An Organ Adventure in South Korea

Marijim Thoene received a D.M.A. in organ performance/church music from the University of Michigan in 1984. She is an active recitalist and director of music at St. John Lutheran Church in Dundee, Michigan. Her two CDs, Mystics and Spirits and Wind Song are available through Raven Recordings. She is a frequent presenter at medieval conferences on the topic of the image of the pipe organ in medieval manuscripts. Alan Knight has been music director of Ss. Simon and Jude Church in Westland, Michigan, for the past 11 years, during which time he earned the D.M.A. in organ performance at the University of Michigan under James Kibbie. There, he did research into Renaissance methods of organ improvisation and performed contemporary works of Rorem, Messiaen, Schroeder, and Kenton Coe. He has served as sub-dean of the Ann Arbor Chapter of the American Guild of Organists, organized new music festivals, and contributed to this year’s successful POE. He coaches and writes reviews freelance and has recently written a memorial acclamation for the new English liturgical texts. Photo credit: Marijim Thoene, unless indicated otherwise.

With unflagging dedication, enthusiasm, and vision, Marilyn Mason planned and organized the 51st Organ Conference at the University of Michigan. European guest artists included Jaroslav Tůma, interpreter of Czech music; Almut Rössler, artist, scholar, and teacher of Olivier Messiaen; and Helga Schauerte, interpreter and scholar of Jehan Alain. It was exhilarating to hear these three artists perform, as well to hear them instruct students and lecture. Many other outstanding performers and scholars participated in the conference, which featured the music of Franz Liszt, Olivier Messiaen, Jehan Alain, Alan Hovhaness, and others. The overarching theme of the conference was celebration—of the bicentennial anniversary of Liszt’s birth and the centennial anniversary of the births of Jehan Alain and Alan Hovhaness.  

Sunday, October 2, Hill Auditorium

The opening concerts were played in Hill Auditorium on the Frieze Memorial Organ. Joseph Balistreri, student of James Kibbie, opened the conference, with a memorized master’s degree recital that featured Bach’s Fantasia et Fuga in g-moll, BWV 542, Alain’s Aria, Duruflé’s Prélude et fugue sur le nom d’Alain, and Widor’s Symphonie Romane. His playing reflected an impressive technique and a bristling enthusiasm for each work, especially the Symphonie Romane, which he introduced by singing the chant, Haec dies (after the first reading on Easter Sunday), upon which the work is based. 

The evening recital was played by Timothy Tikker, a doctoral student of Marilyn Mason. His all-Liszt program included Präludium und Fuge über
B-A-C-H, S. 260 (1885/1870), two meditative pieces from Consolations, S. 172 (Adagio IV, transcribed by Liszt, and Adagio V, transcribed by A.W. Gottschlag), Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen, S. 180, and Fantasie und Fuge über den Choral ‘Ad nos, ad salutarem undam’, S. 259 (1850), Liszt’s first organ piece. Tikker’s careful preparation of these pieces was apparent, as was his emotional investment. His thoughtful comments described Liszt’s stages of grief in Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen, S. 180, his anger and final resignation and acceptance of God’s will expressed in the Bach chorale, Whatever God Ordains Is Right. Tikker noted that the breakdown in western tonality began with Liszt’s Weinen, Klagen.

Monday, October 3,

Blanche Anderson Moore Hall

The day began with Czech organist Jaroslav Tůma, who presented a predominantly Czech program, along with Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543, and O Mensch, bewein’ dein’ Sünde gross, BWV 622. It was a special gift to be introduced to the repertoire of Bohuslav Matej Cernohorsky, Josef Ferdinand Norbert Seger, Jan Křtitel Kuchař, Jan Vojtech Maxant, and Anonymous from Moravia by such an exuberant artist who made us want to dance. Tůma exploited every possible color on the Fisk organ. His pungent registrations and light touch were especially enjoyed in the eleven movements of Suite of Dances from the Region of Haná by an eighteenth-century anonymous Moravian composer. The reeds, cornet, and flutes shimmered in excited dialogues. Tůma ended his recital with Suite for Clavier (Organ, Harpsichord or Clavichord) by Maxant—a piece of irrepressible circus joy, filled with foot-tapping waltzes and calliopes. 

1:30 pm First Congregational Church

German musicologist and organist Susanne Diederich, who has examined over 150 French Classical organs in situ, lectured on “The Classical French Organ and its Music 1660–1719.” Her handout included a succinct summary of the specifications of an R. and J. Clicquot organ dated 1690/1794 as well as a cabinet organ dated 1671 by Etienne Enocq; tables listing the composition of mixtures for a small and large instrument; a table listing families of stops, the combination of ranks involved, and corresponding French title of the composition; and D’Anglebert’s table of ornaments, which J. S. Bach copied. 

Registration and ornamentation of the French Classical School were demonstrated on the Karl Wilhelm organ by Kipp Cortez, a first-year organ student of Marilyn Mason, and Christopher Urbiel, D.M.A., former Mason student and music minister at St. Sebastian Catholic Church in Dearborn Heights, Michigan. Both performers played with conviction and energy. Cortez played Plein jeu Continu du 7e ton by Jacques Boyvin, Kyrie from Messe du 2me Ton by G.G. Nivers, and Récit tendre from Messe du 8me ton by Gaspard Corrette. Urbiel played Fugue from Veni Creator by de Grigny, Tierce en Taille by Boyvin, and Dialogue in D Minor by Marchand.

3:15 pm Hill Auditorium

Jaroslav Tůma, with Karel Paukert acting as translator and general bon vivant, offered a masterclass in improvisation. Performers included Marcia Heirman (former student of Marilyn Mason), Joseph Balistreri, and Colin Knapp (students of James Kibbie). Tůma suggested experimenting with these techniques in developing a theme: repetition, retrograde, interval expansion, keeping the direction the same; strong rhythmic underpinning; meter change; ABA form; pedal ostinato; skeletal harmony for accompaniment or a regular scale; drone. 

4:15 pm Hill Auditorium

A recital of the music of Jehan Alain was played masterfully by students of James Kibbie. Professor Kibbie made this music especially poignant by prefacing each piece with an explanation of the piece, or reading from Alain’s diary. Each student clearly felt great empathy with Alain’s music. The recitalists and works included: Andrew Lang, Première Fantaisie; John Woolsey, Variations sur un theme de Clément Jannequin; Benjamin Woolsey, Fantasmagorie; Joseph Balistreri, Aria; Colin Knapp, Deux danses à Agni Yavishta; Monte Thomas, Choral dorien; Matthew Kim, Variations sur Lucis Creator; Richard Newman, Deuils from Trois danses; Daniel Mikat (organist) and Sara B. Mikat (soprano), Vocalise dorienne/Ave Maria. A recording of Alain’s music by Prof. Kibbie’s students is available on the U of M website, .

8 pm Hill Auditorium

It is a great privilege to hear Almut Rössler play an all-Messiaen recital. Her connection to Ann Arbor began in 1974, when both she and Marilyn Mason met as judges at the Chartres Organ Competition. In a very quiet voice, Prof. Rössler spoke about the evolution of Messiaen’s style, saying that he considered the Ascension Suite to be in his “old style” and that his true style did not begin until his Nativity Suite. He began his Easter cycle, Les Corps Glorieux, immediately before World War II. In it is the enigmatic vision of what Prof. Rössler calls “the resurrection of the successors of Christ.” She gave a brief analysis of each of the seven movements. Her assistant, Nancy Poland, a D.M.A. graduate of Michigan and former student of Marilyn Mason, read the text accompanying each work. Included here is the text that accompanies the seven movements of Les Corps Glorieux (1939), and a brief synopsis of Prof. Rössler’s analysis:

1. The Subtlety of Glorified Bodies. “It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body” (I Cor. 15:44). “For they are as angels of God in heaven” (Matt. 22:30).

A.R.: “The music is totally unaccompanied monody. It is played in alternation on three different cornet stops of varying volume.” 

2. The Waters of Grace. “For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of water” (Rev. 7:17).

A.R.: “The strangely ‘fluid’ character of the music is achieved in two ways—by polymodality and registration.”

3. The Angel of Incense. “And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before God out of the angel’s hand” (Rev. 8:4). 

A.R.: “A monodic main theme in the style of certain Hindu ragas played on clarinet and nazard.”

4. The Battle between Death and Life. “Death and life have been engaged in one stultifying battle; the Author of life after being dead lives and reigns. He has said: ‘My Father, I am revived, and I am again with you’” (Missal, Sequence and Introit of Easter).  

A.R.: “Two armies clash in battle, represented by big chords, the theme of death begins . . . ”   

5. The Power and Agility of Glorified Bodies. “It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power” (I Cor. 15: 43).

