Marie-Claire Alain—80th birthday tribute (continued)

James David Christie, David Craighead, Thomas F. Froehlich, John Grew, Stephen Hamilton,

Recitalist, teacher and recording artist, Marie-Claire Alain is one of the leading personalities in the world of organ music. Born into a family of musicians at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, she studied music at the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Paris, where she won four first prizes, soon followed by several awards in international competitions.
Marie-Claire Alain’s concert tours have led her throughout the world, including numerous trips to the United States and Canada since 1961. Critics praise the clarity of her playing, the musicality of her interpretations, the purity of her style, and her mastery of registration.
Greatly sought after as a teacher and justly famous for her lectures illustrated with musical examples, Marie-Claire Alain bases her teaching on extensive, unrelenting musicological studies in organ literature and performance practices of early music. After teaching for sixteen summers in Haarlem, The Netherlands (1956–1972), she now holds a workshop every summer in Romainmôtier, Switzerland, where the house organ from her family home in France is located. She taught for many years at the Conservatoire National de Region de Rueil-Malmaison, followed by several years at the Conservatoire Supérieur de Paris. Her discography is impressive, containing over 220 recordings, including the famous “integrales” or complete works (J. S. Bach, Couperin, de Grigny, Daquin, Franck, Handel, J. Alain, etc.), which have won her numerous Grands Prix du Disque in France and abroad. In addition, an educational DVD featuring Mme. Alain was produced by the American Guild of Organists in 2002. Marie-Claire Alain has received honorary doctorates from Colorado State University (Fort Collins), Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas, The Boston Conservatory of Music, McGill University, Montréal, Canada, and most recently in 2006 from the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. In 1984, she was named International Performer of the Year by the New York City AGO chapter, and in 1999 was given the AGO Lifetime Achievement Award. In France, she was awarded the degree “Commandeur des Arts et Lettres.”
As an outgrowth of her great interest in the pipe organs of her own country, Mme. Alain serves on a commission of the French government for the promotion and construction of new pipe organs in France. Classic CD magazine named her one of “The Greatest Players of the Century” in 2001 in a list that included the entire classical music world. For many years, she has been an adjudicator at organ competitions all over the world. In 1999 she was president of the jury of Concours Suisse de l’orgue, and on several occasions she has presided over the juries of the Concours International de Chartres and of the Musashino International Competition in Tokyo.
—Stephen Hamilton
 

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In 1965, a brilliant young student of Arthur Poister, Byron L. Blackmore, moved to my hometown of La Crosse, Wisconsin, to assume the city’s only full-time church position. I had the privilege of being his first organ student at the age of 13, and it was Byron who introduced me to the artistry of Marie-Claire Alain. He had me purchase her recordings of de Grigny, Couperin, Bach, Handel and Jehan Alain, and from these recordings my life completely changed. I immediately fell in love with her incredible musicianship, her extraordinary attention to detail, touch, ornamentation, breath, style and, above all, music-making, and I knew I wanted one day to be her student.
I met Marie-Claire for the first time at a concert she performed in Rochester, Minnesota, when I was 14 years old. She made a very ordinary electric-action organ come alive. Following the concert, we spoke at the reception in French, and she patiently coached our conversation along, helping me with my first year “command” of the language. She was so kind, warm and encouraging. She gave me her home address in L’Etang-la-Ville and told me to keep in touch. I couldn’t believe such a great artist would be so kind and take so much time with a young student. Many years later, I realized I was the same age as her only son, Benoit. She has always had a loving maternal relationship with all of her students.
Throughout my high school and early undergraduate years, I followed her around the country for masterclasses and concerts. The most memorable was her week-long seminar at Fort Collins, Colorado, in 1971. It was amazing to see her deal with so many diverse students. She had an uncanny way of meeting every student where they were and helping them change by opening their ears and minds. She received her first honorary doctorate on this occasion and, twenty years later, I had the honor of placing a doctoral hood over her head as Chair of the Organ and Harpsichord Department at the Boston Conservatory. After my junior year at Oberlin, I decided to take a year off and go to Paris to study privately with Marie-Claire. We worked mainly on classical French works, Buxtehude, and Jehan Alain. Her attention to detail, her pleas to always listen to the music, and her insistence that the organ itself was one’s best teacher changed my approach to performing and certainly influenced me greatly in my own teaching. As I was particularly interested in Buxtehude, she encouraged me to go to North Germany and play the historic organs, which I did. Because of this, I devoted the next ten years of my life to an intensive study of Buxtehude and the North German masters of the 17th century.
Marie-Claire Alain taught all her students to question, to be stylish, eclectic, open, inquisitive, ready to do research, always prepared to learn and change one’s mind, and to live as a 20th-century musician. She stressed the importance of knowing, studying and performing music of our entire heritage and to be “diversified” (she was using this term years before investment companies did!). Her performances of music including the complete classical French masters, Muffat, Bruhns, Bach, Franck, Liszt, Widor, Jehan Alain, Duruflé, Messiaen and Charles Chaynes were all equally thrilling.
The most moving day of my life was in Paris in January, 1995, when Marie-Claire invited me to move from “vous” to “tu”—but it never feels right when I do this. The respect I have for our “Mâitresse” is too great. Happy birthday, dear Marie-Claire—thank you for all you have given the world—you will live forever!
—James David Christie
Professor of Organ
Oberlin Conservatory

 

 

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It is both a privilege and an honor to be invited to join with those who are contributing tributes to Marie-Claire Alain. Like many, I first became acquainted with her through her prolific recordings and writings. It was not until the 1981 organ workshop at Colorado State University, Fort Collins, that I had the opportunity to observe her as a recitalist and teacher, and to get to know her as a person. My wife Marian was at the conference with me, and we were completely captivated at how the remarkable personality of Mme. Alain showed forth in all that she did—conducting classes and performing. Her enthusiasm and love for many different styles of music, along with her attention to detail and appropriate fingering, were things that those of us who were observers could retain far into the future.
Marian and I both found Mme. Alain to be supremely generous with her musical ideas, and gracious in letting us “pick her brain”! I clearly recall Marian remarking wistfully how she wanted so much to play Franck’s E-Major Choral, but her hands were too small. The immediate response was “Oh nonsense! I’ll show you how to do it!”
Aside from music and pedagogy, Marian was quite taken with her many other interests, especially relating to her home life—her children and the roses she tended to with loving care. We couldn’t get over how, being a genius, she was so very down-to-earth!
Regarding Mme. Alain’s stature as a teacher and scholar, the two occasions that gave Marian and me the best opportunities for observation and assimilation were the Fort Collins workshop and then, sometime later, a similar week at the Eastman School of Music.
The five-day Fort Collins event included a recital, which was divided in half and played on two different organs. The first part, devoted to Bach, was played on the 3-manual Casavant (1969) at the university. The second half was at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church where the organ is a 2-manual Phelps (1974). This program included Nivers, Franck, and Alain. It was of interest to me to note the effective way in which she handled the Franck and Alain on an unenclosed instrument that was predominately North German in style.
I was also greatly interested in her class presentation of the connection between French and German organ music. There were five groups of music for illustration:
1. Music written on religious texts. (from Couperin Parish Mass, Bach Partita O Gott du frommer Gott)
2. Use of liturgical melodies (four excerpts from de Grigny Mass; Bach, four chorales from BWV 651) 3, 4. Bach’s influence through the 19th century (Bach Prelude & Fugue in a minor, Franck Choral No. 3 in a minor, Bach Passacaglia, Franck Choral No. 2 in b minor)
5. Connections of J. Alain with J. S. Bach (Bach Sonata No. 3 in d-minor, Alain Variations sur un thème de Clement Janequin, Choral Dorien, Choral Phrygien, Litanies).
Marian and I gained so much from the sessions that week that I find myself wishing I could hear them all over again!
One especial gesture of kindness that I cannot forget is the beautiful note that Mme. Alain wrote to me following Marian’s death ten years ago. This letter completes the esteem and admiration we both had for Mme. Alain for all these years—as a performer, teacher, and a wonderful person!
This is to wish her continuing great joy and success for many, many years!
—David Craighead
Professor Emeritus
Eastman School of Music

 

 

 

 

