On Teaching

An introduction to understanding organ sounds, and to pedal playing

Gavin Black

Organ Method IV

This follows directly—without a break—from the last sentence of last month’s column. The first part of this month’s excerpt is again aimed at the student who is new to the instrument, and I am trying to explain enough to enable that student to start to practice and learn, without making anything too complicated for the earliest days at the console. Everything here is presented in a simplified way that I hope is neither over-simplified nor inaccurate. The second part of this column is the beginning of the chapter on pedal playing.

 

The best way for any keyboard player new to the organ to begin to understand organ sounds—organ stops—and therefore to begin to feel comfortable with organ registration is indeed to pull stops out essentially at random and to listen. In order to do this efficiently and to get the most out of it you should start by following a few guidelines:

1) Make sure that you know which group of stop controls applies to which keyboard. (See below about
keyboard names.)

2) Start by drawing one 8′ stop—on any keyboard—and playing a few notes. (For this purpose, it doesn’t make the slightest difference what you play: if you are an absolute beginner, just play separate individual notes; if not, play something short and simple that you are comfortable with—a bit of a scale, chords, a passage from a piece, etc. Elaborate or fast passages are not better for this purpose, by any means.)

3) Draw a different 8′ stop on the same keyboard. Play a few notes. Listen for the sound: how does it compare to the first stop that you tried? Is it very different, somewhat different, or surprisingly similar? 

4) Draw these two 8′ stops together. The combined sound will be louder than either of the two stops by itself, though not necessarily very much louder. It will create a different sonority. Does this combined sonority sound more different from one of the separate stops than from the other?

(Of course you can do this same exercise with further 8′ stops from this same keyboard, if there are any, and then with 8′ stops from other keyboards.)

5) Draw a 4′ stop from any keyboard. Play a few notes. Notice that this stop is an octave higher than the 8′ stop. Play a few notes in the octave below middle C, then play a few notes on an 8′ stop in the octave above middle C. Try some other 4′ stops—alone and in pairs or larger groupings if there are enough 4′ stops to make this possible. Pay attention to all of the different sonorities, noticing that, as long as you are only using 4′ stops, the pitch level of everything that you play is one octave above unison.

6) Draw out an 8′ stop and a 4′ stop together on the same keyboard. Listen to this sound, then try other combinations of 8′ + 4′, both on that keyboard and on others. 

7) Draw out an 8′ stop along with anything higher-pitched, in any amount and combination: 4′, 22⁄3′, 2′, etc. Play some notes, chords, or passages, changing the higher-pitched component of the sound from time to time. As you do this, the sonority will change, but the sense of pitch level should not. Then, remove the 8′ stop. When you do this, the pitch level of what you are playing will jump up to the level of the lowest-pitched stop that remains in the stop combination that you have drawn. 

Beyond these specific suggestions, however, you can simply play around with stops in any way that occurs to you or that you discover at random. It is only important, at this stage, that you be aware of the pitch designations: know whether you are playing an 8′ stop alone, something higher (or lower: 16′), or some combination. As I have said, very little about the organ is “always.” However, the pitch numbers are: what they mean is very specific and concrete, and it is always the same. In the later chapter on registration, I will discuss the more elastic situation regarding the stop names and the relationship of those names to sonorities and to musical applications. 

Once you feel comfortable pulling out stop knobs, knowing that you can find sounds that are coherent and at the right pitch, you are close to being ready to start practicing organ. That is, you are almost ready to turn to Chapter 1 and beyond. However, there are just a few more things that you need to know about first.

First of all, manual keyboards on most organs have names. The most common names in English are probably Great, Swell, Choir, and Positive (or Positif). Some organs in predominately English-speaking countries have keyboard names in other languages, with words such as Hauptwerk, Oberwerk, Rückpositiv, Brustwerk, Récit, Grand Orgue, and various others. On some organs—usually smaller ones—the keyboards have numbers rather than names. There is a lot to say about the history and meaning of these names and naming practices. Some of this can be found in later chapters of this book, along with suggestions for further research. However, for now you just need to note the names of the keyboards on any organ that you are using, and correlate that name with that keyboard’s group of stop controls.

Along with the stop knobs—or tabs, or buttons, or whatever it is—there are controls, similar in look to the stop controls, that do things that are a little bit different. Some knobs or tabs are labeled with something like this: “Swell to Great” or “II/I” or “CH to GT,” that is, with names, numbers or abbreviations that refer to whole keyboards. These are couplers, and they are one of the ways in which stops proper to one keyboard can be shared by a different keyboard. What they mean, specifically, is usually dictated by common sense. If a knob says “Swell to Great,” then drawing that knob causes any stops that are drawn on the Swell keyboard to be playable also from the Great keyboard. There are couplers bringing the stops of manual keyboards to the pedal keyboard—“Swell to Pedal” or “I/Ped,” for example. Couplers bringing the pedal stops to a manual keyboard—“Pedal to Great,” say—are extremely rare, though not impossible or unheard of. Most organs have several couplers, but do not have all of the couplers that might be possible in theory.