A.R.: “The ability to pass through walls and traverse space with the speed of lightning is conveyed in music of powerful vitality. Vehement and robust are the resurrected, agile and strong. This section is monodic.” 

6. The Joy and Radiance of Glorified Bodies. “Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father” (Matt. 13:43).

A.R.: “Radiance or splendor is the first attribute of glorified bodies, each of which is the source of its own light and its own individual luster, which St. Paul explains in a symbolical way when he says: ‘For one star differeth from another star in glory.’ These differences in degrees of radiance are mirrored in the shifting tone-colors.”

7. The Mystery of the Holy Trinity. “Almighty God, who with the only-begotten Son and with the Holy Ghost art one God not in the unity of one person but in three persons of one substance” (Preface for Trinity Sunday).

A.R.: “This entire section is devoted to the number 3. It is three-voiced, its form is tripartite, each of the three main subdivisions being in itself in three parts. The middle voice (the Son) has the straightforward tonal color of the 8′ flute; the other two (the Father and the Holy Ghost) mix the 16′ and 32′ with the 2′, in other words the very lowest with the very highest. The whole piece is in a remote, blurred pp, against which the middle voice stands out: by his incarnation the Son alone came visibly close to us.”

Also included in the program were Chants d’Oiseaux (IV, Livre d’orgue, 1951), and VI from Méditations sur le Mystère de la Sainte Trinité (1969), the Offertory for Epiphany, based on the text, “In the word was life and the life was the light” (John 1:4). It was a rare privilege to hear Almut Rössler, who has devoted her life to this music, present a profound expression of Messiaen’s sacred beliefs.

Tuesday, October 4, Hill Auditorium

At 9:30 am, Helga Schauerte’s lecture, “Jehan Alain: A Life in Three Dances,” reflected her life’s commitment to the study of Alain’s organ music. She was drawn to his music the first time she heard it—she had never heard anything so free. In 1983 Ms. Schauerte wrote the first English and German biographies of Alain. In 1990 Motette released her 1989 recordings of Alain’s complete organ works. The 1990 CDs were reissued in 2004 and include the addition of newly discovered recordings of Jehan Alain playing at the Temple in the Rue Notre Dame de Nazareth in Paris. Schauerte’s years of research, which led her to discover unknown manuscripts, and rugged determination culminated this year in Bärenreiter’s publication of her edition of Alain’s organ work in three volumes.

Schauerte observed that Alain’s life was mirrored in his masterwork, Trois Danses—Joies (Joy), Deuils (Mourning), and Luttes (Struggles). His youth was reflected in Joies; his grief on the death of his 23-year-old sister, Odile, who died in a mountain-climbing accident while protecting her younger brother Olivier, in Deuils; and his life in World War II as a soldier volunteering for risky missions in Luttes. Schauerte said Alain had a premonition of his tragic death, this “coincidencia” he expressed in his music, drawing, and poetry, and he, like Mozart and Schubert, crystallized his whole life’s work within a short period of time. She illustrated biographical details of his life with photographs of Alain’s parents; his childhood home; himself as a child, music student, mountain climber, and soldier; his siblings; his wife and three children; and the place where he was killed in action in Saumur. These were powerful images, filled with the beauty and exuberance of a life ended too soon. Schauerte also showed some of Alain’s whimsical drawings and read from his poetry and diary, offering intimate glimpses into his personality. She said he could be lively and wild one minute and contemplative the next. 

Schauerte stated that among her discoveries are findings from 14 autographed copies of Alain’s work owned  by Lola Bluhm and Alain’s daughter, and they are included in the new edition.  She noted that the only pieces with Alain’s own metronome markings are the Intermezzo and Suite. 

11:00 am Hill Auditorium

In Almut Rössler’s masterclass, Joshua Boyd, a freshman student of Marilyn Mason, played The Celestial Banquet. Prof. Rössler pointed out that these were early sounds for Messiaen—drops of the blood of Christ. In abbreviated form, I include her comments, which are invaluable to anyone playing Messiaen: 

The sound of water drops is achieved not by legato playing, but by movement of the leg straight down into the pedal with a sharp release. In the second edition he uses in the pedal registration 4, 22⁄3, 2, 13⁄5, a kind of cornet without a fundamental. Messiaen can be played on a North German Baroque organ, English and American organs; one must know what is adequate, what is the character, atmosphere, and emotional expression of the work. One must know the inner idea and how to achieve it. The second edition, 1960, is the most important one. Pay attention to slurs; some end at the end of the line, others go to the next line.  Always follow the slurs. Also pay attention to thumb glissandos.  

1:30 pm Hill Auditorium 

With her characteristic light touch Marilyn Mason, “the maker of organists” for over a half a century, shared her good luck “secret” with us. She said after one of her recitals at Riverside a woman congratulated her, saying that she was envious of her being so lucky to play so well. Prof. Mason replied, “Yes, and the more I practice, the luckier I get.” She continued, saying, “I always tell my students when they feel like giving up, that’s the time they need to really practice. Never give up.” She then introduced four of her former students who had received the D.M.A. and who proceeded to demonstrate that she’s right! Each of them played with dazzling technique, assurance, and passion. The performers, dates of their degrees, and their pieces follow: Shin-Ae Chun (2006), Prelude and Fugue on the name of A.L.A.I.N., Duruflé; Joseph Galema (1982), Allegro deciso from Evocation, op. 37, Dupré; Seth Nelson (2006), Troisième Choral en la mineur, Franck; and Andrew Meagher (2010), Prelude and Fugue, Jerry Bilik (b. 1933). This was the premiere performance of Bilik’s work, which was commissioned by and dedicated to Marilyn Mason. It features the Michigan fight song, Hail to the Victors (!)—the composer’s grin was as big as ours. 

3 pm Hill Auditorium

Peggy Kelley Reinburg, recitalist and Alain scholar, presented an informative lecture, “The Liturgical Potential in Selected Organ and Piano Compositions of Jehan Ariste Alain.” She demonstrated how Alain was influenced by the colors of the French Classical School by playing Clérambault’s Suite du Deuxième Ton. Her description of her visit to the Abbey where Alain played and composed his Postlude pour les Complies allowed us to absorb its stillness and peace. She quoted from his letter, “The abbey organ (Abbaye de Valloires) was beautiful especially after 9 pm,” and commented that this was his first composition written for organ. She suggested that the following pieces be used in a liturgical setting: (organ) Postlude pour les Complies, Choral Dorien, Ballade en mode Phrygien, Berceuse sur deux notes qui cornent, Le jardin suspendu; (piano) Choral—Seigneur, donne-nous la paix eternelle, Romance, Nocturne, Suite Façile—Comme une barcarolle, and Suite Monodique. Reinburg’s elegant performance of these meditative and serene pieces offered convincing support for her argument.

8 pm Hill Auditorium

Helga Schauerte’s years of researching Alain’s life and music were abundantly apparent in her recital. Not only was she at one with his music, breathing into it a deeply personal interpretation, but by playing two of Langlais’ pieces—one written in his memory and one dedicated to him—presented Alain the man, the self-sacrificing citizen. Included in her recital was Langlais’ Chant héröique, op. 40, no. 4, inscribed, “To the memory of Jehan Alain, fallen for France as a hero in the Defense of Saumur, June 1940,” and his Resurrection, op. 250, no. 4, inscribed, “dedicated to Jehan Alain.” Of all the Alain repertoire in the recital, which included Fantaisies nos. 1 and 2, Variations sur un theme de Clément Jannequin, Deux Danses à Agni Yavishta, Fantasmagorie, Litanies, and Trois Danses, for me it was in the Trois Danses that Alain’s spirit seemed to dance and leap. One of Alain’s daughters has thanked Schauerte for bringing his music to life, saying that her father lived on because of her. We all say thank you, Helga Schauerte!

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

9:30 am Hill Auditorium Mezzanine

Damin Spritzer shared her extensive research on René Louis Becker, a compilation of many published works as well as original manuscripts. As an Alsatian-born and educated musician and organist, Becker seems to have fit well into the early 20th-century American scene, first joining the faculty of his brothers’ music conservatory in St. Louis, Missouri, and then in a series of church positions in Illinois and Michigan, including his appointment as first organist of the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament in Detroit, Michigan. Spritzer is interested in studying the various organs of Becker’s experience, both in America and in Alsace, as a factor in shaping his organ compositions. It is not always possible to acquire information on these organs. Spritzer suggests his three organ sonatas, which are extended works, as a starting point to appreciate René Becker’s music. 

There are several choral works of Becker’s as well. Well-respected by his contemporaries such as Alexander Schreiner, Albert Riemenschneider, and others, Becker was one of the major organ figures of his day in America, though now largely forgotten and left to the past, even in the churches where he had ministered. However, renewed interest is beginning to flower with new recordings and publications. Becker’s works are not completely catalogued, partly due to discrepancies in opus numbers of works published in his lifetime and those in original manuscripts. Spritzer related that the selection of René Becker for research was suggested by Michael Barone. In this mammoth research task, the descendants of René Becker have lent their assistance. They were present for the lecture. 

