From Sonorous Exploration to "Open Tonality": Organ Music of Wieslaw Rentowski

by Marta Szoka

In my article "Current Streams in Polish Organ Music"  (The Diapason, May 1995) I mentioned the Organ Sonata of Aleksander Glinkowski as one of the most interesting contemporary compositions written for organ in Poland in the 1980s. Indeed, comparing the Sonata with contemporary organ music in Europe, one can consider it an outstanding piece belonging to the concert repertoire and challenging to every virtuoso of the organ. So why is this piece unknown and relatively seldom performed even in Poland? The answer is simple: the Organ Sonata of Glinkowski, written in the very difficult--for Poland--time of 1981, is still not published. The composer, Aleksander Glinkowski (1941-1991), studied composition at the Music Academy in Katowice and later in Paris. His professor in Katowice, Boleslaw Szabelski (1896-1979), represented the generation of neoclassically oriented composers, but made a spectacular turn to dodecaphony in his last works. In Paris in 1972-1973 Glinkowski studied with Iannis Xenakis. Until his premature death he lived in Katowice, teaching composition at the Music Academy. Very modest, introverted and diffident, he didn't publicize his compositions, so his name is not widely known although Glinkowski represented the best values of Polish contemporary music: intensity, modern technique, fertile sonoristic invention, and sense of form. His Koncert wenecki (Venetian Concert) for oboe and orchestra was awarded a prize in the Artur Malawski Competition in Cracow in 1972.

The organ is constantly present in music of Glinkowski. As a
first attempt he composed Inicjacje
(Initiations) for string quartet, organ and percussion (1966); later, his Passacaglia for organ solo (1968) and Aisthesis for organ and orchestra (1969) appeared. Only the Passacaglia
style='font-style:normal'> was published as Polska wspólczesna
miniatura organowa (Contemporary Polish
Organ Miniatures, PWM Cracow 1975), together with other compositions that
received awards in the Organ Music Competition in Kamien Pomorski in 1968. The Organ Sonata of Glinkowski was performed for the first time in 1983 in Katowice by Zygmunt Antonik, and later, several times it was played in Poland, Germany and Switzerland by both Zygmunt Antonik and Marta Szoka. Everywhere, the audience was strongly impressed by the monumental architecture and unusual character of this music.

For a long time the form of the sonata was strictly
connected with tonality and the rules of tonal harmony. In the 19th century an
intensive expansion of harmony in the romantic sonata had its basis in the
development of instrumental texture--especially in the area of piano music. The
situation of the sonata in the 20th century is much more complicated. But among
so many types of contemporary sonatas at least two ideas still hold: one is the
principle of the transformation of thematic material, and the second concerns
the development of an idiomatic (for any instrument) instrumental texture. The Sonata of Glinkowski demonstrates that even with the most modern musical language (aleatorism, sonorism etc.) it is possible to respect both principles. In this piece the composer examined all specific organ attributes. There are so many organ compositions written recently by composers who are used to thinking about organ technique as the synthesis of a highly developed pianism with the addition of some elements of pedal technique. Glinkowski took the idea of his Sonata just from the organ console--both manual and pedal techniques are inextricably intertwined--considering not only the variety of dynamic and color levels, but also the phenomenon of echo in the church interior--the natural environment for the organ. His Sonata was written for a large tracker organ, the "cathedral" type. Moreover, the composer displayed a real mastery of using rests.

The Sonata is a real
challenge for every concert organist. The highest virtuosity consists of a
variety of manual and pedal techniques, including linear and figurative
configurations as well as many types of chords and clusters. The figurative
element is for Glinkowski not only a part of manual technique, but also a type
of texture. Thanks to this special texture he could obtain new sound qualities.
In general, in the whole Sonata
there are many examples of an extremely fast figurative motion and ostinato
technique. As a result, we have here an impression of a static sound-stream,
although the shape of the figurations varies. These so-called sound-streams, or
sound-strands, make the organ sound similar to the sound quality of electronic
music. The strong influence of the aesthetics of electronic music in
contemporary composition is observed not only in organ music, but the organ,
with its idiomatic attributes, is an especially convenient instrument for these
kinds of experimental ideas.

The two most obvious signs of the influence of electronic
music include: first, the extreme extensions of singular static sound (one
tone, singular chord, or a sound-strand) with no equivalent of the metric or
rhythmic factors; and second, the transformation of sound by adding or
subtracting sound colors (in the organ: registers). The typical electronic
sound-strand that modulates by inducing or by putting out overtones, could be
easily imitated with organ sound and varying registration and articulation. Volumina by György Ligeti is one of the best examples here. In the Sonata of Glinkowski the interior pitches of the sustained sound-strands are changeable; the varying sound color and pitch are a source of internal vibration. Let's examine the beginning of the Sonata. (See Example 1.)

There are here five different figurative models. By very
fast movement--all models are repeated or changed freely--the perception of
individual pitches is nearly impossible. Also, the perception of changes
between models is very difficult, especially since the recommended registration
(upperwork without 8' registers) transfers the whole sound-strand very high.
One can say about this as a special "textural convention" that pure
motion becomes the main tectonic and expressive factor. The term "textural
convention" was introduced by Boguslaw Schäffer, a prominent Polish
composer and theoretician from Cracow, in his fundamental work,
"Introduction to composition" (Cracow 1976). But in the Sonata of Glinkowski the fast, aleatoric figuration, although dominant , is not the only type of texture.

Since elements such as melody and harmony are strongly
limited, dynamics and textural changes serve as the basis for form building.
The three parts of the Sonata are
unified by one fundamental motif. So we have here another example of formal
development. The motivic cell is built of two perfect fifths separated by a
half-tone. For instance: G/D + A-flat /E-flat. This serves as the main material
for all important themes, linear figures, chords, structures etc. It is used as
follows:

1. In its elementary form as a linear structure (Example 2);

2. As a strongly dissonant chord: (Example 3). This
syncopated chordal structure is set against linear configurations. Although
both of the structures are built with the same material, the contrast of
rhythm, dynamics and texture is very emphatic. The half-tone and perfect fifth
are also used for other types of chords (Example 4) and for clusters. The
diatonic, or pentatonic cluster with the ambitus of a perfect fifth displacing
the half-tone steps appears in Part III of the Sonata
style='font-style:normal'> (Example 5).

3. As model of figuration, also in parallel fifths or
doubled in fifths and octaves (Example 6).

4. As an ornament--for instance as a trill (See Example 6).
Two principal structures based on the motif of the fifth-half-tone--vertical
(chords, clusters) and horizontal (for instance: figuration)--organize the form
of the Sonata. They contrast strongly,
especially in Part I; somehow we can find here the reflection of the classical
rule of thematic dualism. In Part II the motif appears only in the line of the
figuration. The whole Part II is unique, a long pedal solo cadenza which
contains three sections. The first and third sections, symmetrically, are
filled by a continuous chromatic course of figuration (See Example 7). This
kind of figuration is typical of the toccata or etude; to this writer, it is reminiscent also of the Final of Chopin's B-flat minor Sonata
style='font-style:normal'> (See Example 8). There, too, the extremely fast
stream of tones is perceived as pure motion. But besides the textural
similarity, both fragments of the Chopin and Glinkowski Sonatas present the same
type of expression: dark and dramatic, if not tragic.

The second section of Part II is very slow, soft and quiet.
The motion stops; instead of a single line of figuration, the static
tone-strand occurs. The 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 tone harmony appears, but also in the
pedal solo. The composer requires here strict legato playing and a very special
registration (4' or 2' flute solo) (Example 9). In this episode the tension is
much lower thanks to the strong dynamic and tectonic contrasts with the first
and third sections, but soon the course of figuration returns.

The very beginning of Part III of the Sonata
style='font-style:normal'> is reminiscent of the character of the slow part in
classical sonata construction. The diatonic cluster d1-a1
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  accompanies the linear theme with a
special rhythmic pattern (See Example 10). Part I refers to the classical
sonata-form, Part II is simply an ABA' scheme (a ternary form), and Part III
develops gradually. The permanent expansion of dynamics, of structural density,
the growing level of textural complication and speed, finally culminate in a
spacious cluster of tutti. This is also the climax of the whole Sonata. At the
ending coda the diatonic cluster and the main motif return again (See Example
10).

Though the Sonata is
a rather long piece (ca. 25 minutes), thanks to its symmetrical form the
listener has the impression of a very coherent, monolithic work. The
contemplative character of the slow parts alternates with the dramatic dynamism
of fast, figurative or chordal sequences. In these ways, the Organ
Sonata of Glinkowski demonstrates the
vitality and attractiveness of sonata principles even for contemporary
composers.

Finally, the notation of the Sonata
style='font-style:normal'> is partly traditional and partly modern. The
pitch--except some clusters--is strictly definite, as are the dynamics. The
duration of individual musical elements is approximate, however. The composer
used some rhythmic patterns, but also the proportional graphic intervals of
space/time and simple indications of duration. Glinkowski did not belong to that
group of composers who precisely specify the registration of their organ
compositions. On the contrary, he left a fairly large sphere of interpretation
up to the organist. He only indicated registration in a few places of the Sonata (e.g. in the slow episode of Part II, as mentioned above). The free choice of registration should be, however, considered together with tempo, dynamics, structural density and, last but not least, with the kind of organ and its disposition. Obviously, the aleatoric and cluster techniques and the notation result in a quasi-improvisatory piece, so any concert organist may create his own interpretation of the Sonata.

by Earl Holt

Part 1 was published in the January, 1996 issue of The Diapason.

es ist genug... by Sten Hanson
Background

Sten Hanson, born in 1936 in Klövsjö, Sweden, has been chairman of the Society of Swedish Composers since 1984. Although self-taught as a composer, he has been chairman of the Fylkingen language group, and an executive committee member of the International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM), and Electronic Music Studio (EMS). For the last thirty years he has worked in experimental music, literature, and art, producing instrumental, vocal, and electro-acoustic music for radio and television performances. The premiere of Hanson's Wiener-Lieder for soprano, piano, and recorded tape, took place at the 1987 Swedish Music Spring Festival. Hanson tours internationally as a lecturer and artist.30

Music journalist Göran Bergendal writes that "the initial point of departure for Sten Hanson's art is literature--with underlying associations with popular and oral traditions of poetry."31 Hanson has treated historical and political subjects in his compositions, and even used the science fiction of Edgar Rice Burroughs in a 1982 work, The John Carter Song Book.

Hanson has composed two organ works: Extrasensory Conceptions III for organ solo (1964) and es ist genug... for organ solo (1985), the work selected for this article.32 Extrasensory Conceptions III, however, was written for the late organ virtuoso Karl-Erik Welin, who was recognized for creativity in graphic score interpretation. Hanson writes that the work is "so closely related to this now deceased performer that it hardly can be used again." Hanson is currently composing a new work for organ and tape, "with the loudspeaker placed in the opposite side of the room in relation to the organ," for well-known Swedish organ virtuoso Hans-Ola Ericsson.33

Swedish National Radio produced a live broadcast of the premiere of es ist genug... (it is enough...) on February 8, 1986, as performed by Ericsson at the Jacob's Church in Stockholm. The piece, which is dedicated to Ericsson, has received approximately 150 European performances and has been broadcast in several countries, according to the composer. It was published in 1988, al-though the score lists no publication date. The title of the piece is correctly written in lower-case letters and is followed by three ellipsis points.34

Although es ist genug... is based on J.S. Bach's setting of the Lutheran chorale, the piece is not the expected chorale prelude, intended for a church service. Moreover, Hanson has always expressed extreme criticism of the Church and its tenets. Ericsson writes: "In this scherzandolike piece he [Hanson] drives his own criticism in absurdum, and the end gesture, a great cluster in diminuendo which concludes in major/minor tonality, says 'Enough of that now!'"35 es ist genug... is therefore Hanson's commentary by double entendre on religious dogma, and is not a church work based on the chorale text.

Structure

As a musical allusion to the four-syllable title of es ist genug..., the primary motivic material is taken from three four-pitch fragments of the chorale melody: (1) A, B, C-sharp, D-sharp--the distinctive, ascending whole-tone phrase that begins the chorale; (2) C-sharp, B, D, C-sharp--taken from the penultimate phrase of the chorale; and (3) E, C-sharp, B, A--the descending final notes of the chorale. The three fragments are treated individually in sections linked by clusters or extended rests. As pointed out by Ericsson, the rapid repetition in absurdum of the motivic fragments is the predominant compositional technique used in the piece. Table 3 shows the structural organization of es ist genug... .

es ist genug... is primarily a tonal piece, since it is based on the original Bach harmonization of the chorale in the key of A major. Non-tonal elements do occur, however: (1) dissonant harmonizations of the chorale in mm. 14, 20-21, and 50-56; (2) clusters, which serve to accompany the figuration in mm. 57-64, and to punctuate areas of rapidly repeated motives throughout the piece; and (3) the graphic notation and A-major/minor chord at the end of the piece (m. 71).

Registration

A three-manual instrument is necessary to perform the piece, since extended sections of rapid changes are divided among three different manuals. It is not feasible to make quick registration changes on a two-manual instrument, even with the help of a console assistant. Also, since these changes contribute greatly to timbral variety, and occur at irregular intervals, it is unacceptable merely to alternate between two manuals.

Dynamic changes in the piece require significant use of the Swell expression pedal, although stop changes can be made by an assistant if the instrument has no expressive divisions. The piece requires 56-key manuals and a 29-key pedal clavier, and thus can be performed on instruments with short upper octaves or limited pedal ranges.

Registration is outlined in the score. Table 4 lists the individual registrations specifically indicated for each manual.

Interpretation

As outlined in Table 3, note values of the motivic figuration decrease steadily throughout the piece, from eighth notes to sixteenth notes to thirty-second notes. Therefore, the beginning tempo must be slow enough to accommodate both the accelerando in mm. 51-56 and the thirty-second notes in the final pages. No tempo is printed in the score. The tempos in Ericsson's compact disc recording are useful as a guideline, however: the initial quarter note tempo of 44 has increased to 68 by the end of the accelerando in mm. 51-56.

With the exception of the final arm cluster in m. 71, all manual clusters are played as chromatic palm clusters, performed by playing as many black and white keys as possible within the range outlined. Each palm cluster is held the length of a quarter note, unless tied to another cluster. Tied clusters occur in mm. 47, 49, and 65; they follow the customary rules for tied notes.

Although the left hand can sustain both black and white keys in the long palm cluster in mm. 57-64, the feet will be able to cover only the white pedal keys in the accompanying pedal cluster. A console assistant, if available, can play the lower part of the pedal cluster and the left-hand palm cluster on the Swell manual. This assistance makes it possible for the performer to position one hand on each manual for the quick changes. It will also enable the performer to close the Swell expression pedal with the right foot. If the pedal dynamic has to be reduced to balance the manuals, the assistant can remove stops. As the cluster sound diminishes, the manual figuration emerges gradually from the cacophony.

During each section of rapid motive repetition, a form of staccato articulation is printed in the score: (1) stacc., mm. 24-34; (2) molto stacc., mm. 36-46; and (3) staccatissimo, mm. 50-64. The increasingly detached articulation maintains clarity as the note values decrease throughout the piece.

Almost all dynamic changes in the piece are accomplished by stop changes. Nevertheless, the Swell expression pedal is used in mm. 14-15, 21, 51-64, 67-69, and 71. These dynamic changes made with the Swell pedal are structural and must not be arbitrarily omitted if the instrument has no expressive divisions. A console assistant can make the changes by gradually adding or removing stops.

