Performance practice in Max Reger’s Phantasie und Fuge über B-A-C-H, opus 46

As one of the most renowned organ virtuosos and organ pedagogues Ludger Lohmann has exerted a lasting influence on organ culture. His career as a recitalist, which has brought him to many churches, cathedrals, and concert halls all over the world, started with awards at important international competitions, such as the competition of the German Broadcasting Corporation in Munich 1979 and the Grand Prix de Chartres 1982.

Born in Herne, Germany, in 1954 he studied organ with Wolfgang Stockmeier and harpsichord with Hugo Ruf at Cologne Musikhochschule. While writing a musicological doctoral thesis on “Articulation on Keyboard Instruments of the 16.–18. Centuries,” he received important artistic stimuli from Anton Heiller in Vienna and Marie-Claire Alain in Paris. The dedication to this artistic legacy motivated him to regard his own pedagogical work as equally important in his recitalist career. In more than forty years, first at Cologne Musikhochschule, and since 1983 as professor at Stuttgart Musikhochschule, he has educated numerous talented young organists from all over the world, many of whom are now doing remarkable artistic and pedagogical work themselves. A central concern was always striving for an interpretation of musical works according to the stylistic conventions of the times of their origin, departing from the insights gathered in his doctoral dissertation, which became standard reading, and later broadened by many publications concerning the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Musically they are documented in his numerous CD recordings.

His artistic and pedagogical impact has led Ludger Lohmann throughout the world as guest professor, teacher of masterclasses, and jury member of international competitions. He was part of the organ research project GOArt of Göteborg University as senior researcher. As organ consultant he has led organbuilding and restoration projects in several countries. To honor his manifold activities the British Royal College of Organists awarded him its first honors medal. In 2023 he received the prestigious German “Prize of European Church Music.”

Editor’s note: the scores to works mentioned in this article may be found online for free access.

Max Reger, Zwölf Stücke, opus 59

Reger, Introduction, Passacaglia, und Fugue in E Minor, opus 127

Reger, Fantasie und Fuge über B-A-C-H, opus 46

Reger, Organ Sonata No. 2, opus 60

Franz Liszt, Präludium und Fuge über B-A-C-H, S. 260

J. S. Bach, Fantasia and Fugue in G Minor, BWV 542

The sesquicentennial of the birth of Max Reger (1873–1916) has given new life to the reception of his enormous oeuvre. Among the many works of this astonishingly productive composer, only the organ pieces—the number and importance of which are rivaled only by Johann Sebastian Bach’s organ works—have enjoyed a constant presence in public concerts. This fact is not the least due to the efforts of Karl Straube (1873–1950), Reger’s closest friend and arguably his most important advocate during his short life. As the most influential German organ pedagogue of the first half of the twentieth century, Straube motivated generations of the most talented young German organists to become avid Reger performers. Their influence, in turn, can still be felt today particularly regarding certain parameters of Reger performance, since they tended to emulate Straube’s teaching method, which relied heavily on the principle of copying the master, usually starting to learn a new piece by literally copying all indications (fingering, articulation, and phrasing) from the teacher’s personal copy. Thus many details of Straube’s personal performance style, which sometimes are not consistent with Reger’s own indications, are still firmly entrenched in what might be called mainstream Reger performance practice. Straube’s students never, at least not in principle, questioned their validity but regarded them with a kind of Biblical faith, given the fact that Reger always heaped high praise on his friend’s performances of his music.

Straube’s ideas became a second layer of performance indications, sometimes overriding those given by the composer. As the authority that he was in German organ culture, Straube might even have contributed inadvertently or intentionally to the canonization of his ideas. We will never know whether Reger, in cases of conflicting indications, really preferred Straube’s ideas over his own. This must remain in doubt, particularly since Straube did not preserve Reger’s letters from the Weiden years, i.e., Reger’s most productive period regarding organ music, ostensibly because he did not want future generations to get an insight into an intimate exchange touching many aspects of the genesis of Reger’s music—possibly also not due to potential disagreements on matters not only of composition but also of performance practice.

In his monumental doctoral dissertation, “Reger, Straube, and the Leipzig school’s tradition of organ pedagogy: 1898–1948,”¹ Christopher Anderson has described the Straube-Reger relationship with its many positive but also problematic aspects in detail. The new and definitive biography Max Reger: Werk Statt Leben² by Susanne Popp touches this subject only briefly. Some basic problems of Straube’s style of Reger performance have been commented upon by Wolfgang Stockmeier in a volume, Max Reger 1873–1973—Ein Symposion,³ published on the occasion of Reger’s 100th birthday. Some of Stockmeier’s observations will be further developed in the present article, the aim of which is not in the first place to criticize Straube but to point out some very common clichés of present-day Reger performance, some—but certainly not all—of which might have originated in Straube’s practices. These practices can be learned from Straube’s editions of some Reger pieces published during the composer’s lifetime and also from listening to recordings made by some of Straube’s students.

When looking at the editions, some blatant contradictions, particularly regarding dynamics and agogics, can be noted. They expose some fundamental differences of opinion about how to deal with certain musical phenomena like the preparation of a culmination point. Here the name of Hugo Riemann (1849–1919), the most influential German music theorist of the late Romantic period and Reger’s composition teacher, comes into play.⁴ Reger very closely adheres to Riemann’s performance recipes, which can be found in his various treatises,⁵ whereas Straube, while generally being in agreement with Riemann’s theories, sometimes appears to come from a different school of thought. The fact that a performer would change a composer’s detailed performance indications in an edition of his own seems almost unthinkable today, but was all too common a century ago.

Certainly Straube’s aim in the first place was to make some of Reger’s best-known pieces more accessible; he might even have seen a justification for his interventions in Reger’s compositional process, or at least in his way of preparing a final fair copy of his works as the basis for an edition. Reger first wrote the musical text proper in black ink and later added all instructions pertaining to performance in red ink. Of course, it would be naive to assume that the genesis of a piece’s overall musical structure did not already include at least a rough concept of dynamics and movement, but details were probably determined only during this late “red ink stage,” thus easily leading to the impression that they were accessories rather than essential elements of the composition.

As a concert organist who has regularly played Reger’s works all over the world throughout a fifty-year career, I had many opportunities to observe typical problems of the reception of Reger’s music, problems that might have led a majority of colleagues mainly in English- and French-speaking countries to reject this music altogether. According to my experience the single biggest problem, apart from listeners’ difficulties of following Reger’s often over-complex musical textures, is what I would call a lack of coherence. This is first of all due to Reger’s tendency to compose free works like preludes or fantasias in a patchwork style: rather short musical phrases in certain textures are separated from each other by concluding chords. Even when the player goes from one passage to the next in an organic way by letting the listener feel a continuous metrical flow (albeit shaped by rubato twists and turns), the danger is that the piece falls apart, the all-too-frequent “stop and go” effect, tiring the listener and preventing an effective emotional buildup.

“Toccata in D Minor,” opus 59 (Zwölf Stücke), number 5

Looking at “Toccata in D Minor,” opus 59 (Zwölf Stücke), number 5, will illustrate this problem.⁶ The first part of this short tripartite composition consists of only twenty measures that contain, depending on how one counts, between four (in measures 4, 7, 15, and 20) and seven (the additional ones in measures 10, 11, and 12) such subdivisions. If the dynamic culminations in Organo Pleno reached at the end of all of the dynamic waves always starting at ff are any clue Reger would have regarded measure 12 as one of the important breaks in spite of the fact that the sixteenth-note triplet movement continues. Among the four clear breaks, all indicated by a large quarter-note chord, the one in measure 20 is marked by a fermata, the one in measure 4 by a fermata with the word kurz, or short. The other two breaks do not bear any indication. The common way of realizing these four transitions, experienced in dozens of performances by students and competition participants without exception, is holding the respective chords for about two beats instead of one as notated. While this is obviously acceptable for the chords marked by a fermata it is clearly not correct in the other two cases.

Apart from the resulting lack of stringency there is a consequence for the dynamic perception of harmonies, which prevents the buildup of tension as probably intended by Reger. The A-major seventh chord in measure 7 is followed by a D-minor harmony on the next beat, by the way a harmonic concept (a traditional dominant-tonic cadence) that Reger employs in a vast majority of formal transitions, even major ones (see measures 20–21: the B-major dominant seventh chord in measure 20 is followed by an E-minor harmony implied at the beginning of the soft middle section of the piece). Since the A-major seventh chord is in an accentuated metrical position (beat 3), holding it for a half note will inevitably give the ensuing D-minor harmony a metrical accent, particularly if the player gives it a strong dose of initially hesitating rubato, a gradual speeding up, with the aim of making his performance expressive.

Both player and listener are satisfied with an accent on the tonic, which might be the reason for this metrical misreading in the first place. If, however, the A-major chord is given its proper value, the D-minor harmony can be perceived as an upbeat to the much more interesting chord on the following beat 1, which consists of a double suspension (B sharp and D sharp) before an A-major sixth chord, thus keeping up the harmonic tension of the A-major seventh chord in measure 7 by preventing the succession of A major and D minor to be perceived as a definite cadence. It goes without saying that this is extremely consequential with regard to the perception of form, in other words to coherence or a lack thereof. The situation in measure 15 is different but comparable: the F-major 3-4 chord is continued chromatically by the implied bass line of the ensuing broken chords.

The question is why Reger notated fermatas in measures 4 and 20, but not in 7 and 15. The answer for measure 20 is clear: in measure 21 the middle section of the piece starts. In measure 4 the fermata marks an E-major chord that is followed by a new statement of the toccata’s opening passage in A minor, the dominant. This fact gives the E-major chord a higher formal relevance than the chords in measures 7 and 15, but not of the same degree as in measure 20, which is why Reger cautioned the player with kurz in measure 4. Since the opening passage starts on beat 4 (and should consequently be played with an upbeat feeling, not easy to achieve particularly when too much initial rubato is involved, as is very common) the “short” fermata should still allow the listener to perceive the value of the E-major chord as one (quarter note) beat in order to maintain the upbeat feeling for the new beginning. Even in measure 20 it is to be recommended to keep the B-major chord only for one beat (albeit somewhat longer than the E-major chord in measure 4, by means of a larger ritardando preparation) in order to clarify its upbeat metrical position.

This upbeat position, the first of its kind after so many seemingly comparable chords concluding phrases in downbeat positions, is undoubtedly a formal ploy to bridge the most incisive formal transition of the whole piece, another example of Reger striving for formal coherence.

“Benedictus,” opus 59 (Zwölf Stücke), number 9

It should by now be clear that Reger’s notation of transitional places is by no means accidental but highly differentiated and precisely responding to the formal structure. The question is now whether the consequences for the dynamic or metrical perception of harmonies were also on his mind. This can be answered more easily by looking at the equally famous “Benedictus” from the same collection, opus 59, number 9.

This piece is based on two motives, both exposing the interval of a fourth, the second of which outlining the fugue subject (which could easily be sung to “Hosanna in excelsis”) with two ascending fourths, the first with two descending fourths, thus probably meant to be the inverted idea. In its first appearance with the notes D flat, A natural, B flat, F, it enters three times alla stretta, the entrances always coinciding with the fourth note of the preceding entrance. As a consequence the entrances occur on different beats of the first two measures: 1, 4, and 3. The listener might be misled into assuming that the piece is in 3/4 rather than in the 4/4 that Reger notated. Another misunderstanding—this will immediately show its relevance—is that the listener will understand the first two notes as C sharp and A, i.e., a falling major third in A major.

This strange opening has to be viewed in light of Riemann’s teachings. Riemann develops his ideas about the dynamics of phrases, so crucial for his theories, starting with motives of two or three notes.⁷ According to his principles static dynamics are unthinkable: a melodic line always moves either in crescendo or decrescendo. Accordingly a two-note motive can be crescendo or decrescendo.⁸ For a three-note motive there is a third possibility: first crescendo, then decrescendo9 (the fourth theoretically possible variant, decrescendo-crescendo, is not really considered). This is also his favorite dynamic shape for any musical phrase: starting with a crescendo, which leads to a dynamic climax, then relaxation in decrescendo. Though Riemann generally opposes the late Baroque system of metrically oriented accentuation he still maintains the primate of beat one, in his musical examples always placing the dynamic climax on beat one. Hence we may assume that Reger’s dynamic thinking also respects bar lines.

This explains the opening of the “Benedictus.” Reger’s intention probably is to present his central motive in various possible dynamic shapes: the first entrance is thought decrescendo throughout. This can easily be accepted by the listener who de facto hears a falling major third.

The problem here is that the player knows that this interval is supposed to be a diminished fourth, and that the second note is longer than the first, so he will intuitively intend these two notes rather to be felt as a crescendo. In fact a trained ear can identify the player’s respective intention. The motive’s second entrance places the first note in an upbeat position, leading to the second note in crescendo. The third entrance uses still another option: here the dynamic climax is meant to be on the tied-over part of the second note. Since this is not really communicable on the organ Reger employs the swellbox, ending the crescendo sign exactly at the bar line and thus underlining the harmonic tension of the chord on the following beat one, which converts the originally consonant A natural into a dissonant suspension.

According to general compositional principles the moment has come where the composer should change the motive at the very latest: the fourth entrance starts one note higher on E flat, and thus is the loudest entrance. (Note that in the final short part of the piece, in measure 51, the corresponding entrance on the high E flat arrives after the swellbox has been closed, another dynamic-motivic refinement!) Straube¹⁰ displaces the dynamic indications: his crescendo sign starts not on the first note of the third entrance (D flat), but on the second, and continues till the end of the following measure, resulting in a dynamic climax on the first beat of measure 4 on a totally consonant B-flat major chord. He obviously did not see the refinement of Reger’s dynamic strategy and probably also did not understand Reger’s intention to present the motive in three different dynamic versions, an intention very essential to late Romantic musical thinking.

The first appearance in this piece of a solo line on the second manual (measure 8, beat 3) reveals another misreading of Reger’s intentions: Reger continues a diminuendo throughout the first solo notes, which start in a tonality of D major, finishing it on the lowest note of the solo when the tonality has returned to the tonic of D flat (measure 9, beat 4). Straube, however, lets the solo line begin at the end of a diminuendo, which on the first glimpse seems to be more convincing, but Reger’s concept is clearly motivated by considerations both melodic and harmonic and thus certainly more logical from a composer’s perspective.

This excursion into the “Benedictus” was supposed to demonstrate Reger’s refined dynamic intentions and to underscore the importance of playing the transition in measure 7 of the “Toccata” in a metrically correct way. In his edition¹¹ Straube does not add a fermata to the respective A-major chord, but his rallentando covering the first three beats of this measure and the sudden dynamic drop from forte to piano (including switching to another combination and moving back the Rollschweller device quite considerably), which he prescribes, clearly result in an interruption of the metric flow. The same can be said about the transition in measure 13: whereas Reger goes from Organo Pleno to a mere meno ff Straube goes from fff to p. Additionally already in measure 10 he prescribes Sostenuto, eighth note equals 84, and ritenuto in measure 12, thus probably resulting in a tempo only half of the initial eighth note equals 120, which he again suddenly prescribes in the middle of measure 12. This is obviously not the uninterrupted flow of sixteenth-note triplets, which is implied in Reger’s notation, but a clear break.

It might be said in defense of Straube’s apparent handling of these transitions that it separates sections and thus clarifies the structure of the piece very efficiently. However, the question is whether Reger’s way of writing is not structurally clear enough anyway, even considering possible acoustic issues with reverberation, which should be negligible in light of the limited dynamic contrasts, except for measures 20–21.

Looking into a piece by a different composer will show a similar problem. In Straube’s edition of some of the major organ works by Franz Liszt¹² the diminished seventh chord at the end of measure 12 in Präludium und Fuge über B-A-C-H is enlarged from six to eight notes, followed by a manual change,¹³ implying a break between this seventh chord and the ensuing sixth chord of G-flat major. This is a crucial moment in the piece that may be interpreted as a reference to a strikingly similar harmonic adventure in measures 20–21 of Bach’s Fantasia in G Minor, BWV 542i. Since this harmonic progression is a correct but totally unexpected resolution of the seventh chord it is important for the player to present the seventh chord as leading to the following chord. Liszt’s notation of a fermata on the sixteenth-note rest on beat one probably intends to give the listener a moment to digest the surprise, and Bach’s soprano tie across the bar line clearly aims to connect the chords.