10:30 am Hill Auditorium

Almut Rössler resumed the masterclass begun the day before on the stage of Hill Auditorium. With Nancy Deacon (Les Bergers) and Kipp Cortez (Le Verbe), she stressed counting the subdivisions of the beat to make the longer notes precise and the rhythmic texture secure as written. “‘Espresif’ does not mean ‘free’” was one of her comments. Also noteworthy was not breathing and lifting between phrases if there are no phrase marks (slurs) indicated. Always play a perfect legato with “old-fashioned” finger substitutions (from the methods of Dupré and Gleason) as well as the thumb glissando. All-important is locating the musical symbols and depictions and playing them according to their own nature, both by the manner of playing and in the registration. One must understand the titles and subtitles to execute the meaning and color of the piece, which is almost always objective. 

No matter who is on the bench in a Rössler masterclass, it is always a rewarding experience to receive her teaching, benefit from her inspiring musicianship, and to upgrade one’s awareness of Olivier Messiaen’s music, owing to her 20 years of close association and study with him. 

12:15 pm School of Public Health, Community Lounge

Brandon D. Spence performed for the audience of the Community Lounge, where those on Central Campus can enjoy an organ recital in the “Brown Bag” lunch recital series at the School of Public Health on the Létourneau organ. Included on his memorized program were Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, BWV 731, Bach; Two Meditations, Ulysses Kay; Fuga C-Dur, BuxWV 174, and Praeludium und Fuga g-moll, BuxWV 149, Buxtehude. Spence gave helpful comments on each piece before playing.

1:30 pm Hill Auditorium

Marijim Thoene presented an in-depth and authoritative lecture/recital of Alan Hovhaness’s eight organ works, indicating which are unpublished, as well as the published works (C. F. Peters and Fujihara Music Co., Seattle, Washington). Hovhaness is perhaps known more for his orchestral (Mysterious Mountain) and choral (Magnificat) music more than for his organ works. Discouraged by the criticisms of Leonard Bernstein and Aaron Copland of his Symphony in 1943, Hovhaness took the advice of the Greek psychic and mystic painter Hermon
di Giovanno, who persuaded him to study the music of his Armenian ancestors. Hovhaness then became organist for St. James Armenian Church in Watertown, Massachusetts. There he studied his Armenian musical heritage, which was not passed down to him through his family. Thoene noted his “turn toward the East” in musical language and played a recording of the beginning of the Divine (Armenian) Liturgy as well as a few notes on the sho instrument, a handheld, Japanese pipe organ of ancient Chinese origin. Hovhaness strove to incorporate the musical idiom of Eastern peoples into his compositional style and make their modalities his own. 

Thoene performed Organ Sonata No. 2, Invisible Sun, op. 385, Ms.; three pieces from Sanahin Partita for Organ, op. 69: 2. Estampie, 4. First Whirling, and 7. Apparition in the Sky; Hermit Thrush (Sonata No. 3, op. 424); and her own commission, Habakkuk, op. 434 (1995), which is Hovhaness’s last organ work (1995). In this piece, Hovhaness was asked to reflect on Habakkuk 3:17–19: 

Even though the fig trees are all destroyed, and there is neither blossom left nor fruit; and though the olive crops all fail, and the fields lie barren; even if the flocks die in the fields and the cattle barns are empty. Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will be happy in the God of my salvation. The Lord God is my strength, and He will give me the speed of a deer and bring me safely over the mountains. 

Thoene performed this stirring work in an exultant manner. Hovhaness created a new harmonic language in this last organ piece to express both the despair of the prophet and of the triumph of his enduring faith. Thanks to Thoene, this piece exists.

2:30 pm Hill Auditorium Mezzanine

Michael Barone celebrated other composers with anniversaries aside from those featured on the conference. Playing recordings of at least two examples each as well as some other discs of interest, Barone offered a very humorous journey from names such as Georg Boehm, Louis Couperin, William Boyer, Jan Koetsier, Nino Rota, Jean-Jacques Grunenwald, Enrico Bossi, Gustav Mahler, Gian Carlo Menotti, and Carrie Jacobs-Bond. In addition, the radio exponent of the pipe organ made a case for Franz Liszt’s influence on music in general and organ music being more extensive than commonly thought. Liszt envisioned the organ beyond a church instrument, giving an influential “push” for the organ in the music world. As inventor of the tone poem, he took the organ (as well as the piano) into the expression of emotional extremes. Several examples of Liszt’s smaller, meditative works intended for private reflection were played, showing that his output of organ music goes well beyond the “big pieces.”

8:00 pm Hill Auditorium

Gregory Hand completed the conference, sharing his project of recording the entire corpus of William Bolcom’s Gospel Preludes. He performed Preludes 1–6 (Books I and II) with intermission, followed by Preludes 7–12 (Books III and IV) in Hill Auditorium. Adding to the delight of this performance was the presence of the composer.

This conference was a mind-stretcher in organ literature. Each of the composers—Liszt, Alain, and Hovhaness—created a special musical language of their own. Additionally, their spirituality was wedded with their musicality, often taking on a very personal expression. Thus, a huge panorama of literature, much of it from our time, was offered to the conference participants for possible exploration. At the same time, the conference was a huge dose of spiritual music of a theological bent, from the Gospel Preludes of William Bolcom to the piano pieces of Jehan Alain to Messiaen’s Les Corps Glorieux to Langlais’ Resurrection to Hovhaness’s Habbakuk and many others—attendees took in much inspiration and food for thought. Thanks to Marilyn Mason, the presenters, and the attendees for another dynamic educational event for organ music at the University of Michigan.

David Enlow is organist and choirmaster of the Church of the Resurrection in New York, where he directs a professional choir. He is a member of the organ faculty of the Juilliard School in New York and sub-dean of the New York City AGO chapter. Enlow holds both an undergraduate and a master’s degree from the Juilliard School, where he studied with John Weaver and Paul Jacobs. He also studied at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia and with John Tuttle in Toronto. He performs under the management of Phillip Truckenbrod Concert Artists. Enlow is a Fellow of the American Guild of Organists, where he won the S. Lewis Elmer Prize, and an Associate of the Royal Canadian College of Organists, where he won the Barker Prize. He has won several national performance competition first prizes, including those of the Arthur Poister Competition and the Albert Schweitzer Organ Festival USA. His choir at the Church of the Resurrection performs over fifty Mass settings each season, often with orchestra. While in Philadelphia he was sub-organist of St. Clement’s Church, and an assistant at the Wanamaker Grand Court Organ. Visit www.davidenlow.com for a concert calendar, sound files, and more.

César Franck’s organ works are part of many American organists’ repertoire, on many college or conservatory repertory lists, and on many recital programs (though some pieces are neglected without any good reason). With all that familiarity comes a sense that we all ‘know’ Franck, that we have, as American organists, developed a school of playing his music that is sensible and ‘authentic’—specifically, that we reproduce the sound and substance of the original expression as nearly through the original medium as possible. The trouble with this assertion is manifold: many organists do not know the totality of Franck’s music, for to understand him as a composer requires an approach from outside the organ literature; also, no American organ will ever be a Cavaillé-Coll; and most American churches do not appear or sound Parisian in any sense. Authenticity of expression cannot be found naturally in the instruments or settings we have here; to have a truly authentic Franck performance means that more thought and sensitivity are required, and that our criteria for authenticity must be shaken, and revised.

Franck as early music?

It almost seems that we treat Franck as ‘early music’; it is true that in the vanguard of early music performances the nineteenth century has been claimed as fertile ground for rediscovery (witness the period-instrument performances of works of Berlioz, Mendelssohn, et al.) but we largely think of nineteenth century (Romantic and post-Romantic) music as ‘our own’, a period of music that we understand readily and without being taught. There is no recording of the Franck Symphony on period instruments, no Violin Sonata, no A-Major Mass, and so on. Why then does Franck’s distinctive Cavaillé-Coll Récit division at Ste. Clotilde receive the dubious courtship of labored imitation and inspire the wagging finger of organ teachers? “No 16-foot reed tone!” they thunder, sometimes even in Franck pieces written for the Palais du Trocadéro organ, which had a massive, complete, and more useful Récit.  

