris, February 6, 1894. Both his father and grandfather noticed his musical talent at a very early age and encouraged his study of the piano.1 At the age of nine he enrolled at the Institute for the Young Blind (Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles–INJA) in Paris, where he studied organ with Adolphe Marty, and harmony with Albert Mahaut, both students of César Franck.
At the age of seventeen he entered Gigout’s organ class at the Paris Conservatory, obtaining first prize in organ and improvisation two years later. In 1915 he succeeded Augustin Barié as organist at Saint-Germain-des-Près. In 1917 he received the Prix d’excellence in counterpoint and fugue at the Conservatory, in the class of George Caussade. Four years later he was hired as an organ teacher at INJA, where he continued to teach from 1919 until 1959. He succeeded Joseph Bonnet as organist at the Church of Saint-Eustache in 1945, where he remained until 1963.

Recital career
His long and distinguished career as an organ virtuoso began in 1923, when he gave the premiere performance of Vierne’s Fourth Symphony, with the composer present, at the Paris Conservatory. Two years later, he followed with his second public performance at the Salle Gaveau in Paris. In 1927 he toured in Belgium, Switzerland, and Germany. Again, in 1928, he gave the premiere of a work by Vierne, this time the third suite of his Pièces de fantaisie.
In 1930, he made his first tour of the United States, having no assistance from a guide and without any knowledge of English. (It was through Arthur Quimby—a student of Nadia Boulanger, and Curator of Musical Arts at the Cleveland Art Museum, who had heard Marchal perform in Paris—that the first tour was arranged.) At the Cleveland Art Museum, he played ten recitals of the music of
J. S. Bach. Seth Bingham, who taught at Columbia University, welcomed him in New York City, where he performed an improvised symphony in four movements at the Wanamaker Auditorium in New York City.2 This was followed with recitals in Chicago and in Canada. In 1938 he gave 30 concerts in the United States and Canada.
After World War II he performed in London at the Royal Festival Hall in the presence of Queen Elizabeth. On that occasion he met the English journalist Felix Aprahamian, who became a close friend and accompanied him on the tour to Australia in 1953.
His concert career spanned half a century; between 1930 and 1975 he made 19 trips to the United States to perform and teach.3 His importance as a teacher drew students from many parts of the world to study with him in his home or at INJA. It should be noted that his first American student, Lee Erwin, who made a career as a theatre organist, came to study with him just prior to his tour in 1930 and was responsible for the first recording on his house organ. His recordings, which also spanned over four decades, likewise have had a continuing impact on organists throughout the world.

André Marchal and the Organ
Reform movement
The Organ Reform movement (or Neo-classical movement as it is called in France) began in the 1920s in Germany and France, spreading to the United States in the 1930s. Albert Schweitzer was a pivotal originator. In France, it was realized primarily through the work of three men in tandem: the performer and teacher, André Marchal; the noted historian and musicologist, Norbert Dufourcq (1904–1990); and the organbuilder, Victor Gonzalez (1877–1956).

Victor Gonzalez
Victor Gonzalez, who was originally from the Castile region of Spain, began his career with the firm of Aristide Cavaillé-Coll, where he became their chief voicer. He then worked for the firms of Gutschenritter and Merklin. In 1929, after declining to assume leadership of the Cavaillé-Coll firm, he established his own firm with the help, encouragement, and financing assistance of Béranger de Miramon Fitz-James, founder of Association des Amis de l’Orgue, together with a group of de Miramon’s friends. Gonzalez’s first organ was built in 1926 for the home of Béranger de Miramon, followed the same year by an organ for the parish church in Ligugé. By 1937 there were 50 employees at the firm who worked to rebuild the Cavaillé-Coll organ at the Palais de Chaillot, and in the following year to renovate the organs at the Versailles chapel and the Cathedral of Rheims.
From 1929 until 1936, Rudolf von Beckerath worked for Gonzalez on restoration projects for organs in Saint-Eustache, Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs, Solesmes, Bailleul, the Goüin residence, and the world’s fair in Brussels in 1935, prior to founding his own firm. Though the Gonzalez name is no longer in use, he was succeeded in the business by his son, Fernand Gonzalez, and then by his son-in-law, George Danion. Fernand Gonzalez, who was killed in World War II, was responsible for the design of the Palais de Chaillot. After his death, Bernard Dargassies was charged with the maintenance of most of the Gonzalez organs.4
In 1931 Victor Gonzalez built an organ for the Condé estate of Joseph Bonnet.5 Gonzalez built this instrument very much in the Cavaillé-Coll style of that time, with two enclosed divisions, the usual plan for his house organs. He departed, however, from Cavaillé-Coll by adding a three-rank mixture on the Swell and a series of mutations. The romantic Merklin organ at Saint-Eustache, which was rebuilt by Gonzalez, and the Gonzalez organ from 1934 in the home of Henry Goüin are landmark examples of the wedding of early music to the recreated sounds of early instruments.6 These instruments included many mutation stops and mixtures, which allowed authentic performances of early music. Under the influence of Marchal and Dufourcq, Gonzalez became the leading builder in France for half a century.

Collaboration with Norbert
Dufourcq
Norbert Dufourcq’s collaboration with Marchal began in 1920, when he became Marchal’s organ student after studying for three years with Gustave Noël at the Cathedral in Orleans. Two years after beginning his organ study with Marchal, Dufourcq became principal organist of Saint-Merry in Paris, a post that he retained until his death in 1990. Dufourcq earned a degree in history from the Sorbonne (1923). In 1927 he was one of the founding members and secretary of Association des Amis de l’Orgue. Between 1932 and 1983 he was a member of the organ division of Commission of Historical Monuments. From 1941–1975 he served as professor of music history at the Paris Conservatory. (He also taught at the Collège Stanislas, Paris, from 1935 to 1946.)
During the years 1941 to 1975 Marchal performed many concerts in which Dufourcq provided the commentary. A gifted musicologist and persuasive public speaker, Dufourcq was able to give a poetic overview of the pieces performed, so that the uninitiated listener could follow. His mellifluous voice and the frequent use of the imperfect subjunctive case were noteworthy. Included in the commentaries was a series of eight concerts, entitled The Great Forms of Organ Music, with genres including prelude and fugue, toccata, chaconne, canzona, passacaglia, the chorale, partita, and fantasia. These recitals continued and included symphonic music and program music.
By 1933, Marchal and Dufourcq had become the leaders of the French national committee for the oversight of historic organs throughout France: the Commission des Monuments Historiques under the minister des Beaux Arts. Many of the nineteenth-century Cavaillé-Coll instruments, and earlier instruments by Clicquot, which were under the control of this commission, had fallen into disrepair and required renovations. This circumstance gave the commission the opportunity to rebuild those organs using the ideals of the Neo-classic design that Marchal, Dufourcq, and Gonzalez favored. Their work could be seen in the restorations at La Flèche, Saint-Gervais, Saint-Merry (where Dufourcq was organist), Les Invalides, the cathedrals of Auch, Soissons, and Rheims, the Palais de Chaillot, and the new concert organ in the French National Radio Studio 103, among many others. Many of the foundation stops were replaced with higher-pitched ranks and the reeds re-voiced. Marchal recorded on many of these instruments in the 1960s.
Influence on the Holtkamp Organ Company
This three-part collaboration among André Marchal, Norbert Dufourcq, and Victor Gonzalez, which affected the Neo-classical organ movement in France, subsequently came to the United States through the work of both Walter Holtkamp, Sr. and his son Walter Holtkamp, Jr., who wrote:

André Marchal came to the microcosm that is the Holtkamp Organ Company soon after World War II. While he had been in this country prior to the war, it was not until after that he brought his many talents to us with such marvelous results…. Both my father and I traveled to many cities of our country to sit with André Marchal at the console to evaluate our instruments. He would play and discourse upon the merits and demerits of that particular organ. From every encounter we came away with a new perspective of our work and our ideas.7
A transcript of one of these conversations with Marchal and the two Walter Holtkamps, Senior and Junior, which was recorded following a Marchal recital on the Holtkamp organ at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Cleveland, on May 10, 1957, gives an example of how the Holtkamps relied on Marchal’s advice regarding voicing:
WH (Walter Holtkamp, Sr.): André, we heard last night no 16′ Principal or 8′ Pedal Octave. My son and I would like to go to St. Paul’s and have a lesson on the use of the 16′ and what is lacking in this one.
AM (André Marchal): Your 16′ Principal is too large. There is too much gap in dynamic between the 16′ Subbass and the 16′ Principal. It is too big to be used without the reeds, and when the reeds are on the Subbass does just as well as the 16′ Principal.
WH: Perhaps this is a result of the 16′ Principal being placed against a stone wall rather than in the buffet as in the French organs.
AM: No, I noticed this same character at Baltimore, where the 16′ stands in the open. This is true on all your organs. The 8′ Pedal Octave is also too loud at St. Paul’s, Oberlin, Berkeley, Baltimore.
C (Walter Holtkamp, Jr.): I would like to know Mr. Marchal’s idea of the relationship as to loudness and quality between the Great 8′ Principal and Pedal 8′ Octave.
AM: In theory, the Pedal 8′ should be larger in scale than the Great 8′, but in use I really like the Pedal 8′ to be a little milder than the Great 8′. It could be a little more flutey.8

It is possible that Walter Holtkamp, Sr. heard Marchal’s series of ten recitals of the music of J. S. Bach at the Cleveland Museum of Art in March of 1930. In August of 1956, Walter Holtkamp, Sr. and Walter Blodgett, Curator of Musical Arts at the Cleveland Art Museum, drove to Methuen to hear Marchal play during the Summer Organ Institute, organized by Arthur Howes, and again the following year to hear him perform and record on the Holtkamp organ at MIT. Along with Fenner Douglas, in the early 1960s Walter Holtkamp and Walter Blodgett traveled to France to study the historic instruments there, including many by Gonzalez. In later years Marchal performed and taught frequently on Holtkamp organs at Syracuse University and Oberlin College. (Despite his love of Holtkamp organs, he often spoke of the similarity between the American builder G. Donald Harrison’s reeds and the French reeds that he loved.)

Giuseppe Englert
The composer Giuseppe Englert, another of Marchal’s students, who in 1954 married Marchal’s daughter Jacqueline, served as translator for the Holtkamps and Marchal during Marchal’s tours to the United States and the Holtkamps’ trips to France. The Englerts’ apartment in Paris, across the street from Les Invalides, was home to a Gonzalez organ, with a similar design to one in Marchal’s home. Maurice Duruflé admired this instrument and was inspired by it for the specification for the Gonzalez instrument in his own apartment. (The organ in Marchal’s home was originally a Gutschenritter, which was enlarged by Gonzalez.)