Couplers are sometimes controlled by toe studs or pedals of some sort. There is also sometimes duplication: a coupler will be controlled both by a button or knob of some sort and by a toe stud. This is just for convenience. Don’t be worried by it: if two controls appear to do the same thing as each other, they are probably meant to do so.

Many organs have rows of buttons—usually between the keyboards—and/or toe studs—above the pedal keyboard—that are numbered with Arabic numerals. These are combination pistons. They operate to turn on pre-selected groups of stops, turning off all of the other stops. When you first sit down at an organ, try pushing the combination pistons one at a time. Observe the stop controls going on and off as you do so, and try out the resulting sounds. It is likely that any organists who use this instrument regularly have set up the pistons to bring on combinations of stops that they have found particularly useful, though as it is usually quite easy to change the combinations, the ones that you find have not necessarily been there very long, and are not necessarily intended to be used very much or for very long. The proprietor of the organ that you are using can show you how to set combinations of your own if and when that becomes relevant.

A stop control that is labeled “Tremulant” or some variation of that word does not bring on an organ sound of its own. Instead, it gives a vibrato-like quality to the stops that are drawn. (There are several different mechanisms for making this happen.) A tremulant may apply to the whole instrument or to one division.

Many organs have pedals that are not keys on a keyboard, that are set above the pedal keyboard itself, and that more or less resemble gas pedals in cars. These have two main functions, both intended to alter the sound that the instrument is making. The more common type of pedal is called the swell pedal—or sometime the “expression pedal.” It makes sounds louder or softer. On a pipe organ, this can only be accomplished by enclosing pipes in a box, and creating a setup for opening and closing that box. Many organs have this arrangement for some or, less commonly, all of the divisions. On an electronic organ, the loud/soft technology is analogous to the ordinary volume control on a stereo. When the swell pedal is all the way up—the top of it as far from the player as it goes—the sound is at its loudest, the same volume that it would have if there were no swell pedal. When it is all the way down—the top as close to the player as possible—the sound is at its softest. Some organ music explicitly calls for the use of the swell pedal; much of the repertoire does not.

The other sort of pedal that affects the sound of the instrument is the crescendo pedal. This is a device that brings on combinations of stops in a pre-determined order, quiet to loud. If the crescendo pedal is all the way down, it has no influence on the sound. As it is moved towards the up position, it brings on more and more stops. When it is all the way at the top, it has engaged a loud registration. The order in which stops are brought on is set either by the organ builder or by someone else, prior to the player’s sitting down to play. There is some organ music that expressly calls for the use of crescendo and diminuendo made by adding or subtracting stops in the manner of a crescendo pedal: most organ music does not. Many organs do not have a crescendo pedal.

To a large extent, the point of learning a little bit about these features and devices as you first sit down at the organ is to make sure that they do not confuse you as you begin to practice and to become adept at the basics of actually playing organ. For example, if you are certain that you have only one quiet stop drawn, but you are hearing a very loud, brash sound, you should know to check whether the crescendo pedal is really all the way off. If you think the sound you are playing should be loud, but it is in fact rather soft, check the swell pedal. If you move your legs around a bit, and suddenly the position of all of the stop knobs change, you might suspect that you have accidently hit a toe stud combination piston. 

For the earliest stages of practicing and learning the organ, you need to work directly with the stop controls and the keyboards. That is not to say, by any means, that you can’t experiment with the swell pedal, couplers, and all the rest. However, it is as you get to know the instrument better and better, and start to work on organ repertoire, that you will explore all of this and more in greater and greater detail and complexity.

One more thing: the bench itself. 

An organ bench should be adjustable in two directions: up and down, and back and forth. I have never seen an organ bench that couldn’t be slid back and forth at least a bit. Some benches can be moved up and down with a crank or other device that is built in. Others are, so to speak, solid. These should be provided with blocks. There are clever organ bench block designs that build different heights into the same blocks oriented differently. Some organ benches have multiple blocks that can be used separately or together. It is extremely important that blocks, and the bench as a whole, be stable: not rickety or inclined to wobble. If they are, this should be fixed. It is unlikely, though not impossible, that an organ bench would actually fall over. However, a wobbly bench makes playing more difficult, and can lead to physical tension for the player who has to struggle to remain in the right orientation to the keyboards.

If the bench seems all right, sit down and look towards your feet!

 

Chapter 1: Pedal Playing

Organ playing that includes pedals involves the whole body. It is one of the most athletic of musical performance activities, and therefore it is especially important that it be carried out comfortably, without tension. It is important, in other words, that it be done correctly. However, it is important to understand that it has to be done in a way that is correct for each player, and that this will not necessarily be the same for everyone. Different bench heights, postures, positions of the legs and feet, and, to some extent, technical practices will be right for different students. This is true even before we think about differences in musical goals, since it arises at least in part out of the differences in physical type of different people who want to play organ. Those differences in musical goals also play a part in determining aspects of the type of pedal technique that a player needs to develop. However, a student new to the instrument cannot yet (or at least probably should not yet) know exactly what those goals are going to be or where his or her involvement with the instrument may lead. 