The Franckian Récit

This case of the Récit particularly is one in which the approximation of the effect of Franck’s home organ can be troublesome. The Ste. Clotilde Récit was not only interesting in its specification, but in its position, distant in the rear of the case. So when the doctrinaire approach insists on registering the cantilena passages in the A-Minor and E-Major Chorals with a solo comprising the foundations and both Swell reeds, one of which is perhaps a large English-style chorus trumpet in a Swell division much more prominently placed, with the accompaniment on dull Choir stops with the box closed, the effect of such strong reedy presence and ineffectual accompaniment is not the authentic expression of the original distant, harmonically rich voice accompanied by the flutes of a Positif only half-way as far up, and therefore very present to the listener in the nave (in how many performances is the very fine and elaborate counterpoint Franck wrote in the accompanying voices of the first and third Chorals never heard! [Example 1]). In cases when the Swell trumpet and oboe drawn together are both too colorless and too loud, there is nothing authentic about it (unless of course they are out of tune!).

One solution, for example, at the American Symphonic organ of reasonable size is the Solo Corno di Bassetto 8′, or Swell Oboe 8′ if it is large enough, accompanied by the Choir Flûte Harmonique with or without the Bourdon 8′, or perhaps (if the solo is on the Swell) by an expressive Solo flute. This registration stays true to the proportion, character, and nature of the piece.

In passages when the full Récit is indicated, must we use no 16-foot stops? It is not as simple as ‘Ste. Clotilde had no 16-foot stops, so we may not use them.’ Is the effect brought across in all cases by the Swell without its Double Trumpet or Bassoon? Would Franck truly have left off the 16′ registers in all ‘full Récit’ registrations when performing his music at churches in which the Récit was large and complete? The answer cannot be categorical, at least not in the positive. To say that Franck would have emulated the Ste. Clotilde organ wherever he went is to belittle his intelligence. The parallel assertion is to say that Chopin’s piano music must always be delicate because he was slight and frail, ignoring his famous remark to an apologizing student who broke a string during the Polonaise Militaire: “Young man, if I had your strength and could play that polonaise as it should be played, there would be no strings on the instrument when I finished!” Composers’ original performances are not always the ones they hoped for, nor are they always to be emulated.

It is unique to Franck’s organ works that one original instrument is taken into such intense consideration, which is partly legitimate, given how widely organs vary from place to place, even in the work of the same builder in the same period. However, the educated pianist knows that elements of piano construction were different in the 1860s than today, and yet this is not one of the first elements he or she considers when developing an interpretation. The pianist who sits down to learn the accompaniment to the Franck Violin Sonata thinks not on refinements to double-escapement, but rather on supporting the solo line, on finding the best tempo, on form, on Franck’s intensely chromatic, constantly transforming harmony—on all the real musical material and not on the instrument the première was played upon, or the tempi of particular isolated performances.

This is not to say organists should not know everything there is to know about the Ste. Clotilde organ and French organs of Franck’s day generally, rather that the application of that knowledge must be a thoughtful, dynamic one and that the consideration of the musical material must come before all complications of the instrument. Where the form, balance, harmony, or tempo is injured by imitating the restrictions or peculiarities of the original instrument, those injuries must be overcome. Our situation nowadays is that they are not overcome, but almost reveled in.

Appropriate venues—and phrasing

There is another context in which many performers seem not to consider the circumstances of the origin of the Franck works at all: in the choice of when and where they should be performed, and which pieces. There is an air of unfortunate spectacle when the A-Minor Choral is played in a church or hall with no acoustical ambiance, on an organ of around twenty ranks. It would challenge the greatest interpreter to bring the drama and fire of the piece across in those circumstances. Plaintively, the question from the resident musician comes, “Am I never to play the A-Minor Choral on my church organ?” And the gentle but firm answer is that the instrument is not suited to it, and the wise, judicious musician will play instead the Prelude, Fugue et Variation, the Fantaisie in C, or perhaps the Prière on such an organ, and save the Chorals for instruments and settings which are equal to their demands.  

More importantly still, consideration of phrases based on their melodic and harmonic content, and their position in the larger form, is often lacking in performances of the Franck works. It is not enough to follow the dynamic indications in the Chorals, for example; they are very late works, and had not the same opportunity for revision and consideration before being published that others had. (The very odd swell action called for in the chorale statements of the A-Minor Choral can be overridden and replaced, with good justification [Example 2].) It is not thoughtful enough to play the repeated chords in the Pièce Héroïque half-value as Marcel Dupré might have indicated for a gallery organ in a church with eight seconds’ reverberation time, but their effect in the given room at the given tempo must be considered when determining how long they should be. Another common transgression of the nature of the music is in the cantilena sections of the first and third Chorals, and the C-Major Fantasy. In these, the problem is that they are played without any consideration of range. They are such vocal lines that a thorough examination of the natural high and low points of each phrase (and high and low points of whole sections) is vital (Example 3).

As it is with any revival of a work which belongs to an age now past, the truly authentic performance of Franck is the one which brings the essential substance of his expression to life. The rote learning and mimicry of stop combinations is no better in Franck than it is in the music of other great composers, and it may be worse. Rather, the ability to combine under the hands of one performer the intimate lyricism of the Violin Sonata with the overwhelming dramatic arc of the Symphony is one the organist is fortunate to possess. The organist must take up that mantle; the music demands no less.

Pascal Quoirin, St. Didier, France

Church of the Ascension, 

New York, New York

The Manton Memorial Organ at the Church of the Ascension, New York City, is the first French-built organ ever to be installed in New York City. The 95-stop, 111-rank instrument has been designed to play as large a part of the repertory as possible. The core of the instrument is a classical (baroque) organ of Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit-Écho, and Pédale, played by a three-manual mechanical action console. A second console—this one with four manuals and electric action—controls that classical core as well as many other stops intended for symphonic and modern repertory.

The instrument is situated in the front of the church on two sides of the chancel, flanking the famed 1888 mural “The Ascension” by John LaFarge. Four organ façades—two on each side—include elaborate wood carvings of peacocks, inspired by the peacocks in the marble reredos, also from the 1880s. The beautiful carvings were the work of Babou Vauquois, wife of Pascal Quoirin.

Unknown to most Americans, Pascal Quoirin has spent his career restoring and building organs throughout the world. Major restorations include many of the great historic instruments of France, such as the Dom Bédos masterpiece at Sainte-Croix in Bordeaux and the Cavaillé-Coll organ in Saint-Cloud, France. Quoirin’s new organs include his recent instrument in the gothic Cathedral of Evreux, France, and instruments in other European countries, Japan, and Mexico. The Church of the Ascension’s instrument is his first organ in the United States.

The new organ is made possible by a grant from the Manton Foundation to honor the memory of Sir Edwin and Lady Manton, who were active members of the Church of the Ascension for over 50 years. The Mantons were avid lovers of music, particularly the music of Olivier Messiaen and other French composers.

The Church of the Ascension is the oldest church building on New York City’s Fifth Avenue and has been known for its music program for more than 100 years. The church is the home of the Voices of Ascension Chorus and Orchestra. 

Elaborate inaugural events took place in May and June and included a dedicatory Mass, three major organ recitals, two choral concerts, and the debut of the Ascension Organ Academy. Each concert had capacity crowds, and throughout the inaugural events the exceptional quality and range of the instrument were on full display. When the Quoirin team was presented to the audience they received a five-minute standing ovation.

This year the organ series begins on November 15 with Messiaen’s Meditations on the Mystery of the Holy Trinity played by Jon Gillock, followed later in the season with recitals by Louis Robilliard, Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini, and a Vierne Marathon with Christopher Houlihan. The Ascension Organ Academy will take place in June. For information, visit www.voicesofascension.org. 

—Dennis Keene

Organist and Choirmaster

The organ of the Church of the Ascension in New York: 

The musical goal

The goal of this organ was defined, little by little, during the course of conversations with Dennis Keene, titular organist of the new instrument and choirmaster of the Church of the Ascension in New York, and Jon Gillock, organist of international renown and, most recently, author of a book providing an analysis of Olivier Messiaen’s organ works.

From the beginning, the design of this instrument was not to correspond to a precise stylistic period (neo-classic, neo-symphonic, neo-baroque, etc.), but rather it had to lead, in terms of organbuilding, to a reflection on the best manner possible to perform a large body of music.

This reflection was nourished by several visits to carefully listen to a number of instruments (St.-Rémy de Provence, the Cathedral of Évreux) and in particular to that of the Église de la Sainte-Trinité in Paris, representing the musical universe of Olivier Messiaen—Jon Gillock having suggested that we listen in detail to multiple combinations of sounds invented by Olivier Messiaen on this organ. Adhesion to this musical goal was immediate and natural for us because it is a process that is naturally inscribed in the history and evolution of the organ in general.

In effect, we observe that stylistic mutations are made most often by a progressive adaptation to an original model. That model transforms and evolves in step with the various styles of musical writing appropriate to each epoch: polyphonic, classical, romantic, symphonic, etc. It sometimes even happens that this evolution anticipates the imagination of musicians. That is the case with the instruments of Cavaillé-Coll in which his ideas preceded the compositions, among others, of César Franck.