Marchal and performance practice
In the early 1920s Marchal continued to play in the style he had been taught by Gigout, a uniformly legato touch and a non-interpretive approach to the music of Bach and the Romantic composers. Gigout followed the tradition of the Lemmens school, learned from Widor and Guilmant. During his study of the music of the early masters, in preparation for a series of recitals of early music in 1923, Marchal rethought his approach to technique and interpretation. He was the first, in 1929, to play the two complete Masses of François Couperin. In an interview with Pierre Lucet for a series of recitals on the French National Radio in 1979, Marchal explained the process by which he changed his approach to early music and the organs upon which it could be performed:

Pierre Lucet: Maître, permit me to inquire first of all about your approach to the music of Johann Sebastian Bach:
Marchal: It [his approach] was made at two times. I was admitted to the Conservatory and at that time I listened to what was told to me, I learned technique; I was greatly in need of it. And it was from that point of view that I studied Bach. Ten years later [1921], in establishing my repertoire, I began to concertize, and relearned Bach in a completely different manner. This time I studied each piece in depth, trying to understand it in the best way possible; and having assimilated it, I tried to bring out the beauty of each piece by certain ways of playing; for example, the phrasing, the breaths, the registration. Obviously, at that time, there were few organs on which one could register well the music of Bach; we were still in the full Romantic period. But one could still look for lighter stops, clear in any case, which would permit the beauty of Bach’s counterpoint to emerge.
After having obtained my prize in organ [1913], while continuing to play the organ I worked a great deal on piano. Paul Braud, a student of Franck, took an interest in me. I became then more oriented toward the piano, which permitted me to know more music and to play more chamber music. I worked relentlessly . . . I purchased a small mechanical organ to practice my repertoire. It was at that time [1921] that I really tried to express Bach. My colleagues said: “Marchal? He plays the harpsichord”—and that was almost true, since my interpretations that were closest to what I hoped them to be were like the marvelous ones of Wanda Landowska on her harpsichord.9

This process of searching for the appropriate style for early music and the instruments that would bring it to life continued for him through the early 1930s, when he gave a series of recitals of early music on Neo-classical instruments built by Gonzalez. After 1930, Marchal played very differently from his teacher, Gigout, and the other blind teachers from INJA. It was as if he grasped the essence of the music from within himself. His style was powerful, lyrical, and always convincing. His personality was also very strong. There was a radiance about him and a “joie de vivre” that came through in every piece that he played.
His touch was a radical departure from the 19th-century seamless legato that was carried on by Marcel Dupré and his predecessors. He had an infinite variety of touches. By the 1940s Marchal had become one of the most popular performers in France. The public related easily to the musicality of Marchal’s playing and to his vibrant personality. It is not surprising that such a different style—full of authentic poetry and lyricism—would win the hearts of the French public as well as those from other countries. It must also be said that with him and all the other blind organists, there was also something captivating at seeing a blind person being led onto the stage and then left alone to play the instrument, no matter how large, completely independently. When one contemplates the style of playing during the 1920s through the 1950s, which was completely dominated by the legato Romantic style, what is utterly amazing is this new, radically different sound and interpretation. Begun by Marchal, it was later adopted by Marie-Claire Alain and others.
Guilmant and Pirro, in the monumental Archives des Maîtres de l’Orgue, 1897–1910 (volumes 1–10 available online), made available for the first time, at the end of the 19th century, the music of Couperin, de Grigny, Clérambault, and many others. Although Guilmant and Pirro recommended the use of the Cornet registration, their grounding in the 19th-century style of playing and registration prevented them from recommending for this early music a complementary early style and registration. Likewise, the six volumes of Joseph Bonnet’s Historical Organ Recitals series, published between 1917 and 1940, continued the same style of playing and registrations. Bonnet’s role in the movement, however, should not be ignored. He was intensely interested in early music but played it in the manner that he had been taught by Guilmant.
Although he had substituted for his teacher, Eugène Gigout, as organ teacher at the Paris Conservatory, Marchal was never connected to any school in France except at INJA and the summer school of Nadia Boulanger in Fontainebleau. Nonetheless, so many students requested Fulbright grants to study with him, that by the 1950s he agreed to be referred to as a school himself. In America, many other organists fell under his influence through the many masterclasses he gave at Oberlin College, Syracuse University, Union Theological Seminary, Northwestern University, the universities of Illinois and Indiana, the Eastman School of Music, and the Organ Institute in Methuen.

Marchal’s recordings
In the release on CD (Arbiter, 2003) of his first recordings, originally recorded between 1936 and 1948 at Saint-Eustache and the Goüin residence, one can easily understand Marchal’s interest in early music and in the type of instrument that would be well suited to the music of earlier periods. The lyricism, so unlike the usual style of playing during the 1940s, was notably displayed in his performance of the Bach chorale prelude O Mensch bewein dein Sünde gross. His use of free trills, so unlike the measured trills found in the playing of his contemporaries, was quite a departure from the traditional style of playing.
The subtle rubato in all the playing is striking. In the Bach Passacaglia and Fugue, the phrasing of each variation gives life to the great work. The articulation of the pedal line and the variety in the registrations gives much interest to the form of the piece. What is compelling in all of his playing is the strength of the rhythm, especially noticeable in the fugue of this work. While listening to his performances, one senses that it should not be performed otherwise, that it is right.
What we understand today of the stylus fantasticus can already be heard in Marchal’s opening performance from 1948 of Buxtehude’s Prelude and Fugue in F-sharp Minor. There is considerable contrast between the free sections and the fugal sections. His personality comes alive in his commentary for demonstrating each stop, with brief improvisations that give fine examples of this style of organbuilding. The Blow Toccata in D Minor brings out the bass in the reed registers with great clarity. Listening to these improvisations on the individual sonorities of the Gonzalez house organ in the Goüin house gives a clear picture of this aesthetic: a Neo-classical organ that, in America, we would call an eclectic organ.
Other recordings include:
Chefs d’œuvres pour orgue de J.S. Bach “10 de répertoire” en 1989. Zurich, Grossmünster 1964. MUSIDISC 203412 AD 650.
Orgues et organistes français du XXè siècle (1900–1950) by EMI Classics (2002) as well as Jeux et registrations de l’orgue, Improvisations, Toccata de Gigout, Final de la 4ème Symphonie de Vierne, Apparition de l’Eglise éternelle de Messiaen, Choral dorien de J. Alain, Saint-Merry, 1958 et 1976. EMI Classics, 1 CD, 71716 2 (1997), Saint-Merry et Saint-Eustache.
The Organ Historical Society website lists the two recordings available through Arbiter (135 and 111) with these annotations:
The works by Buxtehude, Bach, Blow, Purcell, Sweelinck and Vierne were recorded by André Marchal (1894–1980) in April 1948, on the organ at St. Eustache in Paris, then a Merklin which had been rebuilt by Victor Gonzalez in 1927–32. In 1936, the Pathé firm released a 12-disc set entitled Three Centuries of Organ Music from which Marchal’s performances of Cabezon, Santa Maria, Landino, and Palestrina are taken. These first recordings of these early works are performed on an organ designed especially for early music and completed in 1934 by Victor Gonzalez at the home of Henry Goüin in Paris. Marchal also demonstrates the organ stop-by-stop, and narrates his demonstration. Available on Arbiter-135.
Arbiter 111 is described:

This unique CD reissues the 1956 stereo recordings made by André Marchal on his 3/28 house organ built by Gonzalez. The fidelity of the recording is unusually fine, capturing Marchal’s way with 12 of the Bach Orgelbüchlein, BWV 603–612, 614–615, and Toccata, Adagio & Fugue in C, BWV 564. There are no revelations here for most of us, and the organ is located in an anechoic environment. The CD is a must for Marchal fans, who will revel in his spoken description and demonstration of the organ.
Although more difficult to locate, it is possible to find in libraries the Lumen recordings of Franck and early French music (Grand Prix du disque 1952); the Bach large fantasies and fugues by Ducretet Thomson; the Clérambault recordings at Auch Cathedral, by LDE 3231; many of these recordings contain the commentaries by Norbert Dufourcq. The Unicorn recordings from MIT (UNLP 1046–1048) of Bach and early French music on the large Holtkamp organ there from the 1950s are excellent.
Marchal’s Complete Organ Works of César Franck, originally released by Erato, has been reissued by Solstice ([email protected]). This recording was awarded the coveted Diapason d’Or. There are many unpublished recordings (some from Syracuse from 1960s, and two recordings from his last American tour in 1974 at the Church of the Assumption in Bellevue, Pennsylvania and in Rochester, New York) as well as many given on the French National Radio.

His teaching and legacy
His system of teaching usually began with having the student play a chorale prelude from Bach’s Orgelbüchlein. He usually heard a piece only one time giving all his ideas in the one lesson. For the early French music he did not use “notes inégales” during the 1960s, but by the 1970s he realized that this was, in practice, the style of this music, and adopted its use. His mind was always engaged and he heard every phrasing and nuance. His use of agogic accents to bring out the shape of a phrase was notable. Above all, he made each part sing independently of the other voices regardless of the period in which it was written. He was demanding especially with his more gifted pupils, desirous that each one achieve his/her highest potential.
His influence is continued not only in the legacy of performance practice and organbuilding. A number of publications and prizes have appeared since 1980: a thesis by Lynn Trapp at the University of Kansas (Lawrence, 1982), “The Legacy of André Marchal;” “Tribute to André Marchal” reprint of the L’Orgue Dossier I in 1997, with the addition of tributes by many American students who did not have the opportunity to be included in the original document; and prizes at the biennial Marchal competition in Biarritz.
The Académie André Marchal was founded in Biarritz, France in 1982 by Denise Limonaire to perpetuate the memory of this musical giant, his innovative style of performance, his neo-classical influence on organbuilding, and his rediscovery of early music. Susan Landale serves as president of the Académie, with Jacqueline Englert-Marchal as honorary president. Among other projects, the Académie has partnered with the town of Biarritz to sponsor the “Prix André Marchal,” an international organ competition with prizes in interpretation and improvisation. The competition is held every two years and has grown in quality and size. The ninth competition, held in 2009, accepted eighteen candidates of twelve nationalities. Americans desirous of supporting this valid and significant mission are strongly invited to become members; dues of $80 for two years may be mailed to Ralph Tilden at P.O. Box 2254, Banner Elk, NC 28604. André Marchal awards are given at Duquesne University, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for excellence in organ performance.
His impact as a teacher was important. His blind students who obtained the first prize in organ at the Paris Conservatory included: André Stiegler, 1925; Jean Langlais and Jean Laporte, 1930; Gaston Litaize, 1931; Antoine Reboulot, 1936; Xavier Dufresse, 1952; Georges Robert, 1953; Louis Thiry, 1958; Jean Wallet, 1963; Jean-Pierre Leguay, 1966 (who had studied with both Litaize and Marchal). Two other pupils who obtained the first prize who were sighted were Noëlie Pierront, 1925, and Anne Marie Barat, 1976.
His other pupils included Corliss Arnold, Linda Clark, Craig Cramer, Philip Crozier, Alan Dominicci, Norbert Dufourcq, Giuseppe Englert, Lee Erwin (the first American pupil before 1930), Robert Eshenour, John Fenstermaker, Philip Gehring, Emily Gibson, Lester Groom, Jerald Hamilton, Ruth Harris, William Hays, Allan Hobbs, Howard Jewell, Elna Johnson, Margaret Kemper, Ralph Kneeream, Suzanne Kornprobst, Marilou Kratzenstein, Charles Krigbaum, Ann Labounsky, Susan Landale, David Liddle, Denise Limonaire, Robert Lodine, Alan Long, Robert Sutherland Lord, Chamin Walker Meadows, Kathryn Moen, Earline Moulder, Margaret Mueller, Arsène Muzerelle, Lois Pardue, Garth Peacock, Stephen Rumpf, Daniel and David Simpson, Robert Sirota, Rev. Victoria Sirota, Carl Staplin, Roger Stiegler, Edith Strom, Haskell Thompson, Ralph Tilden, Parvin Titus, Robert Judith Truitt, Marie-Antoinette Vernières, Gail Walton, Nicole Wild, and Mary Alice Wotring.