On any given organ the distance between the pedal keys and the manual keys is fixed by the builder long before anyone sits down at the instrument. This distance is important, since it determines the way in which your height above the pedal keys affects your orientation to the manual keyboards. The height of the bench—that is, of the player sitting on the bench—above the pedal keys is important. It is difficult to play the pedal keyboard comfortably if that height is wrong. If it is too low, then you have to hold your feet and legs up artificially in order to avoid playing notes by accident. This is a great source of tension, and it is very important not to let it happen. If you are sitting too high, then it can be hard to reach notes easily with simple, comfortable gestures of the feet, especially with the heels. This can also destabilize your manual playing, since it can lead to a slight but annoying sense that you might be about to fall forward. 

However, on the whole, sitting too high is usually less of a problem than sitting too low. You will discover, as you play more and more, what bench height is best for you. Initially, you should adjust the bench in such a way that if you relax your legs entirely—especially the big muscles above the knees—the bottoms of your toes just barely touch the tops of the natural keys, and your heels don’t. This is just a starting point. You will see, as the process of learning pedal playing proceeds, how to determine what changes to make in this, if any.

You should start out centered on the bench—along the left-to-right (or bass-to-treble) axis—and positioned on the front-to-back axis in such a way that you feel stable. (This may also be essentially centered, but it need not be. This will depend on the depth of the bench, as well as the way that the size of the bench relates to your own size.) You should sit comfortably. This is extraordinarily important. It is neither practical for playing nor healthy for the player to slump far forward or to lean to one side or the other while trying to play. However, it is also neither necessary nor healthy to sit in a way that is stiff or artificially tall, or with the shoulders, back, and arms under any tension, or with your legs or knees so close together that you need to work to maintain the position.

As soon as you have sat upon the organ bench in what you think of as a good position, with the bench at a good starting height, take a few deep but relaxed breaths. Then look down at the pedal keyboard. Notice what note appears to be directly below your nose. Notice what note appears to be directly below each of your feet. For the purpose of learning to play pedals, this should be the last time that you look down at the pedal keyboard or at your feet while playing the organ.

I will end here, for reasons of space. Next month I will continue with the discussion of pedal playing, and introduce beginning pedal exercises.

 

 

Gavin Black

Gavin Black is director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center in Princeton, New Jersey. He can be reached by e-mail at [email protected]. He writes a blog at www.amorningfordreams.com.

Organ Method IX

This excerpt begins the section on manual playing, in which I offer guidance to the student who has already played piano or harpsichord, on how to adapt that playing to the organ. This is, as I wrote in the Preface to the method—which appeared as the October 2012 column—mostly about how to practice. One model for an approach to learning organ (manual) playing for a student who is already a keyboard player is this: sit down at the organ, play around, and see what you notice. Of course, this is potentially inefficient. There is no reason that a student should lack the advantage of some guidance from someone more experienced, in person or through writing. However, this hands-off, unguided approach is in fact the essence of what a musician/student should do. The way to learn what sounds and touch on the organ are like is to play the organ, notice everything that you hear and feel, and respond to what you notice. Although I think that at least on grounds of efficiency it is a good idea for a student to accept guidance from teachers (or for that matter from method-writers), I also think that such guidance should remove as little autonomy and initiative from the student as possible. The opening of the section on manual playing—the part included this month—is a general guide to starting the process. 

I should mention that, whereas in the column from last October I wrote that the work on playing manuals and pedals together would form part of the section on pedal-playing (the section that was printed in several columns ending last month), I have since decided to shift it to after the section on manual playing. This seems to me to make more sense, although of course in the end students can uses chapters of this book in any order that they want.

 

Position

Take a seat on the organ bench. If you have already begun to work on pedal playing, then remember to position yourself on the bench—and to position the bench itself—in the way that you have found best for pedal work. It is not a good idea to get accustomed to a different bench position for manuals-only music, pedals-only music, and the large segment of the organ repertoire that uses hands and feet together. (Though once in a while, later on, it might be a good idea to change position for a particular piece that presents some sort of unusual challenge.) If you are coming to this section of the book without yet having begun to work on pedal playing, then position the bench at a height that allows you to relax your legs completely either without depressing any pedal keys, or only depressing them lightly with your toes. Of course, while practicing manuals without pedal, you should rest your feet in whatever way that the organ you are playing provides. Usually there is a bar low down on the bench that is meant to accommodate the feet when they are not being used to play. 