The organ, therefore, is in perpetual evolution, and the history of the organ of Notre-Dame in Paris is a significant example: a Blockwerk from the Middle Ages was still present in the organ at the beginning of the 17th century; it was transformed by Cavaillé-Coll in the 19th century and, in its present state, it was completed and adapted to the modern techniques of today. All the marks of its evolution are still present, and the history of the French organ is inscribed there.

Organbuilding, furthermore, is continually subject to foreign influences, such as those of North Germany, Spain, Italy, etc. These also modify traditional practices and in each instance the organ adapts to new musical sensibilities. The experience acquired by organbuilders at the time of major historic restorations is, and still remains, absolutely necessary to understand and master the ensemble of the different aesthetics of organ design. This knowledge also permits a much more realistic approach in the design of a new organ voluntarily conceived in opposition to actual historic solutions.

Thus, we have explained the directions from which naturally ensued the general conception of the project: the organ was conceived first of all to be an appropriate instrument for interpreting modern repertoire of the 20th century and that of contemporary music. But, it is principally the music of Olivier Messiaen that was the dominating force in the conception of the whole.

The organ for Messiaen’s music, and particularly that of the Église de la Sainte-Trinité in Paris where he was titular organist for many years, is an instrument of Cavaillé-Coll modified to include several classical ingredients. It is principally this type of organ that inspired the composers of the epoch “Neo-Classic,” a term considered suspect today because of the numerous and unfortunate transformations made between the mid-1920s and 1968, sometimes in an irreversible manner, to masterpieces of the French patrimony of historic organs.

This concept of the organ, as badly realized as it was, nevertheless inspired many musicians (including Messiaen), and, in my opinion, it is unthinkable to ignore it. The purpose of this type of instrument, called “neo-classic,” was to allow one to interpret a large part of the Classical repertoire. But, that type of instrument is accepted with difficulty today by many organists and European organbuilders, because we think that it is really possible to propose more logical solutions thanks to knowledge acquired during the course of restorations of an historic character, whether it be instruments of the renaissance, classical, romantic, or symphonic periods.

And, it is this accumulated historic knowledge that has guided the conception of the organ at the Church of the Ascension. We find here, therefore, classical entities like the plenum, the jeux de tierces completely developed, the grand-choeur of reeds on their own chests, and a classic disposition of the divisions: Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit-Écho, Grand-Récit Expressif, “large” and “small” Pédale.

A large part of the “classic” foundation of the organ is found in the case placed to the left of the choir: the Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit/Écho, and an important part of the Pédale. These divisions are played with a suspended, mechanical action from the console located en fenêtre [attached console].

An identical case, facing the first, houses the Grand-Récit Expressif and the remaining pedal stops. The entire organ, which joins the two cases, to the left and right of the choir, with their respective façades facing the side aisles, is played from an electric console of four keyboards, a mobile console that can be placed in the center of the choir for concerts. It is at this console that one interprets most easily the contemporary repertoire or that of the 20th century, which, in general, was not written for direct mechanical action.

The cases were designed to integrate as harmoniously as possible with the architecture of the site. They are constructed of ash and walnut woods. The sculptured decorations are freely inspired by the Art Nouveau style, an echo of the Tiffany stained-glass windows of the church. The key motifs represent imaginary birds, recalling the birdsongs so dear to Olivier Messiaen.

Disposition and details of the instrument

The organ is divided into two groups situated in the choir of the church, on each side of the high altar. Two 16′ façades are therefore facing each other. These two entities also have an opening into the side aisles to the right and left of the choir to which we have applied two cases, one of which is composed of two superimposed 8′ façades.

The organ on the left comprises the major part of the instrumental structure: on the main level the Grand-Orgue, the Positif above, the Récit/Écho behind the Positif. The big foundation stops of the Pédale are on the bottom (Bourdons 32′ and 16′, Contrebasse 16′, Flûte 8′, Jeux de tierce 32′, Bombarde 32′, etc.). The whole rises in tiers to almost 43 feet.

The organ on the right is chiefly inhabited by the Grand-Récit Expressif of 21 stops; its main façade is formed by the pipes of pedal stops (Principal 16′, Violoncelle 8′). Between this façade and the expressive box of the Récit are placed the Bassons 16′ and 8′, the Plein Jeu, the Prestant 4′, and the Quinzième 2′ of the Pédale. The façade facing the side aisle is made up of the bass pipes of the Second 8′ of the Grand-Orgue. The rest of this stop, as is all of Second 4′, is found behind this façade.

The windchests of the Grand-Orgue number four: two large chests for 16′ stops and two others for the three reed stops: Bombarde, Trompette, Clairon. The 2ème Trompette (en-chamade) is the first stop on the foundation chest behind the façade. The configuration is the same for the Positif situated above the Grand-Orgue; the four chests have the same dimensions. 

The mechanical action of the keyboards permanently pulls two sets of pallets, one for the foundation stops with pallets longer than one foot, the other, shorter, for the reed stops. To facilitate the opening, the first two octaves of each chest are equipped with a special assist. The touch is supple and responsive for each keyboard. There are two possibilities for coupling the manuals among themselves, either electrical or mechanical.

The pipes are entirely cone tuned in the classic manner. Yet, certain stops have a tuning scroll: the Gambes and Voix céleste, the Aéolines, the Second 4′ and, of course, the Second 8′ of the Grand-Orgue. These two stops, the size of which was given by Cavaillé-Coll, are very strong, especially in the top, and are voiced with open toes. When one plays the registration of all the 8′ stops coupled together, the Second 8′ adds an effect of fullness, powerful, strongly crescendoing upwards. Thus, the sound of the organ is centered for the listener located in the nave.

The plenum in two planes, Grand-Orgue and Positif, is founded on the fundamental of the 16′, in the French manner, Grande Fourniture with its resultants of 102⁄3′, Fourniture, and Cymbale.

The Plein Jeu of the Grand-Récit Expressif is not a part of the plenum. It is rather to be used with the reeds, which the symphonic character favors. On the other hand, the Sur Cymbale on this keyboard is of the “neo-classic” type, narrow scale and high-pitched, voiced with low mouths and toes relatively closed. The use of such a stop figures in certain very special registrations of Olivier Messiaen. It is also the typical color of the neo-classical epoch that considered the effect of the Plein-jeux as an intense and penetrating light, whose goal was to illuminate the foundations of the organ. On the other hand, the classic conception interprets the Plein Jeu, the plenum, as the result of a synthesis of harmonics: one homogenous sonority with its vowel sound perfectly defined.

The reed stops differentiate themselves in three different ways.

The first: classic, copying the “Dom-Bédos” reeds of the Église Sainte-Croix in Bordeaux, for the reeds of the Grand-Orgue, Positif, and the Trompette, Hautbois, and Voix humaine of the Récit-Echo, with their distinctive reeds made of brass in the form of a “U”, 2/3 open.

The second: the Clarinette 8′ and the Basson 8′ of the Récit-Echo, the Basson 16′ of the Positif, with their “tear-drop” reeds, according to the measurements of Cavaillé-Coll, and the Bassons 16′ and 8′ of the Pédale, with their rectangular “tear-drop”, tin-plated reeds.

The third: the harmonic reeds of the Grand-Récit Expressif, with their reeds more closed, of the “Bertounèche” type (Bertounèche was a French craftsman who made the shallots of Cavaillé-Coll’s reeds; this little enterprise existed, remaining in productivity, until 1976).

The acoustic of the church, where the reverberation time is about three seconds, can appear very short, yet it has the advantage of eliciting no deformation to the sound. The bass has a flawless definition and does not invade the space, and the higher pitches sound without any aggressiveness. There are no curved surfaces in the interior architecture that could introduce disturbing reverberation.

—Pascal Quoirin

http://www.atelier-quoirin.com/

Photo credit: Tom Ligamari

Gavin Black is Director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center in Princeton, New Jersey. He can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

Continuo, part I

The musical practice known as continuo playing was an integral part of ensemble music from about 1600 until about 1750—the dates that we assign to the “Baroque Period.” Indeed, it makes a lot of sense to define the Baroque specifically as the era in music history when continuo playing was the norm. During that period, almost every work of music that was not a solo keyboard or lute piece included a continuo part. (Exceptions, such as pieces for unaccompanied violin, or lute songs, probably amount to no more than five percent or so of the repertoire.) This includes sonatas, trio sonatas, works for larger instrumental ensembles, songs, cantatas, Masses, operas, and oratorios—arias, choruses, recitative, and so on. The practice of writing continuo parts certainly persisted into the second half of the eighteenth century—the “Classical” era—but became less common, less mainstream, less central to what was going on in the world of musical performance. Continuo died out early in the nineteenth century. (Mendelssohn, however, still included continuo parts in some of his sacred music in the 1830s.)