The first recording of es ist genug... was a compact disc recording by Ericsson on January 19, 1986, three weeks before the premiere, at the Jacob's Church in Stockholm. In 1989, a Russian organist, Alexander Fiseisky, made another recording on the Melodya label. Hanson writes: "I have heard his [Fiseisky's] version in a concert in the chapel of the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, but I have never received a copy of the record, not even before the present Russian chaos."36

On the Ericsson recording, the final ffff cluster (m. 71) takes sixty seconds for the resolution to the A major/minor chord and for the diminuendo to ppp. The cluster is struck initially with both arms, reduced gradually to palm clusters, and then resolved poco a poco to the final A-major/minor chord. For the diminuendo, the expression pedal is gradually closed, or stops are removed by an assistant.

The Ericsson recording, made from a preliminary version of the score, differs somewhat from the 1988 published score, as shown in Table 5.

In mm. 1-12 and 16-19, Ericsson plays five repeated notes per measure, instead of six, taking advantage of the vast tonal resources of the five-manual instrument in the Jacob's Church in Stockholm. He plays each of the five notes on a separate manual, using five different timbres in the process.

Ericsson's omission of m. 9 is logical, since the measure appears to be an erroneously printed duplicate of the preceding two measures. Because the pitch b' occurs twice at this point in the original chorale melody, only two corresponding measures are correct in the score, and not three. Measure 9 is therefore included in the list of errors in Table 6.

In a recent letter, Hanson explained the difference between Ericsson's recorded version and the 1988 score:

After this [Ericsson's] first performance I was a little unhappy with the beginning of the piece, where the desired quality of "boredom" does not come out properly. I have later corrected that by adding a sixth note in each of the bars where a single note is played, as well as by rejecting the performers' frequent jumps from one registration to another in the beginning of the piece. Ericsson's recording follows correctly the first version of the score and the changes in the score vis-a-vis the record[ing] are the results of the later revision. The recording was made in connection with the first performance without my presence or assistance, [otherwise] I would have asked the performer to wait for my revised score.37

The 1988 published score, not the recorded version, is therefore definitive. The score has a number of errors, however. (See Table 6.) Hanson has reviewed the errata and writes that they are identical to the errors he has found. A forthcoming reprint of the score will have the necessary corrections.

The performance time on Ericsson's compact disc recording is five minutes and nineteen seconds. As indicated in Table 5, however, the early version of the score used for the recording omits mm. 27-34 and 38-46, thus shortening its length. If the 1988 printed version is performed in its entirety, therefore, the piece will be approximately forty-five seconds longer, or six minutes and four seconds.

Gesänge der Toten by Hans-Ola Ericsson
Background

Hans-Ola Ericsson was born in 1958 in Stockholm where, as a child, he sang in the Stockholm Boys' Choir. His first counterpoint, composition, and organ performance teacher was innovative Swedish composer Torsten Nilsson (b. 1920), to whom Gesänge der Toten is dedicated. Ericsson's first public organ recitals began in 1974, the same year his first organ compositions were written. In 1977 he was admitted to the State Academy of Music in Freiburg, Germany, where he studied composition with Klaus Huber and Brian Ferneyhough, and organ with Zsigmond Szathmáry. Further composition study was with Luigi Nono in Venice in 1984.38

Ericsson has performed at many European festivals, and on French, Japanese, and American radio. Since 1986 Ericsson has been principal instructor of organ performance at Piteå College in Piteå, Sweden. At present, he also teaches solo organ performance and courses in interpretation of modern organ music at the State Colleges of Music in Stockholm, Malmö, and Göteborg. As a virtuoso organist, he is well-known from tours of Europe and the United States, and from recordings for radio and compact disc. He has recently recorded the complete works of Olivier Messiaen on seven compact discs for the BIS label.39

Ericsson's works for organ are Gesänge der Toten for organ and percussion (1977), J'Ecris Ton Nom for organ, percussion and electronic tape, Niemandsland for organ and electronic tape, Orgelsymphonie in tre Satzer for organ solo (1975-76), Via Dolorosa for organ solo, and Melody to the Memory of a Lost Friend XIII for organ and electronic tape (1985).40

The work selected for this article, Gesänge der Toten (Songs of the Dead), was composed in January 1977 and published the same year. The score is a legible photocopy of the manuscript.

Structure

Gesänge der Toten is based on a chorale of unknown origin that occurs monophonically (mm. 10-16), as a jazz variation (mm. 23-40), as the pedal line during the climax (m. 51), and in a four-voice harmonization (mm. 53-62). The chorale is present sporadically; thematically unrelated sections of arpeggios, improvisation, and graphically notated clusters constitute most of the piece. Meter is either 3/4 or 4/4, except for four instances of free meter (mm. 8-9, 41-44, 51, and 68-69), measured in clock seconds. Although the piece contains areas of chromaticism and extreme dissonance, it centers on the key of the chorale, F minor.

Despite areas of tonality and the presence of the chorale, the piece has no conventional form. The chorale serves chiefly to unify the piece by providing a recurring theme; its treatment and occurrences, however, are irregular. Table 7 is a structural outline of the work.

Registration

The manual compass for Gesänge der Toten is C to g''' and the pedal compass is C to f'. The manuals must therefore have at least fifty-six keys. The note g''' only occurs four times, however, in ten-voice dissonant arpeggios over triple pedal (m. 7); it can be omitted, virtually unnoticed, on fifty-four-key manuals.

The score specifies a three-manual instrument, but the piece can be performed on two manuals. Only one instance of rapid interplay among all three manuals occurs--improvisatory figuration and a sequence of twenty-four palm clusters in mm. 8-9; a console assistant can alternate stops to produce the three distinct timbres. An assistant is necessary, anyway, to manipulate percussion stops: the Röhrenglockenton (tubular bells), Xylophon 4', and Cymbelstern. The assistant must add and remove the Röhrenglockenton at specific points indicated in the score in mm. 60-65, and must stop the Cymbelstern in m. 64. If an adjustable combination action is unavailable, an assistant will also be indispensable for stop changes.

Besides the organ percussion stops, a bass drum ostinato occurs in mm. 51-63; the drum can be played by a second assistant or by a percussionist. The ostinato is simple and does not require a trained drummer. If the available organ does not have the necessary percussion stops, a percussionist can produce most of the percussive timbres--the Cymbelstern in mm. 51-63 and the tubular bells in mm. 60-65, for example. To heighten the dramatic intensity, the organist screams ffff in m. 8, before beginning a "wild outburst" on the manuals--an improvisatory section with palm clusters.41

The Swell expression pedal is used in mm. 2-7, 9-16, 39-40, and 51, although the console assistant can make gradual stop changes if no expression pedal is available. Table 8 lists a complete registration, based on the score, for a three-manual instrument.

Interpretation

Gesänge der Toten is a dramatic, violent, macabre work, characterized by extremes in dynamics, pitch, note values, and dissonance. A number of similarities--coincidental or not--to American composer William Bolcom's Black Host (1967) suggest his influence: (1) the use of percussion, including tubular chimes and bass drum; (2) a centrally placed dirge, accompanied by a jazz background at a slow tempo; (3) the use of a chorale, or psalm tune, especially at the end of the work; (4) graphically notated arm clusters used at the climax; and (5) a deliberate, brutal style. Obvious differences exist, too; Ericsson's piece is much shorter and does not incorporate an electronic tape. As illustrated in Table 8, the quarter note tempo increases steadily at major structural posts--from quarter note = 46 at the beginning of the piece to 112-126 at the end. That the piece is a kind of procession is emphasized in the score at the outset: "In the tempo of a very slow march."42

At the beginning, twenty-eight successive, ascending arpeggios--one per beat--are played in exact rhythm. Each hand must play and sustain five notes from each ten-voice arpeggio, spanning intervals of a ninth or tenth. Because of the difficulty in spanning these wide intervals, it will be impossible for some performers to play the piece. The arpeggios increase dynamically and rise in pitch until m. 8, where the performer suddenly screams ffff (using the vowel A, as in "father"). The scream appears on a separate staff with a speaking clef (talklav); it begins as loudly and as high in pitch as possible, and then slides downward in pitch. A footnote in Swedish in the score allows a substitute screamer: "A scream, executed by the performer or by someone in his place."43

Before the scream ends, a "wild outburst" of graphically notated improvisation in free meter begins. The first six seconds of improvisation have swirling figuration and occasional clusters that are distributed among three manuals (m. 8). In a commentary at the end of the piece, Ericsson describes the figuration as "rapidly vibrating movements of the fingers and the palm within the indicated range."44

In m. 9 the improvisation continues with ten seconds of palm clusters divided at random among the manuals. The first six palm clusters are notated as 2048th notes (with nine ligatures); the note values then increase gradually to eighth notes. This exaggerated notation produces, in effect, the indicated ritardando. The improvisation concludes with an eleven-voice chord that becomes arm clusters, and then gradually decreases in texture and dynamic over twenty seconds.

The monophonic statement of the chorale in mm. 10-16 begins tranquilly and ends with a crescendo to fff. A section of ascending arpeggios, similar to those at the beginning of the piece, begins in m. 16. This time, however, the arpeggios in the last measure of the section (m. 21) are changed to two cluster arpeggios and a cluster glissando that embellishes an arm cluster. Those clusters and the three arm clusters in m. 22 are played precisely in the march rhythm; both black and white keys are struck.

The jazz section in mm. 23-40 is loosely based on the chorale theme, which is treated as a highly embellished solo against a blues accompaniment; the section contains two tremolos (mm. 27-28), two tied trills (mm. 26 and 29), and a few other basic licks. The subsequent pedal solo begins with a low-register cluster glissando (m. 41) that can be played by the right foot on the black keys and by the left foot on the white ones. The graphic notation in m. 44 represents a fast improvisation, with toes and heels rapidly striking pedal notes at random within the range indicated. The 32' reed, added at the beginning of the measure, is unlikely to speak during the random figuration because of the fast tempo; the stop is probably added in anticipation of the three long notes that follow the improvisation. The pedal solo ends with a white-key glissando played by the left foot (m. 47).

The rhythm of the pedal solo in mm. 45-47 is repeated for the palm clusters in mm. 48-50. Then the Cymbelstern sounds, unaccompanied, for four seconds at the beginning of m. 51, before the organist and drummer begin the climactic crescendo. The bass drummer begins a five-note ostinato, accenting the note-heads that have an "X" superimposed on them. At the same time, the organist begins a slow, eighteen-second crescendo by using both arms in a cluster glissando that covers the entire Great manual. The glissando starts with the left elbow sustaining a few low notes. Gradually the entire left forearm is lowered onto the manual; the right wrist is added near the center of the manual and the right forearm is gradually lowered onto the manual until the elbow is completely down. Meanwhile, the Swell expression pedal, if available, has been opened halfway at this point; alternatively, the console assistant could have gradually added stops. The manuals are silent for four seconds while two more notes of the chorale are played in the pedal. The organist then improvises rapid manual figuration with fingers, palms, and elbows for eighteen seconds more--until maximum cacophony is reached, the expression pedal is fully opened, and the chorale in the pedal has been completed.

After the climax, the manuals are silent and the pedal sustains a perfect fourth, C-F, on soft 32' and 16' flues; the Cymbelstern continues to sound, and the bass drum begins a diminuendo. The organist plays the first seven measures of the harmonized chorale (mm. 53-59); when m. 60 is reached, the console assistant begins to add and remove the Röhrenglockenton stop four times, at locations in mm. 60-65. The Cymbelstern and bass drum are tacet at the first beat of m. 64, where the pedal takes over the ostinato from the bass drum. Stops and couplers are added at m. 67 for the end of the piece. In m. 68 the half notes with arrows through the stems are sustained while the unstemmed notes are played during a fifteen-second period of free meter.

The score contains several errors. (See Table 9.) No commercial recording of the work was located. The performance time is approximately six minutes.

Notes

                  30.           Peterson, s.v. "Hanson, Sten." by Stig Jacobson.

                  31.           Roth, 52.

                  32.           Sten Hanson, es ist genug . . . (Stockholm: Svensk Musik, [1988]).

                  33.           Hanson, Letter to this writer, October 18, 1993.

                  34.           Ibid.

                  35.           Ericsson, brochure notes for Organo con Forza, 4.

                  36.           Hanson, Letter to this writer, October 18, 1993.

                  37.           Ibid.

                  38.           Anders Ekenberg, brochure notes for Olivier Messiaen: the Complete Organ Music, vol.1, BIS CD 409,26.

                  39.           Ibid.

                  40.           Walter A. Frankel and Nancy K. Nardone, eds., Organ Music in Print; 2d ed. (Philadelphia: Musicdata, 1984), 89; Ericsson, Organo con Forza.

                  41.           Hans-Ola Ericsson, Gesänge der Toten, (Munich: Edition Modern, 1977), 4.

                  42.           Ibid., 2.

                  43.           Ibid., 4.

                  44.           Ibid., 12.

by Earl Holt

Experimentation in a radical, theatrical style has
characterized much contemporary Swedish organ composition over the last twenty years, and Swedish organ composers have been prominent in the movement toward
secularization of the organ. 
Marilou Kratzenstein writes:

One should remember that Swedish churches no longer play
much of a role in the spiritual life of the people, but rather concentrate on
being a cultural force. Organ concerts are encouraged in the churches, which
are viewed primarily as concert halls. 
Major organ composers generally write little music for use in the church
service, but focus on concert works devoid of religious significance.1

A number of modern Swedish composers have found the organ's
array of tonal colors and wide dynamic range particularly useful for the
expression of musical thought in a modern idiom. As a result of the Orgelbewegung (Organ Reform Movement), the resurgence of interest in instruments with mechanical action has offered the possibility for greater expressive control and a greater range of performance techniques than were previously available on instruments with some form of remote  action.

Swedish composer and organ virtuoso Hans-Ola Ericsson wrote
recently of modern composition:

The tendency is the same everywhere, in Sweden, too: it
seems that the 1980s mark the beginning of a new musical era. The composers are
striving for objectivity, diversity, and structural density or airiness. A new
æsthetic is growing up, far from the experimenting expressionism of the
1970s.2

If young Swedish composers now find themselves to be
innovators, they have come to the forefront of avant-garde composition as a
result of influential forebears, including Bengt Hambræus, one of the
first organists to introduce avant-garde techniques. Douglas Reed writes:

Following Hambræus' lead, a school of Swedish
contemporary organ music sprang up; it includes Arne Mellnäs (b. 1933: Fixations, 1967), Jan W. Morthenson (b. 1940: New Organ Music, 1961-73), and Bo Nilsson (b. 1937: Stenogramm, 1959).3

These Swedish composers and their contemporaries studied or
collaborated with György Ligeti, who began regular visits to the Stockholm
Academy of Music in 1961 to teach composition as a visiting professor.4 Under
Ligeti's tutelage, they pioneered new techniques in their organ compositions,
including virtuoso clusters, stop-knob manipulation, and switching the blower
on and off to produce a gradual sound decay. They have taken advantage of the
increased availability of tracker actions and have experimented with bending
pitch by playing or releasing the keys very slowly, sometimes assisted by
rubber mats placed under the keys. The works are clearly unintended for
liturgical use:

The new organ music of Ligeti and the Swedes is firmly
secular, having few if any religious connotations. It continues, perhaps
completes, the process of secularization started by Franck and Liszt in the
nineteenth century.5

Hambræus wrote recently about his intense
collaboration with Ligeti in the early 1960s:

When [Mauricio] Kagel, Ligeti, and I got a commission each
for an organ work to be performed in Radio Bremen in 1962, we decided between
us to apply different notations to achieve similar results; Ligeti selected the
"graphical" method, partly developed from what he had learnt from my Constellations (Ligeti worked in Stockholm at that time, and we knew each other very well!). His Volumina looks different than my Interferences, or Kagel's Improvisation Ajoutee.6

This article surveys four selected secular organ works by
modern Swedish composers and compiles relevant performance information in an
attempt to make the compositions more comprehensible and accessible to
recitalists, teachers, and students.