It thus appears that Straube’s style of performance had a tendency of accentuating formal incisions of a piece rather than bridging them for the sake of holding together larger sections or the piece as a whole. Whether the motivation for this is purely musical or the result of resignation in the face of technically difficult registration manipulations (some of these self-inflicted by his disrespect for the composer’s dynamic indications) is impossible to decide.

Returning to Reger’s “Toccata in D Minor,” looking at the final two pages will reveal another problem with respect to Straube’s treatment of the musical form, but even more with respect to what might be called the emotional curve. Reger marks the broken-chord passage starting in measure 29 stringendo. The latter continues up to the A-major 6/5 chord in measure 33, which is followed by a dynamic drop to meno ff and an ensuing diminuendo until measure 35. In the middle of measure 35, while the chordal sequence of measures 33–35 still continues for a half measure, Reger turns the diminuendo into a crescendo, thus dynamically bridging the transition to a totally different figurative pattern.

Straube’s concept of the same passages is drastically different. Instead of an accelerando he prescribes an allargando; instead of meno ff plus diminuendo in measure 33 he prescribes pp and then a sudden and quick crescendo starting in measure 36. While on the first glimpse his solution seems to be more convincing than Reger’s rather surprising, in fact counterintuitive one, a second look leads to the conclusion that Reger’s concept might actually be considered artistically superior, at least more interesting, since instead of underlining the formal incisions it rather blurs them, resulting in a far more stringent ending of the piece.

The arpeggiando passage is not majestic (Straube writes sostenuto plus ritenuto) but breathless, the A-major 6/5 chord does not become an opportunity for a satisfied rest (Straube gives it a fermata), but spills over its accumulated energy into the ensuing chordal passage, which because of its falling bass line should rather be diminuendo, during which this energy is gradually spent. Obviously this concept is much more dramatic than Straube’s; it also shows a clear intention to keep the whole third part of “Toccata” coherent.¹⁴

“Kyrie,” opus 59 (Zwölf Stücke), number 7

In replacing Reger’s stringendo of measures 29–33 with sostenuto/ritenuto Straube shows an attitude toward preparing a dynamic climax that is fundamentally opposed to Reger’s own. In fact he seems to adhere to a different school of thought in this respect since he does exactly the same thing in measures 17–18 and 31–32 of “Kyrie,” opus 59, number 7, and in measures 41–46 of “Benedictus,” or in a totally different musical situation, in measures 35 and 98 of the first movement of Reger’s Second Organ Sonata, opus 60, where the crescendo and accelerando of the short transition between what might be called the second and third main thematic ideas is replaced by diminuendo and ritardando, separating the respective sections rather than connecting them as is clearly Reger’s aim.¹⁵ Reger follows his teacher Riemann’s recipe: a crescendo is naturally accompanied by an accelerando (correspondingly a diminuendo by a ritardando);¹⁶ a dynamic climax is reached with an accelerando, holding back the tempo briefly on the climax itself before the energy is released a tempo, the ensuing diminuendo eventually accompanied by a ritardando.¹⁷ Straube’s approach can be found in some late Romantic organ treatises, for example, Karl Matthaei, who states that an agogic dwelling causes an increase of intensity; when playing in forte registration it may even been extended to longer stretches.¹⁸

Perhaps this fundamentally different approach to presenting climactic moments of a composition reveals differences between the respective personalities: Reger’s radical, dramatic pushing forward versus Straube’s more civilized (if not to say more bourgeois), relaxed basking in a glowing Organo Pleno sound.

Passacaglia in E Minor, opus 127, and Fantasie und Fuge über B-A-C-H, opus 46

Different opinions about separation/contrast versus blending/overlapping may occasionally work the other way. In measure 64 of Passacaglia in E Minor, opus 127, Reger originally closed a variation in diminuendo and pp and abruptly began the new variation in f, as can be seen in his extant autograph manuscript. The first edition, which was already informed or influenced by Straube’s first performance of this work, commissioned for the inauguration of the world’s then largest organ, built by W. Sauer Orgelbau of Frankfurt/Oder, in the Breslau (Wrocław) Jahrhunderthalle on September 24, 1913, replaces this dynamic contrast by a more modest beginning of the new variation in p;¹⁹ again an example of Straube’s diplomatic mollifying of an emanation of his friend’s more radical personality?

The comparison of autograph manuscript and first edition of opus 127 sheds light on a possible practical explanation of some of the two men’s differing opinions. The original tempo indication for the fugue was quarter note equals 66–84. The first edition indicates eighth note equals 116–132. Though the two indications meet at 66/132 (actually a fairly realistic tempo), the edition’s indication is generally considerably slower. This, however, is not the main point. When listening to performances of the piece it can usually be recognized whether the player feels a quarter-note or an eighth-note pulse, in the latter case resulting in a loss of the dance-like character probably on Reger’s mind, even when there is not a large difference in metronomic tempo. Considering the fact that Straube had to learn this long and difficult piece on rather short notice it may very well be that his studies were in a phase when he was still thinking in an eighth-note pulse, as would be typical for a player facing such a daunting task. The player’s way of thinking will affect the listener’s reaction: thinking in a quarter-note pulse will point his perception toward the larger picture more easily and will consequently lead to a better formal coherence of the piece.²⁰

A comparable problem of learning a difficult piece quickly may have led to two famous instructions Straube used to give his students concerning two short passages of Reger’s “Fantasie” from Fantasie und Fuge über B-A-C-H, opus 46: Straube recommended to play the chordal diminuendo passage from measure 19, beat 4, to measure 20, beat 2, twice as slow as notated, in spite of the fact that Reger, knowing that this would be difficult to achieve, prescribes Vivace assai, and to the contrary, the four final chords (measure 55, beat 4 onwards) twice as fast as notated, which means that the concluding chords of the fantasia, notated in eighth notes, are performed at the same speed as the chords preceding the eighth-note rest (measure 55, beat 3).

As I could observe numerous students (almost without any exception) doing the same at the end of the fantasia without having the slightest idea of a corresponding tradition, my suspicion has grown that Straube’s recommendation was the eventual result of an original miscounting that he codified, possibly as a face-saving ploy. Notwithstanding the possibility that the resulting performance of the fantasia’s end might be considered as more natural than the one indicated by the composer’s notation, a miscounting would be a very human error that can easily happen even to a distinguished musician like Straube.

A similar mistake might have occurred in measure 10 of the “Toccata in D Minor” where Straube suddenly reduces the tempo to almost only fifty percent. The same can be observed in most students’ performances of the second half of measure 14, there (unfortunately) also in an otherwise quite convincing performance by Straube’s famous contemporary Alfred Sittard (1878–1942), who by the way, makes fine distinctions concerning the transitions in measures 4, 7, 15, and 20. He does, however, keep the first fermata quite long so that the perceived note value becomes something like a half note, whereas his A-Major seventh chord in measure 7 can be perceived very well as a quarter note. Otherwise he generally respects Reger’s indications quite precisely; only his phrasing caesurae are rather too long, possibly a reaction either to the large acoustic of Saint Michael’s Church in Hamburg or to the difficulties of handling registration on its huge Walcker instrument.²¹

As can be seen from the example of Sittard’s performance of this ostensibly “small” piece, Reger’s refined dynamic and agogic indications, certainly at least partly conceived with the aim of guaranteeing formal coherence and a stringent emotional curve of the piece, presents the player with many technical and musical difficulties. The changes that Straube made in his edition eliminate some of these difficulties; additionally they are easily acceptable to a musical player or listener. In fact some of them seem to be more natural than Reger’s original indications. The question of whether they are musically superior may have to be answered individually by anybody experiencing the piece. For Reger his friend Straube was the ultimate authority concerning organ performance in general. His belief in his friend’s opinions went far enough to accept Straube’s suggestions regarding questions of composition proper, the most unfortunate example of this being Reger’s Requiem, which remained unfinished. It should not be forgotten, however, that at least during Reger’s lifetime Straube was active and renowned only as an organist, whereas Reger himself had an enormous reputation as an orchestral conductor and as a pianist, particularly in chamber music and Lied accompaniment. Thus we have to accept that his meticulous performance instructions were informed by vast experiences gained during a very busy and successful career as a performing musician, and that these instructions deserve to be taken seriously despite the inherent difficulties.

Reger’s oeuvre is the fruit of a short, busy, and stressful life taken anything but easily. As responsible performers we should honor his efforts with a matching respect for detail.

Notes

1. Ann Arbor (UMI), 1999.

2. Wiesbaden (Breitkopf & Härtel), 2015.

3. Ed. Klaus Röhring, Wiesbaden (Breitkopf & Härtel) 1974, pages 21–30.

4. See “Hugo Riemann and the Development of Musical Performance Practice,” Ludger Lohmann, in Proceedings of the Göteborg International Organ Academy 1994, edited by Hans Davidsson and Sverker Jullander, Skrifter fran Musikvetenskapliga avdelingen, Göteborgs universitet, Göteborg 1995, pages 251–284. Riemann’s ideas are also to be found in Orgelschule zur historischen Aufführungspraxis, Teil 2, Romantik, Jon Laukvik, Carus, Stuttgart, 2000. The respective passages seem to be quite dependent on my Göteborg article.

5. The two most important ones are: Lehrbuch der musikalischen Phrasirung auf Grund einer Revision der Lehre von der musikalischen Metrik und Rhythmik, Hugo Riemann, Breitkopf & Härtel, Hamburg/Leipzig/St. Petersburg, 1884, and System der musikalischen Rhythmik und Metrik, Breitkopf & Härtel, Leipzig, 1903.

6. Since the scores of Reger’s organ works are easily accessible and probably present in many organists’ libraries I have refrained from giving musical examples. The measure numbers refer to the Breitkopf edition, but other editions may as well be used since they differ only in small textual details not relevant here.

7. Lehrbuch der musikalischen Phrasirung auf Grund einer Revision der Lehre von der musikalischen Metrik und Rhythmik, Hugo Riemann, pages 11ff.

8. According to his terminology “anbetont” or “abbetont.”

9. “inbetont.”

10. Zwölf Stücke für die Orgel von Max Reger. Op. 59. Hieraus in Einzel-Ausgabe: No. 9. Benedictus. Im Einverständnis mit dem Komponisten herausgegeben von Karl Straube. Leipzig: Peters 1913; London-Frankfurt-New York: Peters, 1949.

11. Präludien und Fugen für die Orgel von Max Reger, herausgegeben von Karl Straube, Leipzig: Peters 1912, Nr. 1. I thank Mrs. Ursula Wild of the library of the Hochschule für Musik Freiburg for providing me with a scan.

12. Orgelkompositionen von Franz Liszt, herausgegeben von Karl Straube. Band II, Leipzig: Peters 1917, pages 55–56.

13. In the first (1855) version of the piece Liszt also indicated a manual change, the right hand moving to the Oberwerk. This does not necessarily result in a dynamic break since the Oberwerk of the Merseburg organ for which the piece is intended is as powerful as the Hauptwerk. It is also interesting to see that the manual change was omitted in the second (1869) version. Additionally the fact that the lowest note of the right-hand chord has a shorter value than the rest of the chord, allowing the left-hand passage to interfere with it, implies that the manual change was not Liszt’s original intention anyway. Whether Straube knew the first version at all is doubtful, his edition concerns the second version, of course.

14. Reger seems to have liked the effect of overlapping musical passages, as can be seen on a smaller scale, e.g., on the last page of his Second Organ Sonata, opus 60. The numerous entrances alla stretta of at least the fugue subject’s opening motive are rarely marked by the beginning of new slurs. Reger once (measures 87–88) places a new slur on the two notes preceding the first thematic note, and more frequently on the second note of the subject, thus indicating respectively that the subject is prepared by a short upbeat, or that the initial note has the double function of ending the preceding phrase and starting the new phrase. In any case his clear intention is that there should be no break in the legato—as most players would do, reacting intuitively to the notation—in accordance with Riemann’s advice that phrasing does not necessarily have to be shown by articulation, but sometimes only by slight rubato nuances in order not to interrupt the longer legato line in the sense of a Wagnerian “infinite melody:” “Es ist etwas ganz bekanntes, dass die Schlusstöne der Phrasen oder wo die Verkettung loser ist, auch der Motive, zumeist abgesetzt, d.h. nicht in ununterbrochenem Tonflusse zu den Anfangstönen der folgenden Phrasen oder Motive fortgeführt, sondern von diesen durch kleine Pausen geschieden werden. Vielfach sind diese Pausen nicht anders, als durch das Ende eines Bogens oder auch gar nicht angedeutet und müssen also ad libitum, d.h. nach Massgabe des guten Geschmacks, durch Abzüge vom Werthe der letzten Note gewonnen werden; Gesichtspunkte, welche mangels einer Andeutung von Seiten des Komponisten dafür entscheidend werden können, ob man überhaupt die Phrasen- resp. Motivtrennung durch wirkliches Absetzen oder aber nur durch eine unbedeutende Verlängerung der letzten Note bewirkt, werden wir weiterhin kennen lernen.” (Riemann 1884, 145)

This way of indicating what Riemann would call “Phrasenverschränkung” (roughly to be translated as “joining of phrases”) or “Phrasenverkettung” is a bit unusual; Reger almost never uses the more conventional notation of letting two slurs meet on one note.

15. The described handling of this transition is not documented anywhere, but I clearly remember it from a radio recording of the piece by Michael Schneider, one of Straube’s most important students, to which I listened several times years ago.

16. See Reger’s footnote on page 8 (first edition, Aibl, later republished by UE) of the Choralfantasie über Freu dich sehr, o meine Seele, opus 30: “Die < > beziehen sich auf den Gebrauch des Jalousieschwellers; doch kann man auch im Tempo bei < etwas string. u. bei > etwas ritard. (Tempo rubato),” which is the practical implementation of a passage in Lehrbuch der musikalischen Phrasirung auf Grund einer Revision der Lehre von der musikalischen Metrik und Rhythmik, Hugo Riemann, page 11: “Mit dem crescendo der metrischen Motive ist stets eine (selbstverständlich geringe) Steigerung der Geschwindigkeit der Tonfolge und mit dem diminuendo eine entsprechende Verlangsamung verbunden.” Reger’s remark even goes one step further, giving an important hint to situations where no Swell division is at hand: dynamic inflections may be replaced by agogic ones.

17. “Die merkliche agogische Schattirung der Werte, nämlich eine gelinde Beschleunigung im Hineinlaufen in die Schwerpunktsnote, merkliche Dehnung der auf den Schwerpunkt selbst fallenden kurzen Note und abnehmende Dehnung der weiter bis zu Ende folgenden Werte.” Hugo Riemann, System der musikalischen Rhythmik und Metrik, Breitkopf & Härtel, Leipzig, 1903, page 17.

18. “Die agogische Stauung, eine bewußt herbeigeführte Verbreiterung des Grundtempos, bewirkt auf der Orgel, dem Instrument unendlichen Atems, eine Verdichtung der Intensität, welche bei stärker registriertem Spiel sich sogar auf längere Strecken auszudehnen vermag.” Vom Orgelspiel. Eine kurzgefaßte Würdigung der künstlerisch orgelgemäßen Interpretationsweise und ihrer klanglichen Ausdrucksmittel, Handbücher der Musiklehre XV, Karl Matthaei, Breitkopf & Härtel. Leipzig, 1936, page 52. Matthaei was a Straube student; his remarks on rubato otherwise follow Riemann’s teachings.

19. A similar contrast mp–f is to be found measure 80, which in the first edition is changed to the f being prepared by a crescendo ending of the preceding variation.

20. I do not want to address tempo questions in general, which in the case of “Benedictus” would be quite interesting. See my article in the Festschrift for Wolfgang Stockmeier.