What is continuo? 

This month’s column will begin to answer that question, or, really, to address it in ways that I hope will be helpful to students. (Of course if any of us as organ teachers have students who have already studied continuo fairly deeply or who have specialized in it, then those students will already know or understand more than I am going to write about here. So this is, at least directly, for everyone else.) Next month I will outline in a fairly basic form my own approach to teaching the nitty-gritty practical side of creating and performing continuo parts at the keyboard, starting with how to read the notation, and I will discuss how to deal with the artistic choices that creating such a part entails.

I actually have a memory—a distant memory by now—of my own first encounters with the word “continuo.” These happened at a number of chamber music concerts on the Yale campus that I heard in the late 1960s, as a youngster just getting interested in music. There were pieces described as “Sonata for violin and continuo” or “Trio Sonata for violin, oboe, and b.c.” or other such phrases. (The word “continuo” and the expression “b.c.” are both abbreviations for basso continuo.) I noticed that some of these pieces turned out to have the wrong number of players, that is, a trio sonata might have four people playing. I still remember a sort of “Twilight Zone” feeling that I got looking at descriptions in the programs that seemed not to be written in any normal language that I could discern and that seemed not to correspond to what I was seeing on the stage. I vaguely remember asking someone (my father?) what it all meant and his not knowing either. I believe that we considered the possibility that it might be some sort of misprint.

I still get the very basic question—“What does ‘continuo’ mean?”—both from audience members at concerts and from (new) students. The basic answer is this: a continuo part is a line of music, mostly in the range of the bass clef, that forms the lowest part of the texture of a piece, that is meant to be played by one or more instruments in unison, and that is meant to be supplemented by notes not written by the composer: chords or bits of melody supplied by one or more of the performers. The choice of instrument or instruments is not, except in rare cases, specified by the composer. The performer’s process of deciding what “notes not written by the composer” to add is called “realizing” the continuo part. In the Baroque period this was almost always done by actual improvisation. Nowadays it is done either by improvisation or by planning and writing a part in advance.

Elements of improvisation

Part of this picture is that Baroque composers—from the most iconic such as Bach or Handel through thousands of others whom most of us have never heard of—expected the actual notes of their pieces to be different from one performance to another, with part of the note picture composed not by the “composer” but by any given performer. This often blows people’s minds: we associate the notion of a performer writing part of the music with certain kinds of twentieth-century experimental art—participatory or aleatory music. The music of the Baroque often seems to embody an opposite principle, one of rigorous form, often expressed through complex counterpoint. 

Sometimes the simple act of becoming aware of the nature of continuo accompaniment can reset a student’s sense of what Baroque music is all about, away from structure and control towards spontaneity and change, and, in a sense, away from the composer towards the performer. Of course, it is also true that a lot of Baroque keyboard and lute repertoire was improvised from scratch. In fact, we assume that something close to all of the keyboard playing that took place in the Baroque era was improvisation. However, in a funny way, improvised repertoire suggests a less radical departure from composer control than continuo accompaniment does, in that with improvised repertoire the performer is the composer.

Of course with continuo accompaniment, the additions to the music put in place by the performer exist within certain well-defined bounds—and we’ll come back to that below. However, it is clear from comparing all of the recordings of just about any piece of Baroque music that the differences between one player’s version of the keyboard continuo part and another’s can make a huge difference in the overall effect of a piece. And, again, this is something to which composers routinely ceded control.

The key to accompaniment

So why did composers give up control over a crucial aspect of their pieces—consistently and over a period of more than 150 years? I believe that the answer lies in the nature of accompaniment and in the nature of the instruments used for accompaniment during those years. There is a lot to say about accompaniment, whether of the continuo variety or of the obbligato variety, as represented by such things as Schubert song accompaniments. Great accompaniment requires all sorts of subtleties and sensitivities. However, one thing is absolutely fundamental, without which accompaniment runs the risk of being not just artistically sub-par but really grotesque: the ability to vary dynamics in a way that tracks what the other instruments or voices are doing. Without this basic ability an accompanist constantly runs the risk either of drowning out the other instruments or voices or of failing to support them adequately. If the keyboard instrument is one on which dynamic variation is inherently possible, say, the piano, then a composer can write accompaniments in which the note picture is fixed once and for all, that is, written by the composer as part of writing the piece. If, however, the accompanying instrument is, like the harpsichord or the Baroque organ, not capable of inherent dynamic flexibility, then it is important that the performer be allowed to change the number of notes being played at any one time in order to change the effective dynamics. A Schubert song piano part played as written on a harpsichord would be an almost pathetically ineffective accompaniment. It would fail to support a singer with a robust or just plain loud voice, it would drown out or at any rate compete too much with a light or delicate singer, and it would fail to reflect or mirror or complement nuances of dynamics executed by any singer. However, it is possible, in a piece with continuo accompaniment, to make the keyboard part of a whole passage louder or softer by choosing to play a thicker or thinner texture of added notes and chords. It is also possible to place an accent on certain notes or beats while allowing other notes or beats to be unaccented, again by actually playing more notes, a thicker texture, on the accented moments and fewer—or no—notes elsewhere. It is possible in the same way to respond appropriately to crescendo, diminuendo, and other dynamic gestures that singers or other players carry out.  

(I should mention that years ago I subscribed, without having really consciously thought about it, to the absurd idea that Baroque composers wrote continuo lines rather than obbligato accompaniments because their composing skills were too rudimentary to concoct complex accompaniments. In this story line, the development of “real” keyboard parts for chamber music and songs in the second half of the eighteenth century was a kind of progress, akin to the scientific progress that—genuinely—characterized that era. The notion that composers who wrote the elaborate, complex counterpoint that was routine in the seventeenth century couldn’t have written compositionally successful keyboard parts for their songs and chamber music is indeed absurd. However, I think that some people do fall into the trap of assuming some such thing, as we have a general tendency to believe that the passage of time brings progress. We feel that people of old simply couldn’t do a lot of what became normal or easy later on.) 

Some confirmation of the notion that the continuo texture really did serve the purpose I have described is found in this: when composers in the Baroque era wrote song accompaniments intended to be played on an instrument that had dynamic flexibility—namely the lute—they did write obbligato accompaniments. This gives us the lute song repertoire, with all of the notes of the pieces written by the composers.

Continuo instrumentation

The instrumentation of a continuo part is flexible. This is one of the reasons that the part is given the somewhat abstract name that it has. It is not the “organ” part or the “harpsichord” part. It was customary for a continuo part to be played by at least two instruments: a bass melody instrument playing the continuo line itself and a chordal instrument—keyboard or lute—also playing the written continuo line, but adding the extra notes and chords that we have been referring to. It was also common for more instruments to be involved. Typical combinations include cello and harpsichord; cello and organ; bassoon and organ; gamba, organ and lute; cello, double bass, and harpsichord, and so on. This flexible instrumentation is the source of my old confusion about the number of players on stage. A “solo” sonata can have anything from two players to four or, somewhat atypically, five; a “trio” sonata might indeed have only three players, but more usually will have four, often five or more. A continuo group for a large-scale piece—a cantata or oratorio or orchestral piece—can easily have half a dozen or more players.

Regardless of the exact instrumentation—which, again, is almost always at the discretion of the performers—the structure of the part is the same. The line actually written by the composer, the bass line, which is the foundation of the harmony of the piece, is played in unison by all of the instruments participating. Notes that are added by a keyboard player or lutenist are played only by that one instrument. Thus, most of the time it is the bass line itself that, within the texture of the continuo part, is the most prominent, with the added notes always somewhat in the background. (An organist performing a continuo part without the help of a melodic bass instrument should bear this in mind in planning registrations.)

Figured bass

So, if a keyboard player performing a continuo part is supposed to add notes to the texture, how is the choice of those notes to be made? The first answer is that they must be notes that are consistent with the prevailing harmony, and not in conflict with what is going on in the written parts. The player needs to have a way of knowing what that prevailing harmony is. This can be achieved by ear, for players who are skilled at such things, or by studying the score. However, this is also where the figures that are often written under the musical notes of a continuo part come into play. Those figures are in effect a short score of the harmonic picture of the piece. To some extent they indicate what notes the other instruments and voices are actually producing. Beyond that they indicate what other notes are consistent with the harmony implied by the notes being played or sung or by the harmonic logic of the piece. The system of figures is a system of abbreviations. As mentioned above, I will go into detail about how to read figures next month. The figures—or more accurately the figures in conjunction with the printed notes—never tell the keyboard continuo player what to play. They tell the player what the range of possibilities is for notes to be played, or, to put it another way, they tell the player by implication what notes are not available to be played. In many pieces the abbreviated nature of the figuring is taken to its logical extreme, that is, there are no figures. This in no way implies that the player is not meant to add notes and chords. It is not a situation in which anything different is going on. The player has to rely on other things—the listening and studying mentioned above—to glean the information that figures could have given.