Influence on subsequent
composers
His influence on subsequent composers such as Langlais, Duruflé, Alain, and Messiaen in their approaches to organ registration is likewise important to this reflection of André Marchal upon the 30th anniversary of his death. Jean Langlais studied organ with Marchal at INJA and at his home and was influenced by the work of Gonzalez in these two venues, as well as the organ at the Palais de Chaillot, where he performed his first symphony in 1943. His choice of the Schwenkedel organs of Neo-classical design, which he installed in his home and at the Institute Valentin Haüy, next door to INJA, shows this influence. The stops that he added to the organ at Sainte-Clotilde in 1962 included a Larigot 11⁄3′ on the Positif, a Prestant 4′ and Clairon 2′ on the Récit, and a Prestant 4′ and Doublette 2′ on the Pédale.10
The many Neo-classical registrations in his pieces likewise show this influence. For example, even the titles of a number of his pieces refer to these types of registrations: Dialogue sur les mixtures (Suite brève, 1947) and all the movements of Suite française (1948), which are based on titles found in classical French organ music such as Prélude sur les grands jeux and Contrepoint sur les jeux d’anches, and Suite baroque (1973).
As I have already mentioned, Maurice Duruflé often visited the home of Giuseppe Englert to study the specifications and dimensions of the Gonzalez organ, which inspired him for his house organ, also built by Gonzalez. Englert’s house organ was based on the specifications of Marchal’s house organ.11 In Duruflé’s organ works, even starting with the Scherzo from 1926, his registrations depart from the normal 19th-century models.
Marchal and Jehan Alain’s father, Albert Alain—an amateur organbuilder—were close friends and worked together on ideas for the specifications for their house organs. Similarities can be seen in the specifications of each.12 When Marchal had built his organ with a rather classic Positif, Albert Alain wanted to do the same thing.13 Jehan Alain’s first experiences of organ music in his home were influenced by the aesthetics of Marchal and Gonzalez. Jehan Alain and Marchal enjoyed playing and improvising together in Alain’s home. A very early work, Variations sur un thème de Clément Jannequin, demonstrates registrations that call for Neo-classical stops as well as the recall of early music in the title of the piece. Another work of Jehan Alain, Le Jardin suspendu, calls for a typically classical French stop, the Gros Nasard 51⁄3′ on the Positif. Marchal was among the first organists to perform Alain’s music, including Litanies, Variations sur un theme de Clément Jannequin, and Danses à Agni Yavishta, and had them transcribed into Braille notation.
Olivier Messiaen was also influenced by the Neo-classical trends in France. He changed the Cavaillé-Coll organ at La Trinité, where he was organist from 1930 until 1991, to include many mutation stops that were not part of the original specification. Even his earliest organ work, Le banquet céleste (1928), is a departure from the normal registration practices of the period, including Flûte 4′, Nasard 22⁄3′, Doublette 2′, and Piccolo 1′ for the pedal line. As he continued to compose, his works called more frequently for higher-pitched sonorities, often to imitate birds. One could say that it was a far cry from D’Aquin’s imitative harpsichord piece mimicking the cuckoo, but these sounds were all part of an interest in both the future and the past.

Conclusion
It is time to re-evaluate André Marchal’s contributions to the organ reform movement in France; his impact on organbuilding in the United States, particularly in his relationships to Walter Holtkamp and Walter Blodgett as well as Fenner Douglas; and his influence on the leading organ composers of the 20th century: Langlais, Alain, Duruflé, and Messiaen. In light of the development of early organ techniques and the number of publications that have been published and used in the thirty years since his death, it is time to listen again to Marchal’s recordings with a discerning mind and ask where his place is in the development of performance practice.
One certainly hears a wide variety of touches in all his playing. What was his “ordinary” touch? What were the main differences between his style and that of Joseph Bonnet, Alexandre Guilmant, and Marie-Claire Alain? Robert Noehren admired the sensitivity of his touch both on tracker and electric actions. It is also time to re-evaluate his influence on organ building; for example, in the composition of the Plein jeu mixture, which reserved the breaks until after middle C to enhance the clarity of the polyphonic line, and his use of different mixtures for each polyphonic composition that he performed.
Consider, too, the changes in the organ registrations in the music of Duruflé, Alain, Messiaen, and Langlais as compared to many other composers of the 20th century. The required foundations plus reeds on each manual, as a given for organ registration, changed as a result of Marchal’s impact on the Neo-classical organ in France. There is, indeed, much to ponder.
Perhaps Norbert Dufourcq, who was the most eloquent of his collaborators, best expressed the essence of his artistry:

André Marchal seemed to have found by himself the sources to which he probed the depths of his rich and attractive personality: the discovery of the works of the French organists of the 17th and 18th centuries, that of the complete works of Bach (he played almost all of it), of Cabezón, Frescobaldi, Buxtehude . . . It was for André Marchal to penetrate the secrets of a page of music, to discover the tempo, in searching the phrases, in marking the strong pulses, the weak pulses, without ever breaking the melodic line nor the polyphonic structure, without ever losing a rhythm which gave a work its forward motion, its line. One has praised the sensitivity of the Maître. It is better perhaps to speak of his sense of poetry.
To this static but mysterious and majestic instrument, he knew how to assure a poetic and lyric “aura” that he insisted on creating in a convincing phrasing with thousands of details in a style made more subtle by the use of minimal retards; of suspensions slightly brought out or by the imperious accents thrown into the center of the discourse. Goodbye to the inexpressive and neutral legato, André Marchal sought to impose on his instrument a suppleness with the use of imperceptible tensions—jolts of the soul—which did not stop. It is in this that he transformed the lens of the entire school of the organ, in France as in America . . . Under his fingers the organ no longer preached in an impersonal manner; under his fingers, the melodies rushed into the nave to touch the heart of each person. But it was never he who descended upon us. It was us, whom he seized with love, and attracted us to him.14 ■

 

Andrew Scanlon

The following conversation, conducted both in person and by telephone in March 2013, explores the career of one of America’s most eminent musicians and teachers, Ann Labounsky. Dr. Labounsky was my undergraduate organ teacher at Duquesne University, and she is now in her 44th year as professor and chair of sacred music and organ at that same institution. Some years after completing graduate study and working in church music, I had the privilege of returning to Duquesne as a faculty member, teaching alongside Dr. Labounsky for four years. We maintain a close collaboration, and therefore, I have been in the unique situation of knowing Dr. Labounsky on several levels since we first met in New York City at the 1996 American Guild of Organists Centennial Convention. As a teacher, mentor, colleague, and friend, Ann has challenged, encouraged, and supported me in many ways. In this interview, we discuss Ann’s life and career. Several life chapters particularly dominate our discussion: Ann’s student days at Eastman as a pupil of the young David Craighead, and the full circle of Ann and David’s long friendship; Ann’s time as a Fulbright scholar in Paris, studying organ under André Marchal, Jean Langlais, and Marcel Dupré; and finally, Ann’s inimitable teaching career in Pittsburgh. 

 

 

Andrew Scanlon: When people ask me why I decided to learn to play the organ, I most often reply, “Actually, the organ chose me!” Most of your life has been devoted to the organ. What was your first encounter with the organ, and when did the organ first “choose you?”

Ann Labounsky: As a young girl, our family was living in Port Washington, Long Island, and my mother used to take me to a Methodist church across the street from our home. This was before I could read; and I must have heard the pipe organ, but I don’t have much of a memory of it.

Later, we attended Christ Church (Episcopal) in Oyster Bay, where Paul Sifler (also a composer) was the organist-choirmaster. My mother, my brother, and I all sang in the choir, and it was then that I became interested. I was fascinated by the way Paul played. I would come early for choir rehearsals or lessons to watch him practice. I began studying the organ with Sifler at age 15. He was a very good teacher for me, and I loved his compositions. One summer, I went away to a camp, where I couldn’t play the organ for about two weeks, and I missed it so much. I think at that stage, I knew I would be an organist.

 

The conventional wisdom seems to be that before learning the organ, a strong piano background is useful, even essential. Were you already accomplished on the piano? 

My piano teacher in high school was John LaMontaine, Paul Sifler’s partner. He was also a wonderful composer and had a great command of technique. He followed the Tobias Matthay school of relaxation. I would take the train to go to their apartment on 57th Street in New York to take the lessons. It was he who encouraged me to go to Eastman. 

 

Since your piano teacher encouraged you to apply to the Eastman School of Music, did you audition on both piano and organ? What was required for the audition?

Yes, we were required to perform on both instruments. For the organ portion, I remember playing Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 6, but can’t remember which Bach I played. I do recall that I played a recital my senior year of high school and had played Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor and Wir glauben all an einen Gott on that recital, so I must have played one of those works. For the piano portion, they required that you know all scales and arpeggios, as well as the performance of a work by Bach and a Beethoven sonata. I was very nervous for the audition.

 

Before you went to Eastman, what, if anything, did you know of David Craighead? Did you want to study with him, or were you taking the advice of your teachers?