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Like my friend and colleague Jim Christie, I was also a young person in Wisconsin when I first came to know of Marie-Claire Alain. Playing the organ was my first love, and it was during my senior year in high school that I went to hear her play a recital at Northwestern University. The program made such an impression on me that to this day, 35 years later, I can still remember some of the compositions that she performed.
My decision to enroll at the Lawrence University Conservatory of Music was largely based on the fact that their organ teacher, Miriam Duncan, had recently returned to the States after a year of sabbatical study in Europe. During that year she was a student of Anton Heiller, but also took some lessons from Mme. Alain, specifically to study early French music. So, having the opportunity to study with a student of Marie-Claire Alain, I soaked up information and performance practice like a sponge. All I wanted to do my freshman year was to play early French music! Quite coincidentally, in the fall of my sophomore year, I happened to win a contest in which I played Clérambault’s Second Suite. Anton Heiller was on the jury and was the first to plant the seed that perhaps I might want to study with Mme. Alain myself some day. That’s exactly what I did during my senior year. After graduate school I went back to France for two more years.
Mme. Alain’s students traveled to her home in L’Etang-la-Ville, a western suburb of Paris. (In about the mid-1970s, she affiliated herself with the conservatory at Rueil-Malmaison, and so students after me studied in a more structured conservatory environment.) It was such a relaxed environment (including her cat sitting on the window sill) that it was more an atmosphere of friends getting together than a young student in the presence of a great teacher. My lesson time was on Tuesdays at 10:15, and I was her only student of the morning. Sometimes the lessons were an hour; sometimes they stretched to 90 minutes or more.
I’ll never forget my first lesson. One can imagine what a bundle of nerves I was, yet Marie-Claire put me instantly at ease with a simple admonishment: “You’re not here to impress me with how well you play, nor to make me cry with what beautiful music you can produce. You’re here to learn.”
And so it was, for three years, countless lessons during which we covered all of the major French Baroque literature, nearly the complete works of Bach, and most of the music of Jehan Alain, Franck and other French masters, as well as a generous smattering of North German music, too. The repertoire at each lesson was totally different. Only once did I play the same piece twice.
Mme. Alain’s teaching style was similar to what I had been used to as an undergraduate. She started with the assumption that one could at least play the notes and beyond that very little was ever necessarily right or wrong. Often she would throw out a provocative question about interpretation just to quiz general knowledge of a period and style. On more than one occasion I caught her purposely stating something totally contrary just to see if I’d have the wherewithal (or nerve?) to contradict her! More than anything, Marie-Claire made a very conscious effort to allow her students the freedom to express themselves at the organ. I remember her saying “the last thing the world needs is a bunch of little Marie-Claires running around!” Since then I’ve always been of the opinion that the mark of a really great teacher is one who can teach without stifling the spirit or creativity of the student. Her students bear her imprint without being her clone.
In the 30 years that have elapsed since those days as a student in France, I have been continually impressed with Marie-Claire’s continued interest in her former students. It is often said that her students are like her children and that, while they grow up and move away, the bond remains nonetheless. When I consider the sheer number of students that she has taught over her impressive career, I wonder how she has time to do anything else except to keep up with her extended family. Recently, I’ve heard Marie-Claire play any number of times and, like Horowitz or Rubenstein, who played well into their 80s, she continues to play beautifully. Clearly you’re not ready to retire from performance, Marie-Claire! Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your wisdom, your guidance, your inspiration, and, most of all, for your enduring and loving friendship.
—Thomas F. Froehlich
Organist, First Presbyterian Church
Dallas, Texas

 

 

 

 

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One of the great pleasures for me during the past 30 years of teaching at McGill has been those numerous occasions when Marie-Claire Alain came to give masterclasses and play concerts. The most memorable of these was in November 2001 when her visit happily coincided with the Fall Convocation, and McGill was able to confer a Doctor of Music, Honoris Causa, on her. The text of the citation that I read was as follows:
“Marie-Claire Alain is one of the legendary musicians of our time. Mme. Alain was born in 1926 at Saint-Germain-en-Laye into a home full of music. Her father, Albert Alain, who had studied with Caussade, Guilmant, and Vierne, was an accomplished church musician, performer, and composer. Her brother, Jehan, killed in action in 1940, left a legacy of some of the 20th century’s finest organ music. A second brother, Olivier, became a leading musicologist. By the age of 12, Marie-Claire was already, on occasion, replacing her father in the organ loft. Her own teachers, after her father, included such illustrious musicians as Marcel Dupré, Maurice Duruflé, André Marchal, and Gaston Litaize: a goodly heritage indeed.
“As concert organist, Mme. Alain has toured worldwide and made over 200 LP recordings and more than 60 CDs, and earned numerous prizes, including multiple Grands Prix du Disque. “As a pedagogue, Mme. Alain has had a spectacular career. Students from the four corners of the globe have flocked to Paris to study with her, their names reading like a veritable Who’s Who of the organ world today. Probably no other organ teacher has produced so many prize winners at international competitions. Her courses are legendary, her teaching marked by an open questioning manner and a quest for authenticity in matters of historical performance practice.
“Mme. Alain has also been a champion of historical instruments, evidenced by the great care she takes to choose the most historically appropriate instrument for each recording project. This obviously entails exhaustive research.
“As a scholar, Mme. Alain has published numerous articles on performance practice, many of which have been widely translated. We are pleased to note frequent citation in musicological literature of one of her articles published by McGill in L’Orgue à notre époque, a collection of papers and proceedings of an organ symposium held at the University in 1981 on the occasion of the installation of the French classical organ in Redpath Hall.
“Marie-Claire Alain has been named a member of the Swedish Royal Academy of Music. The city of Lubeck granted her the Buxtehude Prize in recognition of her work promoting early German music, and the city of Budapest awarded her the Franz Liszt Prize. In France, she is a Commander of the Légion d’honneur and a member of the Ordre Nationale du Mérite and of the Ordre Nationale des Arts et Lettres.”
The 2001 visit of Marie-Claire also happily coincided with the 20th anniversary of the splendid Wolff organ in Redpath Hall. She gave masterclasses on both weekends before and after convocation and played a memorable recital. During the planning stages of this organ in the late 1970s, she was always ready and willing to answer questions, or to point us in the right direction and open doors. Needless to say, planning an historical copy in the 1970s was somewhat more nerve wracking than it might appear today. It was a great adventure, and Marie-Claire knew how to encourage us to stay the course whenever doubts set in.
There are many anecdotes that come to mind. One of the most memorable for me dates from 1969 when she invited all her students to come to Poitiers. She had just completed a recording session over the preceding two days, and there she was giving us a class on this great Clicquot. The energy and the generosity were breathtaking to say the least. And of course there was wonderful food and wine in a little restaurant sympathique!
A story that I love to tell my students, especially those having difficulty remembering where the stops are, concerns a visit to play a concert on the von Beckerath in my church in Montréal. I met her at the airport around 11 am and we proceeded to the church. She spent about half an hour trying out various registrations and asking my opinion but she never wrote anything down. Then we went off for a leisurely lunch bien arosé. After lunch she went to her hotel to rest and to study her scores. That evening she played her concert from memory and pulled all her own stops in the process. All the registrations worked magically! What métier!
There were the many occasions when she traveled for concerts and I would go along as assistant, especially during the Haarlem organ academies. Not only did I get a chance to play some incredible organs, but we drank some splendid wine.
When all the faculty were assembled to teach at the 2003 McGill Summer Organ Academy, I realized that half of the fourteen were her former students. I think that even she was a little surprised—at least momentarily—when I announced this at the opening dinner. Has there ever been an organ teacher more admired and loved by her former students than Marie-Claire Alain?
—John Grew
University Organist, Chair of Organ Area, Schulich School of Music,
McGill University
Artistic Director,
McGill Summer Organ Academy

 

 

 

 