From within the constellation of notes that would be acceptable to play at any given moment, then, how can a player make specific choices? This is both the most difficult part of continuo playing and its artistic/interpretive component. It is actually rare that a keyboard continuo player has to play notes—any notes—for the purpose of providing or filling out the harmony. This is true for two basic reasons. First, in most passages of chamber or vocal music, most of the harmony is provided anyway over the course of a beat or two, amongst all of the instruments or voices. (Clearly the thicker the texture, the closer this will come to being completely true.) Second, there is nothing in the rules or expectations of tonal music that says that every part of the theoretical harmony has to be present at all times. 

Instead, choices about exactly what notes to play (to add) at any given point are based on considerations that have nothing to do with completing the harmony as such. These are considerations of texture, volume, accent, rhythm, pulse, shaping of phrases or sections, and, very practically, both helping and not hindering the other performers. They all stem from the basic fact that adding more notes makes things louder and adding fewer notes or no notes makes things quieter. Thus “thicker chords on accented beats” is a simple but valid guideline, and there are plenty of others. More on this next month.

Sarah Mahler Kraaz, DMA, is Professor of Music and Chair of the Department at Ripon College in Ripon, Wisconsin, where she teaches organ, piano, and music history, and directs the Collegium Musicum. She is an active composer and has performed recitals in the U.S.A., Scotland, and Italy. She is a frequent contributor of reviews and articles to The Diapason. Dr. Kraaz spent several weeks this spring researching and playing historic organs in Italy and Spain during a sabbatical leave.

  In a perfect world, we organists would always be able to play music on the instruments for which it was written. Putting music and organs from the same time and place together produces a beautiful synchronicity, the closest thing to time travel we can experience. Happily, this was recently my fate. What follows is a description of some music and instruments that have expanded my understanding of a particular musical tradition. They will continue to inform my performances.

On March 6, I played a recital of Italian music on the Vespers Series of the Giuseppe Gherardeschi Organ Academy in Pistoia (www.accademiagherardeschi.info). Pistoia is a small city in Tuscany approximately 30 miles northwest of Florence. The remains of a medieval wall circumscribe the old town whose Cathedral of San Zeno houses a silver altar dedicated to San Jacopo, thereby putting it on the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. The cathedral, the former Bishop’s Palace, the Baptistry, and the Town Hall, all dating from the 13th–15th centuries, surround a central piazza that even today dominates the center of Pistoia. An open-air fruit and vegetable market, shops, restaurants, and cafes spread out from there in a web of narrow cobblestone streets. Wednesday and Saturday mornings are market days, when stalls appear in the centro selling everything from clothing to kitchenware. Bells from the many churches in the city mark the passage of time. Pistoia is off the beaten track for tourists. It’s a great place to visit if you want to mingle with Italians who live comfortably in the present while surrounded by the past. The city and neighboring towns are also home to a number of historic organs, most of them from the 18th and early 19th centuries.¹

Giuseppe Gherardeschi

A brief biography in the New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians² states that Gherardeschi was an organist, composer, and eventually maestro di cappella at the cathedral; except for a brief period of study in Naples, he spent his entire life in Pistoia. He began his musical studies with his father, Domenico (1733–1800), who was maestro di cappella at the cathedral, and continued with his uncle, Filippo Maria (1738–1808). The latter, also a Pistoia native, had been a pupil of Giovanni Battista (a.k.a. ‘Padre’) Martini³ in Bologna from 1756 to about 1761, when Filippo was admitted to the elite Accademia Filarmonica. Giuseppe completed his formal studies with Nicola Sala at the Conservatorio di Santa Maria della Pietà dei Turchini, one of three music conservatories in Naples. Upon returning to Pistoia, he married, fathered seven children, and became organist at the church of Santa Maria dell’Umiltà. When Domenico Gherardeschi died in 1800, Giuseppe inherited his position as maestro di cappella at the cathedral, a post he held until his death. In the tradition of the Bachs and Couperins and other families of musicians at the time, Giuseppe’s son, Luigi (1791–1871), and grandson, Gherardo (1835–1905), succeeded him. The Gherardeschi men all composed sacred vocal and instrumental music, much of which survives in the cathedral archives. Giuseppe did not confine himself to music for the church, however; five symphonies, all in the three-movement fast-slow-fast pattern favored by Giovanni Battista Sammartini and other 18th-century Italian composers, survive, as do numerous arias, chamber music, and oratorios.⁴

Umberto Pineschi’s edition of 

Gherardeschi’s organ works

That we know anything at all about the life and music of Giuseppe
Gherardeschi—and consequently, about the contemporary Tuscan organ—is due to the almost single-handed efforts of Umberto Pineschi. Organist, teacher, scholar, founder of the Gherardeschi Organ Academy, and now in “retirement” Director of the Scuola Comunale di Musica e Danza “Teodulo Mabellini” in Pistoia, Pineschi has worked tirelessly to locate, preserve, and restore organs in and around Pistoia. He edited the organ works of Gherardeschi for publication beginning in 1978. The first collection was followed by a second, third, and fourth, but as he confesses in the foreword to the newest edition (in Musiche Pistoiesi per Organo, published by the Fondazione Accademia di Musica Italiana per Organo in 2009), there was “no organized plan, since every time only the pieces considered interesting at the moment were selected.” Further, he adds, “Their context, often crucial for their understanding, was not taken in[to] account. Such a fragmented presentation of the Gherardeschi organ works did not allow one to fully appreciate both their lesson on the Pistoiese organ and the artistic relevance of the composer.”⁵ Pineschi here refers to the symbiotic relationship between organ music and the instruments for which it was written, in this case Pistoiese organs of the 18th and early 19th centuries. These deficiencies are addressed in the new edition, which is the basis for the discussion that follows.  

The present volume brings together all of Gherardeschi’s known compositions for organ, including some that have never been published. The pieces appear in the same order as in the manuscripts. Pineschi identifies several groupings by genre: 1. Sonatas; 2. Masses in C and D (Offertorio, Elevazione, and Postcommunio) and a Mass in E-flat that has versets for alternatim performance with the Ordinary; 3. Collections of versets; 4. Miscellaneous short pieces, including a colorful Sonata per organo a guisa di banda militare che suona una Marcia, two pastorales, and a fugue in G minor. Each piece has been assigned an opus number (a P followed by a number). Strict classification according to this scheme is impossible, however, since two of the sonatas (P.IV [1787]) are rondos and a number of the Mass movements (the Elevazione in D, P.I,5; the Offertorio in C, P.I,7) are sonatas. Elements of secular genres, including the concerto, aria, and symphony, also define and shape these pieces in a manner surely intended to entertain as well as sanctify the listeners.

Since the purpose of this article is to present an overview, rather than a comprehensive discussion, of Gherardeschi’s works, representative examples from each of the categories above will highlight important stylistic features of the music and the organs for which they were written, beginning with the sonatas. These all conform to the binary form and tonal design of the 18th-century keyboard sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti and others.

Offertorio, Mass in C: 

a representative work

The Offertory in an organ Mass is generally longer and more elaborate than other movements because it provides music during the preparation of the Eucharist. Gherardeschi takes advantage of these large dimensions by writing the Offertorio from the Mass in C as a sonata. The movement begins assertively with strong tonic chords in the left hand against clearly articulated right-hand rhythms in a 4-bar phrase. This antecedent phrase is answered by a consequent phrase in a reduced texture and registration, much like a dialogue between the tutti and solo parts of a concerto (Example 1). Indeed, Gherardeschi’s registration directions support this impression: initially, he calls for ‘[ri-]pieno con Trombe (trumpet)’ and ‘Timp[ano]’ in the pedal, which would be the equivalent of a full orchestra. The second phrase is labeled ‘p[ieno] senza ripieno [i.e., without the Trombe] e senza ped[ale]’. Without the trumpet (soloist) and pedal + timpani, the effect is of an echo. This alternation continues throughout both sections of the Offertorio. The texture is open, treble-dominated, and non-contrapuntal; occasional octaves in the manuals add a bit of dramatic emphasis at times. Harmonically, the music is predictable, with the first (A) section ending in the dominant key of G major. The B section opens in G minor, however, and moves to d, a, and F before returning via the dominant G to C.  

The energy, rhythmic drive, clear tonal design, and concerted style of the Offertorio reveal how steeped
Gherardeschi was in the music of Corelli, Vivaldi, and Sammartini. Written at the end of the 18th century, as Vienna and Paris were eclipsing Italy in the development of instrumental music, these pieces remind the listener of the connections among the various schools.