Since the vast majority of organs have at least two—often three—manuals, there is no way to sit that gives you one position in relation to the manual keys. The higher manuals are both higher and farther away. In trying to work out the right distance from the manuals at which to sit, it is important to make sure that you do not feel cramped. If you are too close to a keyboard, it is extremely difficult to play without tension. You should never feel that your shoulders need to be drawn upwards or back in order to give your hands and arms room to address the keyboards. Your shoulders should also, however, not be hunched forward. Your posture on the bench should be as relaxed and comfortable as possible. As you get accustomed to playing, you may make changes in the exact distance from the keyboards that you choose to sit. There is no “correct” posture for your arms while playing the organ. That is, your elbows, for example, do not have to be in one particular place or one particular alignment with your torso; your wrists need not be consistently above, below, or even with your forearms or hands. These things will vary with your own physique and habits.   

Once you are seated on the bench, notice where on each keyboard each of your hands most naturally falls—the place on the keyboard at which your forearms, the middle three fingers of each hand, and the keys themselves line up straight, while your shoulders and elbows are in a comfortable place. This will probably be roughly an octave below middle C for the left hand and an octave above middle C for the right hand: a bit farther out from the center for players who are particularly broad-shouldered or who prefer to keep their elbows out from their sides. This is the place on the keyboard where it is easiest to play without tension. Therefore, it is the best place to use as a sort of laboratory for learning or trying out various aspects of organ touch and various fingering skills. 

 

Begin to play

Now draw a stop or two (you can revisit the Introduction for a reminder about drawing and combining stops) and play some individual notes in the region of the keyboard described above. What do you notice? What is the touch like? How does it compare to the instruments with which you are most familiar—piano, harpsichord, or others? Is it heavy or light or in-between? Try playing a few notes with your fingers as far out on the keys as possible—almost slipping off to the front—and then with your fingers in the middle of the keys. Do these different positions feel different? Try playing notes in this same region of each of the different keyboards of the organ at which you are seated. Do the keyboards feel different from one another? Try engaging a coupler. Does this change the feel of either of the keyboards involved? If you depress a key very slowly, with as little force as possible, does that seem to sound or feel different from what you experience if you strike a key with more force? The answers to these questions will vary—sometimes a lot—from one organ to another. Whatever you notice or learn at the first organ keyboard at which you sit and play is, of course, only a beginning. 

Next play some simple note patterns, one hand at a time, along the lines of these, the first for the right hand, the second for the left (Examples 1 and 2). I have located these short exercises in the region of the keyboard that I have identified as the most natural for your arms and hands to reach. However, if for you that region is a little bit higher or lower, then start out playing the same four-note pattern using whatever specific notes seem most comfortable. (Stick to natural notes for the moment.) Try the following different fingerings—right hand: 2-3-4-5-4-3-2 or 1-2-3-4-3-2-1; left hand: 5-4-3-2-3-4-5 or 4-3-2-1-2-3-4.

What do you notice about the different fingerings? Do they seem to result in differences in hand position or in where on the key you play each note? Does one feel more comfortable or more natural than the other? 

Next, try the same exercise about a fifth closer to the center of the keyboard. If you started on the notes that I pictured, move to this (Examples 3 and 4). Try the same different fingerings, and look out for the same things. Then play the same pattern near the middle of the keyboard, perhaps with each hand crossing or including the note middle C. Try this on all of the keyboards of the organ that you are playing. 

In playing this short exercise bear the following in mind:

1) Keep everything relaxed: hands, arms, shoulders, and your entire body.

2) As long as you are physically relaxed, do not worry for now about the shape or position of the hand: the relationship between the fingers and the rest of the hand; the height of the wrist; the height of the wrist or hand in relation to the arm. All of these things are individual and flexible. There might turn out to be right and wrong ways for you to approach these things, but they will be right or wrong for you specifically: they will emerge in the course of your learning—they can’t be dictated in advance. There are aspects of sideways hand position—that is, how the hand is turned or cocked side-to-side—that are important, and that tend to work out the same way for most players. You will begin to work on this a bit later on.

3) The fingers need not always be parallel to the keys. It is fine for the finger playing a note to be at any angle to that key, as long as the part of the finger actually playing the note touches the key solidly. 

4) Keep the tempo slow, and listen to the sound of each note: savor each note. There is nothing to be gained by speed.

5) Try different articulations. Some of the time, make the exercise legato: release each note as you play the next note. Other times, try an exaggerated legato: let notes overlap to such an extent that you hear adjacent notes sounding together, perhaps for nearly the full length of the latter note, even though this will sound odd. Then try it detached: release each note long enough before playing the next note that you hear a gap. Then also try it very detached: release each note as soon as possible after you play it, only making sure that you do really hear the sound of each note. (Even these very short notes should be played without extra force or tension.) 

6) In trying out all of these articulations, do not worry about precision or making everything come out the same. Just keep relaxed and listen. This will lead to the most control—and precision when it is desired—later on.