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It was in 1961, when I was a 13-year-old organ student, that the Des Moines (Iowa) Chapter of the American Guild of Organists presented Marie-Claire Alain in a concert at University Christian Church on the Walter Holtkamp pipe organ. It was impressive to hear her performing from memory, and captivating to hear Litanies for the first time.
From that moment, I became obsessed with finding all of her recordings. My quest took me to every bookstore and record shop in central Iowa, and unearthed recordings of Couperin, de Grigny, Buxtehude, Pachelbel, Franck, Alain, and Widor; Musical Heritage Society had the good sense to issue her performances of all the works of Bach.
In 1967 during my college years, Mme. Alain performed in St. Louis at the Priory on an instrument with mechanical action. I remember her playing all six of the Bach Schübler Chorales, the third Trio Sonata, the St. Anne Prelude and Fugue, and the Franck Pastorale as well as Messiaen’s Dieu Parmi Nous and both of the Jehan Alain Fantasies. The clarity and vibrancy of her rhythm coupled with her registrations made this concert an unforgettable example of personal expression and music making.
From 1972 to 1986, I taught organ and theory at a small college in Virginia that was fortunate to have a new concert hall housing a Flentrop organ. In 1973, 1978, 1982 and 1985, Marie-Claire Alain came to campus for concerts and masterclasses. It was inspiring and exciting to hear her perform and teach as well as to have the opportunity to solidify a blossoming friendship. As a pedagogue, Mme. Alain has sought out scores and documents that helped bring historical research alive and into the mainstream of today’s teaching.
In 1973, an inquiry about private study took me to Paris for the first of several such sojourns. Her enlightened teaching brought current performance practices to my inner musical ear and new expressive sensitivity to my playing especially in early French music and the music of Bach. Our lessons on her house organ or at her church at St. Germain-en-Laye shall forever remain as highlights of my career.
Since moving to New York City in 1991, it has been a joy to present Mme. Alain in concert at The Church of the Holy Trinity (Episcopal) in four special events. Her New York City appearances have been inspiring. Her preeminence as a musician has been noted in the New York Times referring to her as “the Grande Dame of the organ world” and by the New York City AGO chapter bestowing upon her its “Performer of the Year” accolade. The AGO national council presented her with a lifetime achievement award following her concert at The Church of the Holy Trinity in October 1999. The education committee of the Guild further endorsed Mme. Alain’s prominence as a teacher by filming her masterclasses at Holy Trinity and the University of Kansas for the AGO Master Series.
We all come together to honor Marie-Claire Alain on her 80th birthday as a performer, teacher, scholar and friend, and to celebrate her life, her love of music, and her lasting influence on our profession. —Stephen Hamilton
The Church of the Holy Trinity (Episcopal)
New York City

 

 

 

 

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In the late 1960s, while I was an undergraduate student at St. Olaf College, my teacher, Robert Kendall, arranged for his students to travel to Minneapolis to hear a recital by Marie-Claire Alain. The recital was held in the cavernous sanctuary of Central Lutheran Church, and on that evening every seat was occupied. There was a sense of anticipation as the crowd was waiting for the first sight of the performer, and it was evident that we would be experiencing something exceptional that evening. I remember the thunderous applause when she appeared—a tiny figure facing that huge crowd—and I remember that she performed completely from memory. But even now, over 40 years later, I vividly remember being completely transported by her music making. I had no idea that organ playing could be so beautiful, could communicate so clearly. I wanted to meet her after the recital, but the crowd completely engulfed her, and we students were whisked away back to Northfield. That evening I vowed to meet her someday and thank her for that recital. Little did I know how our lives would intersect. Through the years, I heard her play many times both in North America and in Europe. I not only got to meet her, but to study with her, and she became the dominant musical force in my life. I discovered that not only can she communicate with her playing, but that as a teacher Marie-Claire is without peer. Whenever I feel my busy schedule overwhelming me, I have only to remind myself of Marie-Claire’s prodigious output as a performer, recording artist, teacher, and scholar, and I realize I’m moving in slow motion in comparison. While most of us know Marie-Claire as the recipient of numerous awards and honors, her greatest pride has been her family—both the family that she grew up in and the family that she created. Without the inspiration, love and support of her family, she could not have had the career that has brought her so many accolades. Her home is full of laughter, good food and good wine. My wife Patti and I treasure the evenings that we spent with Marie-Claire and her late husband, Jacques Gommier. I don’t think we have ever laughed more than on those occasions. The close and gregarious relationship that she enjoys with her children and grandchildren is reflected in her music making. Marie-Claire likes good food. She likes to read books; in fact, she learned English in large part by reading novels in English. She loves flowers, especially roses, and has always made room for a big garden in her yard. She finds knitting a good way to relax. She loves to drive—fast!! She has traveled more than anyone I know.
I recently reminisced with Marie-Claire about the first time I heard her play. She was pleased to know that she had achieved the goal she sets each time she performs—to communicate her love of the music. It has been my great fortune to know Marie-Claire—as a teacher, a colleague and a friend. Happy Birthday Marie-Claire!
—James Higdon
Dane and Polly Bales Professor of Organ
The University of Kansas

 

 

 

 

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Some 40 years ago, I took a carload of students from Albion College (Michigan) to hear a little-known organist from Paris perform one of her first concerts in the United States. We were all dazzled by her technique, musical sensitivity, versatility of style, but above all, her ability to communicate with the audience. My friendship with this great artist, Marie-Claire Alain, began when we met and visited after her recital.
As a result of that first encounter I arranged to study with her during the early summer of 1966 at the Alain family home in St. Germain-en-Laye on the now famous “Alain Organ,” and also on the smaller house organ in her home in L’Etang-la-Ville. Later that summer I took her classes at the International Summer Academy for Organists in Haarlem, the Netherlands.
This petite young lady sat on the bench at that huge St. Bavo console, would swing around to face the various student groupings, and instantly switch from French to German to Italian to English. Amazing! She had a command of the music like no one else I had ever known. Always gracious and kind, she gently corrected and coached us with skill and authority.
A particularly memorable experience happened during that Haarlem experience. She announced to the class that she would be playing a recital on the famous Schnitger organ in Zwolle, and since I had a car I volunteered to be her chauffeur. Now if I were preparing a recital—anywhere—I’d arrive at least one day in advance. But arriving mid-afternoon on the day of the recital was apparently plenty of time for her, and that commenced only after we first took time for a beer to quench the thirst after a warm afternoon drive.
She graciously let me spend some time “trying out” the great Schnitger—a real challenge for me since its pitch was one step higher than A=440, and my ears and fingers couldn’t reconcile playing the Bach E-flat Prelude in the key of F. Obviously this was not a problem for her.
We had dinner across the town square, and when the check hadn’t arrived just minutes before the recital was to begin, I remained to settle up while she hurried across the plaza. By the time I arrived she had already begun what was to be a brilliant performance to a packed church. What an ability to concentrate!
After that wonderful summer there were many more occasions to experience our friendship, usually in conjunction with a recital. Many of those times she was a guest in our home, occasionally joined by her husband Jacques Gommier. Being a true friend, she invited us to be their guests in Paris and Maule. Marie-Claire Alain has countless friends in this country and Europe as witness the long receiving lines after every recital. Even though she may be exhausted after a demanding day of teaching and playing, she’s always warm and friendly to all who greet her, and always available for advice and counsel—and a hug.
This remarkable artist has made more friends for the organ than any one other person I know. Happy birthday, dear friend.
—John Obetz
Professor Emeritus
Conservatory of Music
University of Missouri at Kansas City Organist Emeritus, the Community of Christ World Headquarters (formerly RLDS), Independence, Missouri

 

 

 

 

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Study

I first heard Marie-Claire Alain play in Detroit in 1964. The following day, she was on campus at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, with Marilyn Mason. Dr. Mason was driving her to Lansing for a masterclass and recital, and I was invited to accompany them. As I observed Mme. Alain’s work with students in the masterclass, I realized that she had not only an enormous wealth of knowledge to share and could immediately analyze what might help the person’s playing, but also was exceptionally kind and down to earth. Right then I began to formulate the idea of studying with her. A few weeks later when she played in Evanston, Illinois, I drove over to hear her. Afterwards I got up the nerve to ask if I might come to study with her.
I went to Paris after completing my master’s degree at Michigan. I was 22 years old, knew little French, yet felt instantly at home. As it turned out, I was her first full-time American student.
On the day of my first lesson, she picked me up at the train station in St. Germain-en-Laye and took me to the family home. In the parlor was a 4-manual organ. My lessons would be on the Alain organ! We got right to work and later that afternoon I went back to Paris with a large list of repertoire to learn. From then on, after lessons I tried to write down everything she said in a notebook as I took the return train. I still have that notebook.
Our lessons were usually two hours in length. As they progressed, I came to understand that pieces needed to be learned in their entirety for the first lesson, and “perfected” by the second. Except for large Bach works, pieces were seldom brought a third time. My repertoire grew by leaps and bounds. She would allow me to play a piece through before making comments. Good work on my part was met with generous praise; criticisms were delivered gently. She got to the important things immediately. Once in a while, for example, she might show me fingerings for a small hand. But her approach to everything was musical first and foremost; technical work came only when necessary to express the music. She was always kind, often funny, and lessons were an absolute joy. (See continuation of this article.)

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 ■

 

Stephanie Sloan and Rebecca Marie Yoder

Stephanie Sloan and Rebecca Marie Yoder are undergraduate students in the sacred music degree program at Duquesne University.

 

On October 8, 2011, the organ and sacred music performance students at Duquesne University, who study under the direction of Dr. Ann Labounsky, participated in a special masterclass given by Helga Elisabeth Schauerte-Maubouet on the organ works of Jehan Alain. A masterclass of this sort was the first in the United States that she conducted along with her newest publication, a three-volume Bärenreiter Urtext edition of Jehan Alain’s music. These volumes are the first German publication of Alain’s music and were studied extensively over the course of this 8-hour masterclass at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Pittsburgh. During the masterclass, the Duquesne University organ students gained much valuable insight into the works of Jehan Alain through the research of Schauerte, organist of the German Lutheran Church in Paris.