Befria mig ur friheten! All denna frihet! by Sven-David Sandström

Background

Sven-David Sandström, born in Borensberg, Sweden in
1942, studied composition with Ingvar Lidholm at the State College of Music in
Stockholm, where he was Lidholm's teaching assistant until 1974. Sandström
also studied composition with György Ligeti and Per Nørgård,
and has worked since 1974 as a composer. Since 1981 he has taught composition
and improvisation at the State College of Music in Stockholm, where he was
appointed professor of composition in 1986.7 He has also been an administrator
in the Society of Swedish Composers since 1979, and was chairman of the Swedish
section of the International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM) in 1983. He
received the Christ Johnson Prize in 1974 and the Nordic Council Prize in
1984.8

Sandström's works are primarily for orchestra or
chamber ensemble, although he has also composed solo instrumental and choral
works, including several operas. His music often involves serial and
post-serial techniques, microtones, and aleatoric procedures.9

The work selected for this article, Befria mig ur
friheten! All denna frihet! (Liberate me
from freedom! All this freedom!), is the second movement of a three-movement,
large-scale organ work, Libera me.10 Befria mig can be performed successfully as an independent work, however. The title comes from the Tobias Berggren text, "replete with sadistic obscenities and pornographic proclamations," to Sandström's Requiem: De ur alla minnen fallna (Mute the Bereaved Memories Speak), which Sandström composed at the same time as Libera me.11 The Requiem is "a graphic and expressionistic tonal painting, an indictment of the Nazi murders of children during the Second World War."12 Besides Libera me, Sandström has composed two other solo organ works: The Way (1973) and Openings (1975).13

Befria mig was
composed in January 1981 and dedicated to organist Hans-Ola Ericsson; the
premiere took place in Zurich at Grossmünster on December 25, 1981.14 The
score, published in 1984, is a legible photocopy of the original manuscript.

Structure

In Biographies of Modern Swedish Composers
style='font-style:normal'>, Hans-Gunnar Peterson writes about the philosophy
and design of Sandström's compositions:

Desperation--security: these opposite relationships dominate
his thoughts on composition and make his works unusually existentially
orientated [sic]. The fact that music has the power to bring about great mental
changes or to create inner peace interests Sandström. Formally, his music
is concentrated, often with complicated schemes as bases of his works.15

Although Befria mig
has highly concentrated notation, the piece has a simple scheme as its basis: an
extended crescendo. Little by little, the texture thickens, the dynamic
increases, the tempo broadens, the range widens, and the key modulates from G
minor to C minor. Ericsson describes the evolution in brochure notes to the
recording:

The course of events is simple: a slow, almost unendurable
culmination, which alternates the whole time between major and minor, and which
does not reach its goal until the ecstatic C-minor chord of the final bar. The
movement--in 10 parts [voices]--is unbelievably complex in its inner
structure.16

The dense texture restricts the melodic movement of
individual voices, so chromatic or stepwise movement predominates. The
intricate writing suggests choral polyphony, and the stylistic influence is
unquestionably Ligeti.

Befria mig, composed
in 4/4 meter solely as a structural convenience, has five continuous sections,
or stages, that are delineated by tempo changes. Although the texture varies
within each section, it is usually ten voices. The incremental changes in
texture, dynamic, and range take place gradually from beginning to end, but the
tempo changes occur in terraces--not as a gradual ritardando. Table 1 is a
structural outline of the piece.

Registration

The manual changes and couplers in the Libera me
style='font-style:normal'> score are marked for a four-manual instrument;
indeed, a performer playing the entire work does need a large instrument for
the intended effect. As a single movement, however, Befria mig can be performed on any instrument with sufficient dynamic range and enough stops for the gradual crescendo, since the piece is played entirely on one manual, the Hauptwerk.

The manual compass of the piece is F-sharp to g''' and the
pedal compass is C to a-flat'. The pitch a-flat' is unlikely to exist on any
pedal clavier, and probably results from Sandström--who is not an
organist--forgetting the pedal range of the instrument. Fortunately, it occurs
only once (m. 55, in eleven-voice ffff texture), and can be omitted
inconsequentially. In addition, the pedal pitch g', which also occurs only in
m. 55, might also have to be omitted to accommodate a 30-key pedal clavier. An
alternate solution is to have a console assistant play one or both notes on the
Hauptwerk.

The long crescendo, a six-minute, fifty-seven measure
crescendo from ppp to fffff, is created mainly by incremental stop additions,
which can be made by a console assistant, by an adjustable combination action,
or by using the crescendo pedal. The stop additions occur nine times, and are
marked "reg. cresc." (register crescendo) in the score.17 Two
"reg. cresc." markings also coincide with tempo changes (mm. 24 and
48) for heightened dramatic effect. If a crescendo pedal is used for the stop
additions, additional stops and couplers can still be added by thumb pistons or
a console assistant. The score does not indicate expression pedal usage,
although it is effective to open available expression pedals gradually
throughout the piece. 

Sandström marks dynamics in the score, as illustrated
in Table 1, but individual stops or timbres are unspecified. Therefore,
registration for the piece, within the dynamic bounds indicated, is left to the
discretion of the performer. Pedal coupler additions are marked at four points
in the score:

                  Measure
style='mso-tab-count:1'>               Coupler

                  24
style='mso-tab-count:1'>            Sw./Ped.

                  36
style='mso-tab-count:1'>            Bw./Ped.

                  48
style='mso-tab-count:1'>            Rp./Ped.

                  57
style='mso-tab-count:1'>            Hw./Ped.

These coupler additions signal a louder pedal, whether
accomplished by the specific couplers (if available) or by the addition of
pedal stops.

The registration in the score has all secondary manuals
coupled to the Hauptwerk from the beginning of the piece, so that stop
additions from any division affect timbre and dynamic immediately. This
arrangement works well on a large, orchestrally conceived instrument, but might
be disadvantageous on a smaller instrument. On a two-manual instrument, for example, it might be better to begin the piece on the Hauptwerk alone, and then to couple the other manual to the Hauptwerk later, as part of the crescendo.
Another possibility is to begin the piece on a secondary manual and move to the
Hauptwerk later. Three rests in mm. 14, 27, and 43, respectively, provide
opportunities for the hands to change manuals. The last practicable opportunity
to move to the Hauptwerk is at m. 48, beat 4, where both hands must shift down
almost an octave; the hands can easily change manuals in the process. Whether
or not a console assistant is necessary for stop additions, an assistant must
play three chords in mm. 56-57.

Interpretation

Relentless tension characterizes Sandström's works, as
described in Musical Life in Sweden:
"In the case of Sven-David Sandström, it would be no exaggeration to
speak of an incessant struggle between constructive and destructive powers,
with constant reminders of the existence of other worlds."18

The Befria mig score
gives no performance directions or interpretive suggestions, perhaps because
the challenge of the piece is largely technical, not interpretive. It is a
major technical obstacle to play four contrapuntal voices per hand--and two to
four pedal voices--for nearly six minutes, while creating an aural effect of
continuously weaving lines. Despite the dense textures that tend to lock the
wrists in position, it is necessary to keep the wrists flexible and relaxed.
Light articulation will help to combat a tendency to become mired in a
continuous, overlapping legato. Moreover, a live acoustic is a virtual
necessity.

The steadily increasing tension inherent in the piece
exacerbates the tendency toward tension in the wrists. Frequent finger
substitution is neither advisable nor practical in this texture. The pedal
texture is from two to four voices; pedal articulation is legato, whenever
possible.

Complex rhythmic units include supertriplets and
superquintuplets, played in various cross-rhythms between the manual and pedal
voices. To keep the tempo steady, the performer must maintain a strong internal
beat. As noted in Table 1, subito decreases in tempo occur four times in the
work. A metronome is helpful in learning to judge the relative tempos.

Curiously, the word "Affettuoso" is placed over m.
39, although it is unclear how a tender mood can be produced in ten-voice
texture at ff dynamic. The piece ends in m. 57 with "General tutti sempre
al fine." A sforzando mechanism, if available, can be engaged on the long
C-minor chord that ends the work. A sixteen-note cluster (m. 57, beat 4)
effectively serves to disintegrate the C-minor chord (and symbolically,
perhaps, to liberate the listener from tonality), but the cluster is omitted in
the only commercial recording of the piece that was found, a compact disc
recording by Ericsson at Katarina Church in Stockholm on February 24, 1986.19

Performance time for Befria mig
style='font-style:normal'> is seven minutes and thirty-two seconds on the
recording, but Ericsson's performance tempo is quite broad in comparison with
the performance time of five minutes and forty-five seconds listed by
Sandström in the score. Sandström's time agrees exactly with the
tempos marked in the score, but a broader tempo might be appropriate in a live
acoustical setting. Performance time for all three movements of the
fifty-three-page Libera me is
twenty-three minutes.

Champs by Bengt Hambræus

Background

Born in Stockholm in 1928, Bengt Hambræus first
studied organ performance with Alf Linder and later with Swedish musicologist Carl-Allan Mo-berg at Uppsala University. Hambræus completed his dissertation in medieval studies at Uppsala, and then taught there from 1947 to 1956. After joining the music department of Swedish Radio in 1957, he became director of the chamber music section in 1965 and its production manager in 1968.

Some of Hambræus's early compositions paralleling the
work of György Ligeti first earned major recognition in the 1960s. Known
as a musicologist specializing in medieval and baroque studies, Hambræus
has composed for stage, orchestra, chorus, solo voice, various ensembles, and
organ, and was the first Swedish composer to work in the field of electronic
music. As a result of work at electronic studios in Cologne and Milan, he has
also produced a number of works on magnetic tape. He has been a member of the
Royal Swedish Academy of Music since 1968. In 1972 he left Sweden to become a
professor of composition at McGill University in Montreal, where he has
remained to the present.20

Hambræus's organ works are Toccata och Fuga
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1946), Chorale Partita: In
Dich hab' ich gehoffet, Herr for organ solo
(1946-48), Fantasia for organ
solo (1947), Chorale Partita: Puer natus in Bethlehem
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1947), Concerto for organ
and harpsichord (1947-51), Concerto for Organ and String Orchestra (1948), Koralförspel
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1948), Orgeltrio
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1948), Toccata pro tempore
pentecostes for organ solo (1948), Introitus et Triptychon for organ solo (1949-50), Musik för Orgel for organ solo (1950), Liturgia
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1951-52), Permutations and
Hymn: Nocte surgentes for organ solo (1953),
Psalmus CXXI for soprano and organ (1953), Psalmus
CXXII for soprano and organ (1953), Konstellationer
I for organ solo (1958), Konstellationer
II for organ and tape (1959), Konstellationer
III for organ and tape (1961), Interferenser
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1961-62), Tre Pezzi
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1966-67), Nebulosa
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1969), Toccata: Monumentum
per Max Reger for organ solo (1973), Ricercare
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1974), Continuo a partire
de Pachelbel for organ and orchestra
(1974-75), Icons for organ solo
(1974-75), Extempore for organ
solo (1975), Advent: Veni redemptor gentium
style='font-style:normal'> for organ, brass, and percussion (1975), Antiphonie
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1977), Konstellationer IV
style='font-style:normal'> for organ and percussion (1978), Livre
d'orgue for organ solo (1980-81), Voluntary
on a Swedish Hymn Tune from Dalecarlia for
organ solo (1981), Sheng for oboe
and organ (1983), Variations sur un thème de Gilles Vigneault
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1984), La Passacaille
errante-autour Haendel for organ solo
(1985), Pedalexercitium for organ
solo (1985), Canvas with Mirrors
for organ and tape (1987-90), Après-Sheng
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1988), Cadenza
style='font-style:normal'> for organ solo (1988), Missa pro Organo:
In memoriam Olivier Messiaen for organ solo
(1992), Organum Sancti Jacobi for
organ solo (1993), and Meteoros
for organ solo (1993). A Ph.D. dissertation by musicologist Per F. Broman at
Göteborg University, Sweden, is currently being prepared in consultation
with Hambræus; it contains a comprehensive list of Hambræus's
works, and a complete discography.21

The work selected for this article, Champs
style='font-style:normal'> (Fields), is the ninth movement in Volume I of Livre d'orgue, published in 1981. A foreword to the score describes the movement as a piece in which "the performer is exposed to one kind of cluster notation which has been rather common in contemporary organ music after 1960."22 Livre d'orgue exemplifies Hambræus's well-known preoccupation with timbre to a greater degree, perhaps, than any of his other works. Modeled after the livres d'orgue of the Classical French period, whose movements were often named for the organ colors specified, the Hambræus work adheres to Classical French tradition in retaining the integrity of typical classical registration, which he indicates clearly in the score, and in requiring no dynamic changes by means of the expression pedals.

Livre d'orgue uses a contemporary harmonic idiom, however.
The work comprises four separate volumes containing twelve pieces each, and is
graded from the easier pieces of Volume I to the more difficult in Volume IV.
Even though Hambræus describes Volume I as "easier," its pieces
nevertheless require advanced technique. The preface to Livre d'orgue states that although each volume can be considered a complete suite, it is unnecessary to play all the pieces from the volume, and it is permissible to mix pieces from one volume with those from other volumes.23 This practice of selecting pieces is consistent with common practice in the Classical French tradition.

Hambræus composed Livre d'orgue
style='font-style:normal'> for the installation of the Hellmuth Wolff organ in
Redpath Hall at McGill University, Montreal, in 1981. On May 26, 1981, John
Grew played three pieces from Livre d'orgue
style='font-style:normal'> at the Montreal Symposium, a three-day series of
recitals and panel discussions on historical organ construction held to
inaugurate the new instrument; however, Hambræus does not recall whether
Champs was performed. He writes that he has heard the work performed only
once--in Redpath Hall on a 1982 or 1983 exam recital by Josée April, a
student of Grew.24 Livre d'orgue
is dedicated to Hambræus's son Michael, who first conceived of the
project, and to McGill University, which made it possible.25

Structure

Champs is a moderately
difficult study in cluster technique, the most challenging technical aspect of
the piece. Hambræus writes that the piece is related to other pieces from
Livre d'orgue:

There are internal relations between corresponding pieces in
the respective volumes [of Livre d'orgue]; somebody who has played the more easy items in volume I has got acquainted with my music language (harmony, texture, momentum, density, etc.) and can easily understand how basic ideas develop; compare, for instance, the first movements in volumes I and IV! Regarding Champs--"Fields"--it is a link between other pieces in Livre d'orgue: what is in other movements notated with pitches in dense clusters has just been notated differently here.26

As shown in Table 2, registration changes punctuate major
sections of the piece, illustrating Hambræus's characteristic use of
timbre as a compositional element. Champs
is formally constructed from two double periods and a four-measure ending. In
the first double period, the Grand Orgue and Positif bourdons are set in
contrast to each other. In the second, parallel stops on each manual are added
to the bourdons at major structural posts. In the final measure, however, the
sound is reduced by removing the two stops added last, thus serving to taper the
crescendo shape of the piece.

Registration

Hambræus composed Livre d'orgue
style='font-style:normal'> with a specific instrument in mind: the Hellmuth
Wolff organ in Redpath Hall at McGill University. Completed in spring, 1981,
the large tracker instrument was built "in accordance with the detailed
descriptions in Dom Bédos de Celles's important treatise L'art
du facteur d'orgues (1766-78)."27 The
inside back cover of each volume of Livre d'orgue
style='font-style:normal'> has the complete stop list for the instrument.

Since Champs is a manualiter piece for Grand Orgue and
Positif, pedals are not used. As illustrated in Table 2, the two manuals
maintain dynamic balance by the simultaneous addition or removal of stops from
both divisions at major structural posts. The specific registration for the
Wolff instrument, listed in the score, is helpful in selecting stops of the
same pitch and timbre on a different instrument. The following stops are
specified in the score:

Grand Orgue

                  8'
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             Bourdon

                  22/3'
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      Nazard

                                    Cymbale
III

                                    Fourniture
IV-III

                  2'
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             Doublette

Positif

                  8'
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             Bourdon

                  22/3'
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      Nazard

                                    Cymbale
II

                                    Fourniture
III

                  2'
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             Quarte
de Nazard

All stop changes occur at rests, so it is possible for the
performer to add or remove the stops without assistance. Expression pedals are
not used.