21. The recording is accessible on YouTube. It has been described in detail by Hans Martin Balz in an article in Ars Organi 1/2017 (journal of Gesellschaft der Orgelfreunde), pages 50–52. I thank Dr. Balz for providing me with the link.

This article originally appeared in Ars et Usus Musicae Organicae: Juhlakirja Olli Porthanille (Essays in Honour of Olli Porthanille), edited by Jan Lehtola and Peter Peitsalo, Sibelius Academy, University of the Arts Helsinki, Finland, 2020, and is reprinted here with permission.

Nicholas Halbert is director of music at the Cathedral Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. He holds degrees from the Eastman School of Music (Bachelor of Music), Southern Methodist University (Master of Music, PhD) and Arizona State University (Doctor of Musical Arts).

Hans Fährmann, Dresden’s organ composer

Hans Fährmann’s fourteen sonatas for the organ make up one of the most compelling bridges between organ music and the mainstream German Romantic musical world, and yet they remain largely forgotten. There has been a surge in interest over the last two decades, with several volumes of a complete cycle by Dietrich von Knebel and a recording of the Sonata No. 8 by David Fuller having been released. Several scholarly works have also appeared, most notably the summaries of Fährmann’s life, context, and work written by Stefan Reissig and Hans Böhm. James Garratt has recorded Sonata No. 12 and written about this and several miscellaneous works in connection with his study on organ music and World War I. Nevertheless, energy around Fährmann’s music remains stagnant, and his music is far from being heard live with any frequency.

How did it come to be that such a significant set of large-scale sonatas have been nearly entirely forgotten? Fährmann was certainly not unknown in his own time. As both the cantor of a large Dresden church and a lecturer, director, and professor of the Royal Conservatory of Dresden, he was well regarded in the Saxon capital. In his own time, he was referred to as the “Richard Strauss of the organ.”^{1, 2} An article in a British music journal of 1912–1913 about chorale-preludes mentions three such works in the genre by Fährmann immediately after discussing Max Reger and writes that these are well known in Germany.³ And yet, in the same year J. Hennings writes in his special printing for the readers of Die Harmonie that he has undertaken the essay on Fährmann because he remains relatively unknown and blames it on the composer’s modesty with the press.⁴ Fährmann was evidently pleased with Hennings’s pamphlet about his music, because he dedicated his Sonata No. 10 to him in 1913. While Hennings is probably right, Fährmann’s new works were at least well-advertised in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik.

Probably far more significant is Fährmann’s lack of a famous interpreter who was promoting his music. Unlike Reger, whose music was championed by the formidable Karl Straube, Fährmann promoted his own music. What Straube did for Reger solidified his reputation; not only did he edit Reger’s music and perform it frequently, he also included it in the repertoire of his students, cementing the legacy of the composer. Straube only performed Fährmann—the Introduzione e Fuga triomphale—once during his time at Saint Thomas Church in Leipzig (in the period of 1903–1918).⁵ Speculatively, Straube may not have had much interest in Fährmann’s thoroughly Romantic music; Reger’s music carries far more of Bach’s influence. Straube would eventually become an important proponent of Orgelbewegung ideals, a movement that would have further rejected the Dresden composer’s music. Fährmann’s disappearance from the musical landscape was all but guaranteed when the publishing house of Otto-Junne-Verlag in Leipzig was destroyed during the 1943 bombing and with it all the printing plates of his works, some of which appear to be permanently lost.⁶

These works are worthy of performance and study. They are of high craftsmanship and musical interest. More importantly, they contain compelling narrative arcs capable of creating real emotional response. And they offer the organist something that is missing from the canonic repertoire: organ music written in dialogue with the massive Austro-Germanic symphonic tradition at the turn of the century. The late German Romantic music currently considered canonic tends to be valued for its synthesis of conservative and progressive musical aesthetics; this is not the case with Fährmann. This is music unabashedly written in the style and form of Johannes Brahms, Richard Wagner, Richard Strauss, and Gustav Mahler. For so many musicians, it is exposure to the music of these composers in the symphony hall that sparks their deep love of the art. How wonderful it is then that we have these organ sonatas that take part in that genre and allow us to engage with it. This essay will lay out a basic image of Fährmann’s musical context and the organs he would have known, and will then discuss this in relation to his Sonata No. 1.

Böhm and Reissig have both written excellent, short biographical sketches of Hans Fährmann. He was born on December 17, 1860, in Beicha, Saxony.⁷ The composer told his student, Böhm, that he had not had a sunny childhood,⁸ and a contemporary musical chronicler, Franciscus Nagler, remembers the composer as a stubborn and determined young man, hardened by an overly strict household.⁹ Fährmann’s musical teachers at the Dresden-Friedrichstadt included pianist Hermann Scholtz, organist Carl August Fischer, and composer Jean Louis Nicodé.¹⁰ The latter, also largely forgotten today, was a first-rate composer and conductor in Dresden during the latter portion of the nineteenth century, whose magnum opus was a massive symphony lasting over two hours named Gloria! Ein Sturm- und Sonnenlied Symphonie in einem Satze für Grosses Orchester, Orgel und (Schluss-) Chor. This maximalist work demonstrates the influence of the New Weimar School in Dresden. Also living in Dresden at the time was Felix Draeseke, a Wagnerian who wrote four symphonies. These Dresden composers, fusing more structured forms with the freedom and expressivity of the Liszt/Wagner camps, had obvious influence on Fährmann.

In 1884 Fährmann went to Weimar and performed his own Piano Sonata, opus 7, for Franz Liszt, who encouraged him to continue his career in music.¹¹ Upon graduating he held the position of cantor at the Johanneskirche from 1890 to 1926. He began as a lecturer in organ at the conservatory in 1892 and would hold a number of positions there, retiring at the rank of professor in 1939.¹² During his time at the church he held an extremely successful recital series at which he would perform and lecture on music from all historical periods and national schools. This occurred over eight years, from 1892 to 1900 in thirty separate programs; Johann Sebastian Bach was the centerpiece of the series, including performances of all six trio sonatas.¹³

In 1900 Fährmann suffered an apparent nervous breakdown as a result of the demands of his heavy concert schedule and turned his focus to composition and teaching while maintaining his church position.¹⁴ On retirement from the Johanneskirche position in 1926, Fährmann moved to a house in a forested suburb of Dresden in order to focus on composition.¹⁵ It is noteworthy that two contemporaries, Rost¹⁶ and Hennings,¹⁷ both describe the composer as a deeply committed and passionate man who was immune to any vain desires for fame or popularity and instead remained thoroughly true to himself and his musical convictions. Fährmann was married twice and had five children.¹⁸ He died in Dresden on June 29, 1940.¹⁹

The German Romantic organ sonata and Hans Fährmann

As might be expected of a musical landscape dominated by the legacy of Ludwig van Beethoven, the sonata was of central importance to nineteenth-century German organists. The genre of the organ sonata began in the High Baroque, with the works of Johann Sebastian Bach and his son, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, generally constructed in the fast-slow-fast, three-movement layout. Felix Mendelssohn’s sonatas for organ are collections of voluntaries. The effect of Franz Liszt’s Fantasy and Fugue on the Chorale “Ad nos, ad salutarem undam,” S. 259, in 1850 was profound. This single-movement work in a modified monothematic sonata-allegro form became the inspiration for dozens of similar pieces, most famously Julius Reubke’s Sonata on the Ninety-Fourth Psalm and August Gottfried Ritter’s Sonata No. 3 in A Minor. From 1865 the organ sonata trended toward the classical three- or four-movement format.²⁰ Rudolf Kremer’s incredibly useful index of German organ sonatas counts a total of 158 sonatas by forty-six composers in the final three decades of the nineteenth century.²¹ This set the stage for music increasingly influenced by the post-Beethovenian conception of the sonata and symphony. Ironically, Fährmann’s organ sonatas bear much more formal similarity with the sonata-forms of Beethoven than of Liszt—even though the contemporaneous iteration of the genre developed thoroughly from the New Weimar School. This speaks to the influence of Brahms, Josef Rheinberger, and the generally conservative nature of the Dresden School.

Music written by nineteenth-century German composers often looks like a symphonic reduction on the page, with some virtuosic passagework borrowed from the piano. While music of the French School (as it always has been, from the French Classical period) is married to the timbres on which it is being played, German Romantic organ music is conceived usually for choruses, often with no more instruction than the desired dynamic level. Only occasionally are specific solos or combinations of color required. This is mirrored in the orchestrations of Beethoven, Robert Schumann, and Brahms in which the strings play most of the time and carry the bulk of the musical content, with the addition and subtraction of winds and brass for dynamic and color contrast.

This relationship between orchestration and organ registration is also true of the French; for instance, compare the music of César Franck, Louis Vierne, and Charles-Marie Widor with the work of Hector Berlioz, and then compare Olivier Messiaen’s organ music with his orchestral music. German organ music tends to be focused on thematic development, dense counterpoint and harmony, and the formal outline of a composition, often instead of writing idiomatic and virtuosic keyboard passagework.

Hans Fährmann’s organ music meets this description aptly and is even more symphonic in conception than other canonic organ repertoire of the time. Rheinberger’s sonatas, predecessors to Fährmann’s oeuvre, feature idiomatic keyboard writing similar to Liszt’s approach to the instrument with the presence of pianistic figurations borrowed from nineteenth-century practice. This is true of the many German Romantic organ sonata composers influenced by Liszt: Reubke, Ritter, Gustav Merkel, et al. Fährmann’s most famous direct contemporaries nearby in Leipzig both wrote extremely idiomatic keyboard music for the organ. Max Reger’s music, so marked by the legacy of Bach, is built of constant, dense, and intricate counterpoint that is nevertheless decidedly keyboard music. His virtuosic explosions of chaotic figurework contrasted with sudden, hushed stillness show the influence of the Baroque stylus fantasticus and of Liszt and other piano improvisers of the nineteenth century. Sigfrid Karg-Elert, influenced by the Impressionists, uses registration and figuration to develop colors and textures in kaleidoscopic progressions and contrasts. This is to say: these now-canonic German Romantic composers wrote organ music that was fundamentally keyboard music, not orchestral music as translated to the organ. Even as these composers’ music is “orchestral” in the sense of color, it is not in a formal or stylistic sense.

Fährmann is distinct from all of the afore-mentioned composers in that he generally eschews non-motivic passagework (with some key exceptions) and writes with consistently thick textures echoing the dense symphonic writing common throughout the nineteenth century seen most characteristically in Wagner and Anton Bruckner. In further contrast with contemporary German organ composers, Fährmann’s work is characterized by an endless stream of melodic content. His resourcefulness with and the constant presence of motivic material is clearly indebted to the Beethovenian/Wagnerian tradition. Even in his fugal writing his subjects are often marked by forgoing conventional sequences and figurations in favor of idiosyncratic intervals, contours, and rhythmic shapes, which then entirely shape the subsequent fugue.²² Where virtuosic figuration does occur, it is not in the style of keyboard music, where often it is used to expand the harmony and build a sonorous and energetic texture, but tends to look like the type of runs assigned to strings in symphonic movements. This is in no small part due to the way in which his fast figuration usually interrupts and contrasts with the normal texture of a section of music, and the intervallic shapes of that figuration, which take on motivic significance in themselves.²³ All of these traits place Fährmann’s music solidly in the late-Romantic symphonic school, and characteristics like this can be easily found in the music of Richard Strauss, Gustav Mahler, and Sergei Rachmaninoff.²⁴

Arguably, Fährmann was the German Romantic composer who most explored the possibility of the organ as a vehicle for symphonic writing. His harmonic and melodic language is heavily influenced by late-Wagnerian music, particularly the sound world of Parsifal and Die Meistersinger. Fährmann’s harmony is dominated by constant extensions and suspensions paired with the generous use of all common-practice chord types. This results in an extremely colorful style that seems to carry maximal tonal tension within every phrase. He frequently uses chromatic voice-leading to result in surprising modulations and extreme harmonic distances being contained within musical units. However, this rich harmonic language is always subverted to the melodic content, usually in the soprano voice. As a result, much like Wagner, he is able to make extreme harmonic motions sound logical. Of note in his melodic writing is the frequent appearance of appoggiaturas, grace notes, and turn figures (these especially point to Wagner), which are all borrowed from Romantic string writing.

A few specific musical examples will illuminate this connection between Fährmann and Wagner. Examples 1 and 2 are excerpts from the famous “Transfiguration Music” in Act One of Parsifal. These are ideal models because they contain several key characteristics of late-Wagnerian style in the space of a few bars. Example 1 shows chromatic voice leading in the inner voices, the use of melodic contour to set up frequent suspensions in the melodic parts, and the upbeat triplet figure which is so essential to Wagner’s melodic language. Notice how the chromatic voice leading and suspensions allow Wagner to naturally incorporate a wide variety of chord types in a small space. Now looking at Fährmann’s application of these musical ideas, Example 3 (see page 15) shows the cadence of the main theme of Sonata No. 1. Here he resolves the first suspension in the tenor with a chromatic descending line in an identical way to Wagner, and here too it creates rapidly changing colors of harmony. Note how the melodic contour of the soprano allows Fährmann to naturally approach an augmented harmony on the downbeat of the second bar where it will be perceived as a suspension over a dominant. The incorporation of augmented sonority into moving contrapuntal textures is a major color of late Wagnerian writing. Example 4 depicts the beginning of the secondary thematic area of Sonata No. 1 and shows Fährmann adapting the lyrical upbeat triplet figure.

One of the most innovative harmonic devices in late Wagnerian music is the combination of chromatic voice leading and suspension to evade functional harmonic resolutions. Example 2, the climax of the “Transfiguration music,” is an excellent example of this technique. The fortissimo is reached on a clear tonic C-sharp minor chord with root in the bass. Wagner shifts two voices down by half step and sustains the C-sharp to create a German augmented-sixth harmony, but, rather than moving to the dominant, he moves those top two voices down another half step to arrive at a half-diminished sonority over G-sharp in the bass. Another chromatic motion resolves this into a C-sharp-major seventh chord and thoroughly destabilizes the tonic announced just a bar earlier. Example 5, an excerpt from the development of Fährmann’s Sonata No. 7, uses a similar technique in combination with a rising sequence to create a progression full of rich, functional sonorities that evade their natural resolution. This passage is also melodically similar to how Wagner moves out of the Tristan chord at the beginning of the “Prelude.” The rising half steps are identical in contour and rhythm. The harmonies, however, do not match the Tristan chord. Example 6, the final cadence of his Sonata No. 10, shows an absolutely spectacular utilization of this method to create a prolongation of the tonic. It is worth noting that this passage almost looks like Impressionist chordal planing, but the careful use of suspended voices (even if re-attacked) keeps this solidly within the tradition of counterpoint and its rules. The effect of this technique, present in Wagner and Fährmann, of denying conventional harmonies their functional resolutions creates a dizzying web of harmonic tension that stretches the boundaries of tonality.

On the other hand, his approach to form is significantly more conservative. Here the influence of Brahms and the Dresden School, including Draeseke, Nicodé, and of course Strauss, should be noted. As a result, Fährmann’s music does not contain the type of free-flowing modulation from section to section that can be found in Wagner and Franck. Instead it is fundamentally governed by the motion from tonic to dominant and back again. Fährmann’s harmonic language is used to embellish and develop tension over the basic tonal plan. He tends to write in relatively Classical phrase models built symmetrically. In this way his music is quite similar to that of Strauss in the 1880s.³¹ Gotthold Frotscher remarked that Fährmman’s music is built from Liszt’s harmonies with the thematic development of Brahms.³²

Fährmman’s primary similarity to Reger is in his skill as a composer of counterpoint, which was celebrated by contemporary musicians. His student Richard Rost observed in a notice in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik honoring Fährmann’s seventy-fifth birthday that his polyphony is never abstract but always meant to convey an expressive meaning.³³ In his important survey of Fährmann’s musical work, J. Hennings also remarks that he is a contrapuntist of the highest level.³⁴ He adds that the comparison to Richard Strauss is undoubtedly true but that Fährmann’s musical sensibility is firmly rooted in the Classical style and that this was influenced by the modern Zeitgeist. Fährmann always remained true to himself, Hennings says, and this speaks to his individuality as an artist “favored by God.”³⁵ What makes Fährmann a compelling composer is that his music surpasses direct imitation of any of these influences and becomes a unique prism reflecting them into a novel musical language.