Schauerte’s interest in the art of organ playing began when she was young, for at 13 years of age she became the chief organist at a local church in Lennestadt, Germany. The story behind her inspiration to study Alain’s music began with Litanies. The first time she heard this piece was during a performance by her brother in Frankfurt, during which she assisted him with page turns and registration changes. She was struck by the expressive tonality of the piece and desired to know more about it and its composer. Consequently, she began studying at the Conservatory of Rueil-Malmaison with Marie-Claire Alain in 1983, after finishing her degree at the University of Cologne. As she advanced in her studies, Schauerte noticed technical and numerical discrepancies in the available editions of Alain’s compositions.

Thereafter, she decided to perform her own investigations in search of an authentic interpretation of Alain’s works. Her Bärenreiter edition is the result of over a decade of intensive research. It critically compares the earliest versions of Alain’s music preserved in his family archives and scores from the French National Library with all other known manuscripts. As recently as 1975, additional autographs were discovered in the Alain family archives and in 1987 in his friends’ collections.¹ Schauerte made a careful effort to ascertain not only an authentic interpretation of Alain’s pieces, but also the correct chronological order of his works. Within this chronology, Schauerte disregards transcriptions and unfinished works. The great significance of this new edition is that it, for the first time, merges Alain’s full organ works with details of the discrepancies between the different manuscripts. The performer can see the reasoning behind the changes made to Alain’s original documents, and also make his own judgments of what Alain originally intended. In addition, these volumes of the complete works of Alain publish the composer’s biography and his commentaries on many of the pieces. There are also thoughtful enhancements for each piece, with a catalogue of all sources consulted. The edition brings Alain’s total compositional effort to 120 titles.

The music of Jehan Alain is important for an organist to study in such detail because of the unique modernist voice Alain brought to 20th-century French organ music. Jehan Alain—a musician, artist, and poet—was born on February 3, 1911, the eldest of four musical children. From his humble beginnings, taking lessons from his father on their homemade house organ, Alain went on to study at the National Conservatory in Paris under André Bloch, Georges Caussade, Paul Dukas, Jean Roger-Ducasse, and Marcel Dupré. When Alain was drafted for the Second World War in 1939, he was just blossoming into creative maturity. Even while performing his duties, he continued to write compositions for organ, piano, orchestra, and voice.² He drew inspiration from nature, imitating its purity and freshness, and was also influenced by Eastern music. Alain often composed polytonal music, seeking “new colorings created by unusual blends of registers. He experimented with soloistically employed mutation stops” and composed with unique timbres that require complicated registration changes.³ Seventy years after his tragic demise, Alain’s pieces are a staple in nearly every organist’s repertoire, including works such as Litanies, Le Jardin Suspendu, and Choral Dorien.

Litanies was written in August of 1937 under the initial title “Supplication.” On the original manuscript, Alain depicted a grotesque nightmare: a man pushing a three-wheeled cart, behind whom are twenty policemen pelting him with bricks. The students were fascinated by the fact that Alain, in the original manuscript, dictated that he wished the performer to double in octaves the pedal line in measures fifty-two to fifty-eight. This is so that the theme in the pedal will be more prominent than the accompaniment in the manuals. Litanies’ uneven theme, evocative of a tortured soul intoning a desperate prayer, is repeated unceasingly at a frantic pace while transitioning through several modifications that reach the point of breathlessness.⁴ Alain himself was enduring great hardships at this point in his life. While Alain was writing this piece, his wife and he suffered through a miscarriage. The piece’s creation may also have been preemptive: two weeks later, his sister Marie-Odile died in an Alpine climbing accident trying to protect their brother Olivier from a fatal fall. Both these events gave Alain and his wife personal cause to constantly lift their prayers to God.

Alain dedicated the exquisite Le Jardin Suspendu (1934) to his close friend Marguerite Evain. This was one of his favorite pieces, which describes a “land of cheerfulness and peace.”⁵ Schauerte told the students in the masterclass to observe that the piece has three distinct sections and to be aware of the variations of the theme throughout the piece. In regard to balancing the registration for the middle section of Le Jardin Suspendu, she mentioned that the triplets should not be so loud that the listener cannot easily discern the primary theme in the chords.

Alain generated the title of Choral Dorien (1938) from the Greek mode, “which refers to today’s Dorian as Phrygian and vice versa.”⁶ Performers of this piece and other Alain works often misinterpret his tempi indications. Alain did not like the constraints of bar lines and rarely denoted a particular, strict tempo. Instead, he was concerned primarily with the “living pulse of his musical thought” and wrote down the durations of his pieces to determine their relative tempi. Schauerte remarked that the tempo of Choral Dorien should not be too lethargic. She suggested that the performer sing the theme in order to correctly pace the tempo. These indications for Litanies, Le Jardin Suspendu, and Choral Dorien are critical to the correct interpretation of Alain’s pieces and, if applied, form important habits for the pupils of Jehan Alain’s works. 

The organ students at Duquesne University thoroughly enjoyed this intensive study of Jehan Alain’s music with Helga Schauerte as well as her recital the previous evening at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Many were impressed with the excellence of Schauerte’s research and were glad for her attention to detail and informed advice on each piece. Others were amused with Alain’s artwork and were interested to learn more about his life. The masterclass provided a fresh musicological insight into the works and life of an inspiring modern composer whose creative life was tragically cut short during his military service in World War II. 

The experience of a masterclass on the works of Jehan Alain with Helga Schauerte made a lasting impression upon those who participated. Alain’s life and music are inspirations that echo in the works of Jean Langlais and Maurice Duruflé, as well as in numerous organists’ repertoire. Whether through a masterclass, a celebratory dinner with friends of Jehan Alain meeting each other for the first time, or the National French Centenary Celebration of the Birth of Jehan Alain, musicians across the globe delight in studying and internalizing the musical expressions of this inspirational man and will do so for decades to come.⁷

 

Marcia Van Oyen

Marcia Van Oyen is Director of Music Ministry at First United Methodist Church, Plymouth, Michigan, and continues to serve as Director for the National AGO Committee for Membership Development and Chapter Support. She received her master’s and doctoral degrees at the University of Michigan, where she studied organ with Robert Glasgow.

The 46th University of Michigan Conference on Organ Music took place October 1–4, 2006. The event focused on music of Germany, France and the USA, featuring performances by Marie-Claire Alain, Michigan faculty members Marilyn Mason, James Kibbie, and Michele Johns, and a slate of lectures on a variety of topics. The majority of events took place at Hill Auditorium, home of the 4-manual, 124-rank Frieze Memorial Organ.

Children’s choir festival

The conference opened with a children’s choir festival organized by the Ann Arbor Chapter of the American Guild of Organists. Thomas Strode, AGO board member and director of the Ann Arbor Boy Choir, gathered over 85 children from six area churches and schools to sing together. Approximately half the program featured music sung by the combined choir directed by Strode; several groups sang individually as well, including the Messias Temple Youth Choir, whose inspired performance brought the audience to its feet. Charles Kennedy skillfully accompanied the choir, and played three Sketches and a Canon by Schumann. The audience of several hundred comprised largely families with young children, and I was glad to see them exposed to the sounds of both well-trained children’s voices and the pipe organ. Given the disposition of the audience, the stage was perfectly set to engage the multi-generational crowd with organ repertoire or a demonstration designed for such a purpose. Tom Strode did give some impromptu remarks about the organ, which seemed to pique the interest of the adults seated near me, but the program would have had greater impact had it included one of the many light-hearted, educational organ demonstration pieces of recent vintage. Based on the interest of more choirs in participating, the Ann Arbor AGO plans to continue this event in the future. I encourage them to make the most of the opportunity to educate young people about the pipe organ.