Well, no; actually, I didn’t know anything about David Craighead. But John LaMontaine had studied at Eastman, and he thought it was a very good school. He wanted me to study with Eastman’s piano teacher, George MacNabb. (It was from MacNabb that I learned the Brahms Fifty-one Exercises, which I still use.) Paul Sifler thought that Catharine Crozier would have been a good organ teacher for me, and I looked into studying with her. However, by the time I entered Eastman as a freshman, Crozier had already left the Eastman faculty for Rollins College in Florida. 

 

Did you audition anywhere else besides Eastman?

No. It always makes me laugh now, because these days, students audition at several schools. But for some reason, I didn’t.

 

Had you given any thought to what might happen if you didn’t get in?

No, that didn’t occur to me! 

 

In 1957, you moved upstate from Long Island and began your new life in Rochester. What are your memories of those undergraduate years? 

Eastman was a wonderful school. For many years, I stayed in close touch with the friends that I made there because we all struggled together. It was very demanding; in fact, I had nightmares. I was so afraid that I wouldn’t do well enough and that David Craighead would make me study with Norman Peterson, the secondary teacher! 

 

Can you recall your close friends and colleagues from that time?

Some dear colleagues included Bill Stokes, Joanna Tousey, Bill Haller, Maggie Brooks, Bruce Lederhouse, Jim Johnson, Gretchen Frauenberger, and Robert Town. Roberta Gary was working on her doctorate and David Mulberry was a senior, but they were beyond me. They were the great legends at the time!

 

How many students were studying organ then?

I think there may have been about ten—smaller compared to what it is now. 

 

Can you recall periods of particular growth in your playing during the Eastman days, or conversely, any precise struggles?

I don’t recall any struggles specifically; everything was difficult. We had to have all our repertoire memorized. I would get very nervous before performances. I wish that I would have found a way to get over that more easily, as I look back now. But all of this contributed to my growth as a musician. 

 

When you arrived at Eastman, in the studio of David Craighead, he was still fairly new to Eastman’s faculty, correct?

Yes, he had arrived in 1955, and I entered in 1957. He always told me this funny story about when I first arrived. Evidently I went up to his office and knocked on his door and introduced myself. I said, “I’m Ann Labounsky: Ann without the ‘E’!” David said he always remembered that.

 

What was Craighead like as a teacher in 1957? What aspects of learning did he emphasize as a young teacher?

He was always very precise. At that time in his life, he was rather nervous, quite inhibited. He would tell you all the things that were not right, but you always wanted to strive to do better in the next lesson. We spent a lot of time on the registration. He used the Bonnet Historical Anthology of Music, which was highly edited, and not a good edition. He used the Seth Bingham edition of Couperin’s music and I hated that music back then; it wasn’t until I went to Paris to study with [André] Marchal that I knew what it all meant!

 

That anecdote reminds us of how David Craighead evolved tremendously, over the years, both as teacher and a performer.

He did. I remember seeing him some years later, perhaps in the early 1970s. He had come to perform in Pittsburgh, and we attended the Pittsburgh Symphony together. He spoke of the Offertoire from Couperin’s Mass for the Parishes, and how he had learned about the notes inégales. For Bach, we changed registration frequently and each change was well marked in the score. Also, phrasing was carefully marked. Craighead was meticulous about every detail, but was patient in working with us until we got it right. He was most effective when he would quickly slide onto the bench to demonstrate a passage.

 

Can you remember your degree recitals?

They were all in Kilbourne Hall on the Skinner organ. For my senior recital, I played the Bach Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543, and of course, a lot of American music. David Craighead loved the music of Sowerby. I played Sowerby’s famous Arioso, which was gorgeous on that organ. At Eastman, there was a kind of “shopping list” of music that we all had to work on. Ironically, when we got to Langlais’ music, I hated it! I had performed some of the Hommage à Frescobaldi, and I didn’t like it at all! I also remember playing in the weekly performance class in preparation for my senior recital. At one such class, having completed a play-through of the Bach “A Minor,” I remember David Craighead saying, “That was bloody but unbowed!” 

 

When you were wrapping up your days at Eastman, did David Craighead advise you about what you should do in terms of furthering your education?

David Craighead was very different from Russell Saunders, who told the students exactly what they should do. David took a far more hands-off approach. He gave his students the confidence to make their own decisions. I thought about staying at Eastman for my master’s degree, but decided to go to the University of Michigan. It turned out to be a very good thing to do that, as I would meet my future husband, Lewis Steele, at Michigan.

 

After four years at the Eastman School, I imagine that you had a much broader sense of the organ world, and you knew what you wanted?

I certainly knew that I wanted to go on to earn a master’s degree, but at that time, I didn’t know much about church music or improvisation. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted, except that I wanted to learn music.

 

In few words, can you summarize the church music curriculum at Eastman in those days?

It didn’t exist! 

 

Your next move was from Rochester to Ann Arbor. Tell us about what life was like at the University of Michigan in 1961.

In those days, the president of the AGO was Roberta Bitgood. She did a wonderful thing for the new students at U. of M. When we got off the train in Detroit, she met all the students. She had gathered members of the clergy from churches in the area that were looking for organists. She introduced all of us, and as a result, I began a church job right away in Dearborn, Michigan, about an hour from Ann Arbor. 

U. of M. was a very different school than ESM. My teacher there was Marilyn Mason. Mason was less of a teacher for me, but more of a coach. David Craighead had really formed my technique—so she didn’t have to work on that. We worked on musical details and interpretation. We always had our lessons on the organ in Hill Auditorium.

 

Were there other organ teachers?

Yes. Ray Ferguson and Robert Noehren were on the faculty at that time. 

 

Besides organ playing, were there any other memorable aspects of the Michigan graduate degree program that helped you grow?

The courses at Michigan were wonderful! I especially recall Hans David the musicologist, and Louise Cuyler, and I learned a great deal from both of them.

 

You mentioned that you also met your husband while at Michigan?

Yes, I earned the degree in one year and two summers, and I was getting ready to play my recital. I met Lewis Steele on the steps of Marilyn Mason’s studio. I needed soloists to sing in my church every Sunday since we didn’t have a summer choir. I heard his resonant voice, and asked him to sing a solo. That’s how our romance started! 

 

Would you care to elaborate?

Well, three children and four grandchildren later, we are very happy together. 

I could never have done the things I have done without Lewis’s support. He always said that in a marriage, it’s not a 50/50 partnership, rather it’s 100/100. You have to give all of yourself, all the time. He did so much in raising the children. I had no idea even how to change diapers. He taught me. So many of the things I didn’t have (for example, expertise in theology, scripture, choral directing), Lewis did have. It has been a wonderful partnership over the years. I always remember what Marilyn Mason said: “I’d marry him for his laugh!”

 

Can you sum up the church music curriculum at U. of M. in those days?

They had two tracks. You could earn the MM in organ, which I did, or the MM in church music. However, it seemed to me that the only difference was you didn’t have to memorize the recital if you were in the church music track. All students took Robert Noehren’s course in organ building, which I almost failed! You had to know the composition of mixtures, which was too much for me! He was a very good teacher, though. He had a significant influence in the organ department there at that time. 

 

As your time wound up in Michigan, the next big step would be the Fulbright process. What were you doing in Michigan to prepare for the program in France?

By the time I got to Michigan, I knew I wanted to go to France for additional study. In fact, I had applied for a Fulbright while still an Eastman student, but I didn’t get it. I applied a second time while at U. of M. I had been passionate about the French language and was determined that I would go to France one way or another. Every week, I would get together with Deedee Wotring, one of André Marchal’s former students. We would meet for coffee, and she would force me to speak French! 

 

But your love of France and the French language had begun long before Michigan, through your beloved Aunt Julia, correct?

I’m glad you mentioned Julia. You knew her and played at her funeral. She had studied art in Paris after the war, and following her arrival back home in New York, she spent every weekend with us in Long Island. Julia was determined to teach me how to speak French! My father (a geologist and engineer who worked on the Manhattan Project) was Russian, his second language being English. I was determined I was going to Paris to study, even if I had to be an au pair. 

In April, having applied for a Fulbright, saying I wanted to study with Marchal, but not yet knowing my fate, I went to a recital at St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue, performed by Jean Langlais, whom I met for the first time. I told him I had played his Miniature on my graduate recital at the University of Michigan, and that I hoped to soon be in Paris studying. He replied that he hoped he would see me! When I returned home to Long Island from that recital, I found out I had gotten the Fulbright grant! That was such a great blessing to be able to go, with everything paid for; it was just a marvelous thing. 

I should speak a little bit about how we got to France. The first time we went over was on the “Queen Mary,” and on the “France” a number of times. It took five days, and there was no jet lag, because each day you changed the clocks only one hour. It was a wonderful way to travel. Ruth Woods (Harris) and I went together, both studying with Marchal on a Fulbright grant. We remain close friends.

 

Though you are perhaps best known as the leading American disciple of Jean Langlais, when you set off for France, your initial intent was to study with André Marchal, and you did. Tell us about studying with Marchal.

When I heard Marchal play for the first time, it was at Oberlin. He played in a way I had never heard anyone else play. Each line breathed. I heard music differently when he played, and I wanted to learn what he knew. Fortunately, my French was good enough that I didn’t need a translator, but his daughter Jacqueline often translated for the other students. Lessons were in his home at 22 Rue Duroc. I also wanted to study improvisation. Even though Marchal improvised very well, at that time he no longer taught improvisation. He said: “Well, you may study improvisation with Langlais.”

You must understand about the teachers all over Europe at that time: they were very possessive of their students. You were not able to simply study with anyone you wanted; definitely not several teachers! You went abroad to study with ONE teacher. I studied organ repertoire with Marchal, but Marchal gave me his permission to study with Langlais. After that time, while continuing to study with Marchal, I would then go to Ste. Clotilde in the evenings for my lessons with Langlais, which was wonderful. Playing on the organ that Franck, Tournemire, and Langlais knew so well, and hearing their music on that instrument, made all the difference in learning that music.

 

What musical facet did Marchal underscore the most in how to play the organ?

The touch. He had a way of phrasing each line independently. And he had such a concept of the whole piece. I remember working on Bach’s great Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor (BWV 542) with him. He had the whole piece completely engraved in his mind—every voice. It was amazing to me that this blind man knew music so well. For example, if you used a fingering that was not effective, he could tell!

 

You mentioned having studied Couperin as an undergraduate at Eastman. I know that with his interest in early music, Marchal would make the classical French school an essential part of what you studied. How did your point of view evolve with respect to this music?

Marchal just knew that music. I don’t know how—because he had studied with Gigout, and of course, everyone was playing completely legato then. Marchal attributed his style of playing to studying the harpsichord, saying that as a result, he had learned a different way of playing. And in the 1960s, no one else was playing like that. We usually associate Marie-Claire Alain as a leader in the early music revival for the organ—but even in the 1940s when Marie Claire Alain was very young, it was Marchal who was the first great leader in this movement. There was something about the way he played that helped me understand that “this is how you play!” With Marchal, I studied all Couperin, as well as all the music of de Grigny, Clérambault, Daquin, etc.