Interpretation

The main challenge of Champs is the interpretation and performance of graphically notated
pentatonic, diatonic, and chromatic clusters, as well as cluster glissandos.
Some pentatonic or diatonic clusters also develop into chromatic ones.
Hambræus defines pentatonic clusters as black-key clusters and diatonic
clusters as white-key ones; chromatic clusters involve both black and white
keys.

Hambræus notates each pentatonic and diatonic cluster
as a geometric figure that outlines the cluster's position on the staff. The
geometric figure encloses either the letter P, for pentatonic clusters, or the
letter D, for diatonic ones. If there is insufficient room for the letters to
be placed inside narrow clusters, the letters are placed directly above. Both
chromatic clusters and chromatic cluster glissandos are notated as filled-in
geometric shapes. Small notes at the beginning of each cluster indicate its
precise span.

The pentatonic black-key clusters found in Champs
style='font-style:normal'> are played either with the fingers or with the top
of the palm and the fingers, if the fingers alone cannot span the cluster. In
either situation, it is easier to play such clusters with the fingers held at a
right angle, instead of parallel, to the keys. Diatonic white-key clusters can
either be played by the fingers or with the thumb placed at a right angle to
the keys. When a diatonic cluster expands to a chromatic cluster, the length of
the thumb and the inside base of the palm are used to play the white keys,
while the fingers are held above the black keys for the expansion, as
illustrated for the left hand in mm. 8-9. The process is immediately repeated
in a mirror-image inversion for the right hand in mm. 10-11.

Hambræus indicates the correct realization of his
cluster notation in a footnote, but provides no physical description of the
techniques needed, except to write that "in order to execute cluster
glissandos, the performer must use all of the hand in different positions, in
addition to the fingers!"28 Two distinct kinds of chromatic cluster glissando occur in Champs: an hourglass-shaped cluster glissando in mm. 25-26, and common cluster glissandos that span a
specific interval (mm. 26-28, for example). Both kinds of glissando begin on a
C-sharp to G tritone and end on a G to c-sharp tritone.

The left hand plays the hourglass-shaped cluster glissando
in mm. 25-26. It is begun with the back of the fingers sustaining all possible
keys within the C-sharp to G tritone; the palm is facing up, at this point. The
thumb-side of the hand is then gradually raised until the hand is perpendicular
to the keys, with the back edge of the hand (little finger) resting on G and on
surrounding notes. Finally, the palm is gradually lowered onto all possible
keys within the G to c-sharp tritone.

The common cluster glissandos in mm. 26-28 occur in both
hands simultaneously. They are played entirely with the palms down. The middle
finger pivots on the pitch G as the fingers and part of the hand to the left of
the middle finger play all possible keys within the C-sharp to G tritone. Then,
as the wrist moves gradually from left to right, the fingers and part of the
hand to the right of the middle finger gradually play all possible keys within
the G to C-sharp tritone. It is helpful to flatten out the hand and to place
the middle, pivot finger near the back of the G key--between F-sharp and
G-sharp, if possible. This procedure allows all of the hand to be used
effectively, and achieves a consistent texture throughout the glissando.

The tempo (quarter note = 56) is maintained by carefully
counting beats throughout the piece. Constant, internal counting is the
performer's only rhythmic guideline, since clusters begin and end at irregular
intervals, and structural posts rarely occur on a discernible beat.

Volume III of Livre d'orgue was recorded by John Grew (McGill University Records, LP 85024, now
out of print), and volume IV by Hans Hellsten (MAP CD 9236, currently
available). Two pieces from volume IV, Ouverture and Récit de Nazard,
were recorded by Erik Lundkvist (MAP CD 9026). Marilou Kratzenstein recorded
selections from volume I (WMC LP 4593) approximately twelve years ago, but the
record was not located; it is therefore unknown whether Champs was on the
album.29  Performance time for
Champs is two minutes and thirty-five seconds.    n

Notes

                  1.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Marilou
Kratzenstein, Survey of Organ Literature and Editions (Ames, Iowa: Iowa State
University Press, 1980), 147.

                  2.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Hans-Ola
Ericsson, brochure notes for Organo con Forza, Phono Suecia PS CD 31, 2.

                  3.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Robert
Douglas Reed, "The Organ Works of William Albright: 1965-1975"
(D.M.A. diss., The University of Rochester, Eastman School of Music, 1977), 21.

                  4.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Paul
Griffiths, György Ligeti, ed. Nicholas Snowman (London: Robson Books,
1983), 39.

                  5.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Reed,
22.

                  6.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Hambræus,
Letter to this writer, November 23, 1993.

                  7.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Ericsson, 9-10.

                  8.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Hans-Gunnar
Peterson, Swedish Composers of the 20th Century: Members of the Society of
Swedish Composers (Stockholm: Svensk Musik, 1988), s.v. "Sandström,
Sven-David," by Hans-Gunnar Peterson.

                  9.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Stanley
Sadie, ed., The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians (London: Macmillan
and Co., 1980), s.v. "Sandström, Sven-David."

                  10.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Sven-David
Sandström, Libera me (Munich: Edition Modern, 1977), 12-15.

                  11.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Nicolas
Slonimsky, ed., Baker's Biographical Dictionary of Musicians, 8th ed. (New
York: Schirmer Books, 1992), s.v. "Sandström, Sven-David;"
Ericsson, 10.

                  12.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Lena Roth, ed., Musical Life in Sweden, trans. Michael Johns (Stockholm: Norstedts Tryckeri AB, 1987), 55.

                  13.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Sadie; Slonimsky.

                  14.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Ericsson, 10.

                  15.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Peterson.

                  16.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Ericsson, 10.

                  17.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Register crescendo is the German Rollschweller, a type of crescendo pedal.

                  18.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Roth, 55.

                  19.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Ericsson, Organo con Forza recording.

                  20.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Sadie, s.v. "Hambræus, Bengt."

                  21.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Brian Morton and Pamela Collins, eds., Contemporary Composers (Chicago: St. James Press, 1992), s.v. "Hambræus, Bengt;" Per F. Broman,
"Bengt Hambræus: Work List and Discography," (supplied by
Hambræus from Ph.D. diss. in progress, Göteborg University, Sweden).

                  22.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Hambræus, Livre d'orgue, vol. 1, preface, 3.

                  23.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Ibid., 4.

                  24.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Hambræus, Letter to this writer, November 23, 1993.

                  25.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Peter
Williams, "The Organ in Our Time: Montreal Symposium," The American
Organist 15, no. 9 (September 1981): 58; Hambræus, Livre d'orgue, vol. 1,
title page.

                  26.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Hambræus, Letter to this writer, November 23, 1993.

                  27.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Hambræus, Livre d'orgue, vol. 1, preface, 2.

                  28.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Ibid., 8.

                  29.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           Hambræus, Letter to this writer, November 23, 1993.

This article will be continued.

Peter Hardwick

Dr. Peter Hardwick is a retired music professor who, during his career, taught at the University of Guelph, Guelph, and Agincourt Collegiate Institute, Toronto, Ontario. In addition, he served as organist of St. John’s Cathedral, Winnipeg, Manitoba, and St. George’s Church, Guelph.

In 2003, Scarecrow Press published his book British Organ Music of the Twentieth Century. Over the last two and a half years he has been writing a monograph on the life and music of Kenneth Leighton, which will probably be finished sometime this year. Dr. Hardwick has written feature articles and numerous reviews of recordings and organ music for The Diapason

Kenneth Leighton was born on October 2, 1929, at Wakefield, West Yorkshire, England. His formal education was at Queen Elizabeth Grammar School, Wakefield (1940-47) and Queen’s College, the University of Oxford (1947-51). He continued his composition studies privately with Goffredo Petrassi in Rome (March-September, 1951). Leighton was principally a composer, but he also appeared quite frequently as a concert pianist, and he gave the first performances of a number of his own piano works. In addition, he was a highly regarded teacher of composition. Except for two years as a lecturer and fellow at Worcester College, Oxford (1968-70), he taught composition in the Faculty of Music at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland, from 1956 until his death on August 24, 1988.1

Musical training

The composer was involved with church music throughout his life. In his childhood, the Leighton family were parishioners of Holy Trinity Anglican Church in downtown Wakefield, and Kenneth sang in the choir there, as did his father and brother. In 1938, he gained admittance to the Wakefield Cathedral Choir. Years later, the composer reminisced that

 . . . my career as a Cathedral chorister left some of the most vivid impressions in my mind of that time of life. I didn’t particularly ask to become a chorister . . . but my father had sung in church choirs all his life, my brother had been a choral scholar before me, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world--nobody questioned it--that I should follow in their footsteps. Unlike my brother I didn’t have much of a voice, I fear, and I would never have made a soloist--but I was able to sing reasonably in tune, and I was able to sight-read; and so I became one of those worthy and stalwart leaders at the bottom end of the stalls--hooting away with not a very strong voice--but to be relied on in moments of crisis. . . .

As far as the repertoire it was pretty wide for those days--we sang some Palestrina, we sang the old favourites--Noble in B minor, Walmisley in D minor, and the Stanford (all fine music in its own right--and thank God that we are getting over our prejudices against the Victorian and Edwardian church music)--and we also sang what was then the latest thing--Darke in F minor--a most exciting experience--Warlock carols, and even a piece by Britten which I didn’t like very much because it seemed so outrageously modern and cacophonous. And then there were many great occasions like the Stanford TE DEUM with Trumpets and Drums--and [Handel’s] Messiah for the first time. I was so completely overwhelmed--emotionally--by the Messiah that I was completely unable to control myself and had to escape from the stalls half way through. Curiously enough I have never heard the Messiah since.

On the whole what an extraordinary richness of musical experience it all was--and what a marvellous musical training!2

Wakefield Cathedral was a High Church of England establishment, and during these years, the composer had his first taste of plainsong. He clearly liked the old chants, and later they were sometimes used verbatim in his compositions. In other works, original themes cast in the plainsong mold were introduced. In the Cathedral Choir, he also sang sacred Tudor polyphonic music, which impressed him,3 and he used a modernized version of the cut and thrust of this style in his own counterpoint later.

In 1947, he was awarded a Hastings Exhibition to study Classics at Queen’s College, Oxford, and a year later he gained permission to continue with Classics, but to also focus principally on music under the direction of the Queen’s College music lecturer, Bernard Rose. Vaughan Williams, Walton, and Britten were Leighton’s idols at this time, and they were to have an effect on his music to a limited degree during the next few years. He learned much during his Oxford music studies, but perhaps the only lasting skill that he acquired was his immense contrapuntal technique.

During his six months of composition studies with Petrassi in 1951, Leighton became more aware of modern Continental musical styles, especially those of Bartók, Hindemith, Stravinsky, as well as the techniques of the Second Viennese School’s serial procedures, and, thereafter, Leighton adopted a much more highly chromatic, mid 20th-century style.

Compositional style

However, he did not adopt one style thereafter for all his compositions. For instance, the choral music, including the works for church services, is quite conservative. In the sacred scores, links with traditional musical style are maintained, yet they sound modern. He achieves this partly by retaining elements of tonal and modal music, while making little use of conventional functional harmony and key signatures. The highly dissonant chords, including cluster chords, in the sacred music have a modern ring to them, but most of these are coincidental, the result of linear counterpoint, not, primarily, vertical thinking.4 At least occasionally, in most of the church pieces Leighton likes to cadence on diatonic chords, which help underline his adherence to tonal/modal traditions. There is also a conventional versus forward-looking ambivalence in the voice leading in Leighton’s church music. This is the result of the contours of the vocal lines being essentially conventional, while at the same time there is a liking for such “dissonant” leaps as augmented fourths and major sevenths.

Almost a third of the ninety-six published works in The Kenneth Leighton Trust’s Opus Index are for use in church services. They consist of nineteen anthems, motets and carols; ten masses and communion services; eight canticles for matins and evensong; one set of preces and responses; five hymn tunes; and two hybrid works that may be sung at the Mass or as concert works.5

Like most 20th-century English church composers, he generally wrote for a four-part all-male choir consisting of trebles, altos, tenors, and basses, and quite frequently called for one or more vocal soloists. In his fondness for centuries-old poetry and prose of the highest literary quality, he showed decided insight into what words blended best with his elevated, emotionally intense musical style. In particular, he set many passages from the King James I version of The Holy Bible of 1611, and the Church of England’s The Book of Common Prayer, whose origins may be traced to 1552. The other old British religious writers whose work he set include Robert Herrick (1592-1674), George Herbert (1593-1633), Sir Thomas Browne (1605-82), Isaac Watts (1674-1748), and Christopher Smart (1722-71).

The organ parts in the church music are idiomatic and important, yet Leighton was not fond of the instrument. He revealed his feelings as early as 1952, when, after playing the new organ in Wakefield Cathedral, he wrote: “It is a very large instrument with five manuals but . . . I don’t like the organ very much. On this instrument, one can produce magnificent effects but I find it incapable of expressing those fine feelings which are the secret of a truly human music. It is an instrument without heart.”6 His reservations were reinforced later when he heard the criticisms of British Romantic/Orchestral instruments of his colleague in the Edinburgh University Faculty of Music, the celebrated organ historian, Peter F. Williams.7

Three Carols

Among the earliest works in the genre is the miniature a cappella Three Carols, Op. 25 (1948-56), for soprano soloist and SATB choir. The modality, occasional open fifth chords, and Picardy third cadences match well the archaic English language and imagery of the texts.

These points are illustrated in the second carol, titled Lully, Lulla, Thou Little Tiny Child. One of the composer’s most celebrated sacred choral works, it echoes, characteristic of his music of the late 1940s, with the style of Vaughan Williams. There is much word painting. For example, the introductory gentle rocking motion of the ostinato musical phrases, as the choir repeatedly sings the words “Lully, Lulla, thou little tiny child,” paints an intimate scene of Mary lovingly, and with gentleness, caring for the baby Jesus in the cradle. The music’s Mixolydian modal harmony enriched with seventh chords, and two cadences containing a Picardy third, enhances the ancient ambiance of the old words. In addition, the waves of close position concordant triadic upper vocal lines over a pedal in the bass capture in sound the image of the nativity scene, with the mother rocking her child to sleep in her arms. (Example 1)

In the second strophe, a loud setting of the words “Herod the king, In his raging, . . . All children young to slay,” the mood changes from the idyllic happiness of verse one to deadly chilliness. This iciness reaches a peak at the word “slay,” which is sung to a dissonant forzato chord consisting of two simultaneous augmented fourths.

With verse three, a setting of words beginning “That woe is me, Poor child for thee!,” there is an abrupt return to the mystical, cradle-song style of the first verse. The choir softly performs a varied version of the music heard at the start of the carol, with the harmony consisting of leisurely paced block chords, embellished with faster moving harmonic and non-harmonic tones. Over this rich four-part choral writing, the soprano soloist effortlessly floats a soaring obbligato line. The juxtaposition of contrasting sonorities, textures, and moods, such as exists in the three verses of Lully, Lulla, Thou Little Tiny Child, is a hallmark of Leighton’s style.

Works of the 1960s

The anthem Give Me the Wings of Faith (1962) is a setting of the All Saints’ Day hymn text of the same title by Isaac Watts. The performing forces are typical of much of the church music the composer wrote in the 1960s: soprano and baritone soloists, SATB choir, and organ. Overall, the anthem is written in a lean, prickly, non-functional harmonic language in which there tend to be many transient dissonances.