The German Romantic organ

The development of writing for the organ has always been paralleled by developments in the instrument, and the German Romantic period is no exception to this. The connection between the instruments of Cavaillé-Coll and the French symphonic school has been well documented, but the influence of modern instruments on the German Romantic school is no less profound. In fact, differences in their design led to profound differences in the respective utilizations of the instruments. The first German instruments to be considered modern Romantic installations were those of Friedrich Ladegast and Adolf Reubke built in the middle of the nineteenth century. Some of the later organs of the High Baroque built by Silbermann and his students already pointed in the direction of future instruments with their substantial increase in the number of 8′ ranks. Ladegast and Reubke expanded in this direction with more foundations available at 16′, 8′, and 4′ pitches that were voiced with full, warm timbres emphasizing the fundamental. The powerful mixtures and mutations of the Baroque are preserved in these organs, giving them an unusual blend of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century characteristics. Reeds remained in their position as color stops, never becoming the dominant chorus color as they were on contemporaneous French organs.

The second half of the nineteenth century saw builders developing from the aesthetic concept of Ladegast and Reubke: the blending of the Baroque plenum sound into a modern idiom of weighty foundations that emulate the orchestra. In the organs of Wilhelm Sauer and E. F. Walcker & Cie., the mixtures and mutations are folded into the foundations more convincingly, leading to an incredibly rich plenum that is built from nearly every rank on the instrument. These well-developed overtones made the German Romantic organ very capable of performing counterpoint. Its ability to perform in an orchestral style is enhanced by the wide variety of colors available in the foundations. Both tendencies make these instruments ideal vessels for the music written by German Romantic composers. Just as the nineteenth-century compositional school continually referenced the music of Bach, so the instruments constantly bear the signature of the Baroque plenum.

This was particularly true in the Saxon School of organbuilding that, surrounded by extant installations by Silbermann, tended to be more conservative than other regions of Germany. Jiri Jocourek, of the Eule Orgelbau, has written an excellent summary of the types of instruments that Hans Fährmann would have known during his musical development—these would have included the legendary Silbermanns of Dresden, a Hildebrandt and a Wagner organ, two mid-century Romantic organs by Friedrich Nicolaus Jahn, and then later in life some very large installations by the Jemlich firm.³⁶ But most significantly, Fährmann would have been influenced by the instrument over which he presided at the Johanneskirche in Germany.³⁷ This church stood in the Pirnaische Vorstadt, just east of Dresden’s Aldstadt, and was split off from the Kreuzkirchgemeinde, the main Lutheran church in the Saxon capital.³⁸ Built in a wealthy parish, it was one of the first neo-Gothic structures in the city. The building and instrument were destroyed by the fire bombing of Dresden in February 1945, and nothing of the church remains on the site.³⁹

The Eule organ at the Johanneskirche was unusual for the firm. Hermann Eule was a thoroughly Romantic organbuilder, using large numbers of ranks at the fundamental and rich voicing characteristic of the nineteenth century.⁴⁰ However, the disposition at the Johanneskirche is significantly more conservative and more influenced by the Saxon organ building tradition having fewer 8′ foundation ranks and substantially more upperwork than usual for the builder. This instrument had neither a swell enclosure nor playing aids.⁴¹ In 1893 after the Sonata No. 1 had already been published, Fährmann had a swell installed.⁴² In 1909 a large overhaul took place, which created a Romantic instrument of fifty stops spread over three manuals.⁴³ Jiri Kocourek points out the absence of a 16′ rank on the third manual and the unusual selection of 8′ and 4′ ranks in the Pedal.⁴⁴ The latter almost certainly informs us that the pedal couplers were used consistently with any larger choruses. There is no record of the playing aids available on the 1909 instrument, as the next available record dates from work undertaken by his successor, Gerhard Paulik, and this documented a reduction in the number of console aids. Kocourek lists the playing aids available on a similar instrument, the Bautzen Cathedral organ, which include a walze, fixed combinations for various dynamic levels, and three free combinations.⁴⁵ If the Johanneskirche organ indeed contained these mechanisms, it would have been a thoroughly modern instrument. It is important to note that Fährmann’s scores do not call for as dynamic a use of the walze as was present in music by Reger or Karg-Elert. This is in line with his more orchestral conception of the use of the pipe organ.

Organ Sonata No. 1 in G Minor

The Sonata No. 1 in G Minor, opus 5, demonstrates, as Hennings says, that Fährmann was “predestined to become an organ composer.”⁴⁶ The reviewer draws the listener to the “originality of thought,” “fine thematic work,” and “skilled polyphony” of the sonata, along with the cyclical structure in which the main theme of the first movement is connected to the second theme of the closing double fugue.⁴⁷ This work holds a relatively early opus number; it was published in 1891 when the composer was thirty-one years old and after his appearance before Liszt. Though it is his debut organ sonata, it really should be considered a mature work and an intentional debut of his compositional skill in the genre of the organ sonata. The sonata contains three movements: “Moderato maestoso,” “Andante religioso,” and a Doppelfuge.

The first movement is in a straightforward sonata form with an appended “Cadenza” making up a substantial coda section. The main theme is heard clearly at the beginning (in many of the later sonatas Fährmann would write a lengthy introduction), and from its outset the richness of harmonic color is evident. The secondary theme is in the relative major of B-flat and is marked by numerous appoggiaturas giving it a longing lyrical character and reflecting the Wagner/Strauss influence (Example 7). The development section manipulates only the primary theme; it is a standard Beethovenian development moving among many tonal areas. After a normative recapitulation, the cadenza is the most obviously Wagnerian section of the sonata, having violin-like figurations very similar to those at the climax of the Meistersinger “Prelude,” with the strings continually beginning downward scales and arpeggios on the upper neighbor of the correct harmonic pitch (Example 8). A profoundly dissonant harmony over a pedal trill leads into a final statement of the main theme on full organ.

The second movement is an Andante in ternary form quite similar in structure to the slow movements found in early Beethoven piano sonatas. It opens with a chorale-like theme in the soprano, which is repeated immediately with more elaborate counterpoint. From there a cadence is evaded, and free material is introduced that destabilizes the key over a prolonged dominant pedal point and leads to the conclusion of the first section with a final statement of the first melody. The second section is in C minor with a darker chromatic quality (in this one might hear shades of Mahler). Another pedal point returns to E-flat major, and the main theme returns with a new obbligato flute-like solo line over it. Fährmann writes a fairly extended canon based on free material emerging from this solo and points the performer’s attention to it with a footnote. The final statement of the theme concludes with an increasingly chromatically inflected progression oscillating around several harmonies containing C-flat (Example 9). In the penultimate measure the music seems to land securely on a minor subdominant chord preparing the cadence, but only arrives at the desired E-flat by moving through a German sixth chord—again, one may hear a shade of Mahler in this closure.

The final Doppelfuge begins in the pedal, and the four voices enter from bottom to top until a fifth voice is added in the alto during a pedal point. The first subject begins unusually with a grace note followed by an ascending minor sixth, the inversion of the opening descending major third interval of the first movement. It is an idiosyncratic subject, full of chromaticism and strange leaps and changes of direction (Example 10). This is the type of fugue subject that Fährmann favored throughout his compositional career; one in which the subject dictates the harmonic and melodic content of the form, unlike the subjects chosen by Reger or even Karg-Elert, which, though often characteristic in their own right, are tonally open enough to be manipulated in numerous ways throughout the course of a movement. After a complete exposition of the theme, the subject is heard thrice through⁴⁸ in inversion before the conclusion of the first thematic area of the fugue. It is worth noting Fährmann’s incredible skill at writing imitative counterpoint, which interweaves with the fugal content, creating a dense polyphonic texture insistent on its horizontality.

The second subject is more obviously a quotation of the first movement, containing the initial four pitches of the main theme at its head (Example 11). The second countersubject is a chromatic scale, which leads to extremely chromatic counterpoint throughout the entire section. The second subject also contains more eighth-note motion, building momentum toward the fortissimo return of the first subject. The combination of these two is paired with a crescendo that arrives at the climax of the fugue, a restatement of the two subjects together now accompanied by rapid triplets­—here counterpoint dissolves into virtuosity. Another pedal point builds to a triumphant G major, with the second subject now appearing transformed. Though it is still accompanied by the chromatic countersubject, Fährmann has reconfigured it into a chain of secondary dominants that solidify the arrival of the major mode. The music goes through free, ecstatic progressions with characteristic Wagnerian harmonies into one final pedal point, which brings the music to its conclusion with a truly glorious restatement of the main theme of the first movement in G major, completing the cyclical construction of the sonata.

This work demonstrates many of the compositional elements that Fährmann would use throughout his career, and as such, makes an ideal starting point for any student delving into his oeuvre. Many of the issues of performance practice are similar to those found in other Romantic works of the same period: Brahms, Schumann, Reger, Franck (before Marcel Dupré’s influence on the interpretation thereof), and the like. This includes issues of rubato, large-scale tempo relationships (of flexible pulse throughout the course of a movement), legato touch, the use of agogics, etc.

What should be discussed here specifically regarding Fährmann is registrational practice. Most of Fährmann’s directions are communicated with dynamic markings alone, but the second movement has specific stops listed. These are a hint to understanding the work because they line perfectly with the specification of the Johanneskirche organ in 1891.⁴⁹ In the second movement, he switches colors between each phrase (similar to how one might perform English organ music of the same time), telling us that the change of color was for him a way of further increasing variance between sections—this could be applied to other slow movements of his. But this hint is helpful in another way; it makes it clear that this score was in some way a performance copy for himself. His instrument in 1891 would not have had a swell box, so we can safely conclude that the marked crescendi and diminuendi are not manipulations of the expression shoe but the addition and subtraction of ranks. This conclusion is bolstered by the fact that there are nearly none of the hairpin markings associated with subtle manipulation of the boxes.⁵⁰ This instrument almost surely did not have any playing aids, so the changes must have been executed by assistants.

The exposition of the first movement shows how Fährmann combines clever manual terracing with the implied manual addition of stops one-by-one over extended crescendi to nearly replicate the walze mechanism with which he would have been familiar. Nevertheless, given the specification of his instrument at the Johanneskirche at the time, it is hard to imagine that these dynamic changes were convincingly seamless. There is no reason for the modern performer to not embrace the full possibilities offered by combining the walze⁵¹ with the expression box and generate the orchestral ideal present in the score. The performer should always seek to create as seamless and orchestral a crescendo as possible, but in the German way—through the addition of one rank at a time, one dynamic step after another.⁵²

Notice that nowhere in this score does Fährmann call for the type of dramatic dynamic contrast that was so common down the road in Leipzig. Consider how this might influence interpretive decisions about tempo development across extended dynamic build ups and tear downs. The organ student might consider listening to famed Austro-Germanic conductors of the older tradition like Wilhelm Furtwängler or Willem Mengelberg or the player-roll recordings of Reger and Straube to develop a sense of how pulse relationships operate over the course of entire movements in this style.

Conclusion

The Hans Fährmann repertoire is a rich landscape just waiting to be explored. Even as pioneering organists are beginning to dig into this music, it is beautiful to think that it will take a generation or two for this music and the interpretation of it to become canonized and thus crystallized. Every student should spend time working on non-canonic music to better develop their interpretive sense and their ability to think outside of the box and radically reconsider the handed-down interpretations of beloved works. It is important, of course, to study non-canonic music about which one is passionate, but also to find complementary works in each era and national school that can contextualize and shed light on the familiar. Furthermore, the scholarly study of non-canonic works always provides an opportunity to reconstruct the history of the literature. As the “story” of organ music settles in, it is easy to lose sight of all the many non-organ influences playing out in parallel and interacting with the organ literature in favor of studying the chain linking one organ work to another. It is unusual that Fährmann, a composer so influenced by the orchestral composers around him, wrote primarily for the organ, while for many of the composers heard more frequently today, the organ made up only a fragment of their total output.

This music is perfect for any student interested in organ music and the late Romantic symphony. Fährmann’s sonatas offer these musicians a synthesis of organ and orchestral style in a repertoire that has been neglected. As modern-day organists explore the sound world of turn-of-the-century Dresden, may they become the advocates that eluded Fährmann during his lifetime.

Notes

1. J. Hennings, Hans Fährmann: Eine Studie von J. Hennings (Hamburg: Hermann Kampen, 1912), page 8.

2. Fährmann’s Wikipedia page claims that the first appearance of this comparison was by Otto Schmidt in the Dresdner Journal in 1905. Unfortunately, the citation is no more detailed than this, and without complete searchability of the paper it is difficult to find the issue of the daily containing this. Interestingly, Reissig relies on Böhm for the citation of this quote, and Böhm leaves it uncited. However, in Hennings’s 1912 study, he says that it is “often said,” assuring us that the comparison was not original to him.

3. Charles MacPherson, “Chorale-Preludes: Ancient and Modern,” Proceedings of the Musical Association 39th Sess. (1912–1913), page 166. https://www.jstor.org/stable/765497.

4. Hennings, page 4.

5. Christopher Anderson, Max Reger and Karl Straube: Perspectives on an Organ Performing Tradition (New York: Routledge, 2016), page 331.

6. Hans Böhm, “Hans Fährmann, Organist at St. John’s Church: Organ Virtuoso–Composer–Teacher,” in Die Dresdner Kirchenmusik im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert, ed. Matthias Herrmann (Dresden: Laaber-Verlag, 1998), page 323.

7. Böhm, page 323.

8. Böhm, page 323.

9. Franciscus Nagler, Das Kligende Land: Musikalische Wanderungen und Wallfahrten in Sachsen (Leipzig: J. Bohn & Sohn Verlag, 1936), page 238.

10. Böhm, page 324.

11. Böhm, page 324.

12. Böhm, pages 324–325.

13. Richard Rost, “Hans Fährmann. Ein Dresdner Jubilar. Zu Seinem 70 Geburtstag,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Jg. 97 (1930), pages 1030–1032.

14. Rost, pages 1030–1032.

15. Rost, pages 1030–1032. Böhm writes that this move occurred in 1896, but this must be incorrect, as the move occurring in conjunction with his retirement is more logical.

16. Rost, pages 1030–1032.

17. Hennings, page 8.

18. Böhm, page 326.

19. Böhm, page 324.

20. Robert C. Mann, “The Development of Form in the German Organ Sonata from Mendelssohn to Rheinberger,” PhD diss. (University of North Texas, 1978), page 27.

21. Rudolph J. Kremer, “The Organ Sonata Since 1845,” unpublished doctoral dissertation (Washington University, Saint Louis, Missouri, 1963), page 7, quoted in Robert C. Mann, “The Development of Form in the German Organ Sonata from Mendelssohn to Rheinberger,” PhD diss. (University of North Texas, 1978), page 30.

22. Ibid.

23. A good example of this can be found in the main theme of the first movement of the Eighth Sonata. This can be found at the “Allegro risoluto.” The explosion of virtuosic writing in the sixth bar is juxtaposed with the harmonic and rhythmic stability of the first half of the theme, heard over a tonic pedal point. While it begins as a straightforward rising flourish, it takes on a turning shape marked by unusual intervals that give it a distinctive identity.

24. Even a quick comparison shows that Fährmann’s sonatas bear more resemblance in stylistic language and form to the Edward Elgar Organ Sonata, which is effectively an orchestral transcription, than to the chorale fantasies of Reger.