 

I recall from other conversations over the years that you recall practicing constantly during the time you were in France. You learned a great deal of music—how much repertoire did you absorb in two years?

In addition to all I mentioned just above, with Marchal, I studied all the Bach trio sonatas, all the big preludes and fugues—tons of repertoire! With Langlais I studied all of Franck’s music, much of Tournemire, and other pieces, too. In terms of how lessons worked, with Marchal (and Donald Wilkins said it was the same with Duruflé), you brought in a piece to a lesson, one of these big pieces, and they told you everything you needed to know. If you brought in the same piece again to another lesson, they said, “Well, I already told you everything I know about it last week!” We knew that we wouldn’t be there forever with those brilliant musicians. Our goal was to cover as much repertoire as possible in the shortest amount of time.

 

Do you still play the pieces you studied with Marchal or Langlais the same way as when you learned them? Or do you perform them differently now?

Wonderful question. I think that the spirit is the same; some things changed a little. I’m constantly trying to think in a fresh way, but the spirit of what I learned from Langlais and Marchal has stayed with me.

 

Concerning Marchal’s teaching, did he have any idiosyncrasies?

Many have said of Marchal that if a student was not gifted, he would be very lenient with that student; but the more diligent a student was, he would be much more strict. And that certainly was true. One funny story was about phrasing in one of the trio sonatas. I had asked why he played it that particular way, and he thought for a long time. After quite a long period of silence, finally he answered: “Because it pleases me!”

 

Many people are very well acquainted with your work and expertise on the music and the life of Jean Langlais. Much of this information can be learned from your book, Jean Langlais: The Man and His Music (Amadeus Press, 2000), as well as from the liner notes on your CD recordings. Would you share with us, in a broad sense, what it was like to be Langlais’ pupil, and how that relationship developed over many years?

Langlais was extremely supportive. He always made you feel that you could do anything! If you made a mistake, he knew, but he was just thinking about the music. Always so encouraging and supportive, he was continually trying to find places for his students to play, and to help them in whatever way he could. As I learned his music, I became more and more interested, and I wanted to learn as much as I could. 

 

Over the years, how much cumulative time did you study with Langlais?

I have no idea. I usually had a weekly lesson on Wednesday evenings, when the church was closed. In addition to that, on Saturday afternoons, we were at the Schola Cantorum, and that’s where we worked on improvisation. Over the years, I returned many more times to study.

 

After remaining in France for an extra year, what path did your career take upon returning to the States?

Langlais asked me to be his guide for his fall 1964 American tour, and I did that. Shortly thereafter, I took a job in a very large Roman Catholic church in New Hyde Park, Long Island. I had a choir of men and boys that I had to develop and direct. That was hard work. 

 

How did you end up in Pittsburgh? Did you move there to take up your position as organ teacher at Duquesne University?

In 1967, Lewis and I moved to Pittsburgh to take up a joint church position at Brentwood Presbyterian Church. Lewis was the choir director, and I was the organist. We had only one child, six months old. Two years later, in 1969, the head of graduate studies at Duquesne University called and asked if I would like to teach organ at Duquesne—but I had never heard of Duquesne! Honestly, I was not thinking about teaching in a college and university. I had done some private teaching, but had not thought beyond that. I wanted to be a church musician and recitalist. Looking back on it, I don’t know why I hadn’t considered university teaching. I was busy at the church and raising our kids. So, in 1969, I began teaching part-time, and it initially cost our family money for me to teach at Duquesne, because I had to pay for child care! At that time, there was a degree program in organ, but no sacred music program or sacred music courses. 

In 1972, around the time of the birth of our third child, the dean of Duquesne’s school of music at the time, Gerald Keenan, called me into his office and said they wanted to hire me full-time. After that time, I was the only organ teacher.

 

What was your strategy for building up the sacred music degree programs at Duquesne? 

I didn’t really have a strategy. I worked slowly, adding courses as it made sense. Even before I was full-time, I had brought Jeanne Joulain to Pittsburgh for a recital and workshop—in that way, I was already developing a tradition of guest artists. The first class that I started was the “Service Playing” course. I was always interested in improvisation, having studied it with Langlais, and I had won the very first AGO improvisation competition in 1966 in Atlanta. I began an improvisation course, focusing on rather simple aspects of improvisation. 

For a few years, we moved along slowly, trying to figure out the curriculum and course requirements. In 1976, the 25th year of the Duquesne School of Music, I decided that Langlais should come to Duquesne. This coincided with the official establishment of the sacred music degree programs. While Langlais was in residence, we awarded him an honorary doctorate, and we had a whole week of concerts featuring premieres of his music. This started things off in a huge way, attracting a lot of national attention. Gradually, more and more students wanted to come to Duquesne, continuing over the years. I couldn’t say in what specific year things really blossomed. Another aspect of our program’s emphasis in church music came after I realized there had been a huge void in the Catholic Church after the Second Vatican Council—no choirs, no hymnals, a very low level of music. I saw that Duquesne had a responsibility and an opportunity to take a lead in this area. The dean, Robert Egan, agreed with me, and we worked for several years on strengthening the program. I called many people at different universities to see what other programs were offering. In those early days, I taught all the courses myself, as we didn’t have that many students. 

 

For many years, you have been a serious campaigner for the cause of the AGO certification program. From where did your advocacy of this program emerge?

Initially from Walter Hilse. I met Walter while we were both students in Paris. Walter, also from New York, was studying composition with Nadia Boulanger and organ with Maurice Duruflé. On Wednesday afternoons, Boulanger taught an analysis class for foreigners at her apartment, for which she had a huge following. She had a small house organ, having been a student of Vierne. Students would play pieces (Fauré, for example), and then she would pull the pieces apart and ask questions. She was a huge personality. I still have the scores. (We had to buy the ones she was going to discuss.) At these classes, Walter Hilse encouraged me to become certified. I distinctly remember him saying “You really should take the AAGO [Associate of the AGO] exam.” He has always been a huge promoter of the exams and has had many private students. Anne Wilson and Todd Wilson, for example, prepared for the exams with Walter. While my husband and I were still living on Long Island, I decided to do this. Once I began teaching at Duquesne University, it occurred to me that those skills were so vital to all students, that they should be learning these skills while studying for university degrees. 

 

Did the desire to help students become fluent with keyboard skills such as those tested on the AGO exams prompt you to require the AGO exams as part of the sacred music degrees at Duquesne?

In the early 1980s, I was on the National Committee on Professional Certification. Only one other school in the country was making it a requirement to take the exams. So, I decided to initiate the exams at Duquesne. When you tell people they have to do it, then they just do! Not everyone passed, and people took different exams, depending on their level of expertise. I met many wonderful people on that committee, including Max Miller, Sister Theophane Hytrek, John Walker, and David Schuler, for example. Different years, various others rotated on and off that committee, such as Todd Wilson. 

 

When did you ultimately attempt the Fellowship exam? 

Since I had already made the exams a degree requirement at DU, and I was the National Councillor for Education, I decided that it was time. You can’t just say to someone, “you should do this!”—you need to set an example. During a very busy time, when I had three children, was teaching full time, playing recitals, and was on the national board, I worked with two former students in Pittsburgh, John Miller and Robert Kardasz, to prepare together for the FAGO. Eventually, we all passed! It gave Pittsburgh more people with the FAGO diploma, where previously only Charles Heaton and Don Wilkins had earned it. We needed more highly certified people for a city our size.

 

Why do you consider it so important to take the certification exams?

There are a number of reasons:

1) In order to keep growing you need both long-term and short-term goals. As a student, it’s a short-term goal. Before earning a degree, it helps you have a point of arrival.

2) After my student, John Henninger, graduated from Duquesne, he went on to Westminster Choir College for graduate school and had applied for a church job in Princeton. He had passed the CAGO while at Duquesne, and he was appointed to the job because of having the Colleague Certificate. 

3) The exams represent a very structured way of testing both theoretical and practical skill. You can work at your own pace, and everybody I know who has done this, whether or not they have passed, has profited by it. It seems like a natural thing to do this, when you consider that so many other professions offer certification.

4) Earning an AGO certificate is a way that we show we’re at a certain level in our profession.

5) Earning certification does level the playing field and sets a high standard.

Our professional organization is extremely important. I get upset with people who complain about aspects of degree programs, churches, even the AGO—when the only thing you can do is to get right in the trenches to make things better!

 

Several graduates of Duquesne have gone on to earn the highest AGO certification. How has that made
you feel?

Very proud. You [Andrew Scanlon] being one of them, and now even serving on the national exam committee—that has made me especially proud. My current colleague, Ben Cornelius-Bates, has recently earned the FAGO also. 

 

Reflecting on your almost 45 years of teaching at Duquesne, how would you say your teaching and playing has evolved?

On teaching, David Craighead always said that you learn so much from your students, and I really have. In the beginning, I felt I didn’t know much, but I learned along the way. I found some things that worked well, and I fought the scars of things that didn’t work well. I have found it important to document what each student does. Recently, I got a computer in my studio, and using the “Blackboard” tool has been transformative. I have begun taking notes for each lesson and posting them for each student to view.

In the early days of my teaching, I was still very much in the mode of the teachers I learned from in Paris—Langlais, Marchal, and Dupré. They were very directive. They told you exactly what they wanted you to do. Initially, I taught the way they taught, because it was so fresh in my mind. As things have evolved, I have wanted to help each student find his own voice. I might not always agree with the student, but feel strongly that it’s in the best interest of each student to let them develop their own musical instincts. 

Ironically, when I performed all the recitals that Langlais had organized for me, I still felt I was his student. Langlais said, “You have to do this the way you want to do it.” But he had not taught that way. For example, he was known for saying so emphatically in his teaching that “Franck is tremendously free—just like this!” In improvisation, he taught the Thème libre, which, of course, is not free at all!

As you grow older, you grow in wisdom. You learn a lot from your children, also. They keep you humble, and they really tell you when you mess up! 

When I look at David Craighead, I keep thinking of how he was when I first studied with him at Eastman. Then, he was a new teacher. I had the joy of knowing him so well for the last 14 years of his life, and he had changed so much. He started by telling the students when they had made mistakes, but ended up changing lives. I try to do that too. I try to be a mentor, to do everything I possibly can to encourage my pupils, and help them get along well together. Music school can be almost like a monastery, when you’re all working together, and it’s so important to have a good rapport with your colleagues, to show great compassion for one another. 