There is a mental struggle in Give Me the Wings of Faith, and the mood is complex. At the start, the tone is one of uncertainty and anxiety. Leighton seems to have found disturbing the notions of the human soul rising above into heaven and seeing the saints, who had, like us in our time, wrestled with sins, doubts, and fears. This is depicted in the soprano solo “Give me the wings of faith,” in which the organ accompaniment slithers snake-like in small chromatic intervals. However, the depressing mood, while never completely dispelled in the work, gradually gives way to a more optimistic tone as the saints find their eternal rest through Jesus’ sacrifice on the Cross. The somewhat triumphant final section, which is perhaps best described as being “on” D major, rather than in that key (even though the D major key signature is used), is launched by the baritone soloist singing “They marked the footsteps that he trod” to a bold, wide-ranged melody. This theme is developed at length chorally, and the choir closes with a triumphant chordal setting of “Our glorious Leader claims our praise.” However, the full organ alone has the last word, blazing out majestically, yet with a trace of nervous uncertainty, on a B minor chord with an added C sharp.

A hallmark of Leighton’s style is idiomatic writing for voice, and this is certainly true in Give Me the Wings of Faith. The same could be said of the organ, whose role is to contribute to the singers’ word painting, and provide a continuous web of sound that links up the choral sections. A fondness is evident for flowing manual lines that have chains of parallel perfect fourths and fifths, supported by slower moving pedal parts.

His only arrangements of preexistent church music are O Leave Your Sheep (1962) and Wassail All Over the Town (1964).8 O Leave Your Sheep is a setting of the four-strophe French traditional carol text of the same title, and the tune with which it is usually associated, Quittez Pasteurs. For SATB choir and organ, the work is uncharacteristic of Leighton’s mature style in its tonal idiom, and the scaled-down technical demands. As such, it is accessible to the amateur choir and organist. The preexistent melody undergoes a limited amount of variation after the first verse, and is easily recognizable throughout. Verse one, in F major, is sung by a soprano soloist or by all the sopranos, with a light and transparent organ accompaniment that is almost entirely in the treble clef. In verse two, which is in D major, the melody is treated to four-voice imitation, with sustained organ chords in the bass register. The D minor, a cappella third verse is much more ruminative, almost improvisatory, and the preexistent melody is treated more freely. After this section of relative repose, an energetic mood is introduced by the staccato, highly rhythmic organ introduction to the last verse, and this is followed by imitative entries of the voices. The chordal vocal writing gradually increases in excitement and becomes exultant, while the organ accompaniment adds further to the joyous sound with long flowing chains of parallel thirds in the manuals over sustained bass notes in the pedals. O Leave Your Sheep ends ecstatically with a più largo block chord phrase and perfect cadence in D major alla Handel for choir and organ.

The ten-minute setting of the matins canticle Te Deum Laudamus (1964) for soprano and baritone soli, SATB chorus, and organ, is arguably one of Leighton’s first great liturgical masterpieces. It marked a major confluence in the development of the composer, where, at last, his creative inspiration was matched by his mastery of the tools of his profession.

Most of the hallmarks of his style are present in the work. Among these elements is the taste for soloists, with the traditional Church of England SATB choir and organ. Other aspects of his style, already noted in previous works, that are also found here include a freely dissonant, non-functional harmonic idiom; plainsong-like melismatic vocal embellishments; masterly imitative counterpoint and abundant word painting.

The opening is a good example of the style. Over a series of held, close-position cluster chords on the organ, each of which begins with a Scotch snap articulation, the soprano soloist declaims the words “We praise thee” over and over again, “praise” being embellished more elaborately with each repetition, much along the lines of settings of joyous words in Gregorian chant. One by one the choir sections enter and rise in excited acclamation as they surge forward to the first loud grand climax, a moment endowed with a sense of glorious revelation, at the word “everlasting” on an F major chord.

There is a lull in the rejoicing at the words “When thou tookest upon thee to deliver man: thou didst not abhor the Virgin’s womb,” which are set in a polymetric,9 syllabic style reminiscent of ancient chant.

The counterpoint is frequently linear and imitative, supported by a foundation of rhythmic figuration in the organ accompaniment. This may be seen, for example, in the setting of “When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death” (bars 83-91). Cruelly painful cut-and-thrust imitative counterpoint, in which simultaneous seconds create flashes of hard sharp dissonance, are heard over a backdrop of vaguely menacing syncopated, rhythmic detached chords in the organ manuals, and a more sustained pedal line. (Example 2)

The ancestry of such musical pathos might be traced to the choral settings of similar texts by late Renaissance and early Baroque English composers, such as Tallis, Byrd, and Weelkes. In passing, one might also mention the two-part polyphony in Example 2: sopranos and tenors singing the same line in octaves, altos and basses singing the other line in octaves. This was a type of doubling of pairs of voices at the octave that Vaughan Williams had utilized in contrapuntal passages in, for example, his Te Deum in G (1928), O How Amiable (1934), and the Benedicite (1939).10 Britten also wrote passages like this in such works as Antiphon (1956), a setting of sacred words by George Herbert for choir (with optional soloists) and organ. The Te Deum appears to be the first work in which Leighton used this texture. He was to use it many times in his subsequent church music, partly, one might suspect, because it sounds effective, but also because two parts are easier to sing than four parts, and this offers relief from singing in four real parts.

The bustle of the setting of “When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death” ends dramatically with fortissimo cluster chords on the organ that create a cacophony of sound, followed by general pause. After the silence, a volcanic blast of sound erupts as choir and organ present the words “We believe that thou shalt come to be our Judge.” Leighton obviously is struck with grave misgivings, possibly fear, at the thought of the Last Judgment, and the music of this short, highly dissonant passage, marked Lento sostenuto and fortississimo, is pervaded with a sense of bewildering awe mingled with anxiety. The emotionally distraught mood is initiated by a loud, low pedal point on the organ pedals, and twisting, snake-like chromatic counterpoint in the manuals. Then the voices enter in a five-part stretto-like point of imitation. (Example 3)

An element of prayerful hopefulness ensues at the start of the last section of the work, as the baritone soloist sings softly and with contrition in a plainsong-like chanting style “We therefore pray thee help thy servants.” The setting of “Day by day we worship thy Name: ever world without end” is bright and joyful, but this is halted abruptly by a sense of dread and fear in an acridly dissonant chord at the word “sin” in the phrase “Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin.” With reminiscences of the organ music with its Scotch snap rhythms that had been heard at the opening of the composition, the choir then presents “O Lord, have mercy upon us” with very expressive, pianissimo, ethereal phrases. Finally, after the choir’s last, prayerful entreaty, “O Lord, in thee have I trusted, let me never be confounded,” the organ ends the work with a whispered F-sharp major chord.

Less than a year after the Te Deum Laudamus, Leighton wrote an anthem on George Herbert’s hymn text Let All the World in Every Corner Sing (1965) for SATB choir and organ. Since both the Te Deum and Let All the World texts are joyous, and the pieces were composed close to each other, it is hardly surprising to note similarities between them. For example, at the start of the anthem he uses the two-voice canonic imitative style between the altos and basses singing the same line in octaves simultaneously, and the paired sopranos and tenors in octaves simultaneously, that was noted in the Te Deum. Such two-voice canonic imitation appears several times in the anthem, and there are also several passages in which, in like fashion, the four voice parts divide into pairs singing in octaves, though not in imitation.

In the first section, the organ has staccato, fragmented phrases against which the voices joust. As in the Te Deum, there is a departure from conventional, rhythmically square, metric writing. This occurs in the short polymetric setting of the words “The heavens are not too high, His praises may thither fly,” where the music slips quickly from 3/4+3/8 to 4/4, 7/8, 4/4, and 7/8, before settling in 4/4. (Example 4)

In the concluding passage of the anthem, the words and a variation of the music of the opening return in the manner of a recapitulation. However, here there is a much greater sense of excitement, of breathtaking denouement. Contributing to this sense of rousing celebration is the thickening choral texture to five parts, with the sopranos dividing into two parts, and all the voices being called upon to sing in their upper ranges. The organ also adds to the drive to climax. Far more flamboyant and bombastic than at the opening of the anthem, the instrument’s assertive role is to provide rhythmic excitement with short motivic groupings of ejaculatory cluster chords, punctuated by short general rests. In addition, the organ has numerous short joyous rushing ascending scales that are reminiscent, possibly, of one of Leighton’s musical heroes, Howells, who was fond of these embellishing figures as an expression of joy in his church music organ parts. After so much astringent dissonance, the organ brings down the curtain on the anthem with an appropriately shrill, dissonant chord: C-sharp and D major chords played simultaneously--in effect the simultaneous sounding of tonic and dominant harmony, a tonally ambiguous ending.

First Masses

In the 1960s Leighton composed his first Masses: Missae Sancti Thomae, Op. 40 (1962), Mass, Op. 44 (1964), Communion Service in D, Op. 45 (1965), and Missa Brevis, Op. 50 (1967).

The twenty-six-minute Mass, Op. 44, for double mixed chorus, is arguably a masterpiece. The first of only two Latin Masses by the composer,11 it is a cappella, except the Credo, which calls for organ, and is in the Palestrina style, as seen through a 20th-century prism. Among the innumerable remarkable passages in the Mass is the opening of the Kyrie Eleison, which starts with a solo voice singing in the minor mode, and surges irresistibly to an immense, fortississimo climax for double chorus at bar 17. The passage’s penitential, bittersweet opening that quickly changes to a great paean of confident optimism is so characteristic of Leighton’s mercurial nature. (Example 5)

An Easter Sequence, Op. 55 (1968) is a fourteen-minute piece in five movements, for boys’ or female voices and organ with optional trumpet. Considering the crème de la crème choir for which the work was written,12 one might have expected a more technically demanding, showy composition. In fact, the vocal writing is tonal; the melodic contours conventional, and there are no gallery-pleasing virtuosic fast melismatic lines. Nor is the organ part especially difficult. In the absence of a trumpeter, the solo trumpet part may be played on a trumpet stop, if one is available on the organ being used.

An Easter Sequence is not a sequence in one of the traditional music history or theory meanings of the word. It is a homogeneous series of pieces,13 setting in English of four Roman Catholic liturgical texts and Psalm 23.14 If the five movements are performed at Mass, they are to be sung as the Introit, Gradual, Offertory, Communion, and Sortie. The work may also be sung on the concert platform.

One may notice similarities between An Easter Sequence and Britten’s Missa Brevis in D (1959) for three-part boys voices and organ, written for the boys of Westminster Cathedral Choir. As in Britten’s composition, there is much three-part writing for the voices, though single- and two-part music is more common. Several passages of canon-like imitation, and a number of ostinatos in the organ accompaniment in Leighton’s work are also Brittenesque.15 In addition, like Britten, the Yorkshireman is especially adept at word painting. For example, he captures the mostly joyous Introit text, “Alleluia. Rejoice in God our helper: Sing aloud to the God of Jacob,” with buoyant, dancing vocal lines that leap lightly, and with staccato articulation. See also the setting of Jesus’ words “Peace be with you” in the Gradual. This music is ethereal, and consists of a soft, glossy, heavenly halo of sustained four-part chords--the only four-part phrase in the composition. The pastoral imagery of Psalm 23 is captured immediately in the opening gentle, reflective organ solo. The melody, in the organist’s right hand, is a chromatic, sinuous, rhythmically complex line oscillating within a narrow pitch range. The left hand accompaniment consists of a close-position cluster-chord that undergoes slight alterations over a pedal point.

In the Sortie, the organ part is much heavier and dominant than in the earlier movements, and it shines forth in a most thrilling manner. This is illustrated in the instrument’s slow improvisatory introductory solo section, with its chromatic, serpentine lines. Then the main section of the movement begins, in the style of a very fast fanfare for voices, organ, and trumpet. Against a backdrop of brightly registered, rhythmic, often stabbing organ chords, the choir, in unison throughout, declaims in brief snappy phrases “God is ascended in jubilee,” and short trumpet obbligato phrases rasp out as the choir sings “and the Lord in the sound of the trumpet” in short, motivic, rhythmic fanfares.

This material is heard again in the coda of the Sortie. First, a greatly transformed variant of the chromatic organ introduction to the movement is presented over a pedal C. Then, the choir sings the stirring vocal fanfare-like phrases “God is ascended, and the Lord in the sound of the trumpet” that were heard early in the movement, while the organ pursues its own path of syncopated, rhythmic, stabbing, highly dissonant manual chords. As so often happens with Leighton, the organ (with trumpet) has the last words: an emotionally gripping tonic C major chord combined with the dominant chord.        

This article will be continued.

Enrique Alberto Arias

Enrique Alberto Arias holds a PhD in music history and literature from Northwestern University. He is currently associate professor in the School for New Learning at DePaul University, Chicago. In addition, he is president of Ars Musica Chicago.

Wilhelm Middelschulte (1863-1943), the distinguished organist and composer, is a name found frequently in the earlier issues of The Diapason.1 The present article will consider his Kontrapunktische Symphonie über Themen von Joh. Seb. Bach. In addition to the discussion of this great and complex work, Middelschulte's connections to Ferruccio Busoni and Bernhard Ziehn will be explored as well as Middelschulte's position within the so-called Chicago "Gothic" school.

Biography

Middelschulte was born in Heeren Werve, near Dortmund, Germany on 3 April 1863. He received a good part of his musical education at the Royal Academy of Church Music in Berlin, where he studied with Haupt, Loeschern, Alsleben, Commer (editor of the series of early music entitled Musica Sacra), and Schröder. He also studied with August Knabe in Soest, who considered Middelschulte his most famous student. Knabe also seems to have instilled Middelschulte's profound veneration of Bach. Middelschulte is often said to have been Haupt's last student and to have functioned as his assistant. Carl August Haupt (1810-91) was a distinguished organist who participated in the Bach revival of the 19th century; thus these years of study with Haupt also formed many of the features of Middelschulte's career. Middelschulte became Haupt's assistant and later was the organist and choirmaster of the St. Lucas Church in Berlin.

In 1891, Middelschulte came to Chicago, where he served as the organist at Holy Name Cathedral, a position he held until 1895. During this time he studied with the theorist and composer Bernhard Ziehn (1845-1912), who, as we shall later see, deeply influenced Middelschulte's musical style. In 1893, Middelschulte gave a series of recitals for the Columbian Exposition. He also held organist positions at St. James Catholic Church in Chicago and the K.A.M. Temple. In 1894, Middelschulte became organist for the Theodore Thomas Orchestra (later, Chicago Symphony Orchestra), a position held until 1918, when the anti-German sentiments of the First World War caused him to leave this post. An indication of the honor in which he was held was that he played for both the memorial services of Emperor Frederick III in Germany and for Theodore Thomas.2

During these years he taught at the American Conservatory of Music in Chicago, the Wisconsin Conservatory, and the Detroit Conservatory of Music (originally known as the Foundation Music School). According to Hans Joachim Moser, Middelschulte was at the American Conservatory from 1891 to 1918, but in fact he was at the Conservatory until 1936.3 He is listed on the faculty of the conservatory until the fall of 1936, and in 1932 he took the place of Adolf Weidig, who had died in 1931, as a leading member of the theory department in addition to his position in the organ department. In 1922, he received an honorary LL.D. degree from Notre Dame University, where he regularly gave summer classes in organ. By this time Middelschulte was Chicago's major organist and an important composer of works for organ. In 1939, Middelschulte returned to Germany, just before the outbreak of World War II. During the last few years of his life, Middelschulte lived in Switzerland and Italy because of declining health. He died in Dortmund, Germany on 4 May 1943 of a heart attack. Among his many students, several went on to have major organ careers, principally Virgil Fox and Arthur C. Becker, about whom I have written previously for The Diapason.4

Thus, although born and educated in Germany, Middelschulte made the United States and, more specifically, Chicago his home. Middelschulte was a scholar and composer, whose works re-flect his intimate knowledge of Bach.5 Middelschulte was, by all accounts, a virtuoso organist of the first order, famous for his performances from memory (he was one of the first organists to do this). His performances of Bach were widely recognized as models of style, thus relating to Ferruccio Busoni's fabled Bach performances on the piano. Middelschulte's repertory was apparently vast. For example, the 1 June 1926 issue of The Diapason announced that Middelschulte would give a series of four recitals at Notre Dame in July of that year. One recital was to be "historical," and included compositions by Palestrina, Frescobaldi, Merulo, Gabrieli, and masters of the Baroque period. The second recital, not unexpectedly, was to be devoted to the organ works of Bach. The third (and this is striking) was to be of American organ music (including a composition by John J. Becker, one of the members of the American experimentalist group and a student of Middelschulte's), while the final recital was to be a potpourri, but including works by Reger and Bach.6 Few organists could equal such a feat. But this series is interesting for its inclusion of works before Bach. His studies with Franz Commer, one of the most important musicologists of the 19th century, would have made him aware of this repertory. His recital of American organ music, despite his conservative German background, shows his interest in promoting the music of his students.