25. Richard Wagner, Parsifal, arr. Karl Klindworth (Mainz: B. Schott’s Söhne, 1902), page 63.

26. Wagner, page 63.

27. Hans Fährmann, Organ Sonata Number 1 (Leipzig: J. Rieter-Biedermann, 1891), page 2.

28. Fährmann, Organ Sonata Number 1, page 3.

29. Hans Fährmann, Seventh Sonata for Organ (Leipzig: Otto Junne, 1904), page 10.

30. Hans Fährmann, Tenth Sonata for Organ (Leipzig: Rob. Forberg, 1913), page 20.

31. For instance, the Piano Quartet, opus 13, or the Violin Sonata, opus 18.

32. Gotthold Frotscher, Gesichte des Orgelspiels und der Orgelkomposition (Berlin: Verlag Merseburger, 1959), Band 2, pages 1211, 1246, 1255.

33. Richard Rost, “Hans Fährmann zu Seinem 75 Geburtstage,” in Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Jg. 102 (1935): pages 1384–1385.

34. Hennings, page 8.

35. Hennings, page 8.

36. Jiri Kocourek, Hans Fährmanns Orgeln an der Johanniskirche Dresden, Eule Orgelbau, Bautzen, 2012, page 1.

37. Kocourek, page 1.

38. Joachim Winkler, “Die Johanneskirche,” in Verlorene Kirchen: Dresdens zerstörte Gotteshäuser. Eine Dokumentation seit 1938, ed. Stadt Dresden (Dresden: Stadt Dresden, 2018), page 27. http://www.dresden.de/media/pdf/denkmal/verlorene-kirchen-2018_web.pdf

39. Kocourek, page 5.

40. Kocourek, page 2.

41. Kocourek, pages 2–3.

42. Kocourek, page 3.

43. Kocourek, page 4.

44. Kocourek, page 3.

45. Kocourek, page 4.

46. Hennings, page 9.

47. Hennings, page 9.

48. The careful observer will note that the first appearance of the inverted subject in the soprano contains an E-flat where there should be a repeated D. It is impossible to know if this intentional, though the E-flat certainly enhances the harmonic drama of the following leap. I play it as printed.

49. The fact that the work clearly matches the Johanneskirche organ and that it was published in 1891 suggests that he may have written it in conjunction with his appointment to the church.

50. With one major exception—the conclusion of the slow movement. The hairpins here are surely included for instruments that do have expression, though they also serve plausibly as rubato markings in the absence of the mechanism.

51. Or the Sequencer set up with one stop added at a time.

52. As opposed to the English-American approach, involving careful addition of rank and manipulation of the swell boxes.

53. Fährmann, First Sonata, page 3.

54. Fährmann, First Sonata, page 8.

55. Fährmann, First Sonata, page 13.

56. Fährmann, First Sonata, page 14.

57. Fährmann, First Sonata, pages 15–16.

Bibliography

Anderson, Christopher. Max Reger and Karl Straube: Perspectives on an Organ Performing Tradition. New York: Routledge, 2013.

Böhm, Hans. “Hans Fährmann, Organist an der Johanneskirche: Orgelvirtuose—Komponist—Pädagoge.” In Die Dresdner Kirchenmusik im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert, edited by Matthias Herrmann, pages 323–331. Dresden: Laaber-Verlag, 1998.

Fährmann, Hans. “Op. 24 6. Sonata für die Orgel; Op. 25. 7. Sonate für die Orgel.” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Jg. 71, 1904. Page 620.

Fährmann, Hans. “Op. 40, 6 Charakterstucke für Orgel; Op. 42 Fantasia e fuga tragica b moll für Orgel.” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Jg. 77, 1910. Page 176.

Fährmann, Hans. Organ Sonata No. 1. Leipzig: J. Rieter-Biedermann, 1891.

Fährmann, Hans. Organ Sonata No. 7. Leipzig: Otto Junne, 1904.

Fährmann, Hans. Organ Sonata No. 10. Leipzig: Rob. Forberg, 1913.

Frotscher, Gotthold. Geschichte des Orgelspiels und der Orgelkomposition. Berlin: Verlag Merseburger, 1982.

Garratt, James. “‘Ein gute Wehr und Waffen’: Apocalyptic and redemptive narratives in organ music from the Great War.” In Music and War in Europe: from French Revolution to WWI, edited by Étienne Jardin, pages 379–411. Turnhout: Brepols, 2016.

Hennings, J. Hans Fährmann: Eine Studie von J. Hennings. Hamburg: Hermann Kampen, 1912.

Koldau, Linda Maria. “Fährmann, Hans.” MGG Online, edited by Laurenz Lütteken. RILM, Bärenreiter, Metzler, 2016. Accessed November 11, 2023. https://www-mgg-online-com.ezproxy1.lib.asu.edu/mgg/stable/13649.

Kocourek, Jiri. “Hans Fährmanns Orgeln an der Johanniskirche Dresden.” Eule Orgelbau Bautzen, 2012.

Kremer, Rudolph J. “The Organ Sonata Since 1845,” unpublished PhD dissertation, Washington University, Saint Louis, Missouri, 1963. Quoted in Mann, Robert C. “The Development of Form in the German Organ Sonata from Mendelssohn to Rheinberger.” PhD diss., University of North Texas, 1978.

MacPherson, Charles. “Chorale-Preludes: Ancient and Modern.” Proceedings of the Musical Association 39th Sess. (1912–1913): pages 153–182. https://www.jstor.org/stable/765497.

Mann, Robert C. “The Development of Form in the German Organ Sonata from Mendelssohn to Rheinberger.” PhD diss., University of North Texas, 1978.

Nagler, Franciscus. Das Kligende Land: Musikalische Wanderungen und Wallfahrten in Sachsen. Leipzig: J. Bohn & Sohn Verlag, 1936.

“Organ Music.” The Musical Times vol. 38, no. 657 (November 1, 1897): page 744.

“Organ Music.” The Musical Times vol. 38, no. 658 (December 1, 1897): page 815.

Reissig, Stefan. “Zur Orgelmusik Hans Fährmanns.” In Orgelbewegung Und Spätromantik: Orgelmusik Zwischen Den Weltkriegen in Deutschland, Österreich Und Der Schweiz, edited by Birger Petersen and Michael Heinemann, pages 83–89. Studien Zur Orgelmusik. Sankt Augustin: J. Butz, 2016.

Rost, Richard. “Hans Fährmann. Ein Dresdner Jubilar. Zu Seinem 70 Geburtstag.” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Jg. 97, 1930. pages 1030–1032.

Rost, Richard. “Hans Fährmann zu Seinem 75 Geburtstage.” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Jg. 102, 1935. Pages 1384–1385.

Wagner, Richard. Parsifal, arr. Karl Klindworth. Mainz: B. Schott’s Söhne, 1902.

Winkler, Joachim. “Die Johanneskirche.” Verlorene Kirchen: Dresdens zerstörte Gotteshäuser: Eine Dokumentation seit 1938. Ed. Stadt Dresden. Dresden: Stadt Dresden, 2018. http://www.dresden.de/media/pdf/denkmal/verlorene-kirchen-2018_web.pdf

Sample YouTube recordings of Fährmann works:

Sonata No.1 in G minor, op. 5

Sonata No. 12 (War Sonata), op. 65

Yumiko Tatsuta performs Max Reger’s Phantasie und Fuge über B-A-C-H, opus 46, on C. B. Fisk, Inc., Opus 135, in Auer Hall on the campus of Indiana University Jacobs School of Music, Bloomington.

In the February 2023 issue of The Diapason, Tatsuta discusses historically informed registration ideals for opus 46, taking into account data from registration aids of Sauer Opus 650 in Willibrordi Cathedral, Wesel, Germany, on which the work was premiered and applying it to use with Fisk Opus 135.

Subscribers are welcome to read the article by logging into https://www.thediapason.com/.

Dr. Yumiko Tatsuta Ding is full-time faculty in the music department of Kwassui Women’s University in Nagasaki, Japan, where she also serves as the university organist. She is an internationally active performer, scholar, and educator who was the first Asian female to receive the doctoral degree from the organ department at Indiana University Jacobs School of Music, Bloomington, under the tutelage of department chair, Janette Fishell.

Michał Szostak, Polish organist, researcher, and author, completed a doctorate degree in organ performance in February 2019. He studied organ performance at the Fryderyk Chopin University of Music in Warsaw with Andrzej Chorosiński, as well as organ improvisation at the Pontificio Istituto Ambrosiano di Musica Sacra in Milan with Davide Paleari. He regularly performs organ recitals in Denmark, France, Germany, Great Britain, Italy, Poland, Russia, Ukraine, and the United States, and has recorded three CDs. His organological research is regularly published by Polish and international organ magazines. From 2011–2018 he was the music director and principal organist of the Basilica in Licheń Stary. For further information: www.michalszostak.org.

Between 2002 and 2007, in Licheń Stary, near the geographical center of Poland, the Polish organbuilder Zakłady Organowe Zych built a monumental instrument of 157 stops. Designed by Andrzej Chorosiński, the instrument is now the largest organ in Poland and is controlled by a six-manual console.

Licheń Stary has a population of approximately 1,500 people. After World War II, priests of the order of the Marian Fathers promoted the devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary here, centered around a small seventeenth-century oil painting of the Blessed Virgin. The ever-increasing number of pilgrims visiting the village could not be accommodated in the small local church housing the painting.

The Marian Fathers decided to build a new and larger church for the painting and pilgrims, an edifice that would become a minor basilica and consequently the largest church edifice in Poland. Construction began in 1992, and Pope Saint John Paul II blessed the building in 1999, though construction continued into 2002. The size of the basilica is 3,237,000 cubic feet, and the usable area is 247,600 square feet. The length of the nave is approximately 456 feet, while the width of the transept with uneven shoulder lengths is approximately 472 feet.¹ With the completion of construction there was a need to equip the interior with liturgical elements, including a pipe organ.

The motivator of the pipe organ project was Reverend Eugeniusz Makulski, MIC, a great lover of organ music and the person most responsible for the construction of the shrine. In mid-2002, when construction of the basilica was nearly complete, Father Makulski finalized the plans that would lead to the construction of a pipe organ to adorn the monumental interior. He decided the organ must be exceptional and worthy of the largest church in Poland; it would have at least 100 stops with a beautiful and noble sound and visual appearance. The other stipulation was that at least some of the instrument had to be playable by June 14, 2003.²

After analyzing various organbuilders’ bids, the Marian Fathers entrusted the project to the firm of Zakłady Organowe Zych. The signing of the contract for the construction of the first part of the organ, the instrument for the west gallery, took place on August 21, 2002.

The organ firm, headed by Dariusz Zych, had to rely on acoustical plans for the instrument concept to avoid disappointments and surprises at the final stage of this work. The starting point for the development of the whole specification by Andrzej Chorosiński was the unrealized project by Aristide Cavaillé-Coll for Saint Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City.³ Based on the measured analysis of the acoustic parameters of the basilica, Chorosiński began to develop the specification of the organ and the composition of stops. The fact that the Licheń Basilica has five galleries (one in the main nave, two in the west and east aisles, and two galleries in the sanctuary), gave rise to the concept of creating a spatial sound unit composed of five elements. The great organ of the basilica has been placed in the southern, western, and eastern parts of the church. The project was completed with two Chancel Positives on two small balconies at both presbytery gables, where the apse connects to the main nave. The scales of the stops, as well as the compositions of composite stops (mixtures, etc.), were individually developed by Chorosiński.

Zakłady Organowe Zych accomplished all design work, construction of organ cases, windchests, key and stop actions, wooden ranks and wooden resonators of reeds, as well as assembly of all elements, voicing, and tuning. Subcontractor companies that were commissioned to carry out specific assignments included: KOART Krzysztof Cieplak (structures made of stainless steel), Otto Heuss GmbH from Lich, Germany (consoles, electronics, Zimbelstern, tubular bells), Aug. Laukhuff GmbH & Co. KG from Weikersheim, Germany (West Organ façade pipes), Jacques Stinkens
Orgelpijpenmakers BV from Zeist, the Netherlands (façade pipes for the South Organ), Süddeutsche Orgelpfeifenfabrik Roland Killinger GmbH from Freiberg on the River Neckar, Germany (reeds for West Organ, East and West Positives), Orguian Lda. from Avidos, Portugal (reeds for the South Organ), and Ryszard Chacinski from Kobylka near Warsaw (metal labial stops). Decorative elements adorning the organ cases were carved in wood by Janusz Regulski and Tomasz Kusnierz from Sochaczew near Warsaw, and then gilded in the goldsmith’s workshop of Henryk Kwiatkowski from Poznań.

All assembly, voicing, and tuning were completed before July 2, 2006, so that during the solemn Mass that day, when the famous painting of Our Lady of Licheń was introduced to the basilica, a fully prepared instrument could be heard. Thousands of pilgrims from all over the world took part in the ceremony of transferring the image to its new home.

One month later, on August 1, 2006, there was a technical and artistic reception of the completed organ made by a commission consisting of representatives of the Marian Fathers, organbuilders, organists, and musicologists, who were all very pleased with the work. The acceptance protocol was signed by members of the commission composed of Rev. Wiktor Gumienny, MIC, Father Superior of the Licheń Shrine; Professor Urlich Grosser, German conductor and organist; Professor Roberto Padoin, organist and professor at the Conservatory B. Marcello in Venice; Reverend Dr. Jacek Paczkowski, chairman of the church music committee of the Diocese of Kalisz; Reverend Dr. Mariusz Klimek, director of the Church Music Study of the Diocese of Torun; Siegfried Sauer, organbuilder from Germany; Adam Klarecki, organist of the Wloclawek cathedral; Jacek Łukasik and Robert Grudzien, organists; and Jaroslaw Adamiak, then organist of the Licheń Shrine. Artistic decoration of the cases took nearly another year, and the dedication of the organ took place on the first anniversary of the transfer to the basilica of the famous painting of Our Lady of Licheń on July 2, 2007, during a Mass celebrated by Bishop Wieslaw Alojzy Mering.

Description of the organ

The organ of the Basilica of Our Lady of Licheń comprises 157 stops, 12,323 pipes, and five “organs” (in the chronology of construction): the West Organ, the South Organ (located in three organ cases on the same gallery above the main entrance), the East Organ, the East Chancel Positive, and the West Chancel Positive. The South Organ and the West Organ are fully independent instruments and have their own consoles. The East Organ and both Chancel Positives do not have their own consoles and can be played only from the main console. An organist playing from the main console has eleven independent divisions from which to choose. The key action is mechanical-electric, while the stop action is electric; windchests are slider and pallet, and the alloys of pipe metals contain tin up to 85–90%. All divisions of the instrument have a manual compass of C–c4 and pedal compass of C–g1. The layout of all parts of the organ throughout the basilica is presented in Figure 1.

The South Organ

The core of the whole organ of the Licheń Basilica is the South Organ, which contains the principal divisions of the instrument. The South Organ is the second in chronological order of construction, built between mid-2003 and 2005. This eighty-one-stop instrument with four manuals has a typical sound arrangement for the nineteenth-century French Romantic period: Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit-expressif, and Pédale. In addition there is a high-pressure Solo division placed on Manual IV. In each division one finds a full set of basic stops (Jeux de Fonds) in the form of principals, flutes, and strings, as well as stops—according to Aristide Cavaillé-Coll’s nomenclature—available (Jeux de Combinaisons) in the form of mutations, mixtures, cornets, and reeds.

The console is placed centrally in the organ case and on a multi-stage elevation. Registers are placed on either side of the keydesk: on the left side for the Pédale and Grand-Orgue, on the right side for the Positif, Récit-expressif, and the Solo division. The stop action is electric, while the key action is mechanical (for the majority of the Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit-expressif, and Pédale windchests) and electric (for the entire Solo division, as well as selected portions of the Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit-expressif, Pédale windchests, and double pallets for bass notes). The Récit-expressif section is enclosed in a swell box controlled by a balanced shoe with electric action; next to the expression shoe is a crescendo roller, which allows seamless dynamic changes. The player sits with his back to the main altar, and the console has a solid-state combination action system with an extensive storage capacity.

The South Organ consists of three separate organ cases placed on the same gallery on the axes of the main and side naves and is anchored on a twenty-ton steel structure. Architecturally, the cases are inspired by the organ case built between 1999 and 2003 by Schoenstein & Co. for the Conference Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States. A great majority of the façade pipes are speaking pipes. The main case contains the Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit-expressif, Solo, and most of the Pédale division. In the side cases there are windchests for several Pédale stops (divided on C and C-sharp sides).