Secondly, in answer to your question about my own playing, several things have contributed to the way I have played over the years. One of these was earning my Ph.D. in musicology, and beginning my biography of Langlais as the dissertation. All my years of teaching, the wisdom I gained from colleagues such as Robert Sutherland Lord and Don Franklin, making all the Langlais recordings—all of that contributed to the evolution of my playing. Other factors include the 1985 Bach Year, when I was asked to play an all-Bach recital on the Beckerath organ at St. Paul’s Cathedral in Pittsburgh. I changed my approach to Bach playing, using all toes, and different fingering. Change was in the air at that time. 

 

Have there been still more recent developments?

Yes. I have been working with Don Franklin on the tempo relationships in Bach preludes and fugues. We have been looking back to Kirnberger’s tempo relationships. I am constantly trying to learn more. If you have everything figured out, you may as well just retire, and I’m certainly not ready to retire!

In addition, after being asked a few years ago to do a peer review of a string methods class, I became fascinated with the violin. I realized that I had always wanted to play the violin, but I was afraid to try! I started taking violin lessons with David Gillis, a member of the Pittsburgh Symphony, and I’m still studying! I’m working on the Vivaldi sonatas, Opus 2, which I love! It’s a whole other world. 

The most recent development is the establishment of Duquesne’s chant schola under the direction of faculty member Sister Marie Agatha Ozah, HHCJ. We study the St. Gall notation to incorporate those interpretive elements into our singing. In May 2013, I led a study trip to Paris to play the important organs there and gave a short concert at the Benedictine Abbey in Solesmes. 

 

How do you know what to say when a student plays? What not to say? 

Always, I do it by intuition, and I think David Craighead did too. I’m careful not to say too much, and not say too little. 

 

How do you decide not only what to say, but how to say it? How do you break through?

Teaching is so dynamic, because you have to figure out where the student is and how the student will perceive what you say. You always have to be honest, but you need to be helpful—not damaging. You can’t say something is good when it’s not. Some teachers are more didactic, but I find that I do almost everything by intuition.

 

Realizing that you could retire, what keeps you going?

I love what I’m doing. I’m finally at a point when I can do it more easily.

I still have a lot to give to the students. I can still make a difference in their lives, and I still enjoy it. When we look around the country, and see the teachers who have retired, only to see their programs eliminated, that is always a danger. 

 

What are your hopes for the future of Duquesne’s sacred music and organ programs?

We are working very hard to get a world-class organ on campus! We have plans, and hope to be able to do this in the near future. The last piece of the puzzle is to put a doctoral program in place. That has been in discussion for many years, and it has been very challenging because there are many hoops to jump through. Our library holdings have been critical, but we now have many sacred music collections (the Langlais Collection, the Craighead Collection, the Boys Town Collection, the Richard Proulx Collection, to name a few). We have the faculty, and the quality of teaching, but we need more financial support. 

 

What else would you like to say?

Duquesne University has always been a religious institution. Our mission is to train church musicians. There are other schools whose main issue is getting students ready for competitions, which is wonderful, and I admire them very much. But even David Craighead agreed that he wished the Eastman School had done more with church music and preparation for the AGO exams. I want to prepare students to be musicians in churches of all denominations. We are trying to evolve, as the church continues to evolve. Students have to learn both pastoral skills and musical skills. These are difficult to teach. Our internship, for example, is a requirement partially because of NASM accreditation, but it’s also a critical area that we use to help each student in that very way. 

 

Ann, thank you for sharing these details of your life in teaching and performing. Albert Einstein said, “I never teach my pupils. I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn.” My experience of you as a teacher and mentor has been just so. You always gave the students exactly the right amount of guidance, and offered the right words precisely when they were needed; and yet you always allowed each student to discover his own path. You have led the way gracefully, setting a high bar and leading by example. Most importantly you have shown me the importance of constant, ongoing learning. I look forward to many more years of collaboration and friendship and wish you many blessings for continued joy in your work. 

James Kibbie

James Kibbie is Chair of the Organ Department and University Organist at the University of Michigan.

Daniel Roth is widely acclaimed as a leading French organ recitalist, recording artist, improviser, teacher, and composer. He is titular organist of the Church of Saint-Sulpice in Paris, where his predecessors included Widor and Dupré, and he has held teaching positions at major institutions in France, Germany, and the United States. He has won prestigious competitions, including the Grand Prix de Chartres, and is a Chevalier de la Légion d’Honneur, an Officier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres, and an Honorary Fellow of the Royal College of Organists. I spoke with him in Ann Arbor, Michigan, during his appointment as visiting artist in organ at the University of Michigan.

 

James Kibbie: Daniel, it’s been an honor to have you work with our students at the University of Michigan as visiting artist. What are your impressions of organ study in the United States?

Daniel Roth: I think there has always been a very high level in the States. Many teachers at different universities have a wonderful background by having had lessons in Europe with several great masters, then coming back to the States. Also, in the States you have organists who have studied musicology besides their training on the instrument. In Europe, we sometimes have teachers who are only wonderful players; there is not always a basis of research.

 

Wasn’t it Widor’s idea that musicians must also study history and other subjects? Organ students in American colleges and universities have other course requirements such as music theory, history, and general studies. Is it the same in France?

Today, and for a number of years, things are changing. We had in France the conservatoire system, and really in this system there are many interpreters who did not have much experience with musicological research. The conservatoire system is a system of music interpretation. It’s difficult to generalize because musicians are very different, but you found in the conservatoire system many organists who did not have this base of musicology.

 

Are the organ students in France today different than when you were a student?

Oh, yes. The two great conservatoires, Paris and Lyon, now have the university system. In my days you could do only an instrument in the conservatoire, no harmony, no music history. Music students arranged their studies as they wanted. When I was in the Paris Conservatoire in the 1960s, I did the classes of harmony with Maurice Duruflé, counterpoint and fugue with Marcel Bitsch, accompaniment with Henriette Puig-Roget, and organ and improvisation with Rolande Falcinelli. In 1960 there was a strict director of the conservatoire, and every student had to take a class in music history with Norbert Dufourcq. This was very new!

 

Does it hurt the students’ organ performance to require other studies?

It depends—some students are able to study many things together, others not. Achieving a high level in music performance needs a lot of time. It’s a matter of organization . . . 

 

Your improvisation at your recital this week was truly moving. This is so interesting to us in the United States. How do you teach your students to improvise?

I don’t anymore—I’m retired! [laughs]

 

Well then, how did you?

Of course, teaching improvisation is not an easy task. You must begin with much hope, and the student must be encouraged. Training in improvisation involves so many things together. You need much training in writing music. In the Paris Conservatoire harmony class, every week we had to realize a given bass and a given chant, counterpoint exercises, and a fugue. The best thing when you want to become a good improviser is to study the different major styles of music history, starting with Monteverdi and going up to our time, study the evolution of harmony, and improvise in the different styles. Counterpoint is very important in our field of organ, of course. 

 

Did you use Marcel Dupré’s Traité d’improvisation?

Yes, I used that even before coming to Paris. In Mulhouse, I started the little preparatory exercises for improvisation by Marcel Dupré with my organ teacher. Dupré’s exercises are very good to train beginning improvisation. He starts with harmonizing melodies and then quickly moves to improvising commentary to a melody. He eventually gets to a sonata movement. The theme (four measures) ends on the dominant, you improvise several commentaries modulating to the neighboring keys, a bridge on an element of the theme, the whole theme comes back, this builds the exposition, then comes the development on another element and the recapitulation.

 

When we had dinner at Jim and Mary Ann Wilkes’ home, you told a wonderful story of how you became an organist because of a film about Albert Schweitzer.

When I was a little boy, we went to church in a little village near Mulhouse in Alsace. There was a big organ, so I heard the organ, but until the age of 10, I was only interested in painting and drawing. It was my great passion. Then my father bought a piano. He wanted me to play the piano, but I had no great interest, I must say. I didn’t have a very kind teacher, you know, so piano was a little burden. But Albert Schweitzer was becoming well known, and I was born in Alsace, and Albert Schweitzer was also from Alsace. I was absolutely fascinated by his personality. Besides being a theologian and a medical doctor in Africa, he was also an organist, a specialist in Bach, and in organbuilding—it’s amazing. The movie “Il est minuit, docteur Schweitzer” (“It’s Midnight, Dr. Schweitzer”) came out when I was 11. The actor was a wonderful actor from Alsace, Pierre Fresney. In the middle of the movie you see Albert Schweitzer playing his piano in Lambaréné, which was a piano with a pedalboard attached, and in his mind he was in a great cathedral with a nice organ. As a little child, I was very much impressed by this. When I left this movie with my mother, I told her, “Maman, I absolutely want to become an organist.” I then got another piano teacher, a wonderful lady, and was practicing the organ for six hours a day.

 

How did you come to study with Rolande Falcinelli?

In my hometown of Mulhouse I had a teacher who was a great admirer of Dupré, and during these years I only heard great compliments for the Dupré school. When I came to Paris, I had lessons with Rolande Falcinelli, a student of Dupré, and she was wonderful with me. She organized all my studies and presented me to the teachers of counterpoint and harmony. She prepared me for the entrance exam for the conservatoire.

 

What was the entrance examination?

In those days in the organ class (it’s different now), we had to improvise a sonata andante on one theme as explained in the first volume of Dupré’s Traité d’improvisation. We had also to improvise the exposition, first divertissement, and relative key of a fugue, but with a countersubject, which you had to retain. This needs great training, which I didn’t have in Mulhouse. Also, all the organ pieces had to be played by memory, which had not been asked in the organ class in Mulhouse. 

 

So you were accepted into Rolande Falcinelli’s class at the conservatory?

Yes, I entered the organ class in 1961. In 1960, I had entered the class of Duruflé for harmony, and then in 1962 I started the counterpoint and fugue class. I stayed two years in the organ class with Rolande Falcinelli and got my First Prize in 1963. I was very happy to get her ideas, and still today I am very grateful to her because her teaching and improvisation were most perfect. She was an excellent teacher, and of course I learned everything about the Dupré tradition, Widor and so on. I am very grateful to Rolande Falcinelli for all I learned from her.

 

You also studied with Marie-Claire Alain?

In 1963, when I graduated from the organ class of the conservatoire, it was the time in Haarlem when the great movement for the real interpretation of old music started. You remember these three famous teachers, Anton Heiller, Luigi Tagliavini (who is still alive), and Marie-Claire Alain. At that time I felt the desire to go deeper into the interpretation of old music. With Rolande Falcinelli it was the Dupré tradition, you played the whole repertoire with the same touch, absolute legato or staccato (half-value). I felt the desire to learn more about the real interpretation of old music, so I went to have lessons with Marie-Claire Alain. She was a wonderful teacher. First of all, she was always very happy, very kind. Rolande Falcinelli was quite formal: “Mon petit, comment allez-vous?” You know Marie-Claire—with her, it was, “Ha-ha-ha, comment ça va, comment ça va?” 