It is impossible to understand Middelschulte's accomplishments without a consideration of his German connections and the German tradition of such Chicago musical institutions as the American Conservatory of Music and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. The American Conservatory of Music was founded in 1886 and incorporated in 1887. The founder was John J. Hattstaedt, and by the early 20th century the American Conservatory was considered one of the leading music schools in Chicago. It had strong ties to Germany in that most of its faculty were trained there. Thus, for example, Adolf Weidig (1867-1931), who had studied with such notables as Riemann and Rheinberger, continued this German tradition at the conservatory, where he taught composition and theory. Weidig was also a violinist who played in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and an accomplished composer whose works deserve renewed attention.7 His teachings are summarized in the text that was widely used at this time: Harmonic Material and Its Uses (Chicago: Clayton Summy, 1923).

There were many other important German musicians in Chicago at this time. For example, Emil Liebling (1851-1914), a student of Liszt's and known for his editions of the etudes of Carl Czerny, was an impressive pedagogue who also was an editor for The American History and Encyclopedia of Music. He came to Chicago in 1872 and remained until his death.8 Bernhard Listermann (1841-1917) was the concertmaster of the Thomas Orchestra and continued a distinguished career in Chicago, publishing a violin method and some compositions. This list must include the great Theodore Thomas (1835-1905), born in Essen, Germany, and the founder of what would become the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Thomas was one of the major conductors of his time who permanently left his mark on Chicago.9

Theodore Thomas founded the Chicago Orchestra in 1890, but the name of the orchestra was changed to the Theodore Thomas Orchestra in 1905 and then the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in 1912. Thomas conducted the orchestra until his death in 1905, when he was succeeded by Frederick Stock, who conducted the orchestra until 1942 (the year of his death). The Chicago Symphony Orchestra was created in the German tradition, and the rehearsals were conducted in German up to World War I. There was great emphasis placed on German repertory (including the then-modern Richard Strauss), and the orchestra was known for its German sound because of the rich brass, a tradition that continues to the present day. Middelschulte accordingly worked in musical institutions where his German musical heritage was highly valued and where he made significant contributions.

Middelschulte's influences

Middelschulte's compositional style grew out of his studies of Bach, but it was also clearly influenced by the theories of Bernhard Ziehn, with whom he studied in Chicago. Bernhard Ziehn (1845-1912) was born in Erfurt, Germany, but came to Chicago in 1868 to teach mathematics and music theory in the German Lutheran School of Chicago. In addition to his studies of music theory and history, Ziehn was an accomplished mathematician and botanist, whose studies of poison ivy were commended by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Ziehn had a number of notable students, including the composer John Alden Carpenter and the pianist Fannie Bloomfield-Zeisler. It was said that Middelschulte was Ziehn's favorite student, and certainly he was the student who most clearly exemplified Ziehn's theories in his own work.

Ziehn had promulgated a principle of symmetric inversion: that in chromatic music a figure or motive could be inverted exactly without regard to tonal considerations. Ziehn writes in Canonical Studies: A New Technique in Composition: "Experience gained by careful practice is the only means of finding out whether or not a setting is suitable for symmetric inversion. No rules can be given, but with certainty we can say: the more chromatic a setting is the more appropriate it becomes for symmetric inversion, because chromatic progression is the smoothest."10 From this quote it is clear that by using symmetric intervals tonality is obscured; thus Ziehn adumbrates an idea that is also found in Schoenberg's 12-tone serialism. This technique is illustrated in Example 1.

Another influence on the music of Middelschulte was that of Ludwig Thiele (1816-48). Thiele had been a classmate of Mendelssohn's, and, like Haupt (Middelschulte's teacher), had studied with A.W. Bach. Thiele wrote a number of large-scale organ works that evidence the same kinds of canonic techniques, double pedal usage, and chromaticism that are characteristic of Middelschulte's works. It is evident that the Haupt, Thiele, and Rheinberger (just to name a few) were deeply influenced by J. S. Bach and thus prepared the way for Reger and Middelschulte.11 In turn, they were indebted to Mendelsohn's and Schumann's revitalization of Bach performance and scholarship.

Busoni and Middelschulte

Ferruccio Busoni and Middelschulte enjoyed a personal relationship. In 1910, while on tour, Busoni gave some concerts in Chicago. At that time it seems Ziehn suggested to Busoni that he complete Bach's Art of Fugue . Instead of doing so, Busoni took the themes of the incomplete Contrapunctus found at the end of the Art of Fugue  as the basis for what would ultimately become the Fantasia contrappuntistica. As Busoni himself writes referring to the decision to add a new theme to the Contrapunctus:

The fourth subject, on the other hand, had to be a completely new creation; there was no clew as to its character. There was the inevitable stipulation that this fourth subject had to sound simultaneously with the three earlier ones and must also suit them. As the principal theme of the Art of Fugue  (of which the "Fragment" forms the close) was not one of the three subjects already worked out it was easy to guess that this principal theme should step in (as fourth) and thus close the circle of the whole work. Bernhard Ziehn, in Chicago, gave an affirmative and conclusive answer to my question on this point, and I was able to begin this part of my work on sure ground.12

But John J. Becker, who, as previously noted, had studied with Middelschulte, writes:

It was Middelschulte who helped Busoni on the way, by suggesting that he study the theoretical combinations as worked out along the same line by Bernhard Ziehn of Chicago. (Middelschulte is proud to call himself a disciple of Ziehn). Busoni did so, and was convinced by those studies that Bach intended using the theme of the very first Fugue of "Die Kunst der Fuge." He worked along this line and successfully found the solution, thereby solving one of the most difficult aesthetic problems confronting the musical world.13

This implies that it was Middelschulte more than Ziehn who influenced the conception of the Fantasia contrappuntistica. Indeed, Busoni knew about Ziehn through Middelschulte and this opens up the question whether Busoni and Ziehn ever met personally.

As Marc-André Roberge points out, the first version entitled Grosse Fuge was sketched and written between January and March 1910 and was a continuation of the Contrapunctus XV from the Art of Fugue .14 In June 1910 Busoni reworked the Grosse Fuge into the Fantasia contrappuntistica by adding the "Preludio corale" based on the third of the Sechs Elegien for piano (1907). This Elegie is entitled "Meine Seele bangt und hofft zu dir" (My soul is afraid and hopes in you). It is, however, actually based on the chorale Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr'.15 In July 1921, Busoni rewrote the Fantasia for two pianos and somewhat modified its complex structure. It is this two-piano version of the Fantasia contrappuntistica that is the best known. Busoni, however, wrote: "The Fantasia contrappuntistica is thought of neither for pianoforte nor organ, nor orchestra. It is music. The sound-medium which imparts this music to the listener is of secondary importance."16

The relationship between Middelschulte and the Fantasia is striking. In 1911 Middelschulte made an arrangement of the Fantasia for solo organ and, it now seems clear, according to Roberge, that he helped or even composed the organ part for Frederick Stock's arrangement of the Fantasia contrappuntistica for organ and orchestra that was made in the same year. Roberge writes:

Busoni dedicated the edizione definitiva of the Fantasia contrappuntistica "An Wilhelm Middelschulte, Meister des Kontrapunkts." He must have had for Middelschulte a profound admiration, since he chose him to be the dedicatee of one of his most ambitious works. It is obvious that both men discussed some compositional aspects of the work, because sketches for the Grosse Fuge contain contrapuntal studies based on the Art of Fugue  by both Middelschulte and Ziehn. There are also two four-part canons bearing the dedication "Herrn Ferruccio Busoni zur frdl. [freundlichen] Errinerung von W. Middelschulte, Chicago. 16. Januar 1910."17

Chicago Gothic Tradition

It is thus obvious that Middelschulte participated in the conception of the Fantasia and was considered by Busoni to be "a master of counterpoint." Both Ziehn and Middelschulte were, furthermore, the principal members of what Busoni termed the "Chicago Gothic" school. As we shall directly see, Middelschulte ultimately responded to Busoni's Fantasia with a work related in a general way to Busoni's Fantasia contrappuntistica: the Kontrapunktische Symphonie (1932).

Middelschulte wrote exclusively for the organ, and his style is fairly consistent from his earliest works through those of his later years. The general aura of these works is indeed "Gothic," which is to say that a dark chromatic, contrapuntal style prevails. Textures are thick, and the ear is constantly surprised by the harmonic progressions caused by the chromatic and frequently dissonant counterpoint. Many sections are saturated chromatically, which is to say that all twelve chromatic pitches follow in rapid succession in all the voices of the texture. Because of this, many sections employ a kind of atonality; thus conservative and radical elements are blended in his works. Middelschulte's compositions are difficult to listen to because of their subtle references, complex textures, and extensive designs. The structures and rhythmic language are clearly derived from Bach; thus Middelschulte, like Reger, Busoni, and, later, Hindemith, employs a neoclassicism based on German models.

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie über Themen von Joh. Seb. Bach is a culminating work. It is, however, a reworking of his earlier Kanonische Fantasia über B.A.C.H. und Fuge über Themen von J.S. Bach (1906). The Fantasy is based on 43 variations in canon over the BACH theme in the bass. The fugues that follow are based on some of the same themes that Middelschulte would subsequently use in the Kontrapunktische Symphonie: the theme from the Musical Offering , the theme from the "Confiteor" of the Mass in B Minor, the BACH theme from the Art of Fugue , and the theme from the Toccata and Fugue in D minor . Both these compositions are dedicated to August Knabe, Middelschulte's teacher from the Teachers College in Soest, Germany.18 In addition to the use of the same themes, specific sections, such as the fugue based on the theme from the Musical Offering , of the Kontrapunktische Symphonie and the conclusion are derived from the earlier work. Accordingly, the Kontrapunktische Symphonie develops the line of thought present in the Kanonische Fantasie; but, as we shall see, it uses more themes and develops more combinations as a result. The following points reflect an overview of the connections between these two compositions: 1) The concept is the same for both works. 2) The same themes by Bach are chosen though, as we shall see, the Kontrapunktische Symphonie employs 14 themes derived from Bach, while the Kanonische Fantasie employs only four. 3) Specific sections of the later work are derived from the earlier (but often with changes of counterpoint). 4) Both clearly result from Middelschulte's study of Bach.

One can ask why Middelschulte wrote two compositions closely related to each other several decades apart. Perhaps Middelschulte wanted to work out further possibilities in the Kontrapunktische Symphonie not present in the Kanonische Fantasie; thus the Kontrapunktische Symphonie uses more themes and the combinations are more complex. Although the general conception of the two works is the same, the Kontrapunktische Symphonie has an even denser harmonic language and more intricate structure.

Although written later in Middelschulte's career, the Kontrapunkstiche Symphonie also reflects Middelschulte's early association with Ziehn and Busoni. It combines Ziehn's approach to organizing chromaticism through symmetric inversion with Busoni's concept of a series of fugues based on Bach but expanding on the given themes. But it must also be noted that the Kanonische Fantasie, the composition that is reworked and developed for the Kontrapunktische Symphonie, was composed before Busoni's Fantasia contrappuntistica and may well have impacted Busoni's conception of this stunning work. Thus it seems that a work by Middelschulte perhaps influenced Busoni, whose Fantasia contrappuntistica in turn is mirrored in the Kontrapunktische Symphonie.

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie was premiered in 1932, as the following notice from The Diapason dated 1 June 1932 makes clear:

A new work for the organ which is expected to attract much more than ordinary attention is a Symphony in D minor on themes and motives by Johann Sebastian Bach, which has been composed by Wilhelm Middelschulte, Ll. D., and is to receive its initial performance at the summer series of recitals to be played by Dr. Middelschulte at Notre Dame University, South Bend, Ind., and in a recital at Rockefeller Chapel, University of Chicago, June 5.

This implies that the composition was completed by 1932, although it was not published until 1935. This is also evident from a letter Middelschulte wrote to  John J. Becker, his student, on 28 July 1932 in which he says: ". . . I enclose a program of music which shows you that I have not been idle--wrote a Symphonie on 12 [sic] Bach themes for the organ . . . played it here in Chicago and Detroit--everywhere with great success . . ." Again he writes in another letter of 9 January 1933: "Enclosed is a program of music of my Contrapuntal Symphony--built on 14 Bach themes--wish I had fifteen fingers . . . had great success with it in Detroit and still polishing it--also at work on my 2nd Symphony . . . "19 I believe that Middelschulte forgot for the moment how many Bach themes he actually used, but it is evident from the second quotation that he was still working on the final details in 1933.

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie consists of a prelude and five fugues on 14 themes from various compositions by Bach. In the preface, Middelschulte lists these themes as well as their sources:

1. The Musical Offering , BGA, VI, p. 222.

2. Confiteor and Remissionem from the Mass in B Minor, BGA, VI, p. 264.

3. Fugue in D Minor, BGA, XV, p. 269.

4. Fugue in B Minor, BGA, XV, p. 206.

5. Prelude and Fugue in C Minor, BGA, XV, p. 218.

6. Art of Fugue , BGA, XXV, 1 and XLVII.

7. Fugue in C Minor, BGA, XV, p. 132.

8. Prelude in A Minor, BGA, XV, p. 198.

9. Fugue in E Minor, BGA, XV, p. 242.

10. BACH theme from the Art of Fugue , BGA, XXV, 1 and XLVII.

11. Chorale prelude Sleepers Awake, BGA, XXV, 2, p. 63.

12. Canon at the Fifth from the Goldberg Variations , BGA, III, p. 282.

13. Fugue in C Major, WTC I, BGA, XIV, p. 4.

14. Fugue in E-flat Minor, WTC I, BGA, XIV, p. 34.

Of these themes, the most important and the one that prevails throughout is that from the Musical Offering . It will be remembered that this theme is actually by Frederick the Great and was used by Bach as the basis for the various musical transformations of the Musical Offering . The theme from the Art of Fugue is given less importance. Some themes are highlighted and become the themes for the fugues, a practice similar to that found in Ziehn's Canonical Studies, while other themes from this group of fourteen play a subsidiary role. Only two vocal works are cited, the Mass in B Minor and the chorale Wachet auf from the Cantata No. 140. Themes are combined and their keys are changed to fit Middelschulte's tonal plan. In addition, the BACH theme and the references to Bach's three great cyclic works (the Goldberg Variations , The Musical Offering , and the Art of Fugue ) are symbolic and link the Kontrapunktische Symphonie to Middelschulte's veneration of Bachian contrapuntal mastery.

Bach's cyclic works, the Art of Fugue  and The Musical Offering , served as paradigms for the Kontrapunktische Symphonie, although Middelschulte's composition is on a smaller scale than the Bach works and, for that matter, the Busoni Fantasia as well. In addition, the contrapuntal quodlibet concept or the combination of themes from disparate sources found in such Renaissance works as Heinrich Isaac's Missa Carminum or Jacob Obrecht's Missa diversorum tenorum is used. Middelschulte also at times presents the same theme at different rates of speed, as does Johannes Ockeghem's Missa prolationum. I am not suggesting that Middelschulte knew these Masses, but the similarities in techniques are striking, and Middelschulte was perhaps aware of the Renaissance tradition of quodlibet and mensuration canon through his studies with Commer and Ziehn.