Each side case has its own small blower and a separate wind system. The wind system of the main South Organ’s section is fed by three electric blowers: the first blower feeds the Grand-Orgue, Positif, and Pédale, the second feeds the Récit-expressif, and the third feeds the high-pressure Solo division.

The South Organ contains the tallest open wood pipes of the whole organ, which belong to the Pédale 32′ Subcontrabasse, a principal stop. In this section there is also a second 32′ stop, the Contrabombard, the tallest reed resonators in the organ. The instrument also contains the largest tin pipes of the Licheń organ, located in the central organ case. The largest has a length of 25-1⁄2 feet, a diameter of one foot, and weighs 330 pounds.

The West Organ

The West Organ, placed on the gallery above the left transept of the basilica above the Pieta Porch, was built between August 2002 and June 2003. This two-manual instrument includes 51 stops enhanced with Zimbelstern and Tympan imitating the sound of a storm (Pédale d’Orage). Registers are placed at either side of the keydesk: on the left for the Pedal and the Hauptwerk sections, on the right side for the Schwellwerk division and additional devices. The instrument contains both mechanical and electric-action chests, double pallets for low keys, and electric stop action. All couplers are electric. As in the South Organ, the Schwellwerk is enclosed in a box managed by a balanced expression shoe with electric action, in addition to a crescendo roller. The console, slightly elevated, is centrally integrated into the organ case. The player sits with his back to the main altar, and the console features an extensive solid-state combination action.

The specification of the West Organ is slightly non-standard, divided between two manuals and pedal. Initially, it was planned that this instrument would have three manuals, however, due to the constraints imposed by basilica architect, Barbara Bielecka, on the dimensions of the organ case, it was decided to limit the number of manual divisions while maintaining a wealth of stops. In each section there is a full range of principals (in the Hauptwerk based at 16′, in the Schwellwerk at 8′, in the Pedal at 16′), enriched with flute stops of all types, strings, and reeds. In the Pedal section there is one 32′ stop, a stopped wood Bourdon. All divisions have mutation stops (2-2⁄3′, 1-3⁄5′, 1-1⁄3′, 8⁄9′) and at least one mixture (in the Hauptwerk there are two mixtures and a cornet). This instrument was conceived for performing Baroque pieces; however, thanks to a large number of foundation stops (as many as eleven manual stops, i.e., 30%, are at 8′), Romantic and symphonic pieces also work well. In the West Organ are also placed tubular bells with a compass from g to g2.

The placement of pipe flats in the organ case reflects the arrangement of the divisions inside the instrument. In the central part of the case (three double flats, each crowned with a group of small pipes) we see the Hauptwerk, the Schwellwerk above it (another three double flats, each crowned with a group of small pipes, the wooden shutters of the swell box located just behind the façade), and two symmetrical pedal towers—left side C, right side C-sharp. The façade pipes belong to the 16′ Principal from the Hauptwerk and the independent 16′ Principal from the Pedal. The organ weighs a total of thirty tons.

The blessing and dedication of the West Organ took place on June 14, 2003, by Bishop Roman Andrzejewski, while the inaugural concert was performed by Andrzej Chorosiński. The event, which was very popular with the media, attracted many outstanding guests from around the world.

The East Organ

The East Organ, built between September 2005 and 2006, is housed in twin towers with trapezoidal bases placed between high windows on the east gallery, which crowns the right transept of the basilica over the Four Evangelists’ Porch. The instrument has eight stops; the key and stop action are electric, and the windchests are slider and pallet. Looking from the center of the basilica, the left tower contains two windchests, placed one above the other, with C side pipes, while the right tower is similar with C-sharp side pipes.

The external structure of the organ cases reflects the internal arrangement of windchests for flue pipes. Each case has two main pipe flats separated by horizontal resonators of the Trumpets (16′, 8′, and 4′) and one small set of pipes at the very top, which are dummy pipes. Both towers are supplied by one blower that is placed in the left tower; the channel supplying air to the right tower runs along the gallery floor. The whole instrument is supplied with air under high pressure. As a result of this treatment, the volume of the eight stops of the East Organ is equivalent to the sound of fifty-one stops along with the super-octave couplers of the West Organ. This instrument can only be played from the main console and may be assigned to any of the six keyboards and pedalboard.

The West Chancel Positive

Built in 2006, the West Chancel Positive, with seven stops (plus Nachtigall), has electric key and stop action. Everything, including the blower, is enclosed in a single case, a mirror image of the East Chancel Positive. This instrument does not have a separate console, but rather is played from the main console only, as a floating division. This section, richly equipped with string stops, perfectly matches the ethereal voices of the Récit-expressif section of the South Organ. With proper registration, it surrounds the listener with the impression of “heavenly voices” (Vox Coelestis).

The East Chancel Positive

The East Chancel Positive was completed in 2006 and features eight stops constructed with early Baroque scaling and electric key and stop action. The whole instrument is enclosed in a single case like the West Chancel Positive. This division also does not have a separate console, but is a floating division of the main console. The disposition of this instrument was inspired by early Baroque Flemish organs and pairs well with the West Organ. With proper registration and manual changes, the East Chancel Positive and the West Organ can produce dialogue effects, concertino and tutti, in a manner characteristic of instrumental concertos of the Baroque era.

Where are the largest pipe organs in Europe?

On the basis of the criterion of organ classification in terms of size (i.e., number of ranks and auxiliary devices managed from one console) published by the author in 2017 in Polish⁴ and English⁵ literature on the subject, the organ of the Basilica of Our Lady of Licheń is the largest instrument in Poland, the fourth largest in Europe, and the thirteenth largest in the world. Among ecclesiastical organs, it is the tenth largest instrument and has one of the largest consoles in the world. The console of the Licheń organ is also the largest console among Polish organs and is one of the largest consoles in Europe.

The organist playing from the main console has a total of eleven fully independent divisions: nine manual divisions and two pedal divisions. Most divisions can be assigned at will on the six manuals and pedalboard, allowing ultimate flexibility.

The monumental main console is located in the sanctuary of the basilica. The lowest manual keyboard has the deepest key movement, while the top keyboard, the shallowest. The manual keyboards, moving from the lowest to the highest, are inclined at increasing angles. The main console is connected to all sections by a wired computer network and MIDI system. For each of the main console’s keyboards and pedalboard, it is possible to assign each section of the West Organ, the East Organ, the West Chancel Positive, the East Chancel Positive, and Manual IV of the South Organ. The Grand-Orgue, Positif, Récit-expressif, and Pédale from the South Organ can be assigned only to manuals I, II, III, and pedalboard on the main console (plus standard section couplers within the South Organ).

The console is equipped with two balanced expression pedals to control two swell boxes (right, Schwellwerk of the West Organ; left, Récit-expressif of the South Organ). On the left side of the expressive pedals, there is a crescendo roller with two pre-programmed crescendos (smooth or stepwise). The console is equipped with a separate solid-state memory system; it has a cut-out switch for all reeds, as well as Tutti and General Tutti switches and General Cancel. The console was made in the workshop of Otto Heuss GmbH and is a work of art.

Conclusion

The course of history is surprising when considering a proposal for a project in 1875 by one of the greatest organbuilders of all times intended for the largest Catholic church in the world inspires the creation of a new organ 130 years later in the largest basilica of Poland, a country that did not even exist on the maps of Europe when Aristide Cavaillé-Coll lived. Though Cavaillé-Coll invited many great personalities from the world of politics, the Vatican authorities did not manage to materialize the project at Saint Peter’s Basilica; yet a priest in a relatively poor country with the support of countless pilgrims offering their small donations for this purpose did. Really, history can be amazing!

Several compact discs of organ music have been recorded so far on the organ of the Licheń Basilica. In 2003, Andrzej Chorosiński recorded organ literature, which was the first recording of the West Organ. In 2007, a Belgian organist of Polish descent, Karol Golebiowski, recorded a second album with the entire organ. In September 2017 the author recorded the third album, Ave Regina Caelorum, including improvisations on Gregorian and Polish Marian themes in two Romantic cyclic forms: organ symphony and symphonic poem on the South Organ. In June 2018 he recorded the fourth album, French Inspirations: the Second Half of the 19th Century, including literature of Franck, Lefébure-Wély, Lemmens, Guilmant, and an improvised five-movement organ symphony. (These last two discs can be found on eBay.)

I cordially invite you to Licheń Stary, where one can hear and see the largest organ in the largest ecclesiastical interior of Poland.

Notes

1. Krzysztof Jedrzejewski, Przewodnik po Sanktuarium Lichenskimm (Licheń Stary, Zaklad Gospodarczy “Dom Pielgrzyma,” 2014), p. 181.

2. Organy Licheński (Licheń Stary, Zaklad Gospodarczy “Dom Pielgrzyma,” 2007), p. 22.

3. For more information on this organ proposal, see Ronald Ebrecht’s book, Cavaillé-Coll’s Monumental Organ Project for Saint Peter’s, Rome: Bigger than Them All (Lanham, Maryland, Lexington Books, 2011).

4. Michal Szostak, “Wielkie organy Bazyliki w Licheniu w zestawieniu z najwiekszymi organami swiata,” Wokol nowych organow w kosciele NSPJ w Tarnowie, ed. Pawl Pasternak (Tarnów, Poland, Biblos, 2017, ISBN 978-83-7793-504-0), and Michal Szostak, Lichenskie organy na tle najwiekszych instrumentow Polski, Europy i swiata (Licheń Stary, Zaklad Gospodarczy “Dom Pielgrzyma,” 2017, ISBN 978-83-64126-14-7).

5. Michal Szostak, “The World’s Largest Organs,” The Organ, No. 382, November 2017–January 2018, ISSN 0030-4883, pp. 12–28.

Specification of the organ:

South Organ

GRAND-ORGUE (Manual I)

16′ Montre

16′ Bourdon

8′ Montre

8′ Flûte Harmonique

8′ Gamba

8′ Kopula

8′ Dolce

5-1⁄3′ Quinte

4′ Prestant

4′ Flute

4′ Salicet

2-2⁄3′ Quinte

2′ Doublette

1-3⁄5′ Tierce

IV Gr. Fourniture

IV Mixtur

V Gr. Cymbel

IV Cymbel

16′ Bombarde

16′ Fagot

8′ Trompet

8′ Hautbois

4′ Clairon

IV–I

III–I

II–I

POSITIF (Manual II)

16′ Violon

8′ Diapason

8′ Flûte Harmonique

8′ Salicional

4′ Prestant

4′ Flûte

4′ Viole

2-2⁄3′ Quinte

2′ Piccolo

III Sesquialtera

V Plein Jeu

III Scharf

16′ Dulcjan

8′ Cromorne

8′ Clarinette

8′ Jannhorn

Tremolo

IV–II

III–II

Recit-expressif (Manual III, enclosed)

16′ Bourdon

8′ Montre

8′ Flûte Traversiere

8′ Rurflet

8′ Gamba

8′ Voix Celeste

4′ Prestant

4′ Flûte Traversiere

4′ Viola

2-2⁄3′ Nazard

2′ Doublette

V Cornet

IV–V Fourniture

16′ Basson

8′ Trompet

8′ Hautbois

8′ Vox Humana

4′ Clairon Harm.

Tremolo

IV–III

SOLO (Manual IV, enclosed)

8′ Flauto Major

8′ Gamba

8′ Keraulophon

V Cornet

8′ Tuba Mirabilis

Pedale

32′ Subcontrabasse

16′ Contrabasse

16′ Violonbasse

16′ Subbass

10-2⁄3′ Quintbass

8′ Octavbass

8′ Flûte

8′ Flûtebass

8′ Cello

4′ Choral

2′ Ocarina

III Sesquialtera

V Hintersatz

IV Mixtur

32′ Contrabombard

16′ Bombard

10-2⁄3′ Quinttrompet

8′ Trompet

4′ Clairon

IV–P

III–P

II–P

I–P

West Organ

HAUPTWERK (Manual I)

16′ Prinzipal

8′ Octave

8′ Holzflöte

8′ Bourdon

8′ Gamba

8′ Gemshorn

4′ Oktave

4′ Szpicflet

4′ Viola

2-2⁄3′ Quinte

2′ Superoctave

1′ Flageolet

V Cornet

V Mixtur

IV Mixtur

16′ Trompet

8′ Trompet

4′ Trompet

II–I

Super I

SCHWELLWERK (Manual II, enclosed)

16′ Quintadena

8′ Prinzipal

8′ Rohrflöte

8′ Salicet

4′ Prestant

4′ Traversflöte

4′ Gemshorn

2-2⁄3′ Nazard

2′ Oktave

2′ Piccolo

1-3⁄5′ Terz

1-1⁄3′ Larigot

8⁄9′ None

V Scharf

16′ Dulcian

8′ Krummhorn

8′ Clarinette

Tremolo

Tubular Bells

PEDAL

32′ Bourdon

16′ Prinzipal

16′ Subbass

16′ Violonbass

8′ Oktavbass

8′ Fletbass

8′ Cello

4′ Choral

4′ Bourdon

II Sesquialtera

IV Mixtur

16′ Bombard

16′ Fagott

8′ Trompet

4′ Clairon

II–P

Super I–P

I–P

Zimbelstern

Tympan

East Organ

8′ Diapason

8′ Gedeckt

4′ Prestant

2′ Oktave

III–IV Cymbel

16′ Tuba Magna

8′ Tuba Mirabilis

4′ Clairon

West Chancel Positive

8′ Vox Humana (labial, 2 ranks)

8′ Gamba

8′ Aeolina

8′ Vox coelestis

4′ Prinzipal

4′ Fugara

III Harmonia Aeth.

Nachtigall (nightingale)

Tremolo

East Chancel Positive

8′ Gedeckt

4′ Prinzipal

4′ Hohlfloete

4′ Quintade

2′ Dezchen

III Zimbel

8′ Regal

4′ Zink

Tremolo

Buzard Pipe Organ Builders, Champaign, Illinois; Pilgrim Lutheran Church, Carmel, Indiana, Opus 45, 2017; Central United Methodist Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas, Opus 46, 2018–2019

Opus 45

“What have you done here!?,” asked Todd Wilson as he leapt off the organ bench to greet me the day before Opus 45’s dedication. Hoping this was a friendly question, I asked to what exactly he was referring. “This organ just about plays itself!” Yes, it was a very friendly question and a complimentary one—even better.

What Mr. Wilson was referring to speaks to the heart of our organs’ playing mechanisms. Opus 45 was the first of our new organs in which our proprietary “Pallet Unit Chests” were used alongside our electrically operated slider and pallet windchests. More about this later. 

Pilgrim Lutheran Church’s new long-hoped-for campus became a reality upon sale of their previous facility, the land being needed for a new entrance ramp to I-465. Early during their planning process, the organ committee selected Buzard Pipe Organ Builders for the instrument, and their architect, Jack Munson of Indianapolis, Indiana, asked us for dimensional and acoustical specifications. Imagine my delight and surprise when nearly ten years later Pilgrim Church’s cantor, Sarah Gran-Williams, called to tell me they were “ready for the organ!” And, imagine my further delight to discover Jack Munson had followed all of our recommendations, producing an intimate but lofty room, featuring four seconds of even reverberation, a nearly silent HVAC system and a perfect space for the organ case, choir, piano, and organ console!

The instrument at Pilgrim Lutheran Church in Carmel, Indiana is the 45th new pipe organ built by Buzard Pipe Organ Builders of Champaign, Illinois. It comprises 31 independent speaking stops and 37 ranks of pipes, distributed across two manual keyboards and the pedal keyboard. The instrument is housed in a free-standing case made of poplar, red oak, and walnut measuring 24 feet wide, 12 feet deep, and 35 feet tall. It was designed in concert with the building’s Prairie style architecture; every shape, line, and element of the room’s design is present in the organ case. 