Next, add some raised keys—sharps and flats—to the exercise. Start with one of the following, and take it through all of the steps described above (Examples 5 and 6). 

 

Two hands together

These simple exercises are meant to be played one hand at a time. The next step is to put the two hands together, keeping the note picture simple. As always, you the student can construct such exercises yourself. Here are a few possibilities derived from the exercises above (Examples 7, 8, 9, and 10).

Concerning the fingering for these exercises, bear the following in mind:

1) Use the same sorts of fingerings for each hand of these exercises that you used for the separate-hand exercises above; that is, sometimes 1-2-3-4, etc., sometimes 2-3-4-5, etc. 

2) Mix and match these fingerings between the two hands. Sometimes use the thumb-based fingering in both hands, sometimes use the second-finger-based fingering in both hands, and sometimes use one of those in each hand. 

3) Note that when the notes are parallel, the fingerings are mirrored, or nearly mirrored; when the notes are mirrored, the fingerings are parallel or nearly parallel.

4) Before you play through an exercise, be absolutely sure that you know what fingering you are about to use. If it would help, write the fingering in—but lightly, in pencil. When you want to try a different fingering, erase what you have written and write in the new fingering. 

Keep these exercises slow: it is not useful to practice this sort of material if, in doing so, you feel that you have to scramble to find the next note, or if you actually make wrong notes, or if you have to hesitate in order to get it right. There is no disadvantage to keeping the notes very slow indeed. Listen to the sounds, and to the intervals. Savor the sounds of the registrations that you use. 

Continue to try different articulations, as described above. If you feel comfortable doing so, you may try different articulations in each hand. In doing this, again don’t expect for the results to be measured or precise: just keep the feel of the hands relaxed and natural, and listen carefully.

 

 

Mark J. Merrill

The development of early Spanish organs

At the beginning of the 16th century, organs in Spain resembled those in the rest of Europe. During the last third of the century, Spanish organs gradually began to take on characteristics of their own, becoming transformed into several local organ types. 

The first noticeable development of the Spanish organ was the gradual differentiation of individual registers from the Blockwerk, which also occurred elsewhere in Europe. Little by little, the keyboard compass expanded to cover more than three octaves and windchests began to be constructed larger, especially towards the bass. Divided registers began to be built on Spanish organs in the 1560s. Two separate lines of evolution existed in regard to the increasing versatility of sonorities, namely, adding more keyboards and dividing registers. 

Three different kingdoms coexisted on the peninsula: Castile, Aragon, and Portugal. Due to the occupation of the Moors (711–1497) the Spanish court was forced to take up residency in Barcelona, Spain, located at the heart of the region of Catalonia. It is for this reason that the development of the early organ in Spain finds its beginnings in Catalonia. 

Generally speaking, the instruments were quite large and were frequently built on a 16′ basis (Flautado de 26 = Principal 16′). Flautado de 26 (made of metal) was a stop frequently included in Catalonian organs. It was common to have at least two manuals: a Cadira, and the Rückpositiv. In Catalonia, there were no divided registers until the 18th century, and the windchests were large in size and diatonic by arrangement. It is noteworthy that when divided registers appeared later in Catalonian organs, the division was made between b and c1, while the division point in the Castilian organs was between c1 and c1-sharp.¹

The high point of the Castilian organ was around 1750, considerably later than that of the Catalonian organs. Castilian organs were commonly built on an 8′ basis (Flautado de 13 = Principal 8′). Flautado de 26 was rarely found in these organs. There was usually only one manual, but there could be as many as three in exceptional cases. (For instance, the Gospel organ of the Segovia Cathedral has three keyboards.) There was usually no Cadereta (Swell). The registers were divided, and the windchests were small and chromatic. The largest pipes were placed in the center of a façade, and there was usually a horizontal trompetería (reed division).²

Gabriel Blancafort describes several features of the Castilian organ, which reveal its close resemblance to the positive organ. First of all, the windchest of the Castilian organ always maintains its chromatic structure, which is the origin for other special characteristics of this organ type.³ The dimensions of the windchest, consisting of one single piece or of two pieces, are often small. There are usually 45 channels (for four octaves, the short octave included), of which 21 are for the left-hand side and 24 for the right-hand side—if the windchest is made of two pieces. The structure of the organ permits a different number of registers for each hand, always more for the right hand. It is necessary in many cases to place the majority of the large bass pipes outside of the windchest, due to its restricted dimensions. This has contributed greatly to the development of the techniques of conducting wind to the façade, and later, to the trompetería de batalla (Battle Trumpets). The tablones (channel boards) distribute wind to different parts of the façade and are one of the ingenious inventions of the Spanish organ builders to cope with the tricky problems of guaranteeing wind to all the pipework. The action is always suspended, creating a touch that, according to Blancafort, is “the most sensitive and subtle that exists.”⁴ The mechanism of the draw stops is simple.