I was extremely happy to study the completely new kind of interpretation with Marie-Claire. You have to research the composer, his instrument, his touch, not playing all the repertoire with the same touch. And then of course there’s the difference between the composers who want you to play the music straight and the composers who use rubato, like César Franck. Marie-Claire opened to me this world of research into the personality of each composer. Serve the composer, in the same way as Nikolaus Harnoncourt writes in his book, “The composer should be the highest authority.” I was fascinated by this and continued with it my whole life.

 

Your first church position was as the assistant to Mme. Falcinelli at Sacré-Cœur?

At Easter 1963, Rolande Falcinelli asked me to be her assistant at Sacré-Cœur Basilica because she was having great problems with the head priest there, a very difficult person. He did not like her way of playing, he didn’t like modern music at all. I often went to hear her, and she improvised in a wonderful way, but he didn’t like this in the liturgy. They agreed together she should have an assistant, and this is what I became on the Sunday after Easter, 1963. 

And then you became the titulaire of Sacré-Cœur?

At first, the head priest and Rolande Falcinelli agreed she would play one Sunday a month, and I would play the rest of the time. Finally in 1973, she told me, “Now I have had enough.” This probably was because Marcel Dupré had died in 1971, and he had the wish that Rolande Falcinelli would be his successor at Saint-Sulpice. The head priest of Saint-Sulpice formed a commission of organists to select the titulaire, he read them the letter of Dupré saying he wanted Rolande Falcinelli as his successor, and the commission voted. But at the end of this vote, the head priest took the ballots and said, “I am going to give these to the cardinal.” Then of course all the organists were unhappy—“What is the result of our vote?” After that, Jean-Jacques Grunenwald was named. Of course, Rolande Falcinelli was very bitter about this, and she told me, “I will quit now at Sacré-Cœur, and you will be my successor.” 

 

By this time, you had already won the Grand Prix de Chartres. In 1971, you won the grand prix for both interpretation and improvisation.

There were two of us. My good friend Yves Devernay and I both received the grand prix. The program was completely crazy, impossible, all by memory, and then we had to improvise a symphony. We shared the grand prix, and after he became one of the four organists at Notre-Dame. He was a wonderful person and a very good friend. He died in 1990.

 

How did it happen that you then went to Saint-Sulpice?

In 1974, I was invited to Washington, D.C., for two years to be the organist of the National Shrine and to teach at Catholic University. Then I came back to Sacré-Cœur, and we restored the organ because it was in very bad shape. In 1982, Jean-Jacques Grunenwald died, so the position at Saint-Sulpice was open. I was at Sacré-Cœur, I love this organ very much, and I did not think about changing, but I had several friends who pushed me, “You have to be a candidate at Saint-Sulpice. We are very worried about who will be there, and the organ,” and so on. Finally, I agreed to be a candidate. There were many candidates, and the exam for the post took a long time. This was in 1982. By 1984, when Pierre Cochereau died, there were still no rules about how to name an organist and still no organist in Saint-Sulpice. Finally, after the death of Cochereau, the cardinal redid the text on the nomination of organists in Paris. The cardinal wrote that the curé is the head of the parish, and he makes the final decision, but he has to get as consultants a commission of composers, organists, and liturgists. The text says that the curé may do this in two ways, either by organizing an official competition in interpretation and improvisation, or by an examination based on the curriculum vitae. The curé at Saint-Sulpice wanted to do it the second way, by curriculum vitae. I remember in February 1985, I was playing vespers at Sacré-Cœur, and my wife came and whispered in my ear, “You just have been named at Saint-Sulpice.” Oh, I lost the key!

 

Are the organs in the churches of Paris maintained by a city commission?

In France in 1905 there was separation of state and church. From this time on, all churches and their furniture belong to the towns. All cathedrals belong to the state. So when there is an organ restoration to be made, the town pays, or for a cathedral, the state, not the church. When the organ in a town is also an historic monument, then the state and the town divide the cost of restoration. For organ maintenance, it depends. In some places, it’s the town that pays for tuning. In other places, Saint-Sulpice for example, it’s the church.

I read an article in The Guardian newspaper that said the city commission does not have enough money to maintain the organs of Paris. Is it true?

Of course, as you know, there’s a financial crisis right now, a difficult time for the economy. There is a lack of money for restoration and for new organs, this is sure, but the maintenance in general is done.

 

What are your favorite organs?

Oh, I like in general all kinds of organs which are in a true aesthetic. I like very much historic organs all over the world. I am very fascinated by a North German organ, or an organ from Middle Germany or South Germany, or a typical Italian or Spanish organ. I like also new organs when they have a good aesthetic. I am sad when I see an historic organ that has been changed.

 

Yes, I think particularly of the many changes to César Franck’s organ at Sainte-Clotilde.

Yes, a catastrophe, and also Notre-Dame.

 

I wish the organ of Sainte-Clotilde could be restored to its original state.

I wish this also. The state commission for historic organs is interested in this, but in Paris it’s always politics, you know; the organs of Sainte-Clotilde and Notre-Dame have not been restored back to the original because of the organists. In Leipzig, for instance, you have the great organ of the Thomaskirche, by Sauer originally. It had been very much changed by the Orgelbewegung, taking out beautiful principals with nice scaling and putting in their place little mixtures and mutations. Years ago they organized the complete return to the original disposition of the organ. Or look at the Dom in Berlin, also a Sauer. After communism, they decided to restore that organ as it was originally, with pneumatic action and so on, beautifully poetic. 

 

Before we finish, we should talk a little about your children.

Yes! We have four children. The oldest is a girl, Anne-Marie, and she has completed fine arts school and is a specialist in mosaic. She lives now in Geneva and has done mosaics in schools and other places. Then we have three boys. The oldest boy is François-Xavier, and he has a wonderful career as a conductor. Then we have Vincent; he plays viola and is professor of viola at the Conservatoire of Metz in Lorraine. The last one, born in Washington, D.C. in 1976 (a bicentennial baby!) is not at all an artist. He is a professor of mathematics in Laval. And we have nine grandchildren from 4 to 17 years old, among them students in horn, trombone, flute, harpsichord, clarinet, percussion, and tuba. We are very proud!

 

Daniel, thank you so much. It’s been a delight visiting with you. 

James David Christie

James David Christie has performed around the world with symphony orchestras and period instrument ensembles as well as in solo recitals. The 1979 first prize winner of the Bruges (Belgium) International Organ Competition, he was the first American ever to win first prize in this competition, and also the first person in the competition’s eighteen-year history to win both the first prize and the prize of the audience. He has served as organist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra since 1978 and has performed and recorded with numerous major orchestras, including those of Vienna, London, Stuttgart, Paris, Philadelphia, San Francisco, San Diego, Seattle, New York, Boston, and others. He has made over fifty tours of Europe and performs regularly in Canada, Asia, Australia, and Iceland. James David Christie has served on many international organ competition juries, including those in Paris, Chartres, Biarritz, St. Albans, Amsterdam, Lübeck, Bordeaux, Dublin, Worcester, Calgary, Montreal, Dallas, Leipzig, Weimar-Merseburg, Tokyo, Moscow, Kaliningrad, Lausanne, Boston, Bruges, and others. Christie has recorded for Decca, Philips, Nonesuch, JAV, Northeastern, Arabesque, Denon, RCA, Dorian, Naxos, Bridge, and GM and has received several awards for his solo recordings, including the Preis der Deutschen Schallplatten Kritik and the Magazine d’Orgue: Coup de Coeur. James David Christie holds positions as the Distinguished Artist in Residence at the College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, Massachusetts, Chair and Professor of Organ at the Oberlin College Conservatory of Music, Oberlin, Ohio, and serves as College Organist at Wellesley College, Wellesley, Massachusetts. He has previously held positions at Boston Conservatory, Harvard University, M.I.T., and Boston University. In the fall of 2010, he was on sabbatical in Paris, France, where he served as visiting Professor of Organ at the Paris Conservatory.

 

A national French celebration took place March 24–27, 2011 in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, a Parisian suburb west of Paris and hometown of the composer Jehan Alain, to honor the centenary of his birth. The splendid event was organized by Dr. Aurélie Decourt, Jehan Alain’s niece and daughter of the celebrated French organist, Marie-Claire Alain, in conjunction with the city of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, the Chevalier family (for the performance of Maurice Duruflé’s music), the association Arts, cultures et foi, the General Council of the Department of the Yvelines, the National Museum of Archeology, SACEM—Société des auteurs, compositeurs et éditeurs de musique (the French association entrusted with the rights of composers, authors, and publishers), the Société Générale-Direction régionale de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, and Les Amis du Vieux Saint-Germain (an organization dedicated to preserving and celebrating the history and arts of Saint-Germain-en-Laye). The event was listed among the national 2011 celebrations of the French Ministry of Culture and was sponsored under the international patronage of Marie-Claire Alain, Gilles Cantagrel, James David Christie, John Grew, Georges Guillard, and Philippe Lefebvre.

 

Thursday, March 24

The event opened on Thursday evening, March 24, with a joyous ceremony: the placing of a plaque on the home of the Alain family at 46, rue du Pologne, by the mayor of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Over one hundred people attended the event, including Jehan Alain’s three children, Denis, Agnès, and Lise, and his sister, Marie-Claire, the last living sibling of Jehan Alain. The new owner of the home invited those in attendance into her home to wander throughout the house; she generously provided and served champagne to everyone. It was the first time Marie-Claire Alain had been in the house since it was sold in the 1970s, and it was a very emotional experience for her to return to the home of her childhood.

Aurélie Decourt designed and personally arranged a marvelous exhibition at the Espace Véra, which included musical manuscripts, letters, and drawings by Alain; information about the Alain house organ and organs in general was provided by Guy Bovet and the Association Jehan Alain de Suisse. The exhibit was open from March 19 through April 8. On Saturday afternoon, participants were invited by Les Amis du Vieux Saint-Germain to attend a very moving ceremony at the grave of Jehan Alain, located in the military section of the cemetery in Le Pecq, a small town next to Saint-Germain where Jehan had lived with his wife Madeleine and his children. After the war, Jehan’s body was exhumed from his grave in Saumur and moved to Le Pecq.  Madeleine is buried near her husband in the plot of her parents. On their way to the cemetery, the participants passed the house where the young married couple had lived.