The Great and Pedal divisions are located in the top level of the case. The Swell division is placed in the center above the impost. The lower level contains the winding and mechanical systems and the Pedal 16′ Trombone. The blower and static reservoir are installed in a room located away from the sanctuary. The upper façade comprises polished tin pipes from the Great 8′ Open Diapason; the copper Festival Trumpets bisect the case in its center; the lower façade and two towers feature pipes from the Pedal 16′ Open Diapason beginning at low E (low C through D# are made of wood and lie horizontally behind the case) and the 8′ Pedal Principal.  

We housed the color stops of the Great division in an expression box to provide additional expressive quality and accompanimental flexibility to this two-manual organ. Throughout our history we have tried to be “Traditional Visionaries” in situations in which space or financial resources were limited, resulting in subdivided Swell and Great divisions. This technique, originally utilized to overcome limitations, is becoming more a hallmark of our tonal style, in which equal emphasis is placed upon musical rendering of solo literature, accompanying, and congregational singing.

Buzard organs are custom designed, scaled, and voiced for each individual congregation’s musical tradition and acoustical environment. This means they differ one from another in execution, but an unmistakable musical thread runs through every Buzard pipe organ. The stop names are consistent from organ to organ, but the scaling and voicing of each is entirely determined by the specific circumstances that impact the creation.  In this way, Buzard organs are works of functional art, designed and crafted to each and every client’s identity, while at the same time demonstrating a consistent personality of tone quality and artistic style.

This instrument honors its Lutheran patrimony by a slightly brighter outlook in the Principal choruses, inclusion of a German Romantic Clarinet and Oboe, and the slightly lighter 16′ Pedal registers. But it is a Buzard organ through and through in the enveloping warmth and majesty of Full Organ, its delicacy and sensitivity of tone in softer registrations, and its thrilling Swell reed battery. It has been called “a cathedral organ in a parish church.”

Back to Mr. Wilson’s observation of the playing actions. Buzard organs use electrically operated slider and pallet windchests to eliminate leather, providing an action that encourages sophisticated tonal results and stable tuning. Beginning with Opus 45, our organs’ unit stops (stops which play in multiple locations or at multiple pitches) and Pedal stops are played on actions identical to the slider chests—but without the slider stop actions. Our “Pallet Unit Chests” provide a key-channel expansion chamber for the wind for every pipe, just as the main slider chests, and they utilize identical magnets as the slider chests to open the unit chests’ pallets, giving the unit stops the exact same speech and repetition characteristics as the main slider chests. We are pioneers in the development of sensitive and responsive electric key actions. One can truly feel the difference; the musical result is palpable.

Our pipes are made of thick, high tin-content pipe metal (as well as wood and copper) rather than zinc. We support them in felt-lined traces and European racking systems that prevent the pipes from collapsing and further firms the tone produced. Additional support for the large façade pipes is provided by lining the interior of the feet with copper.  Although far more expensive than the metal zinc, we believe traditional tin-rich pipe-metal produces better tone and is more in keeping with the permanent nature of a pipe organ investment.

We regulate our wind supply using single-rise reservoirs, schwimmer regulators, and concussion bellows to deliver a copious and steady wind supply, with a fine degree of flexibility. Our Tremulant actions send an adjustable timed-pulse to electric solenoids under the schwimmers, which both push and pull on the schwimmer plate to provide a perfect sine wave much like the human voice singing with “vibrato.” These actions are absolutely silent in their operation and extremely effective in both flue and reed stops.

Expression shutters are made of 2-inch-thick poplar, laminated to prevent warpage during seasonal changes, with heavily felted sound traps. Our expression boxes’ walls and ceilings are made of 1-inch MDF (the equivalent of 2 inches of solid hardwood) with 1½-inch-thick poplar stiles and rails, to produce an extremely effective swell expression. The shutters are moved by adjustable electric servo-motors.

Buzard organ consoles are intuitive in their layout and solidly built to last for generations. Their proprietary ergonomics of manual-to-pedal alignment allow for many playing hours without fatigue. The logical layout of drawknobs and couplers, toe-studs and expression pedals, encourages both technical accuracy and musical playing. Keyboards are plated in thick bone and ebony; the cabinets are made of 1½-inch-thick hardwoods.

We build all of our organs in sound reflective and protective cases, even when the organs are installed in chambers, as you will see we did in the second organ featured in this article for our Opus 46 organ at Central United Methodist Church in Fayetteville, Arkansas. We do this to provide excellent projection of sound into the room especially when chambers are located off the axis of the room (as in Opus 46) and to protect the organ from severe temperature fluctuations and potential building failure such as leaking roofs.

Cantor Sarah Gran-Williams said it best: “Buzard Organs sing, and they help us sing!” And, as Todd Wilson said: “This organ just about plays itself!”

Opus 46

In our Opus 46 organ at Central United Methodist Church in Fayetteville, Arkansas, we were given the wonderful opportunity to explore the nature of what a third manual keyboard could be, in light of our practice of enclosing a substantial portion of the Great. More than half of the Great is enclosed in an independent expression box with its own slider windchest. This allows the Enclosed Great to couple to any location we want and at any pitch. The Enclosed Great includes a flute chorus, a string, and four colorful reeds, so it can function like the unison basis of a Choir division. Additionally, by modifying and adding to the inhabitants of the Swell division’s Principal chorus, the Swell can serve as a Positiv division in the context of the classic secondary foil to the Great Diapason Chorus—as well as the enclosed powerhouse of the organ.  

Therefore, with an enclosed portion of the Great, and suitable treatment of the Swell, we were free to consider a different way to approach the third manual division. This Solo division is loaded with tone colors at both higher and lower volume levels than the Great or Swell, so it can be a material contributor on the pianissimo and fortissimo ends of a seamless crescendo/diminuendo. When approached with this idea, organist Scott Montgomery embraced this vision—our next logical step in the evolution of the “Buzard Sound” and contemporary American organbuilding. Because the Enclosed Great and the Swell can move everywhere independently, Scott began to dream and consider the manifold uses to which such a tonal scheme could be used. Accompanying receives the first consideration of importance, because the rich choral program under Dr. Frode Gundersen’s direction regularly performs literature from literally every tradition. The organ can accompany the entire body of choral literature, and it can support hymnody and musically render just about any piece ever written for the organ. This is our goal. You can accompany Stanford and then play Vierne successfully; you can play Sweelinck for the opening voluntary and Sumsion for the closing voluntary, each with the effects the composer intended. And, because the instrument speaks clearly to the listeners in the nave—even though installed in off-axis chambers—the entire organ has an uncanny single voice, no matter how soft or loud it is registered.

In addition to exercising our evolving tonal style, Tonal Director Brian Davis and Production Director and Chief Engineer Charles Eames overcame what had seemed an impossible off-axis installation situation. Special scaling and voicing techniques, the addition of reflective panels above the pipes in the chambers, siting the divisions strategically for their best projection, constructing the organ in solid cases within the building’s chambers, utilizing slightly higher wind pressures and other techniques—and the tremendous improvement in the church’s acoustics provided by a comprehensive sanctuary renovation project—gave the organ the best chance of success.  

When Scott Montgomery heard the organ’s first sounds as the organ came to life, all his fears concerning the off-axis installation were dispelled. He knew this would be a very special and important organ in the American lexicon. We rise to challenges and consider them opportunities to learn and improve. We’d love for you to visit this organ! Just call ahead!

—John-Paul Buzard, Founder, President, and Artistic Director, Buzard Pipe Organ Builders

Builder’s website: buzardorgans.com/

Pilgrim Lutheran Church: pilgrimindy.org/

Central United Methodist Church: centraltolife.com/

Photo credit: John-Paul Buzard

Opus 45, Pilgrim Lutheran Church, Carmel, Indiana

31 independent speaking stops, 37 ranks

GREAT – 3½″ wind

16′ Lieblich Gedeckt (wood)

8′ Open Diapason (façade)

8′ Flûte à Bibéron 

8′ Gedeckt Flute (ext 16′ Gedeckt)

8′ Viola da Gamba

4′ Principal

4′ Spire Flute 

2-2⁄3′ Twelfth

2′ Fifteenth

1-1⁄3′ Fourniture IV

16′ English Horn

8′ Minor Trumpet (ext Sw 16′ Bassoon)

8′ Clarinet

Tremulant

Cymbalstern (14 bells)

8′ Festival Trumpets (copper, chamade)

SWELL (expressive) – 3¾″ wind

8′ Open Diapason

8′ Stopped Diapason (wood)

8′ Salicional

8′ Voix Celeste (TC)

4′ Principal

4′ Harmonic Flute (round mouths)

2-2⁄3′ Nazard 

2′ Octavin (harmonic)

1-3⁄5′ Tierce

2-2⁄3′ Grave Mixture II

1′ Plein Jeu III

16′ Bassoon

8′ Trompette

8′ Oboe

4′ Clarion (ext 16′ Bassoon)

Tremulant

8′ Festival Trumpets (Gt)

PEDAL - various pressures

16′ Open Diapason (wood and façade)

16′ Bourdon (wood)

16′ Lieblich Gedeckt (Gt)

8′ Principal (façade)

8′ Bass Flute (ext 16′ Bourdon)

8′ Gedeckt Flute (Gt)

4′ Choral Bass (ext 8′ Principal)

4′ Open Flute (ext 16′ Bourdon)

16′ Trombone (wood)

16′ Bassoon (Sw)

8′ Trumpet 

4′ Clarion (ext Sw 16′)

8′ Festival Trumpets (Gt)

Opus 46, Central United Methodist Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

43 independent speaking stops, 49 ranks 

GREAT – 5″ wind

16′ Lieblich Gedeckt

8′ Open Diapason (façade)

8′ Flûte à Bibéron

8′ Gedeckt Flute (ext 16′)

8′ Viola da Gamba

4′ Principal

4′ Spire Flute

2-2⁄3′ Twelfth

2′ Fifteenth

1-1⁄3′ Mixture IV

16′ English Horn

8′ Trumpet

8′ Clarinet

8′ Vox Humana

Tremulant

Tremulant

Cymbalstern (Walker)

Chimes (Walker)

8′ Tromba (Ped 16′ Trombone)

4′ Tromba Clarion (ext 8′ Tromba)

8′ Major Tuba (Solo)

SWELL (expressive) – 6″ wind

8′ English Open Diapason

8′ Stopped Diapason

8′ Salicional

8′ Voix Celeste (CC)

4′ Principal

4′ Harmonic Flute

2-2⁄3′ Nazard

2′ Doublette

2′ Octavin (harmonic)

1-3⁄5′ Tierce

2-2⁄3′ Grave Mixture II

  1′ Plein Jeu III

16′ Bassoon

8′ Trompette

8′ Oboe

4′ Clarion

Tremulant

8′ Tromba

8′ Major Tuba (Solo)

SOLO (expressive) – 7″ wind

8′ Grand Open Diapason (double mouths)

8′ Harmonic Flute

8′ Viola da Gamba (E. M. Skinner style)

8′ Gamba Celeste (CC) (E. M. Skinner style)

8′ Flûte Cœlestis (double mouth, wood)

4′ Principal Forte

4′ Flûte

Tremulant

8′ Major Tuba (15″ wind pressure)

8′ Harp (Walker)

4′ Celesta (Walker)

8′ Chimes (Walker)

PEDAL – 5″ wind 

32′ Double Open Diapason (Walker)

32′ Subbass (Walker)

32′ Lieblich Gedeckt (Walker)

16′ Open Diapason (Walker)

16′ Bourdon

16′ Lieblich Gedeckt (Gt)

8′ Principal (façade)

8′ Bourdon (ext 16′)

8′ Gedeckt Flute (Gt)

8′ Spire Flute

4′ Choral Bass (ext 8′ Principal)

4′ Open Flute (ext 8′ Bourdon)

32′ Contra Trombone (Walker)

16′ Trombone (7″ wind)

16′ Bassoon (Sw)

8′ Tromba (ext 16′ Trombone)

8′ Trumpet

4′ Clarion (ext 16′ Trombone)

8′ Major Tuba (Solo)

8′ Chimes (Walker)

Photo: Opus 46, Central United Methodist Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

Shannon Murphy is organist and assistant director of music at Trinity Presbyterian Church in Montgomery, Alabama. She holds a Bachelor of Music degree in piano performance from Westminster Choir College where she studied organ with Ken Cowan and a Master of Music degree in organ performance from the Manhattan School of Music where she studied with Kent Tritle. Ms. Murphy is also an active recitalist. Recent appearances include programs at Saint Ignatius Loyola Church and the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City. An advocate for new music at the organ, Ms. Murphy has commissioned and premiered several works, including pieces by Aris Antoniades, Lydia Wayne Chang, Jonathan Posthuma, and Sarah Rimkus. Find more information at www.shannonmurphyorganist.com.

In nineteenth-century Russia, secular and sacred music had very little to do with each other, due to a separation in large part imposed by the Orthodox Church. Musicians of the West are familiar with this divorce of musical spheres, having endured a similar division in musical culture from the Middle Ages through the sixteenth century. However, there is a clear difference between the two experiences of division; this can be seen in the role of the organ.

In Europe, the organ and its repertoire developed mainly in the sacred realm, playing an integral role in church services both in the Medieval Roman Catholic Church as well as in the multiple denominations born in the Protestant Reformation. But in Russia, instruments were not allowed to be a part of Orthodox church services. According to the church, the voice was the only instrument necessary and worthy of use in liturgical settings.¹ While the organ was used at times in church services of minor outlying denominations, there was most definitely a dearth of liturgical organ music compared to the concurrently flourishing sacred traditions of western countries. Some may view this as a deficiency, but in another sense, the Russian repertoire for the organ in the nineteenth century provides a unique secular perspective on general musical trends. It is fascinating to consider the connections among the European organ traditions as specifically represented in music from the nineteenth century.

The oldest surviving record of pipe organs in Russia can be seen in the fresco of skomorokhi at Saint Sofia Cathedral in Kiev,² which dates to the eleventh century. The church outlawed these troubador-like figures, deeming them disciples of the devil.³ Regardless of the Orthodox Church’s antagonism towards amusement of any kind (even private musical activity in the home), the skomorokhi were in very high demand by various wealthy aristocrats and merchants.

Through the centuries, the organ gained ground outside of the church on its own merits as an instrument suitable for court entertainment, especially in the fifteenth to eighteenth centuries. Organ builders from Poland and the Netherlands were invited to establish firms; these as well as some minor Russian builders functioned, for the most part, on the whim of the tsar.

In the nineteenth century, the instrument had so grown in social status that it attracted the notable personage Prince Vladimir Odoyevsky (1804–1869) to become the first documented composer of organ music in Russia. He also commissioned a singular instrument for his home from the Saint Petersburg builder Georg Mälzel. It was modeled after Baroque organs of North Germany and nicknamed “Sebastianon.”⁴ While the instrument has not survived, its specifications are provided here:

Manual I

8′ Dulciana

8′ Gedackt

2′ Octavina

Sesquialter

Manual II

8′ Flauto traverso

4′ Fugara

8′ Melodicon

Pedal

16′ Subbass

Melody coupler

Pedal coupler

The 8′ Flauto traverso stop had a so-called “espressivo” effect, i.e., its volume varied with the pressure on the key.

Odoyevsky often held musical gatherings where musicians such as Mikhail Glinka improvised on the instrument. The prince himself was known for occasionally improvising fugues based on themes from Russian folksongs. In addition to an active performing life, he is also reputed to be the first Russian musicologist,⁵ having copied out music from the Italian Renaissance and organ works of Johann Sebastian Bach, collected Russian folksongs, and published articles discussing musical trends of the past and of his time.

In Odoyevsky’s organ pieces, there are characteristics that reflect some aspects in the Russian ethos of music making in the nineteenth century, namely a sensitivity to color (in registration) and a disregard for Western traditions of composition. For instance, in measures 4–7 of Prayer Without Words, opus 73, number 2, the player (or registrant) is required to add and take away the Nazard every two beats, a purely coloristic effect.