Although examples of divided stops exist elsewhere in Europe—in Brescia, Italy, in 1580, for example—“Spain certainly seems to be the first country to have used them systematically for colourful solo effects.”⁵ The principle of the divided registers is simple and ingenious. The keyboard is divided into two halves, both of which possess a variety of stops. Because the descant and bass halves can be registered independently, even rather small one-manual organs offer versatile and rich possibilities for registration. It is common to find a few of the same stops on both halves of the keyboard, but the majority of registers belong exclusively to the descant or to the bass half. The growing popularity of the divided registers gave birth to a new type of organ composition, namely, the tiento de medio registro, in which either one or two solo voices figured in the soprano (tiento de medio registro de tiple/de dos tiples), or in the bass (tiento de medio registro de baxón/de dos baxones), against a softer accompaniment, which was played on the other half of the keyboard. I consider the technique of divided registers to be one manifestation of the Spaniards’ love of fanciful, colorful sounds, contrasts, and variety in sonority.

A variety of surprising special effects could be created by the different toy stops that especially large Baroque organs contained. It is usual to have Tambores or Timbales (drums) in the pedal, providing a timpani effect. Tambores often include D and A. Pajaritos (little birds) produce a twitter resembling the Usignoli (nightingale) of the early Italian organs. There are also a variety of accessories generating sounds of sleigh bells. One is a Zymbelstern-like apparatus.\

 

Characteristics of the early Iberian organ 

The vast majority of Iberian organs are small instruments. In fact, the typical instrument consists of a single manual. Instruments of two or three manuals are the exception and then only found in the largest cathedrals. Early instruments with four manuals simply do not exist. It should also be mentioned that these instruments do not have a highly developed independent pedal division, but rather utilize a minimal octave or pull-downs. 

The organbuilder and writer of many treatises, Mariano Tafall y Miguel, gives the following classifications of early organs based upon their disposition.⁶ Early builders were accustomed to using the following names to describe their organs based upon the size of the instrument and basis of pitch. Such common names are órgano entero/completo (based upon 16′), medio órgano (based upon 8′), cuarto de órgano (based upon 4′), and octavo de órgano (based upon 2′ stopped and sounding at 4′). 

The manuals, órgano mayor (Great) and cadereta (Swell), can also be classified into the following five categories, depending on the number of manuals:

 

1 manual 

Órgano Mayor

 

2 manuals

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta

or

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta Interior

 

2½ manuals 

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta

Cadereta Interior (Arca de Ecos: enclosed within a chamber)

 

3 manuals 

Órgano Mayor

Cadereta

Cadereta Interior (Arca de Ecos: enclosed within a chamber)

Órgano de la Espalda (speaking into the side of the nave from rear façade of the organ)

Cadereta de la Espalda (speaking into the side of the nave from rear façade of the organ)

 

The casework of early Iberian organs

The casework, generally speaking, is either very decorative or very plain. Larger instruments found in cathedrals, however, are highly ornate. Two opposing instruments are located above the choir; they are nearly identical and very ornate: one instrument will have two or three manuals and the other possibly just one manual. The casework of early instruments also has a secondary function, that of adding embellishment and aesthetic value to the artistic integrity of the building.  

 

Pipework on early Iberian organs

Early builders used the term caños (pipes) and cañería (pipe building) extensively until the Romantic and Post-Romantic periods, at which time the term tubo came into use, most likely due to the impact of the French school of symphonic organbuilding, which came from the French term tuyau (tube).  

The term tubo is divided into two distinct classifications, as tubos de boca (labials) and tubos de lengua (linguals). Tubos de boca (or labials) can then be divided into two defined families: flautados (principals) and nasardos (nasard as in the Netherlands, nachsatz), which form two distinct choruses of labial pipes: the coro estrecho or claro, and the coro ancho. The terms estrecho or claro refers to cylindrical open pipes with a 1/4 mouth to circumference relationship. The terms estrecho and ancho refers to the diameter of the pipe in relation to the length. Early Iberian instruments measured pipe lengths oddly enough in palmos (palm or hand widths). 

The following stop names are typical of early instruments.

 

Flautado Mayor de 26 Palmos (16′)

Flautado de 13 (8′)

Octava (4′)

Docena (22⁄3′)

Quincena (2′)

Decinovena (11⁄3′)

Veintidosena (1′)

Lleno* (mixture)

Cimbala

Sobrecimbala

*lleno general or principal chorus.

 

The nasardos can be open or stopped, conical or cylindrical pipes. Generally there is a 2/9 mouth to circumference relationship.