Michigan faculty performances

Sunday evening, Marilyn Mason and flautist Donald Fishel gave the Ann Arbor premiere of Breath of the Spirit—Pentecost for flute, organ, and narrators, composed by Michigan graduate Gregory Hamilton, based on poetry by Kenneth Gaertner. The pattern of the work was inspired by Dupré’s La Chemin de la Croix, with the ten sections of the work musically interpreting and commenting upon the poetry. In her opening remarks, Marilyn Mason noted that this concert was one of the first events to take place following the official renaming of the music school. In collegial spirit, she appropriately included two members of the theatre department as narrators in this performance presented by the School of Music, Theatre and Dance.
Here is a brief synopsis of the work, with a few noteworthy quotes from the poetry:
1. Overture—organ alone, featuring big solo trumpet melody.
2. Annunciation—the organ and flute trade motifs, suggesting a dialogue between Mary and the Angel Gabriel, the rounded sounds of the Hill organ blending beautifully with the flute.
3. Children in Praise—children caught up in the excitement and wonder of the quiet Rabbi Jesus healing a crippled man and a man with a withered hand. The flute introduces a sprightly theme, which is echoed by the organ, spiced with mild dissonance.
4. Herod—the poem speculates on Herod’s thoughts about John contrasted with those about his lover Herodias. He is simultaneously upset and intrigued by John, comforted and attracted to Herodias. Unaccompanied flute plays long passages in the low register contrasted with passages in the instrument’s uppermost register.
5. Mary Dancing—the story of Jesus changing water into wine at the wedding in Cana and the dancing at the wedding. For solo flute, nearly moto perpetuo.
6. Judas—for organ solo, beginning with a crashing chord and descending pedal solos, then a decrescendo to a sighing Bach-like fugue section. The movement ends with more clashing dissonance alternating with a funereal fugue. “Mankind’s future is mankind’s sin.”
7. Mary Magdalene/Doubting Thomas—the extended poem is followed by long flowing melodies portraying gentle happiness.
8. Poverty Shared—illustrates the experience of a poor man listening to Jesus preach. It begins seething with tension, then eases and flows into comforting, surging waves of lovely harmonies. The poetry preceding the movement offers these paradoxical thoughts: “Listening to the Rabbi preach, shedding the shroud of poverty, words flew into the ears of his poverty’s corpse. Had not his curse always been his salvation?” The initial tension returns to close the movement.
9. Desert Grief—Jesus appearing to Mary, resurrected. An oboe solo on organ alternates with the flute melody, perhaps indicating an undulating, leaping soul—“the burned sins of the world fell in gray ashes.”
10. Pentecost—recaps the overture, framing the work. Several strong poetic phrases wrap up the ideas in earlier poems: “delusions were ashes,” “truth cut through the oppression of their past,” “died and could not die again.”
Mason and Fishel proved themselves well-synchronized partners performing Breath of the Spirit, deftly navigating the work’s changing rhythmic landscape. For an extended work, it is easy to grasp and enjoyable on first hearing. Its accessible, attractive music would no doubt be enhanced by a church setting to give it a sacred context. The work will be published in the near future, perhaps with some of the movements simplified to promote more performance, especially in a liturgical setting.

James Kibbie: Leipzig Chorales

James Kibbie played all of Bach’s Leipzig Chorales in two sessions, the first on the Fisk organ at Blanche Anderson Moore Hall at the School of Music, and the second on the Wilhelm organ at First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor. Kibbie takes a natural approach to these chorales—his playing is unfussy and elegant. He works with the organ’s natural articulation, adding his own subtle touches, all in keeping with the musical flow and not distracting from the overall effect. His pacing of the chorales is cohesive and appropriate, each tempo and transition carefully considered, and the registrations are apt, tastefully chosen for color and not solely dramatic effect.
The audience sang each chorale tune before Kibbie played Bach’s settings, having been provided with a booklet including the chorales. The booklet also contained comprehensive notes written by Larry Visser in 1992 when he performed the Leipzig Chorales as part of his doctoral studies at Michigan.
James Kibbie is on sabbatical leave during winter term to begin a three-year project to record the complete organ works of J. S. Bach on historic organs in Germany. During 2007, he will record approximately one third of the Bach organ works, including the Leipzig Chorales on the Silbermann organ of Dresden Cathedral and the Kirnberger Chorales on the Silbermann organs in Rötha.

Michele Johns and Kristen Johns

Michele Johns and her daughter Kristen performed a delightful concert of music for horn and organ on Monday afternoon. Kristen Johns has recently earned a DMA in horn performance, and has compiled a list of over 100 pieces originally composed for horn and organ as part of her research. The program included a selection of works composed in the last third of the 20th-century, opening with the fanfare-filled Celebration for Horn and Organ by Randall Faust. Next, Craig Phillips’ tuneful Serenade for Horn and Organ was filled with the composer’s signature harmonies, while Dutch composer Jan Koetsier’s Choral-Fantasie on Gib dich zufrieden un sei stille reminds one of Mendelssohn or Rheinberger. Daniel Pinkham’s The Salutation of Gabriel was commissioned by Joan Lippincott in honor of Karen McFarlane’s retirement. It is a programmatic work in three continuous sections—Gabriel delivers the message, Mary replies, Gabriel departs. Pinkham effectively portrays both the excitement and weightiness of the message, going so far as to instruct the performer to walk off-stage before playing the closing notes of the piece to signify Gabriel departing. Arnatt’s Variations on Divinum Mysterium is a beautifully composed work, keeping the familiar chant tune prominent most of the time. Works by Paul Basler and Gunther Marks rounded out this enjoyable mother/daughter collaboration.

Student performances

Students of Marilyn Mason and James Kibbie performed in several concerts during the conference. Monday morning, doctoral candidate Seth Nelson gave an excellent lecture-recital on Mozart’s flute clock pieces. The temperament of the Fisk organ brought out the character and color of these pieces, particularly the F-minor Fantasy. Doctoral students Marcia Heirman, Andrew Meagher, Alan Knight, Christine Chun, Susan De Kam, and master’s student Thomas Kean performed works ranging from Messiaen to Brahms to Vierne on Monday afternoon. Undergraduate Joseph Balistreri, master’s student Paul Haebig, doctoral student Michael Stefanek, and returning DMA graduates Shin-Ae Chun and Seth Nelson played works by Le Bègue, Langlais, Franck, Sowerby, Bolcom, and Dupré on Wednesday afternoon. Following the organ program, Christine Chun performed her first dissertation recital as pianist of the Michigan Trio, performing chamber works with cellist Amar Basu and violinist Jane Yu. David Saunders gave his second doctoral recital on Wednesday evening, playing music of DeGrigny, Guilain, Franck and Grandjany. Carillonneur Steven Ball gave a short carillon concert prior to the evening event.

Mozart lecture

Music theory professor Ellwood Derr gave an outstanding lecture on Mozart on Tuesday morning. He began by offering a Native American saying, “It is good for the living to perform ceremonies for the dead,” and invited his audience to actively participate in the lecture. Comparing Mozart to Michelangelo and Shakespeare, Derr asserted that Mozart is a magician, a freak due to his unusually high level of skill and his ability to innately and directly communicate with his audience, whether or not they are educated. His corpus of works, which Derr believes to be technically perfect, is so vast it is nearly impossible to listen to it all.
Derr has done research that identifies more than 80 Mozart works that borrow material from J. C. Bach, whom Mozart greatly admired. He recognizes three ways in which existing material can be incorporated into new works: reuse of thematic material, a technique so widely used as to be in common domain; unadorned borrowing for effect; and material retrieved from memory, the most common method of borrowing. He discussed examples from the Great Mass in C minor and the Requiem. In connection with remarks on the high quality of Mozart’s unfinished works, he played a selection from a recent recording of a gorgeous unfinished aria from Davide Penitente. Following the conference, Derr was slated to give this lecture and two additional lectures as part of a series of events celebrating Mozart, his era and his influence.

Classical French music

Monday afternoon, Susanne Diederich and Jean Randall offered a session on the Classical French organ and its music. Using the Frieze organ in Hill Auditorium, Randall demonstrated at the console and Diederich spoke. The main points of the lecture were the importance of stylistic specialties in giving character to French classic music, and that this period represents a rare confluence of instrument, music, style, and performance practice all working together. This era is unique in history; organ builders and organists worked closely together, and the organ was participating in the general development of music. Following this lecture, Stephanie Nofar gave a lecture-recital, “The Other France: Tribute to Unknown Masters.”

Maurice Clerc recital

Maurice Clerc played a recital featuring several transcriptions at Hill Auditorium on Monday evening. Having played at several previous conferences, Clerc seemed at home at the console and utilized the organ’s resources to great effect, preferring full registrations such as he can create at his home church, Notre-Dame in Paris. He began the program with his own bombastic transcription from Verdi’s Don Carlos, and moved on to Franck’s Pièce Héroïque, playing it with a very legato touch. He captured the excitement of the piece effectively, adding an arpeggiated fanfare before the closing chords. His transcription of a suite of character pieces by Fauré provided enjoyable listening, enlivened by colorful registrations. He followed with the Suite Medievale by Langlais, and closed the program with his transcription of a scherzo improvised by Pierre Cochereau in 1974.