In a later portion of the same piece, Odoyevsky uses octaves in a way that would baffle any western organist. Since he was in possession of stops at 8′ and 4′ pitches as well as manual and pedal couplers, it would at first seem that the doubling in measures 13–21 (Example 1) is entirely unnecessary.⁶ Yet, it is possible that the melodic octaves in measure 13 might be inspired by the znamenny chant, which developed from the ancient Byzantine tradition of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Yet the doubling in measures 14–15 is inconsistent with that thought and seems to come more from a pianistic style of composition.

There are other subtle instances of Western influence here. In the title Prayer without Words, there is an echo of Felix Mendelssohn’s character pieces Songs without Words for the piano. And in the simple lyricism of this piece, one sees the influence of Irish composer John Field, the inventor of the nocturne, who taught and inspired Odoyevsky, Glinka, and Frederic Chopin.

In 1833, Mikhail Glinka studied composition with German composer Siegfried Dehn. Glinka wrote (of Dehn), “He . . . not only put my knowledge in order, but also my ideas on art in general.”⁷ Out of this productive period came the opus 93 fugues for the organ: E-flat major, A minor, and D major. The influence of Germanic contrapuntal training is obvious in the treatment of the subjects, with use of parallel minor key, inversion, and stretto. Resisting imitation, Glinka did not write a Baroque fugue. The expressive leaps of the A minor fugue subject (Example 2),⁸ the motivic development of the codas, and the dynamic markings all point to a Romantic sensibility particular to Glinka.

It is interesting to consider this work in light of what Richard Taruskin has written about Glinka:⁹

What makes Glinka a founding father [of Russian music] has mainly to do not with his being the “formulator of Russian musical language,” whatever that may mean, but rather with the fact that he was the first Russian composer to achieve world stature. In short, with Glinka, Russian music did not depart from Europe but quite opposite—it joined Europe.

While the organ repertoire expanded, so did interest in the instrument; this can be seen in the establishment of organ departments of the first conservatories in the country. The Saint Petersburg (founded 1862) and Moscow (founded 1866) conservatories, headed up by the Rubinstein brothers, included organ study in their course offerings. Remaining consistent with the emphasis of their curriculum, the professors hired hailed from Europe. The first organ teacher appointed in Saint Petersburg was Heinrich Still, a German organist who studied at the Leipzig Conservatory. Jacques Handschin, another professor of organ in Saint Petersburg, was of Swiss descent, but born in Russia. Having studied with organists Charles-Marie Widor, Max Reger, and Karl Straube, Handschin provided a direct link to some of the greatest luminaries of the European organ world. It is interesting to note that Pyotr Tchaikovsky was one of the first students in the organ classes at the Saint Petersburg Conservatory, graduating with a minor in organ studies.¹⁰

Despite its restricted use in the Orthodox Church, it is evident that in nineteenth-century Russia, the organ was thriving as a salon instrument, piquing the interest of composers and gaining respect in the academic field. Yet another aspect of the Russian organ world is its concert life. Franz Liszt’s recital of 1843, performed at the church of Saints Peter and Paul in Moscow, astounded and impressed. The frequent programs of music by Bach, presented by Johann Wilhelm Hassler in the early part of the nineteenth century, had an unprecedented cultural as well as academic influence. Widor himself gave the dedication recital in 1899 for the Cavaillé-Coll organ in Moscow.¹¹

Another development of the organ world reflective of the Russian musical scene at large can be seen in the instruments acquired by the conservatories. There was an organ built by Eberhard Walcker at Saint Petersburg and two Ladegast organs in Moscow. But the grandest statement of all is found in the last opus of Aristide Cavaillé-Coll, the world-renowned organ innovator, which was installed in Bolshoi Hall at the Moscow Conservatory in 1899. This symphonic instrument undoubtedly had a huge influence in the performance and compositional direction of organ works in Russia. Its specifications are found here.¹²

Grand Orgue (Manual I, C–g3)

16′ Montre

16′ Bourdon

8′ Montre

8′ Flûte harmonique

8′ Violoncelle

8′ Bourdon

4′ Prestant

2-2⁄3′ Quinte

2′ Doublette

Plein jeu V

Cornet V (c–g3)

16′ Bombarde

8′ Trompette

4′ Clairon

Positif (Manual II, C–g3)

16′ Quintaton

8′ Salicional

8′ Flûte harmonique

8′ Cor de nuit

4′ Principal

4′ Flûte douce

2′ Doublette

Cornet V (c–g3)

8′ Trompette

8′ Cromorne

8′ Basson

Plein jeu IV

Récit (Manual III, C–g3)

16′ Bourdon

8′ Diapason

8′ Flûte traversière

8′ Viole de Gambe

8′ Voix-céleste

4′ Flûte octaviante

2′ Octavin

Plein jeu IV

16′ Basson

8′ Trompette

8′ Basson et Hautbois

4′ Clairon harmonique

Tremblant

En chamade (Manual III)

8′ Trompette

4′ Clairon

Pédale (C–g1)

32′ Flûte

16′ Contrebasse

16′ Soubasse

8′ Flûte

8′ Bourdon

4′ Flûte

Plein jeu IV

16′ Bombarde

8′ Trompette

4′ Clairon

Pédales de combinaison

Tirasse du Grand Orgue (I/P)

Tirasse du Positiv (II/P)

Tirasse du Récit (III/P)

Anches Pédale

Anches Chamade

Anches Grand Orgue

Anches Positif

Anches Récit

Octaves grave Grand Orgue

Octaves grave Positif

Octaves grave Récit

Expression Positif

Expression Récit

Grand Orgue sur Machine

Positif au Grand Orgue

Récit au Grand Orgue

Récit au Positif

Octaves grave du Récit au Grand Orgue

Sonette

dans Buffet d’orgue:

8′ Flûte, 8′ Violoncelle (Pédale), 16′ Montre, 8′ Montre, 8′ Flûte harmonique, 8′ Violoncelle, 4′ Prestant (Grand Orgue)

Mechanical key action (with Barker lever)

Mechanical stop action

An organ so fully equipped with a French reed chorus as well as string stops on every division is uniquely suited to perform symphonic repertoire. Unsurprisingly, there was already a significant representation of pieces inspired by the organ symphonies of French composers like Louis Vierne and Charles-Marie Widor. One fine example is the Prelude and Fugue in D Minor, opus 98,¹³ by Alexander Glazunov, which can be played convincingly only on an organ such as this (Example 3).

Here one encounters a far more technically advanced composition than either the character piece or fugue mentioned above. In the first place, there is double pedal, which poses a certain physical challenge for the performer. There is also a complex registration scheme: symphonic in nature, with flutes and strings working as separate ensembles, and contrasting dynamics achieved by means of adding octaves above and below 8′ pitch. Following the fugue, in measure 196 comes the classic French symphonic organ sound of full foundation stops (strings, flutes, principals) along with mixtures and reeds (labeled anches). Yet he does not stop there, as he adds even more 8′ reeds in measure 200,¹⁴ and 4′ reeds for the final chord (Example 4).

However technically advanced, there is also a marked difference in character between this and the works of composers such as Glinka, Odoyevsky, and César Cui. These all belonged to the generation of “The Mighty Five,” a group centered around the charismatic Mili Balakirev, who stood staunchly against the Germanic tradition of music making fostered by the conservatories. Richard Leonard says of Balakirev:¹⁵

[His] teaching methods, his disdain of textbook instruction in harmony and counterpoint, his insistence that learning should come instead from the study of great works, and above all his despotic handling of his pupils’ efforts, have all been the subject of endless debate.

This debate polarized the community and the musical conversation in Russia for much of the nineteenth century. While Balakirev’s free-spirited group was highly idealized, almost utopian in its philosophy, it did have one mark against them. They did not include organ study in their “Free School,” set up in opposition to the academic conservatism of the Moscow and Saint Petersburg schools. In the end, the Mighty Five gave way to a new group known as the Belyayev Circle, which aligned itself with the more academic aspirations of the conservatories. While the scholastic emphasis brought the advantage of consistent technical growth through systematic study, Leonard points out the weaknesses of this group:¹⁶

Inevitably, the strong academic influence brings with it a prevailing conservatism . . . . They lack the pioneering spirit, the urge towards enterprise, which had set in motion Glinka, Balakirev . . . . They are competent but unadventurous.

One sees this contrast exemplified in the music of composers César Cui and Sergey Liapunov. César Cui was part of Balakirev’s Circle, mainly remembered now for his articles written in various musical journals. After attending a concert where music of the Belyayev Circle was featured, Cui wrote an article entitled “Fathers and Sons” (the Mighty Five being the fathers, and Belyayev’s Circle the sons). In that article, he calls on the younger generation to “abandon this false path” and to “absorb the idea that the purpose of music is not to astound but to attract and captivate, that everything great is usually simple[;] that one cannot make oneself original by one’s own wish.”¹⁷

In Cui’s delicate and graceful salon piece, Prelude in G Minor,¹⁸ there is much influence from folksong, especially in measures 17–30 (Example 5), where the theme takes on a more simple and earthy quality than the opening section. The pianistic writing, seen especially in the arpeggiation of measures 16–20, somewhat detracts from its overall effectiveness. Even so, there is a certain warmth and personality to this small piece that lends a value all its own.

However, Cui’s prelude lacks motivic development and harmonic complexity in comparison to Liapunoy’s Prélude Pastoral, opus 54. Structured in variation form, this piece is much more advanced from a technical standpoint. Here we see the main thrust of the difference between the Balakirev and Belyayev groups. Although Liapunoy has a technical familiarity in writing for the organ, his music lacks the inspiration of even a small character piece by Cui, who is reputed to be one of the weakest composers of the Mighty Five.¹⁹

Take measures 126–135 (Example 6),²⁰ for instance. The whole piece centers around this moment. In the thirty bars prior, the registration and rhythmic pulse have all been building towards this point. In typical French fashion, the Grand jeux (reed chorus) is indicated here, and yet (in the author’s opinion) there is something supremely unsatisfying about this climax. The simplistic sequence, followed by stepwise motion and ending with octave arpeggiation does not seem worthy of the technical mastery of this piece or of the musical suspense that anticipated this turning point. The piece is practically finished at this point, though there are a few more variations that spin out the theme and gradually diminuendo towards a gentle close.

So, there is organ music that represents a synthesis of style between the technical forms and tools used in Western traditions and the various aims of Russian musicians throughout the nineteenth century. Perhaps the most interesting examples of this integration can be seen in the pieces that expressly intend to convey a Russian character. For instance, Reinhold Glière’s three-voice Fugue on a Russian Christmas Song²¹ does not seek to emulate either the French symphonic style or the Germanic tendencies of fugue. He uses the form merely to develop and express the theme to its utmost. His aim being such, the result is a piece entirely determined by the syncopated rhythmic profile and folk-like character of the subject (Example 7).

Although there seems to be much disparity in approach between the passionate idealism of Balakirev’s school of thought encouraged by Glinka and the technical and historical prowess of the Belyayev Circle, both generations eventually give way to a new method of composing, which incorporates emphases of both camps. Sergey Taneyev did his utmost to articulate this new vision when he wrote:²²

The task of every Russian composer consists in furthering the creation of national music. The history of western music gives us the answer as to what should be done to attain this: apply to the Russian song the workings of the mind that were applied to the song of western nations, and we will have our own national music. Begin with elementary contrapuntal forms, pass to more complex ones, elaborate the form of the Russian fugue . . . . The Europeans took centuries to get there, we need far less. We know the way, the goal, we can profit by their experience.

From the Choral-Varié of Sergey Taneyev, to Glazunov’s Fantasy, opus 110, and finally into twentieth-century organ works by Rachmaninov and Khatchaturian, one sees an even more pronounced integration of Western technique and form and the Russian spirit—a realization of Taneyev’s vision.

Notes

1. “An Overview of Russian Organ Music,” American Guild of Organists 2014 National Convention, Boston, Massachusetts, last modified September 2013: http://www.agoboston2014.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Russian-Organ-Music-Katya-Gotsdiner-McMahan.pdf.

2. “Mosaics and Frescoes of St. Sofia Cathedral in Kiev.” Sofia Cathedral website, accessed May 8, 2018: http://sofiyskiy-sobor.polnaya.info/en/sofia_cathedral_mosaics_and_frescoes.shtml.

3. Victor Seroff, The Mighty Five: The Cradle of Russian National Music (New York: Allen, Towne & Heath, Inc., 1948), 5.

4. Victoria Adamenko. “Russia,” in The Organ: An Encyclopedia, ed. Douglas Bush and Richard Kassel (New York: Taylor & Francis Group, LLC, 2006), 479.

5. “Prince Vladimir Fyodorovich Odoyevsky (1803–1869) and Music.” RISM, last modified September 14, 2017,  http://www.rism.info/home/newsdetails/select/rism_a_z/article/64/prince-vladimir-fyodorovich-odoyevsky-1803-1869-and-music.html.

6. Alexander Fiseisky, ed., Organ Music in Russia, v. 1 (Basel: Bärenreiter-Verlag Karl Vötterle GmbH & Co. KG, Kassel, 1997), 10.

7. Richard Leonard, A History of Russian Music (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1957), 43.

8. Fiseisky, Organ Music in Russia, 4.

9. Richard Taruskin, On Russian Music, (California: University of California Press, 2009), 29.

10. Adamenko, The Organ: An Encyclopedia, 479.

11. Fiseisky, Organ Music in Russia, XXII.

12. Fiseisky, Organ Music in Russia, XVI.

13. Fiseisky, Organ Music in Russia, 40.

14. Fiseisky, Organ Music in Russia, 46.

15. Leonard, A History of Russian Music, 69.

16. Leonard, A History of Russian Music, 202.

17. César Cui, “The Results of the Russian Symphony Concerts: Fathers and Sons,” in Russians on Russian Music, 1880–1917, ed. Stuart Campbell (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 137.

18. Fiseisky, Organ Music in Russia, 2.

19. Leonard, A History of Russian Music, 66.

20. Fiseisky, Organ Music in Russia, 12.

21. “Les Maitres Contemporains de L’orgue,” IMSLP, last modified March 26, 2012, http://ks.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/c/cd/IMSLP193273-PMLP332253-Glière,_Reinhlod,_Fugue_sur_un_thème_de_Noel_russe._EdJoubert,_Sibl.FE.pdf.

22. Alfred Swan, Russian Music And Its Sources in Chant and Folk-Song (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1973), 132.

Bibliography

Adamenko, Victoria. “Russia,” in The Organ: An Encyclopedia, edited by Douglas Bush and Richard Kassel, 480. New York: Taylor & Francis Group, LLC, 2006.

American Guild of Organists 2014 National Convention, Boston, Massachusetts. “An Overview of Russian Organ Music.” Accessed May 8, 2018. http://www.agoboston2014.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Russian-Organ-Music-Katya-Gotsdiner-McMahan.pdf.

Cui, César. “The Results of the Russian Symphony Concerts: Fathers and Sons.” In Russians on Russian Music, 1880–1917, edited by Stuart Campbell, 137. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003.

Fiseisky, Alexander, ed. Organ Music in Russia, vols. 1–3. Basel: Bärenreiter-Verlag Karl Vötterle GmbH & Co. KG, Kassel, 1997.

Leonard, Richard. A History of Russian Music. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1957.

Petrucci Music Library. Les Maitres Contemporains de L’orgue. Accessed May 9, 2018. http://ks.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/
c/cd/IMSLP193273-PMLP332253-Glière,_Reinhlod,_Fugue_sur_un_thème_de_Noel_russe._EdJoubert,_Sibl.FE.pdf.

Répertoire International des Sources Musicales. “Prince Vladimir Fyodorovich Odoyevsky (1803–1869) and Music.” Accessed May 8, 2018. http://www.rism.info/home/newsdetails/select/rism_a_z/article/64/prince-vladimir-fyodorovich-odoyevsky-1803-1869-and-music.html.

Ritzarev, Maria. Eighteenth Century Russian Music. Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2006.

Seroff, Victor. The Mighty Five: The Cradle of Russian National Music. New York: Allen, Towne & Heath, Inc., 1948.

Swan, Alfred. Russian Music And Its Sources in Chant and Folk-Song. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1973.

Taruskin, Richard. On Russian Music. California: University of California Press, 2009.