 

Violon Mayor de 26 Palmos (16′)

Violon de 13 (8′ stopped)

Nasardo en 8º (4′ stopped)

Nasardo en 12º (22⁄3′ stopped or open)

Nasardo en 15º (2′ open)

Nasardo en 17º (13⁄5′ open)

Nasardos

Claron

Corneta

 

Generally speaking, nasardos 4′ and above are semi-open or chimney-style pipes. The Swiss-German organbuilders Juan Kiburz y Francisco Otter, who were established in Barcelona, Spain, proposed the addition of several new stops in the organ at the Iglesía de Nostra Senyora del Pi, recommending the inclusion of a Gamba, Quintatón, Fagotto, and Soncional. However, as early as 1587, organbuilder Maese Jorge added a Flautas Tapadas de 14 Palmos, called a Quintaden, deriving its name from the sound that produced a prominent fifth overtone.  

In fact, by the end of the 18th century many early organs in Spain contained such stops as Flauta travesera (traverse flute), Flauta con boca redonda (flute with round mouth), Flauta Alemana (German flute), Salicional, and Gamba.

 

Reeds

Without a doubt, the stops most associated with early Iberian instruments are the lenguas (reeds). The Lengüetería (reed division) makes up the third chorus on a typical Iberian instrument. Reeds are divided into two categories: reales (normal or full length) and cortos (half length) resonators.

Early in the development of the Iberian organ, lenguas cortos (half-length resonator stops) such as Dulzainas, Orlos, and Regalías were introduced. Little by little appeared the Trompetas Bastardas (harmonic trumpets) with half-length resonators, as well as the Trompetas Reales (full-length trumpets). The Trompeta Real (8′) is always an interior stop and vertical in its placement. The Obué and the Clarinete (which is the Cromorno for Iberian instruments) can also be found on many early instruments.  

The Trompetas can be further divided into two distinct categories: Trompetas de Batalla (exterior and horizontal) and Trompetas Interior (interior and vertical). Early instruments almost always had at least one, if not two stops en Batalla even in the event that the instrument might not have a single interior reed stop.  

The most frequently found Trompetas de Batalla (exposed and horizontal) are:

Left hand stops

Bajoncillo (4′)

Clarin en 15º (2′)

Clarin de Bajos (8′)

Clarin en 22º (1′)

Trompeta Magna (16′)

Trompeta de Batalla (8′)

 

Right hand stops

Oboe (8′)

Chirimia Alta (4′)

Trompeta de Batalla (8′)

Clarin (8′)

Trompeta Magna (16′)

Trompeta Imperial (32′)

 

It is also common to find Dulzainas, Orlos (regals), Viejos, Viejas (rankets), and Gorrinitos (clarions) mounted horizontally on the exterior of the case: 8′, 4′, 2′ for the left hand and 16′ and 8′ for the right hand. These batteries of reed stops serve two roles within the literature: one as a solo stop and the other as a complement to the reed chorus. The voicing is formidable, harmonic, and richly distinctive in comparison to the interior reeds, which are sweet and broader in scaling. In the largest cathedrals (Zaragoza, Salamanca, Toledo, Málaga, Granada, Santiago de Compostela, Sevilla) the organs have Trompetas de Batallas mounted on the front façades (speaking into the choir) as well as the rear façades (speaking into the nave), which allows for dazzling echo effects alternating between exterior and interior reeds.

 

Windchests and distribution of wind on early Iberian organs

Windchests on early instruments are always laid out chromatically, never diatonically or symmetrically. Additionally, each chest is divided between bajos (bass) and tiples (treble). The division occurs between c′ and cs′ (c³ and c#³). In Catalonia the division occurs between b and c′ (b² and c³), but is the exception to the rule and is very seldom encountered.  

 

Keyboards (Teclados)

Of course, early instruments always utilize mechanical key and stop action.  The action on most early instruments tends to be extremely responsive and light, necessitating a highly developed level of technique. Divided registers (partidos) predominate the peninsula and, as previously stated, allow the organist to have two distinct registrations on a single manual.

Thanks to the divided registers, it is always possible to register a work with contrasting registrations for the right and left hand. This may explain the existence of so many small instruments with only a single manual, however, one which serves as two! When considering the early Iberian repertoire it is important to realize the significance of a title such as Tiento de tiples (melody in the right hand) or Tiento de bajos (melody in the left hand).  

On the earliest of instruments, it is possible to find stops that were enclosed within an Arca de Ecos (echo chamber) foreshadowing the future Caja Expresiva (expressive box; swell box). Initially, these Arcas were open, non-expressive boxes containing a single stop such as a Corneta or Trompeta placed within the Arca, producing a slightly distant sound quality. Over time, a lid was placed on top of the box and a lever, operated by the foot or knee, would open or close the lid. Initially this effect was referred to as suspensión, referring not to a musical structure, but rather the emotion produced in response to the overall effect.

Earliest examples typically affected only one Tiples (right hand) register or stop, usually the Corneta. Later, the Arca de Ecos came to include a variety of stops. The terms Eco and Contraeco seem to be used quite often in early treatises, which describe the effects created by the Arca de Ecos, the sensation of far (lejanía) and near (cerca), not that of loud and soft. These Arcas de Ecos were not utilized to create a “swelling” sound (crescendo). Aristide Cavaillé-Coll incorporated this concept with his organ at Santa María de San Sebastián, in which the third manual operates in the same manner as an Arca de Ecos, which he called an Organo de Ecos, which in France would be called a Récit Expressif.  