Clerc: The art of transcription

On Tuesday afternoon, Maurice Clerc gave a lecture on preparing transcriptions. He cited transcription practices in the 18th century—Bach’s Schübler Chorales, Rameau’s arrangements of his own operas, and Balbastre’s transcriptions of his own works. After being abandoned for a time, transcription again became popular in the latter half of the 19th-century. Liszt arranged favorite orchestral and choral works for organ, and is known to have played the Kyrie from Mozart’s Requiem and transcriptions of classics for Widor. Karg-Elert made arrangements of Wagner’s works, using every possible technique available on the organ. Organ performance was very popular at the time, giving people the opportunity to hear great orchestral works performed on the instrument, since they would have had little or no opportunity to hear the likes of Wagner otherwise. Many composers did not write for the organ at all, deterred by having secular works performed in a sacred space, since most organs are located in churches.
Transcriptions allow us to play works by composers who didn’t write for the organ. The body of organ repertoire can be increased, and allow us to study a composer’s techniques. In addition, Clerc believes organists make transcriptions for their own enjoyment, giving the examples of David Briggs and Daniel Roth, as well as Jean Guillou, who made transcriptions when it wasn’t considered a legitimate art. Clerc discussed two types of transcriptions: adaptations of existing works to the language of the organ, and notations of improvisations. Both Dupré’s and Tournemire’s improvisations have been notated, allowing us to observe their improvisation styles. Clerc has transcribed works of Pierre Coche-reau, whom he describes as “having sparkling musicality, and endowed with staggering speed and an innate ability to use the whole organ from soft to loud.” Transcribing these improvisations captures a moment in time and preserves the uniqueness of the improviser’s art.

Michael Barone

Michael Barone opened his session with this statement: “We think we know everything, but if we don’t know history, we’re destined to repeat it.” His goal was to give a survey of how performers have approached French music over the years. Tinkering patiently with recalcitrant hi-fi equipment, he began with the first recording of early French music, a disc recorded by André Marchal on a Gonzales/Beckerath at Attignon in 1936, wondering “Can we play this music any better today?” Barone created a pastiche of Franck’s Pièce Héroïque, alternating passages played in 1929 by Marcel Dupré and in 1962 by E. Power Biggs, and offered a composite of several recordings of Gigout playing his own B-minor Toccata. He offered 15 examples of the opening section of Franck’s B-minor Choral, noting the balance shift between the manuals and the pedal among the various recordings.
Barone’s open-minded approach allows his audiences to be exposed to many performers and performances that might be ruled out in narrower definitions of what is worthwhile. He chooses recordings of instruments or performances that he deems so beguiling or interesting that they deserve a hearing, and to his credit is not bound by fashionable definitions of authenticity or correctness. He encouraged the audience to spend time listening to how our predecessors performed, noting that any organist worth his or her salt “speaks French.” Known for closing his sessions with a memorable aural example, Barone did not disappoint. He closed with a recording of Messiaen’s La Nativité by a Russian accordion player.

Marie-Claire Alain

When Marie-Claire Alain stepped onto the platform to perform her concert Tuesday evening, she was greeted by an extended ovation from the capacity audience of conference attendees, church members, and locals. She had given a masterclass on the music of Jehan Alain that afternoon, and the evening’s event only seemed to bring forth more energy in her. She began with a set of guitar pieces by Campion transcribed for organ, which showed off the colors of the instrument, followed by two settings of Schmücke dich by Bach. She took the familiar BWV 654 at a lively pace, and deftly negotiated handfuls of notes in BWV 759. Closing a set of three Bach works, the C-major prelude and fugue, BWV 547, sparkled in her hands. This work too often suffers from plodding and heavy rendition, but Marie Claire moved it along under perfect control, clearly feeling very comfortable with the piece and the instrument.
The second half included Dupré’s Virgo Mater, op. 40, which is dedicated in memory of Jehan Alain, followed by three pieces by her father, Albert Alain. Though written in the 20th century, these pieces hark back to earlier styles, and are particularly akin to the works of Vierne and Widor. The contrast between Albert’s music and Jehan’s is interesting, the former steeped in French tradition, and the latter unbound by tradition. The younger Alain’s Deux Danses and Suite bring this point home. Marie-Claire had played well all evening, but her performance really caught fire performing her brother’s works. Following a long standing ovation and her 85-minute program, she tossed off a riveting performance of “Litanies” as an encore as if it was the first piece of the evening.
Brandon Spence: multi-cultural worship
Brandon Spence, a Michigan graduate, is director of music at St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Grand Rapids, Michigan. This parish is home to people who speak English, Spanish, and Polish, as well as some who neither speak English nor are able to read. Spence approaches his task by asking two questions: who is present in worship? What are your musical resources? How do we make the music relevant? He cleverly illustrated with the movie “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” asserting that there is a parallel between preparing a meal according to the needs of diverse guests and preparing music for worship. For Spence, the main issues are inclusiveness, enculturation, and fidelity to tradition. Worship should be inclusive, inviting, and engaging. Worship works best when people can feel that they belong and feel invited. With the assistance of a cantor from St. Andrew’s, he demonstrated using settings of Psalm 34 in different styles ranging from the Basilican Psalter to jazz and gospel in order to reach the various sectors of his diverse congregation.

Conclusion

The varied events of the 46th annual organ conference once again combined to provide current students and attendees with an excellent opportunity to delve into the riches of pipe organ repertoire and performance. Many thanks to Marilyn Mason and her colleagues who organize this valuable conference each year.

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. 

July 5–14, 2005, Montréal, Canada

Lynn Cavanagh

Lynn Cavanagh holds a M.M. in Church Music from Westminster Choir College and a Ph.D. in Music Theory from the University of British Columbia. She is an assistant professor in the Department of Music, University of Regina, where she teaches music theory. Her research on the career and musical compositions of Jeanne Demessieux was funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, and her article, “The Rise and Fall of a Famous Collaboration: Marcel Dupré and Jeanne Demessieux,” was published in the July 2005 issue of The Diapason.

Ear-opening . . . challenging . . . and inspiring: these are just a few words to describe the ten courses and eight recitals that comprised last summer’s organ academy in Montréal, presented under the auspices of McGill University. The 2005 event, the fifth to be held biennially since the Academy’s inauguration in 1997, attracted eighty-two regular students and a number of day auditors over the roughly two-week period. As a point of clarification, connoisseurs of pre-romantic-era keyboard music should look beyond the word organ in the Academy’s name: courses and recitals took advantage of not only McGill’s French Classical-style organ and seven of the more centrally located of Montréal’s many excellent organs located in churches, but also the university’s harpsichords, and its 2005 fortepiano by the Belgian builder Chris Maen.

Artistic director John Grew had once again assembled almost a dozen performer-scholars, all at the forefront of their fields, to teach and give recitals. The prominent organist, composer and musicologist Guy Bovet (Musikhochschule of Basel, Switzerland) joined the Academy’s faculty for the first time to teach the course on early Spanish music. McGill musicologist and fortepianist Tom Beghin, representing a new generation of interpreters of classical and early classical era keyboard music, attracted a group of both experienced and aspiring students of the early piano. Courses in improvisation this year were led by two more faculty members new to the McGill Summer Academy: William Porter (Eastman School of Music and McGill University) and Thierry Escaich (Conservatoire national supérieur de Paris). Two other new (or largely new) classes had been planned—in 19th- and 20th-century English organ music, and in 20th-century Canadian and American organ music—but these, unfortunately, were cancelled due to insufficient advance registration.

Many faculty members from past years returned in 2005. The long-celebrated Marie-Claire Alain (Conservatoire National de Région in Paris) presented an overview of the various genres of J. S. Bach’s organ music. John Grew offered his course on French Classical organ music. James David Christie (College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Massachusetts and Oberlin College Conservatory) was back to teach the course on 17th-century North German music, and Oliver Latry (Conservatoire national supérieur de Paris) again attracted a large following for a course on French organ music from the first few decades of the twentieth century. As in 2003, Hank Knox (McGill University) and Patrick Wedd (Christ Church Anglican Cathedral, Montréal) taught two of the skills that tend to be neglected in one-on-one university organ instruction: continuo playing and service playing, respectively.