Middelschulte has furthermore employed his most extreme chromatic style as well as the idea of symmetric inversion derived from Bernhard Ziehn. (Example 2) As a result, Middelschulte's organ works are strikingly similar to those by Reger, who likewise combined chromaticism with the procedures of Bach. In a word, the Kontrapunktische Symphonie summarizes Middelschulte's outlook as a composer and relates to Busoni's Fantasia contrappuntistica. Both build on the "Gothic" idea of complex fugal procedures.20

For Busoni, Ziehn and Middelschulte were the two members of the Chicago Gothic tradition, a tradition that stretched back to the Flemish and German masters of the Renaissance and epitomized in the music of J.S. Bach. It is found again in the music of César Franck and is notable for its use of counterpoint that creates unusual harmonic progressions. Essentially, Busoni held that Ziehn and Middelschulte created dissonant counterpoint that went beyond the restrictions of tonality, thus employing a concept central to the music of Hindemith as well. Although Ziehn was a composer, his music is not on the level of Middelschulte's organ compositions; thus Middelschulte's works and especially the Kontrapunktische Symphonie manifest Busoni's tenets as does his own Fantasia contrappuntistica.

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie does not present the fourteen themes in the order in which they are listed in the preface to the score, but rather treats them in cumulative fashion; thus the introduction presents the B-A-C-H motive to furnish the symbolic context for the entire composition: a celebration of the contrapuntal genius of J.S. Bach.  Emphasis is placed on the B-A-C-H theme as well as the themes from The Musical Offering  and the Art of Fugue . Middelschulte relates these themes in such a way as to show their symbolic implications.

The work begins with an introduction marked recitativo based on the B-A-C-H theme. (Example 3) The dotted rhythms give the impression of a French overture. Toward the end of this section Ziehn's technique of symmetric inversion is evident. This section recurs at the end of the work, creating an arch form. The first fugue uses the theme from The Musical Offering  presented at different rates of speed simultaneously. (Example 4a) This section is derived from the Kanonische Fantasie, where the note values are presented at half the speed and the bass voice is an octave lower. (Example 4b) Fugue No. 2 presents No. 13 from the group of fourteen themes (refer to the list of Bach themes above) as a countermotive. Later, the theme from the Art of Fugue  is combined with the theme from the Toccata and Fugue in D minor . (Example 5)

Fugue No. 3 again emphasizes theme No. 3, derived from the celebrated Toccata and Fugue in D minor . The B-A-C-H and No. 9 themes are present as well, combined with the theme from the Toccata. This fugue ends with a cadenza-like passage based on No. 8 that leads into the next fugue. (Example 6) Various combinations of themes ap-pear in this fugue. Nos. 9 and 10 appear as do Nos. 4 and 3. In all, this fugue employs Nos. 3, 9, 10, 4, 6, 7, 2, and 8. Fugue No. 4 begins with references to the B-A-C-H theme (Example 7) as well as the motives from the Goldberg Variations  and Wachet auf. It should be noted that the motive from the Goldberg Variations  is always treated in combination with other ideas. Also striking in this section is the combination of the themes from the D-minor and E-flat-minor fugues. This fugue presents various combinations of themes not found previously: 11 and 13 and, at the end, 3 and 14. Nos. 10, 12, 11, 13, 1, 3, and 14 appear in this fugue. Because of the slow tempo, this fugue functions as an interlude.

The fifth and final fugue combines previous elements, but it leads to a Maestoso section that harmonizes the theme from The Musical Offering  and is derived from a similar episode in the Kanonische Fantasie (where the harmonization is slightly different). This fugue presents themes 10, 3, 1, and 6; and it ends with a grandiose conclusion with trills in the outer voices. The BACH theme and the theme from the Art of Fugue  are here combined and emphasized both musically and symbolically. (Example 8)

In general, the dominating themes are 1, 3, 6, and 10, while the others are subsidiary. Themes are transposed and combined, sometimes at different rates of speed. As is clear from this discussion, the themes are not presented in the order that they appear in the preface; but, later themes in the numeric order are usually found later in the work. The themes are well known and reflect Middelschulte's knowledge of Bach's keyboard literature. At times, themes are only suggested. This is true, for example, of the Fugue subject in C major from WTC I, which is briefly treated as a countermotive in Fugue No. 2. Likewise, the motive from one of the canons from the Goldberg Variations  always is secondary to some other theme.

The following outline lists the order of the themes in the Kontrapunktische Symphonie:

Introduction: No. 10

Fugue 1: No. 1

Fugue 2: Nos. 2, 1, 5

Fugue 3: Nos. 3, 9, 4, 6, 7, 2, 8

Fugue 4: Nos. 10, 11, 13, 12, 3, 14

Fugue 5: 10, 1, 3

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie, however, is more than a series of Bach quotations, for it has a powerful overall unity. This is achieved through the relationships between the fugues and the general tonal plan. Thus the introduction sets the tone for the work and leads into the first fugue. The first three fugues form a longer section and are marked by increasing rhythmic activity. Fugue No. 3 ends with a sustained toccata-like section that leads into Fugue No. 4. This fugue is in a tranquillo tempo and again strongly refers to the B-A-C-H motive; thus it serves as a slow interlude and a preparation for the fifth and final fugue. It is also notable for the largest number of thematic combinations. The fifth and final fugue, because of its return to a quick tempo and the central tonality of D, represents the climax of the work. As the work nears its conclusion, the tempo moves to Maestoso, as mentioned previously, with a harmonization of the theme from The Musical Offering  and references to the B-A-C-H theme, thus relating to the opening. This final section serves as the coda to the final fugue but also to the work as a whole.

The following shows the connections between the fugues:

Introduction--Fugues 1, 2, 3--Tranquillo Fugue with its BACH reference--Fugue 5 that returns to the tempo and figuration of the first three fugues--Maestoso conclusion.

This suggests that the fugues create longer sections and that there are cyclic references to the B-A-C-H motive which regularly punctuate the work. In one sense, it is possible to look at the work as having four sections: the introduction, the first three fugues, the slow interlude, and the concluding fugue with its peroration. Although the harmonic language is densely chromatic and the tonal references at the local level obscure, the use of D as an anchoring tonality at key spots of the work is structurally important. On the other hand, the most tonally ambiguous sections (built on the BACH motive) occur at the beginning and during the slow fugue. The final cadence of the work can be seen as a slow descent from E- flat to D.21

The term Symphonie, it seems to me, is used in two senses: as an indication of the scope of the work but also to imply that the organ is used in its full symphonic grandeur. As has been suggested throughout this article, there are clear connections between Busoni's Fantasia contrappuntistica and the Kontrapunktische Symphonie. As will be remembered, Middelschulte made an arrangement of the Fantasia and Busoni dedicated the final version of the work to him. In addition, the genesis of the Fantasia occurred during a period when Busoni was in close contact with Middelschulte. Both Busoni and Middelschulte were consummate virtuosi deeply involved with the music of Bach; thus the Fantasia contrappuntistica relates to the Kontrapunktische Symphonie. The parallels between the works can be summarized as follows:

Both reflect Bach's cyclic contrapuntal works: The Musical Offering  and the Art of Fugue .

Both were influenced by the theories of Bernhard Ziehn.

Both use a chromatic language influenced by Bach, Liszt, and Ziehn himself.

Both are based on the cyclic concept of fugues exemplified by the Art of Fugue .

Both use the D dorian mode as a focal tonality.

Both exemplify the aesthetics of the Chicago "Gothic" School.

Conclusion

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie was not Middelschulte's last composition. Middelschulte wrote a set of variations on "The Old 100th" that was completed in Italy before he left for Germany, but is now lost. In addition, he planned or composed a second symphony (probably in the style of the Kontrapunktische Symphonie). There is no indication as to when this work was started or how far it had progressed, though the letter of 1935 mentioned previously refers to it.22

The Kontrapunktische Symphonie is a manifestation of the relationships between and among Ziehn, Busoni, and Middelschulte, but it also reflects the Bach tradition beginning with Mendelssohn and continuing through Thiele and Haupt. It summarizes Middelschulte's lifelong interest in the music of Bach as well as approaches found in his earlier organ compositions. It also mirrors the Chicago-German connection as well as what Busoni termed "Young Classicism," or "the sifting and the turning to account all the gains of previous experiments and their inclusion in strong and beautiful form."23 Furthermore it epitomizes the Chicago "Gothic" tradition, a tradition of exploring recondite chromatic techniques and contrapuntal sophistication. This masterpiece demonstrates Middelschulte's control of the medium of organ composition, but it also suggests his own extraordinary abilities as a performer. It manifests those fascinating techniques evolved by Reger, Busoni, and Middelschulte around the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries that combine chromaticism with the contrapuntal rigor of the incomparable J.S. Bach.

Postscript

Middelschulte, although an important figure in his time, and, I believe, a seminal figure in the development of chromaticism at the beginning of the 20th century, has suffered a curious fate: he is little known in Germany and is largely forgotten in Chicago, where he made his home and taught for many years. A small number of Middelschulte devotees, however, are again bringing the music of this fascinating composer to public attention. A CD appeared in 1999 entitled Brink Bush performs Organ Works of Wilhelm Middelschulte (Volume 1). (This is available at  <www.ohscatalog.org&gt;.)

This CD contains the following works:

Perpetuum Mobile from the Konzert für Orgel über ein Thema von Joh. Seb. Bach (1903). This is based on Bach's "Wedge Fugue" (BWV 548) and is an early work that already shows the line of thought present in the Kontrapunktische Symphonie.

Passacaglia für die Orgel (1896). The BACH theme and the chorale Ein Feste Burg are used in this composition. This early work once more shows Middelschulte's consistency of approach.

Chromatische Fantasie und Fuge für Orgel (published 1922). It is based on original themes but is clearly related to Bach's celebrated Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue.

Drei Studien über den Choral Vater unser im Himmelreich (published 1913)

Kanonische Fantasie über B-A-C-H und Fuge über Themen von Joh. Seb. Bach (published 1906). This, as mentioned in the article, was the model for the Kontrapunktische Symphonie.

Middelschulte consistently used German titles for his compositions and wrote exclusively for organ (with the exception of orchestral accompaniments for the Konzert für Orgel, performed by Middelschulte under Stock with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. These orchestral parts have been lost). He began composing rather late in life, but once he did he employed a complex style that continued to the last of the published works. His entire output can be considered a tribute to J.S. Bach.

At this time Brink Bush is preparing a second CD that will include the Kontrapunktische Symphonie, the full Konzert für Orgel, and the Kanon in F.    

by Peter Hardwick

In the Three Motets of Serenity 2000), Nine Marian Anthems,and Five Motets in Honour of the Trinity (composed 2000; both still manuscripts), Mawby expresses more overtly than usual a deeply felt nostalgia for the earlier part of his life.31 The quoting of plainsong and composing chant-like melodies suggest his retrospective mood. Another clue is that all these works are a cappella settings of traditional Latin texts, the four-part mixed choir frequently dividing, sometimes into as many as eight parts. The Nine Marian Anthems and Five Motets in Honour of the Trinity  are written for specified days of the Catholic Church's Year, but the Three Motets of Serenity may be performed on any occasion deemed appropriate.

 

The Three Motets of Serenity are dedicated to the memory of Cardinal John Heenan, Archbishop of Westminster between 1963 and 1975, a period that coincided with most of Mawby's tenure of the Master of the Music position there. For SSAATTBB choir, they are based on three of Mawby's favorite plainsong tunes, which he describes as "superb, evocative and compelling [and] . . . central to the motets."32 In performance they should be treated as serene "musical prayer[s]," should sound unrushed, and display a chant-like meditative quality.33

Organ Music

Mawby had written no organ solos by the age of fifty-five, but Kevin Mayhew had a hunch that there was an as yet untapped vein of talent in that direction in the composer, and offered to publish any that he might care to produce. He had a strong background in organ, having been a fine organist as a boy, and, as was noted earlier, had majored in the instrument at the Royal College of Music. During the years as a church musician he had, on occasions, played for services, and had written many choral works with organ accompaniments. Thus it is not surprising that Mayhew's insight proved correct. What was unexpected was the heavy flow of pieces that poured from Mawby's pen once he started in 1991.

Unique among English organ composers, Mawby has written almost exclusively for church services.34 This may be explained by the role the instrument has played in his life. When he worked for the Roman Catholic Church, he occasionally performed on the organ, but primarily he was a choirmaster, and assistants usually played the instrument. Thus, he tends to see the instrument as a major adjunct to worship, as the provider of accompaniments for vocal music, the creator of "walking music," the furnisher of music to fill awkward silences, and generally supply background music at appropriate mo-ments in services. At the same time, though, he appreciates and values highly the traditional solo repertoire of the instrument. "Organ music," he says, "has a unique power which can move people deeply."35

The scores indicate that he thinks, broadly, in terms of a traditional large, four-manual, Romantic, orchestral instrument, such as the one built between the World Wars by Henry Willis at Westminster Cathedral.36 At least one enclosed division is necessary for the execution of the crescendos and diminuendos that are a part of Mawby's style. There should also be a supply of accessories, in order to realize the occasional terrace dynamics, the gradual orchestral-style piling up of power, and various other dynamic fluctuations within a piece. He quite regularly marks melodies to be soloed, without usually specifying specific stops. The one exception is that he sometimes marks entries of the tuba at climactic moments, a reflection of his lifelong love of the sound of the tuba at Westminster which is sui generis, a rank on thirty inches wind with an agreeable rasp about it, a sort of "edge." In the tradition of early 20th-century English organ composers,37 in loud passages he will sometimes call for a tuba solo in the tenor register in the left hand to roar out within a texture provided by the pedal and right hand. Less frequently, the tuba is given a soprano solo or plays chordal fanfare phrases.

Very prominent in his organ music are verbatim fragments of plainsong melodies or plainsong-like themes and phrases. This reflects his fondness for plainsong that he has felt ever since he sang the ancient chants for the first time at the age of nine.38 His organ works are usually between two to four pages in length, and are for performance by average to good church organists. Homophonic textures are the norm, as is the developing of material in a free, improvisatory manner that usually does not conform to one of the traditional organ forms. His music is almost completely free of the influence of the major organ composers past or present. Thus, there are no preludes and fugues, passacaglias, or sonatas, and hardly any of the other types of pieces favored by organists, such as toccatas, scherzos, intermezzi, and arias. Most of his pieces have been inspired by sacred texts or images, or have been written for situations in church services where organ music is useful, such as processionals, recessionals, and, as noted above, music to fill awkward silences during the service.

The first works, Quiet-Time: Fifteen Interludes for Organ (1991), follow, at least in spirit if not musical details, down the path blazed by his friend, Gregory Murray, in his monumental seven-volume collection of Short Organ Interludes for Liturgical Use (published between 1935 and 1987).39 Mawby's miniatures are untitled except for being numbered, are printed on two staves for an organ with two manuals and pedal, and employ modality, and plainsong or pseudo plainsong mel-odies. One may see an indication of Mawby's future mature organ style in the spirituality of the Quiet-Time interludes, but the pieces occasionally lack the flow and sense of inevitability that surrounds the better pieces that were written later.  Chords frequently fluctuate from four to five and six parts and sometimes more. Dissonances are frequent, quite often being those created by seventh and ninth chords, added seconds, and voice leading that is not always concerned with consonant vertical alignments.

With the trilogy Gregorian Calendar: Thirty Contrasting Pieces for Organ Based on Plainsong Melodies (1993), Gregorian Communion:  Twenty Pieces for Organ Based on Plainsong Melodies (1995), and Gregorian Processionals:  Twenty Pieces for Organ Based on Plainsong Melodies (1996) Mawby supplied a large collection of pieces for the organ in its role as a major adjunct to worship.