The concerto and symphony are not the only models for this music, however. Pineschi observes that the influence of opera and the theatre is clear in the Masses: “Indeed, the Offertori show the influence of the overture, the Elevazioni and the Benedizioni that of the romanza, while the Postcommunio echoes the always attractive spirit of the cabaletta; all, however, display whimsy, balanced proportions, and, above all, good taste.”⁶  

In fact, two of the three Masses in the collection, those in D and C, consist of exactly these movements, that is, Offertorio-Elevazione-Postcomunio. In modern usage, these may stand alone or be played in concert as a group of fast-slow-fast movements. The remaining Mass, in E-flat, is more complex because of versetti that alternate with chant. The Table of Mass movements summarizes the shape and content of the Messa in Elafá. One observes immediately the variety of tempos, meters, and registrations Gherardeschi uses in the versetti. The last aspect is the most important, for it tells us a great deal about the late 18th-century and early 19th-century Tuscan organ in general and the Pistoiese organ in particular. In this regard, the Mass resembles the other sets of versetti in the collection, all of which specify different stops as solos or in combinations.  

Registration

Gherardeschi frequently calls for “organo aperto” in his music. This means the complete Ripieno (Principale 8′, Ottava 4′, Decimaquinta 2′, Decimanona 11⁄3′, and two or three high-pitched ranks combined, the Vigesima seconda e sesta [1′, 2⁄3′] or seconda, sesta e nona [1′, 2⁄3′, ½′]), plus the Trombe (trumpet) 8′ and Cornetto.⁷ This combination, the equivalent of a full organ without flute stops, produces a clear and brilliant but not overpoweringly loud sound. “Pieno” refers to the complete or partial (i.e., 8′, 4′, 2′) Ripieno (Gherardeschi does not specify which). All the other combinations in the Messa call for specific principal and ‘da concerto’, i.e., solo, stops, including some divided stops (Musetto treble 8′; Clarone bass 4′; Trombe bass 8′). Stops divided between bass and treble registers have been a feature of Italian organs since at least 1664, when the Flemish Jesuit, Willem Hermans, built an organ for the church of Sant’Ignazio di Loyola (known in later times as “Spirito Santo” and since 1 February 2011, again as Sant’Ignazio) in Pistoia.⁸ They are advantageous on a small organ. In Pineschi’s words, “Gherardeschi’s clever use of the divided stops allows one to casually move from the bass section of the keyboard to the treble section and the other way round in such a way that the listener has no time to realize that.”⁹ He might have added that Gherardeschi must have possessed uncommon dexterity, given the lack of mechanical aids for registration changes and the fact that many of these occur in the middle of a piece. Perhaps he employed an assistant, maybe his son Luigi as organist-in-training. Pineschi suggests that these directions to change or add divided stops (which always occur at cadence points) reflect spontaneous changes made by Gherardeschi when he was improvising, as experienced organists did; the written version is for organists who were not as skilled or experienced in the art of improvisation.¹⁰

Of course, Gherardeschi’s registrations reflect and reinforce the character of individual versetti in the Messa; rhythms, tempos, and styles complete the picture. The first and last Gloria verses are of particular interest because they are cast as marches in duple meter with an abundance of dotted rhythms, repeated chords, triadic openings, trumpet-like solo lines, and liberal use of a “special effect” Timpano stop (from two to six wooden pipes, out of tune in such a way as to give a kettle-drum effect, operated by a pedal played by the right foot). The first Gloria verse begins with a fanfare in the manual accompanied by pedal and Timpano. In measure 5, another special effect (also played with the right foot), the Usignoli (Nightingale) stop, appears alternately with the timpani to simulate the trills of a clarinet¹¹ (Example 2a). Marches, whether for military bands or in concert music, were a common and popular musical genre in the 18th century.¹² As such, they connoted heroism, vigor, cheerfulness, and manliness.¹³ Gherardeschi was not the first composer to set the “Et in terra pax” couplet to a march; François Couperin had done that 100 years earlier in his Messe pour les couvents.¹⁴ Undoubtedly, the triumphal, affirmative nature of the text is a determining factor in the choice of musical style, but in the Messa there is more to the matter. Napoleon invaded Italy in 1790, defeating the Austrian army. The next 15 years were tumultuous ones in all the regions of the Italian peninsula, when French-initiated political and social reforms met with strenuous opposition from many Italians and the Church. The return of Austrian rule in 1815 after the Congress of Vienna, repressive as it was, was hailed as a return to order and normality.¹⁵ Gherardeschi composed his music against this backdrop of political turbulence amid constant reminders of a military presence. The Sonata . . . a guisa di banda militare even includes the “Janissary style” derived from Turkish military bands, a type of march in which cymbals, bass drum, and triangle are implied in the instrumentation (Example 2b, see page 28). Marches figured prominently in operas, symphonies,¹⁶ and secular keyboard music in the late 18th century, so it is not surprising to find them in organ music as well.

Versetti

In the preface of this volume, Pineschi lists the versetti as a third group after the sonatas and Masses. These works, though individually brief, are the most numerous and perhaps the most important for what they tell us about the Pistoiese organ of the time. There are two types of versetti, distinguished by their registrations. Versetti a pieno require the
[ri-]pieno, or full, sound, with only a tempo indicated at the beginning (the registration is implied) (Example 3a); versetti concertati require use of the ‘da concerto’ stops and have specific registrations provided at the beginning of each piece (Example 3b). From these, we learn the tonal design of the organs for which
Gherardeschi wrote his music.¹⁷ The ‘da concerto’ versetti are also labeled ‘solenni’, referring to their intended liturgical use in the Mass or other services, especially the Office of Vespers (e.g., the Magnificat). Versetti are written in all eight psalm tones, as one would expect. Interestingly, the versetti a pieno, P.II, are only figured basses; the organist must realize them in performance. Obviously this Baroque musical shorthand was still proving useful at the beginning of the 19th century.

Organs

Specifications for four organs that
Gherardeschi would have known appear in the preface to the Opere per organo. The first, by Hermans, was the prototype for the rest, which were built in the 1780s and ’90s by Antonio and Filippo Tronci and Pietro Agati. These instruments have been preserved and restored in Pistoia and Lucca. A similar organ built by Luigi and Benedetto Tronci in 1793 has been in the Cathedral in Pistoia since Pineschi rescued it from the chapel of the Rucellai villa, Campi Bisenzio (a small town between Prato and Florence), in 1998.  This is the instrument I played every day for five days in preparation for the Vespers performance. It is, amazingly, in its original condition. The specifications are as follows (For photos and audio clips of the Hermans and Tronci organs, visit The Diapason website,
Diapason.com>.):

Ripieno stops

Principale 8′ (first eight pipes are wood and play without drawing a stop because they are placed on a separate chest; the remaining pipes are tin, with C2 the major pipe of the façade)¹⁸

Ottava 4′

Decimaquinta 2′

Decimanona 11⁄3′

Vigesima seconda e sesta (1′, 2⁄3′)

‘Da concerto’ stops

Flauto 4′ (from C2)

Cornetto I (soprano 4′, 13⁄5′)

Cornetto II (soprano 22⁄3′)

Voce languente (the same as the Voce umana, soprano 8′)

Special effects: Timpano, Usignoli

Manual compass: 47 notes, C1–D5 with short octave at the bottom)

Pedals: eight notes (C–G), short octave, always coupled to manual

Divided registers between E3 and F3

As other writers have observed, having the ranks of the ripieno available as single stops (rather than as a multi-rank mixture stop) presents a multitude of registrational choices, many of which are subtly different. I enjoyed getting to know the sounds of all the stops individually and in various combinations. The Tronci keyboard has a uniform and light touch perfectly suited to the lively, graceful lines of 18th-century music. Using the short octave on both manual and pedal requires re-patterning of both cognitive and muscle memory. (What usually feels like a fifth is now a second, for example.) The short pedals are also quite different; one hardly needs organ shoes to play them, since only toes are used—heels remain on the floor. To sum up, playing an instrument like this, so different from a modern organ, requires total concentration, since all the senses—visual, auditory, kinesthetic—are involved in sometimes unfamiliar ways.

I hope this brief introduction—to the music of a composer who, in his own lifetime, was well known and highly respected in Tuscany, and to one of the organs he could have known—will encourage interest in both topics. This delightful, lively, and lovely music deserves to be better known on this side of the Atlantic. At present, the Opere per organo is only available from the editor, Umberto Pineschi, at . It is well worth the effort to obtain the book.

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

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

Thursday, March 24

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

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

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

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

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

Friday evening, March 25

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

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

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

Saturday, March 26

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

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

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

Afternoon concert

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

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

Evening concert

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

Sunday morning

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

Concluding concert

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

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

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

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