Students included both active participants (who were afforded practice time on the instruments) and auditors. Each course convened in a two-hour session, four times a week, in one of three time-slots. A typical active participant, during either or both of the two weeks, came prepared to perform in one course, leaving time to audit a course in another slot and to schedule practice time in the third slot. (A pure auditor could take three classes, one in each of the three slots, if prepared to do all the necessary bus and subway travel from point to point.) As might be expected, courses incorporated informal lectures, a masterclass approach aimed at illustrating interpretive and technical points for all of the participants and auditors, and opportunity for questions and answers.
The eight evening recitals were performed by the Academy’s faculty members to large and enthusiastic crowds. The standard was so uniformly high that it would be impossible to pinpoint one or the other recitalist as having been an audience favorite. Academy students were afforded plenty of opportunity for spontaneous discussion with faculty over food and drink, the option of a field trip to hear selected organs of interest just outside Montréal, and an invitation to attend an ecumenical worship service at Christ Church Anglican Cathedral on Sunday morning.
This writer heard all of the recitals and audited some of the courses, attending all eight of Grew’s classes, seven taught by Latry, three by Wedd, two by Alain, and one by Bovet. Some common themes espoused by these instructors included:


• Thinking beyond the published score—immersion in period treatises, manuscripts, early editions, composer biographies and recommended literature on performance practice.

• Educating one’s auditory imagination in the sound-world of the composer or style period, as the means for judging—moment-to-moment touch, when to articulate and when to simply “think” phrase endings, the length of silence between sections, and ultimately, how to “play the room.”

• Advantages afforded by familiarity with works for other mediums that are contemporary with the keyboard repertoire at hand, and of having experience in performing period music in collaboration with singers and other instrumentalists.

• Experience in discerning in what repertoires, and at what moments, to pursue a literal application of directions in the score and when and how to add and subtract from these for the sake of a stylistically satisfying interpretation.

• The musician as someone broadly knowledgeable in a variety of the arts.

Week 1 of John Grew’s course was organized as a survey of the fundamental principles of playing organ music of the French Classical school. Participants began by performing prescribed movements from the organ suites of Louis-Nicolas Clérambault and continued with their choices of movements by François Couperin. Week 2 progressed back in time through de Grigny, D’Anglebert and Boyvin. Aiming that participants both capture the sound in their ears and understand the underlying principles, Professor Grew emphasized elegant articulation, natural-sounding ornamentation, expressive phrasing, and notes inégales that make the music “swing.” A true master pedagogue—recipient of his Faculty of Music’s Performance Teaching Award in 2005—Grew patiently reinforced each concept with repetition and a variety of teaching methods. In his lectures he simplified our understandings of fingering practice and notes inégales, but without over-simplifying. He handed out copies of tables of ornaments and lists of terms for registration and genres. Through example and counterexample he guided and corrected players’ ears, hands and feet. He allowed time for us to troop down to hear alternative registrations from the hall as well as from the organ gallery. Amidst listing corrections to editorial blunders in the available modern editions, Grew alerted us to the planned release in 2006 of a new scholarly edition of the Livre d’orgue of Nicolas de Grigny (L’Oiseau Lyre, ed. Kenneth Gilbert).


Guy Bovet brought to his course the fruits of his own intensive research. During Week 1 of Siglo de Oro español (“Century of Spanish Gold”), participants performed selections from the tientos and variation sets of sixteenth- to seventeenth-century Spanish composers Antonio de Cabezón, Sebastián Aguilera de Herédia, Juan Cabanilles and Pablo Bruna, and the seventeenth-century Portuguese composer Pedro de Araújo. Professor Bovet advised on ornamentation, tasteful use of diminutions, registration for the divided and undivided keyboard, and metric proportions. In contrast to the gently balanced finger action cultivated for French Classical music, in the Spanish organ music class the pipes of the Guibault-Thérien organ at St-Léon-de-Westmount (built 1995) were activated by high, strong finger strokes. Week 2 of this course focused on the 1626 Facultad Orgánica by Francisco Correa de Arauxo, a treatise on organ playing and ornamentation that contains 69 pieces (mostly tientos) of varying difficulty. Bovet’s own edition is to be published by Ut Orpheus in Bologna in the summer of 2006. For this year’s class, he dictated corrections to the Unión Musical Española edition, spontaneously translated Correa’s explanatory preface to each piece that was played by students, and followed the facsimile of the original tablature during their performances.

Guy Bovet’s recital, on the famous 1960 von Beckerath organ of St. Joseph’s Oratory, juxtaposed the unusual with the unexpected. We heard a Batalha from around 1700 and two Tientos by Correa, followed by the recitalist’s own transcription of a Concerto in A minor by Vivaldi. Next came an Elevation and a Polonaise by Antonio Diana (an Italian composer, fl. 1860s, whose works Lefébure-Wély admired). The intermission preceded two more popularly styled nineteenth-century pieces—Prélude en sol mineur and a Benedictus—both by C. V. Alkan. Bovet’s admittedly light, but nonetheless historically fascinating, program concluded with three of his daring Tangos ecclésiastiques (2000).


Olivier Latry lent his brilliance and energy to the very first recital of the 2005 Academy, a program of twentieth-century French organ music performed on the electropneumatic-action organ of Église du Très-Saint-Nom-de-Jésus (Casavant 1914, 1999). Part I of the recital opened gently with Dupré’s Cortège et litanie and a quiet work by Litaize (Lied), followed by music of Langlais (Thème et variations), Jehan Alain (Aria) and Messiaen (Les Anges and Dieu parmi nous). Part II maintained a fiery mood throughout with an impressive, though perhaps over-long, piece by Messiaen student Jean-Pierre Leguay entitled Péan IV (Création), Deux poèmes (Eaux natales and Vers l’espérance) by Thierry Escaich, and, finally, a stunning improvisation that fully exploited the 91-stop organ.

Latry’s class, entitled “Dupré and His Students,” began at Église St-Jean-Baptiste but, due to sudden malfunction of this instrument, soon moved to Très-Saint-Nom. Week 1 was fashioned around selected works by Marcel Dupré (B-major and G-minor Preludes and Fugues from Op. 7; Variations on a Noël), and works that students had elected to play by Gaston Litaize (Lied and Scherzo from Douze Pièces), Jean Langlais (Te Deum) and Jehan Alain (Aria, Variations sur un Thème de Clément Jannequin, 2e Fantaisie, Deux Danses à Agni Yavishta, Litanies). Week 2 surveyed the organ works of Olivier Messiaen written through 1935.

The course title, “Dupré and His Students,” encapsulated a curious contradiction, evident on two counts. To begin, Marcel Dupré would have been the first to declare that he had no students, certainly not among the generation of organists who, like Langlais, Messiaen, Litaize, and Alain, earned their prizes in organ and improvisation at the Paris Conservatory in the 1930s. As Latry pointed out in his opening remarks, despite the many famous names on Dupré’s class rosters during the second quarter of the twentieth century, none of those whose compositions and performances are best remembered by posterity ever credited their musical formation or consummation to him. Reflecting an apparent personal ambivalence toward Dupré’s role in twentieth-century French organ music, Latry emphasized that other French organ teachers of the time, particularly his own master, Gaston Litaize, were highly critical of Dupré’s interpretations of the organ literature, his pedagogy, and the retrospective state of organ requirements and exams that remained in place at the Paris Conservatory during his tenure.

Second, the phrase “Dupré and His Students” implies a legacy handed down from teacher to students, or, at the very least, a significant compositional link. Nevertheless, Latry’s only mention of a connection between the organ works of the other composers considered in the course and those of Dupré was confined to a small matter sometimes neglected by class participants in their performances: tying of the note commune between voices (whether indicated or implied in the scores of these composers), which Dupré made a rule for all style periods in his pedagogy. No mention was made of the truly significant way in which he had influenced the younger composers—through his pioneering demonstration of musically imaginative virtuoso writing for the organ. It is worth mentioning that Dupré’s first three Preludes and Fugues for organ (composed c. 1911 and published in 1920 as his Opus 7) were so innovative in the second decade of the twentieth century as to be deemed unplayable, except by the composer for whose hands and feet they were written.1 During the 1920s, though, these works passed into the repertoire of Dupré’s younger colleagues, thereby “raising the bar” of French organ technique generally.2 From among the pieces played by class participants, Litaize’s Scherzo (written between 1930 and 1937), Langlais’s Te Deum (1933/34), and Litanies by Alain (1937) show the influence of early Dupré in their combination of bravura with musical depth. Similarly, had it not been for the sonorities of Dupré’s organ compositions prior to 1929, Messiaen could not have left us such works as his Diptyque (composed in 1929), Dieu parmi nous (1935), and Transports de joie (1936).3 For that matter, neither Jeanne Demessieux (1921–68) nor Pierre Cochereau (1924–84) would have improvised with such dexterity already in the 1940s had it not been for Dupré’s example. It was, therefore, mildly ironic that, while guiding a participant in an interpretation of Dupré’s 1922 Variations on a Noël, Latry advised, “Variation 5 should sound like a Cochereau improvisation” and commented that the last chord of Variation 7 is a “Cochereauesque touch.”