Gregorian Calendar comprises works of between two and four pages length for use throughout the liturgical year. Each season has one loud and one soft voluntary, and six shorter pieces for general use are attached at the end of the book. In the Foreword, Mawby says "the chant's rich variety of moods and modes [provided] a generous reference point from which to explore the inherent prayerfulness of the music." Entire Gregorian melodies are used as the basis of some pieces. Others, like the composition based on the All Saints Day plainsong Placare Christe Servulis, are built from one or more Gregorian fragments.

Placare Christe Servulis is developed from the first six tones of the chant. At the outset, the pentatonic plainsong fragment, set in 7/8 time, is enunciated four times, unaccompanied, in the rich soprano register of the tuba, and thereafter reappears periodically throughout the work, each statement being regenerated by some type of transformation. Characteristic of many of Mawby's organ pieces, in Placare Christe Servulis he writes what appears to be a newly-composed melody that is, in fact, derived from the plainsong motif introduced in bar one. Example 8 shows a version of this tune in the right hand part at bars 28-31. Reflecting the unmetered nature of plainsong, the main meter of 7/8, which Mawby usually divided in eighth notes as follows:  3 + 2 + 2 (see bars 32-33), is disturbed by regular changes of time signature, thus disrupting any lengthy impression of metric rhythm. This allows the plainsong style to pervade the piece, and also enervates the forward thrust of the music because it is rhythmically unpredictable. The triads are often larded with seconds and sevenths, less frequently ninths (bar 31), and, occasionally, elevenths (bars 32-33). These added tones create a different acoustical dimension from conventional triadic harmony, a more dissonant accompanimental foundation for his tunes. The off the cuff patchwork of contrasting ideas in Placare Christe Servulis, often heard over pedal points, suggests that the work was originally improvised and then written down.

The methods of Gregorian Calendar continued in Gregorian Communion  and Gregorian Processionals. This may be seen, for instance, in the dreamy improvisational chorale prelude on Adore te devote in Gregorian Communion. Although soloed statements of the opening line of the plainsong are heard near the beginning, and there is a presentation of the second half of the hymn tune near the end, the focus of Mawby's interest is in subtly weaving short phrases of the Gregorian melody into the delicately meandering, dreamy harmonies.  The essence of his use of ancient chants is that he likes one to hear snatches of motifs derived from the original theme, but only rarely quotes them unchanged and entirely. The accompanying left hand and pedal parts of the Adore te devote setting are concordant with the right hand much of the time, but extremely strident cluster chords occasionally result when preeminence is given to the horizontal movement of the parts.

With Hymns for Occasions for Manuals (One Hundred Special Arrangements) and More Hymns for Occasions for Manuals (One Hundred Special Arrangements) (both 1997) Mawby joined the ranks of such 20th-century English composers as Tertius Noble, Edward Bairstow, Eric Thiman, Henry Coleman, Harrison Oxley, Richard Lloyd, and Noel Rawsthorne, all of whom have contributed collections of varied keyboard accompaniments to hymn tunes sung by a church congregation. The above long list of composers suggests that the field was already crowded before Mawby added his arrangements, but some of the earlier collections were hardly usable because they never rose above the mundane and, by the 1990s, others had become old-fashioned.

Furthermore, Mawby's are different from the collections by the men listed above in that he provides more than simply a single varied accompaniment for each hymn. Each starts with an introduction for organ solo that captures the mood of the words and melody of the hymn, and this leads without break into two organ accompaniments for the congregational singing, the first a standard harmonization of the hymn tune, with first ending, marked dal segno, for repeating the same music for more verses, the second ending leading into the last verse, which is a more complex harmonization. Dovetailed into the end of the hymn proper is a concluding flourish of a few bars for the keyboard alone that is often a development of the introduction material. The organist chooses all or part of each arrangement as befits the occasion.

Much of the harmony is conventional four-part hymn style, but the composer is clearly attracted to the tension-creating attributes of dissonance, and he indulges with abandon his liking for this element in the varied accompaniments for the last verses. The end of the setting of  Crimond, shown in Example 9, illustrates the point. Several of the dissonances in this passage are traditional nonharmonic embellishing tones, such as the appoggiatura at bar 42 in the left hand part, and the suspension at bar 44 in the right hand, both of which resolve downwards by step. Dissonant clashes occur between the tonic pedal point and the manual harmony at bars 43-46, and there are numerous mildly dissonant seventh chords that are redolent of the musical theater style of Lloyd Webber.

Some of the touches of chromaticism that ratchet up the element of surprise and excitement in the varied harmonizations for last verses involve seventh chords. See, for instance, the secondary dominant seventh chord at bar 40, the diminished seventh chord at bar 41, and the half diminished seventh chords on the dominant at bars 44, 46, and 50 in Example 9. The major chord on the flattened mediant at bar 49 is a chromatic touch that some may feel is quite exhilarating.

Hymns for Occasions and More Hymns for Occasions are written with a sense of bold confidence and sheer enjoyment, coupled with thrilling, often unexpected delightful harmonic ventures, and they may well revive stale choirs and congregations who have become bored hymn singers.40

Given the above inspired arrangements of hymns, it is something of a disappointment that the composer has chosen to write almost all the twenty or so voluntaries on hymn tunes41 in the improvisational, homophonic, formally free style of the Gregorian trilogy discussed earlier. William Lloyd Webber was particularly fond of the style for some of his pieces based on hymn tunes.42 But he avoided the sameness of Mawby's compositions by sometimes using techniques and forms of the past, such as imitative counterpoint including canon,43 writing alla Bach,44 and casting the music in one of the chorale prelude forms.45 Yet this is not to say that one cannot commend some of the Mawby hymn preludes. Unto Us Is Born a Son (1994) and O Filii et Filiae (1995), for example, are vibrant and alive, and entirely convincing.

Unto Us Is Born a Son is so intensely joyous and melodious, and enriched with warm seventh chords and chromaticisms, that one might not notice the art concealing art, for the preexistent melody is subjected to continuous development, without any sense of it being an intellectual, technical study. The old Christmas tune traditionally associated with this text appears in a multitude of guises. Sometimes it is heard as a soprano melody with or without intervallic or rhythmic modification.  In one ruminative soft passage, there are vague reminiscences of the carol theme showing up fleetingly in a melismatic right-hand solo, accompanied by whole-note chords in the left hand, over a long pedal point. In the growing excitement leading to the closing apotheosis, parts of the Unto Us Is Born a Son melody appear in an inner part over an extended tonic pedal point. At the start of this passage, the first and third phrases of the preexistent melody are stated without break. Then the first two phrases of the hymn tune are presented in a particularly grand and "in the face" manner in augmentation, enunciated in stentorian, raspy tuba chords in the left hand, sandwiched between fortissimo accompanimental right-hand figurations and a pedal point in the feet. The last phrase of the carol tune is never stated in the work.

O Filii et Filiae is unique among the hymn preludes in that it is built around a full, uninterrupted statement of the preexistent melody. Mawby retains the modality and moderate pace of the ancient Easter plainsong tune, but removes the original free rhythms in favor of triple meter. A rhythmic, one-bar motif involving octave leaps in the right hand, over dotted half note left-hand chords, provides the material of the opening prelude, and returns in modified forms in interludes later.  In the first section, this leaping material frames presentations of the first and third lines of O Filii et Filiae in the mixolydian mode on G, followed by a repeat of the third line, now in the mixolydian on C. Next, via an eight-bar dominant pedal point that is ornamented by references to the leaping motif, there is a loud, majestic complete statement of the modal plainsong on C in manual block chords over dotted half notes in the pedals. In the third section, with a growing sense of excitement engendered by syncopations, more dissonance, and a gradual increase in organ volume, the ancient melody is presented a final time, broken into separate phrases and supported by a foundation of material derived from the preludial leaping motif.  The coda is both sublime and breath-taking: above a fortissimo fifteen-bar dominant pedal point, the left hand plays the first two lines of O Filii et Filiae in the tenor register on the solo division tuba stop, accompanied by chords in the right hand on the great manual. Finally, the last phrase of the hymn, marked Adagio, appears in the pedals, under a series of massive, held chromatic manual chords. A thunderous full organ C major chord closes the work.

Compline (1993) is an example of some fifteen pieces composed for the so-called "Reluctant Organist"--someone who can only play simple pedal parts consisting of mainly lower notes (which are easier for beginners to play) under a more difficult keyboard part.46 Such restrictions do not seem to have hampered the composer, for Compline unfolds naturally, with a restrained beauty and calm spiritual tone that is entirely appropriate for Compline, the final service before retiring in the Roman Catholic Church.  Two musical ideas are developed in a series of short alternating sections. The one idea is introduced at the start, and is a solemn, reverent theme in solid quarter and half note chords that are generally dissonant. Noticeably more concordant, the other idea is a faster moving, sinuous, melismatic, widely spaced theme.

The Weekend Organist: Service Music for Manuals (1997) is similar to the Gregorian Calendar, Gregorian Communion, and Gregorian Processionals in that it is a resource volume for church organists. The book comprises eighteen Fanfares, ten Processionals, seven Meditations, and nine Recessionals. The envisaged user is "the busy weekend organist who, while anxious to contribute to a vibrant weekly liturgy, has little time to undertake systematic and concentrated organ practice."47

In the Preface, Mawby suggests that the nine longer Fanfares could be used as an introduction to the hymns on special occasions, or might be played as greetings for an important visitor, or even to mark the arrival of the ordinary procession. They are in the nine most common major keys for hymns:  the first in C major, followed by one piece for each of the major key signatures from one to four sharps and flats.  A large two manual organ that includes a trumpet stop, reed chorus, and enclosed swell seems to be in the composer's mind.  Mawby has a fine grasp of the need, when writing fanfares, for a vibrant sense of dash, staccato articulation, repeated-note rhythms, triadic melodic motifs, and, perhaps in order to keep the audience alert, brief surprising chordal digressions here and there. The harmony is modern-sounding but tonal, with frequent progressions to unexpected chords, and is encrusted with traditional nonharmonic embellishing tones. One does not sense that the composer has labored long and hard on polishing, with the result that there is a pleasant easy flow about the music, which can be magnificent and emotionally stirring.

Mawby says the nine shorter Fanfares should be played as prefaces to the Gospel reading on feast days, but they might introduce hymns at important services.

The Processionals and Recessionals are divided into three categories:  (1) loud two-page works; (2) quiet two-page pieces; and (3) short compositions that are mostly only three systems long.  Mawby envisages them as interchangeable, and may be shortened if necessary.

To some degree, in the Processionals and Recessionals, but especially in the quiet, two-page Meditations, plainsong's contours pervade the melodic material.  The Meditations are also endowed with a contemplative, spiritual mood that is the world of the Roman Catholic Church's High Mass, with its chiming altar bells, smell of incense and candles, and Gregorian chant. Optional cuts, marked by square brackets, are provided in the Meditations, to facilitate the tailoring of the length to suit a particular occasion.

A procession of majestic pseudo plainsong melodies dominates the joyful  voluntary Praise the Lord with Mighty Sounds (1997). Cast in ternary form, a celebratory mood is established immediately in Section A with detached, dense, chordal writing for full organ alternating with skipping plainsong-like interjections. After developing these ideas, a subdued middle section is ushered in with a short lyrical new melody that again suggests the influence of ancient Catholic chant. Initially this tune is soloed in the left hand, accompanied on another manual by detached repeated chords in the right hand, and then it undergoes development, with fragments of the piece's principal melodic material appearing here and there. Section A1 sees a return to the dynamically powerful, dignified ideas of the opening. These are developed briefly, after which, with the organ blazing away at full throttle, there is a closing cadential affirmation of Christ's majesty over his people.

Triptych for Organ (1997), Mawby's only large scale,48 technically difficult work, is for top recitalists. It requires a large Romantic orchestral organ with at least one enclosed division.  In using the term triptych Mawby was likening his three pieces to an altarpiece painting in three hinged-together panels, such as the 1432 Altarpiece by Hubert and Jan van Eyck in St. Bavo Cathedral, Ghent, which he loves.49 The three movements are titled "The Energy and Humanity of Christ," "The Mystery of Communion," and "Christ is Risen, Alleluia!" and are independent programmatic pieces that are related by their Christian theology but nothing more. The work's modality, pseudo chant motifs, free use of successions of different meters, and through-composed, improvisational style are vintage Mawby. Dissonances are much more pervasive and abrasive than usual, notably in the greater than usual use of cluster chords. Despite the religious titles of the movements, the composition is not in cyclic form, but similarities in the main motifs of each of the movements (marked with brackets in Example 10a-c) help to bind the work together thematically.

Marked Allegro feroce, the first movement opens with the principal idea, a five-tone motif, in the pedals (Example 10a). This eventually gives way to subordinate material consisting of a series of syncopated, detached, agitated, repeated-note, sixteenth-note patterns. The opening five-tone motif returns, transformed into a jaunty modal dancing theme, and then is truncated, against a backdrop of savagely dissonant cluster chords. Then a new, less dramatic subordinate melodic idea appears, duplicated at the fourth and sixth below, thus forming parallel first inversion triads. This material returns in various guises throughout the rest of the movement. As the triumphant close approaches, both the principal five-tone motif and the syncopated, sixteenth-note motif are brought together in a series of overlapping entries, against a backdrop of busy, high pitched, sixteenth-note figurations in the right hand. In the breathtaking lead up to the final chord, the first motif is dominant.

The second movement, marked Andante ma un poco rubato, is characterized by a rather static, spiritual atmosphere that Mawby first used in Mass in Honour of Christ the King (1967) and had turned to so effectively a number of times later.50 The structure is a series of smoothly joined sections in which the movement's chief motif (which is similar to the first movement's principal motif) undergoes a series of transformations, against slower moving ethereal-sounding chords. First, it is reiterated like an ostinato in the pedal. Then it turns into a wide-ranging, serpentine, high-pitched, fragmented solo (Example 10b). At the approach to the climax the motif is obsessively repeated, after which it returns to the pedal.

A similar motif to the first movement's principal idea opens the finale, and this is followed by a bridge passage of agitated sixteenth-note figurations that are also reminiscent of the beginning of the composition. Then a secondary idea, a rhythmic, wide-ranging melodic fragment for a solo reed in the style of a pompous heraldic fanfare, is introduced. With deep, highly emotional religious fervor, the composer alternates the movement's principal motif and the solo reed fanfare idea in an extended, wildly ecstatic movement of metamorphosis. Mawby, as if overcome with enthusiasm, and drawing upon his whole arsenal of improvisational effects, seems to lose himself in what is the most extensive display in his organ music of colorful, sonorous, acoustical effects.

After so many pieces of between two to four pages length written principally for church service use, Triptych's larger canvas  is a major departure for Mawby.  Its positive attributes are the fluency of the writing, the vivid pictorialism, and the courageous daring the composer demonstrates in experimenting on a much larger canvas than before. But the composer's improvisatory, through-composed methods, that work well in shorter structures, are put under unbearable stress in here.

The 20th-century English Catholic composers of significant church music are probably Edward Elgar, Edmund Rubbra, Lennox Berkeley, Anthony Milner, and Colin Mawby. Unlike the others in this group, Mawby has concentrated almost entirely on writing liturgical church and organ music. He has a keen appreciation of, and affection for, religious texts, and responds to them creatively and with finesse. This factor, combined with his superlative mastery of the techniques of writing for voices, accounts, at least in part, for his best church works probably being unequaled by other living English Catholic composer. In the organ works, plainsong has perhaps been allowed to be too influential, and preoccupation with loosely evolving, improvisational development of material monopolizes the scores. Salient positive features of his organ compositions are the excellent under-the-fingers style and feeling for what sounds well, and the music's appropriateness for the occasions for which it has been written--its ability to beautify and bring into focus the moods of the various situations that call for organ music in church services.

The conviction, inspiration, sincerity, and warmth of expression in his church and organ music, are expressions of the two paramount galvanizing forces in Mawby’s life:  his love of God, and devotion to the Roman Catholic Church.