 

International Colloquium “Music and Arts in the 20s and 30s”

Two days were devoted to lectures as part of the international colloquium entitled “Music and Arts in the 20s and 30s.” Aurélie Decourt opened the event on Friday, March 25 at the Salle du Musée d’Archéologie Nationale in the Saint-Germain Chateau with a marvelous lecture on Jehan Alain’s sources of inspiration. Guy Bovet spoke about the harmonium of Albert Alain (which had been housed in the very room where the lecture was given) and the last modifications on the Alain house organ, now located at Romainmôitier, Switzerland. Ton van Eck spoke of the organ that
Jehan Alain knew during his lifetime. Fabienne Stahl, who is organizing the catalog of the complete works of Maurice Denis, spoke of Denis’s use of the organ in his painting and showed that Denis used Marie-Odile Alain, Jehan’s sister who was killed in a mountain accident at a very young age, as his model for an organist in one of his paintings. Christophe Corbier lectured on Alain and his teacher, Maurice Emmanuel, and the use of modes in some of Alain’s piano works; a round-table discussion, led by Gilles Cantagrel, followed, concerning organists during Alain’s lifetime. The panel included Marie-Claire Alain, Jacqueline Englert (daughter of André Marchal), Marie-Louise Langlais (widow of Jean Langlais), Eric Lebrun (student of Gaston Litaize), and Christian Lesur (son of the organist-composer Daniel-Lesur). One laments that the music of Daniel-Lesur is not better known today; he was an extraordinary composer and his music deserves to be played and heard. Jacqueline Englert prepared an excellent talk on the close relationship of her father and Jehan Alain that was concise and beautifully delivered. 

The afternoon session was devoted to Jehan Alain as composer. Vincent Warnier, the organiste-titulaire of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, presided over this session. Roberto Antonello spoke of his thoughts on Alain’s music through Alain’s correspondence and Georges Guillard spoke of the “hidden” orchestra of Jehan Alain. Luc Antonini spoke on his new orchestration of Alain’s Trois Danses, which we were to hear later that evening. Vincent Warnier gave a very interesting talk on Maurice Duruflé’s large orchestral work, Trois Danses, which we were also to hear that same evening. Jean-Baptiste Robin’s talk, entitled “La griffe Jehan Alain,” was followed by another round-table discussion with Michel Bouvard (France), James David Christie (USA), Lynne Davis (USA), John Grew (Canada), James Higdon (USA), Jon Laukvik (Germany), and Wim Viljoen (Republic of South Africa)—all were students of Marie-Claire Alain, except for Mr. Bouvard. Each spoke about Alain’s music in their countries and its reception from the early 20th century through the present. 

 

Friday evening, March 25

Friday evening, March 25, was the long-awaited premiere of the new orchestration by organist Luc Antonini of Alain’s Trois Danses, performed by the Orchestre National d’Ile-de-France under the direction of the American conductor, Jonathan Schiffmann, at the Théâtre Alexandre Dumas in the heart of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Jehan Alain’s own orchestration of Trois Danses was lost during the last year of his life, and Raymond Gallois-Montbrun orchestrated the work in 1945. Critics viewed this orchestration as too heavy and too academic for Alain’s music and there was always a desire that someone would undertake a new orchestration, more in the exotic spirit of the young Jehan Alain.  

Friday evening’s program included Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune, certainly to pay homage to the most famous composer to hail from Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Sadly, the famous opening flute solo was lackluster and performed without poetry and with a very dull, uninteresting tone. The Chevalier family made possible the performance of Maurice Duruflé’s stunning Trois Danses, which date from 1936 (the year before Alain began his Trois Danses, also for orchestra). Certainly the high point of the concert, Duruflé’s Trois Danses elicited the orchestra’s finest performance of the entire evening. This work is a masterpiece and shows Duruflé as an orchestrator on the level of Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel, and André Caplet.  

Unfortunately, Antonini’s orchestration of Alain’s Trois Danses did not fare as well. One was expecting extensive use of orchestral color and this did not happen. The audience was ready for an explosive, colorful, on-the-edge orchestration that would bring the work to life like a rock band. The percussion was under-used and the orchestration in general was “textbook” and dull. One had the feeling that Antonini did not even know the organ version. We were told that Antonini was not happy with the results, and that he planned to rework the orchestration for a performance at the festival Toulouse les Orgues this fall. Schiffmann’s heavy, shapeless conducting did much to harm the performance and showed that minimal study had been done on the work. The orchestra sounded very under-rehearsed as well. The program concluded with a more polished performance of Ravel’s Ma Mère l’Oye, which was obviously in the repertoire of the orchestra. The audience responded enthusiastically and a movement was repeated as an encore.

 

Saturday, March 26

The colloquium continued on Saturday morning, March 26, under Georges Guillard’s leadership in the exquisite chapel of the Musée Maurice Denis, with topics concerning the works of Jehan Alain. Claire Denis, granddaughter of the famed artist Maurice Denis, gave a lovely introduction to his work and the efforts currently being undertaken to prepare a catalog of his works. Michel Fischer spoke on the great differences in the compositions of two close friends, Alain and Messiaen. Wilhelm Hafner lectured on the counterpoint in the instrumental work of Alain. This was followed by perhaps the most interesting of all the lectures: Jean-Marc Leblanc spoke on the influence of Charles Tournemire on Alain. 

Norma Stevlingson spoke about the critical notes on the organ works, which she assisted Marie-Claire Alain to prepare for publication by Alphonse Leduc. Klaus Rothaupt recalled the teaching of Alain’s organ works by his sister, Marie-Claire.  Yannick Merlin’s topic was Jehan Alain’s brother, Olivier Alain, and his compositions. Since Olivier’s death in 1994, Marie-Claire Alain has prepared editions of many of his works.  

The morning session concluded with a round-table discussion on the global scope of Alain’s work, with Marie-Claire Alain, James David Christie, Gilles Cantagrel, and John Grew. The participants were treated to a sumptuous lunch prepared and served by members of Les Amis du Vieux Saint-Germain in the Saint-Germain-en-Laye chateau.

 

Afternoon concert

In the afternoon, there was a concert given by professional musicians from Saint-Germain, which included a wonderful performance of Jehan Alain’s Andante con variazioni et Scherzo for string quintet (this is the same music as the first two movements of Alain’s Suite pour orgue), the Trois mouvements for flute and piano, and Olivier Alain’s Souvenances for flute and piano (with well-known veteran flutist Luc Urbain). A beautiful performance of Olivier Alain’s Suite for violin and piano followed.   

Perhaps one of the most touching moments of the entire festival was the singing of Jehan Alain’s beautiful song, Laisse les nuages blancs (poem of Francis Jammes) by Ariane Gommier, the great-niece of Jehan Alain, granddaughter of Marie-Claire Alain, and daughter of Anne Gommier and Marie-Claire Alain’s late son, Benoît. Members of the choir of the Claude Debussy Conservatory of Saint-Germain sang several secular and religious choral works of Jehan Alain to conclude the program.

 

Evening concert

The finest program of the festival took place at the Church of Saint-Germain-en-Laye on Saturday evening, March 26. Albert Alain held the position of organiste-titulaire at this church from 1924 until his death in 1971 and was succeeded by his daughter, Marie-Claire, who holds the position to this day. Jehan Alain often substituted for his father here as well. This program was unique and captivating. It featured the brilliant concert organist Michel Bouvard and the celebrated French actress Brigitte Fossey, reading excerpts from letters written by Jehan Alain from the front. The readings, carefully chosen by Aurélie Decourt, were interspersed among the organ works and were very moving. Brigitte Fossey is a marvelous actress and gave an outstanding presentation. Michel Bouvard was the perfect organist for this program; his playing was elegant, refined, colorful, full of spontaneity, poetic, and exciting—in short, he played just as one would have imagined Jehan Alain played his own works. He gave extraordinary performances of Alain’s two Fantasies and Trois Danses. This concert was a preview of the official performance scheduled for October 2011 at the international festival, Toulouse les Orgues.

 

Sunday morning

On Sunday morning, young students of the Conservatory Claude Debussy of Saint-Germain performed piano works of Jehan Alain. The second half of the program was devoted to Alain’s more mature works, such as Suite monodique and Tarass Boulba; Désiré N’Kaoua, a former student of Lazare Levy and Marguerite Long, performed this portion of the program. A specialist in the music of Ravel and French music in general, N’Kaoua recorded the complete piano works of Jehan Alain for the FY label in France.

 

Concluding concert

The Alain Centenary Celebration concluded with a concert in memory of Albert, Jehan, and Olivier Alain, with a large cast of performers: organists Eric Lebrun and Marie-Ange Leurent; the Camerata Saint-Louis, Georges Guillard, conductor; the Ensemble vocal de l’UFR de Musique et Musicologie en Sorbonne, Denis Rouger, director; soprano soloists Maud Gnidzaz, Lorraine Prigent, Clémence Olivier, and Ariane Gommier; mezzo-sopranos Anne-Marie Hellot, Violette Viannay, Camille Rondeau, and Mariette Desert; violinists Marie-Hélène Clausse and Stefano Catalano; violist Thierry Gileni; cellist Matthieu Fontana, and flutist Luc Urbain. 

The program opened with Duruflé’s memorial to Jehan Alain, his Prelude and Fugue on the name of ALAIN. The audience was treated to a rare performance of the Kyrie and Gloria from Albert Alain’s Messe Solennelle en l’honneur de Saint-Louis. Many of Jehan Alain’s smaller organ works and vocal motets were performed, including his beautiful Messe modale for soprano, alto, flute, and string quartet. The program concluded with Olivier Alain’s moving memorial to his sister Marie-Odile, Plange quasi virgo (from Trois déplorations) for soprano and organ, and Jehan Alain’s most famous work, Litanies. 

This concert was a wonderful way to conclude the festival and to celebrate the contributions of the entire Alain family to the city of Saint-Germain-en-Laye and the world. Marie-Claire Alain, who is now retired and who celebrated her 85th birthday on August 10, was in attendance for all the concerts. It was very moving to see the devotion and love of her many former students, colleagues, family, friends, and the public in general when she was welcomed at the concerts and receptions. The contributions of the Alain family from the early part of the 20th century through the present are amazing. Aurélie Decourt is a brilliant musicologist and works tirelessly for the Alain legacy. To mark the 100th birthday of Jehan Alain, she published an excellent book devoted to the history of the Alain family: “Une famille de musiciens au 20ème siècle, la famille Alain.” It is written in French and is published by Editions Hermann (http://www.editions-hermann.fr/).  

Our deepest thanks to Dr. Decourt for putting together this entire festival and to Les Amis de Vieux Saint-Germain for their warm welcome and their tireless work—it was a magnificent celebration and tribute to Jehan Alain and the entire Alain family! n