In contrast to the oblique manner in which he approached the works of Dupré, Latry was entirely at one with the remainder of the course repertoire. Latry originally learned the Litaize pieces under the composer, and has closely studied the backgrounds to Alain’s organ works. He recalled for us advice he had received directly from Messiaen, and shared interpretive ideas based upon his close study of Messiaen’s own, multiple performing copies of all his organ compositions. A fascinating teacher of interpretation, Latry lent his tremendous musical imagination to devising vivid metaphors for difficult-to-interpret passages that transformed good performances into eloquent ones.


Patrick Wedd brought historical acumen and intensive experience as an accompanist, composer, conductor and church musician to the course on service playing, taught using the four-manual, 50-stop Casavant organ at Ascension of Our Lord Church. Students learned how to adapt their instrument and diversify their technique to the requirements of congregational hymns and psalms on the one hand, and the repertoire for choir and organ—both small and large-scale works—on the other. Countering dogma and unreflective habit, Wedd demonstrated that there is a time and place in organ accompaniment for appropriate and varied degrees of detached playing that project the meter (for instance, in an organ transcription of the viol accompaniment for Gibbons’s “This is the record of John”), and a time and a place to “glue your fingers to the keyboard” (as in “My Eyes for Beauty Pine” by Howells). Students who played anthem accompaniments from English repertoire of the first half of the twentieth century were coached on executing crescendos and decrescendos by means of the swell pedal, and gradually adding or subtracting stops in imperceptible fashion.


Participants in the Bach course performed on the two-manual, 33-stop Karl Wilhelm organ at Saint Matthias Church. In lecture and masterclass modes, Marie-Claire Alain’s approach was a synthesis of ideas gained during what must be almost 70 years of work on Bach’s music. She dwelt on both the music’s contents (“You have to have written fugues yourself in order to play Bach’s fugues”) and contexts (“Play Leipzig organs in order to discover the variety in plenum registrations that work for Bach’s music”). At the close of the course, Alain commended her thorough-going process of study to the class by explaining why she has recorded the complete organ works of Bach so many times: she did so at more than one stage of the early-music movement, as a result of more opportunities to play historic organs and study Lutheran theology, and because every time she practices she “improves.”

During week 1 Marie-Claire Alain played an all-Bach program on the 78-stop organ of St. Joseph’s Oratory to an almost capacity audience. The spiritual and biographical facets of her study of Bach’s music were reflected in the construction of her program. Between large-scale works that acted like sonic pillars, Alain grouped together similar, small pieces in Bach-like, compendium fashion—for example, three successive settings of Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr, BWV 662, 663 and 664. A set of five extracts from The Art of Fugue culminated in the abrupt trailing off of an unfinished Fuga à 3 soggetti (Contrapunctus 19), which Alain followed by a pause and then the chorale setting traditionally associated with Bach’s deathbed, Vor deinen Thron tret’ ich, BWV 668.


James David Christie taught and performed on the 38-stop von Beckerath organ of Église de l’Immaculée-Conception. His recital began with works by Buxtehude, Johann Christoph Bach and J. S. Bach. Following the intermission, Christie featured Miracles for Flute and Organ (1978) by Daniel Pinkham (b. 1923), assisted by flutist Denis Bluteau and narrator Louis Cyr. Pinkham, the composer of a significant body of music for organ solo and for organ with other instruments, was present to acknowledge the audience’s warm applause for these five inspirational pieces. No. 2, “The Miracle on the Lake,” which alludes to St. Luke’s telling of the story in which Jesus is called upon to quell a frightening windstorm on the Sea of Galilee, demonstrated that “storm music” for organ need not be gratuitous and can even be appropriate in a spiritual context.


A 17th- to 18th-century British-inspired organ (by Hellmuth Wolff, including some stops preserved from previous organs by Warren and Casavant and other stops after Dom Bédos) at Saint John the Evangelist Church was the scene of William Porter’s intermediate-level class in improvisational forms based on a cantus firmus. In recital on the same organ, Porter played works of Buxtehude, Johann Ludwig Krebs, Ermend Bonnal (La Vallée de Béhorléguy, au matin from Paysages Euskariens) and Bach. He improvised a flawless set of variations on a pair of submitted hymn tunes and, after the Bonnal, an extended fantasy on a given chromatic theme. As encore, he executed an apparently spontaneous chorale prelude in the style of Krebs, the composer with whose works he had begun the recital.


In contrast to the large, or very large, ecclesiastical settings of six of the organ recitals, McGill University’s Redpath Hall was the venue for two evenings of two half-recitals each. These comprised a first half played on an intimate-sounding keyboard instrument and second half played on Redpath Hall’s 1981 Hellmuth Wolff organ. The first such evening opened with harpsichord works by Sweelinck and Frescobaldi performed by Hank Knox. Knox’s performances were vibrant with energy; the closing “Partite cento sopra il Passachagli” from Frescobaldi’s Il primo libro de Toccate was downright sensual. John Grew then performed some rarely played but excellent organ music by Louis Couperin and Henri Dumont, and finished the evening with two favorite movements from François Couperin’s Messe pour les Paroisses. The first half of a parallel recital in Week 2 featured two sonatas by Haydn, Hob. XVI:34 and 39, and Mozart’s Adagio in B minor, K 540, all superbly played by Tom Beghin on a Chris Maen fortepiano modeled after an instrument of Anton Walter (fl. in Vienna 1780–1825). Just as expertly, but in an utter contrast of musical sensibilities, Patrick Wedd then played a half-recital consisting of Lionel Rogg’s Livre d’orgue, Ardennes by Montréal composer Bruce Mather (written for the Redpath Hall instrument) and, true to his Anglophile background, a Prelude and Fugue (Alkmaar) by Arthur Wills.


Thierry Escaich loomed large at the 2005 McGill Academy in his roles as instructor of improvisation in large-scale forms, performer, and composer. His performing career, with its emphasis on the Romantic, symphonic and contemporary repertoires, and his compositions for numerous media have won for him several prizes in France and beyond. Escaich’s thrilling, closing recital at Église du Très-Saint-Nom-de-Jesus wove together all three strands of expertise. From the symphonic repertoire we heard Le Monde dans l’attente du Sauveur by Dupré, Alleluias sereins from L’Ascension by Messiaen, and Duruflé’s Toccata, Op. 5. The improvisation in Part I of the recital, “prélude and fugue” en style romantique, made one wonder if Schumann, Saint-Saëns or Franck ever aspired to extemporize in so vast a symphonic vein. Surpassing even this, Escaich’s Improvisation sur 2 thèmes donnés at the end of Part II was both monumental and technically mind-boggling: at the climax, glissando-like, two-handed scales, ascending and descending several times through the entire length of a keyboard, required his torso to tilt rapidly from side to side. From the recitalist’s composed works, we were treated to a paraphrase on one of the Ave Maris Stella chants (entitled Récit) and three Esquisses pour orgue. Both idiomatic to the organ and sonorously inventive, these pieces attested to the fact that the organ is an eminently viable compositional medium at the turn of the twenty-first century.


The Saturday excursion focused on organ-building, past and present. Our first two stops were to hear small historic organs: one from 1898 by Eusèbe Brodeur in the town of Les Cèdres, the other from 1871 by Louis Mitchell in Vaudreuil. The last stop was at the shop of Juget-Sinclair in the town of Lachine, where we were saw the tools of the craft and examined an organ being built for Wellesley, Massachusetts.
Our longest visit that Saturday was to Lachine’s Église Saint-Anges-Gardiens Church, where Casavant Frères was renovating and rebuilding one of their instruments from 1920. Church, community and government supporters of the renovation project celebrated our presence among them with welcoming speeches, a mini-recital and a superb lunch. Following lunch, Jacquelin Rochette of Casavant Frères delivered a presentation on the Saint-Anges-Gardiens project and showed slides of a new organ in progress for the Brick Presbyterian Church in New York.

A set of controversial points for discussion raised by Guy Bovet, during an impromptu response to Mr. Rochette’s presentation in Lachine, drew attention to something that was missing from the 2005 event as a whole: panel discussion. Constrained as he was by time, Rochette was able to reply to just one of Bovet’s points. Students concentrated intensely during this exchange. Their scattered discussions as they reboarded the bus suggested that opportunities to hear experts with different viewpoints talking about an issue amenable to panel discussion, with time for students’ questions, would be welcome another year. Clearly, though, such an activity would be a challenge to moderate.
In conclusion, participating Montréal and area churches, with their organists, are owed a debt of thanks. Above all, executive director Debbie Giesbrecht (borrowed from the Calgary Organ Festival) and artistic director John Grew are to be highly commended for organizing such an artistically satisfying event.