The compass of the manuals, as one would expect, increased gradually as newer instruments were being constructed. Bigger is better! Correa de Arauxo makes mention of this fact in his treatise, Facultad Orgánica, 1626: the organbuilders Hernando de Córdoba and Hernando Alonso de Córdoba, father and son from Zaragoza, Spain, were given the task of expanding the compass of the organ for the Parroquia de San Gil de Zaragoza, Spain in 1574.⁷ In order to amplify the compass from Fa to Do they only had to add one natural key and two keys as if they had been accidentals. It is interesting to discover that the Spanish word for a key on the keyboard is tecla (from the Latin, teja), further supporting the hypothesis that the early Iberian organ is much older than originally thought.

The old manual compass was as indicated below until the mid-15th century:

| Fa | Sol | La | b | Si | Do | # | Re | b | Mi | Fa | etc.

 

The new layout was as follows:

| Do | Fa | Re | Sol | Mi | La | b | Si | Do | # | Re | b | Mi | Fa | etc.

 

This manual layout, which ended on La 4, is the format that was prevalent during the 17th century. It consisted of 42 notes: 21 notes for each hand [divided registers]. In the 18th century, the compass was further enlarged in the right hand up to Do 5 and later enlarged in the left hand to complete the octava grave.  

At the end of the 18th century, Julian de la Orden installed in the Cátedral de Malaga three new manuals of 51 notes (Do 1–Re 5), and in the Cátedral de Toledo he renovated the Organo de Emperador in 1770 with two manuals of 54 notes (Do 1–Fa 5). In 1797 José Verdalonga enlarged the Órgano de evangelio to three manuals of 56 notes (Do 1–Sol 5). These 56-note manuals took on the name teclados de octavas segundas, which meant that all of the octaves were like the second octave. Verdalonga also constructed the organ in the Iglesia del Salvador de Leganés in 1790 with a manual compass of 45 notes (Do 1–Do 5), with a diatonic short octave (octava corta). In 1771 Josep Casas renovated and enlarged the Órgano Prioral at the Escorial, where Antonio Soler was the organist. The outcome was an organ of three manuals: Órgano Mayor of 61 notes (Sol 1–Sol 5); Cadereta of 51 notes (Do 1–Re 5): Ecos of 51 notes (Do 1–Re 5).

The tessitura of the manual is divided and labeled in the following manner:

1º Octava = Grave

2º Octava = Baja

3º Octava = Media

4º Octava = Aguda

5º Octave = Sobreaguda

 

The short octave

The limited pedal division is no doubt due to the use of short octaves in these early instruments. The lowest notes of the keyboard, which would normally be E-F-F#-G-G#, were tuned to pitches below their usual pitches; the C/E short octave (octava corta) keys were tuned as C-F-D-G-E. Since the pedal division was so limited, this allowed the performer to play intervals in the left hand that would otherwise be impossible. The use of the short octave was popular for many reasons:

 

Benefits for the organist

1. It allowed the organist to play the lowest bass note and inner voice with the left hand. The short octave was in a sense the pedal on these instruments. 

2. It extends the lowest octave of the instrument, omitting chromatic notes, since the bass part of the keyboard repertoire was predominantly diatonic. 

3. It allowed the organist’s feet to be free for other tasks:

• To operate the Arca de Ecos

• To operate foot-activated stops

 

Benefits for the organbuilder

It was more economical,

• When space was at a minimum

• When cost was a factor

 

The stops are located on either side of the teclado (manual) according to the divided registers, bajos and tiples, left and right, respectively. Stops can be found in the shape of paddles or knobs, ornate or plain. Occasionally, it is possible that the stop knobs can be located beneath the manual and activated by the knees. On organs with a short octave the stops may be located where the pedals ought to be, since on such an instrument, there was no basic need for pedals.

 

The pedals

The use of pedals was limited to emphasizing cadences in early repertoire, so it goes without saying the pedals are very simple in design, usually consisting of wooden pisas (round knobs) or peanas (blocks), but never more than an octave. When the pedals are a pull-down (coupled from the manual) they are called pisas. If, on the other hand, the pedals have their own appropriate pipes, they are called contras. These pedals first appeared diatonically—Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Sib, Si—eight pitches total. Later they were expanded chromatically—Do, Do#, Re, Mib, Mi, Fa, Fa#, Sol, Sol#, La, Sib—twelve pitches total. The usual stop for the Contras is the Flautado 26 palmos (16′). In some instances, the pisa being a pull-down works much like a coupler, so the sound will reflect the registration used in the left-hand, lowest octave.

 

 

 

Notes

1. Gabriel Blancafort, “El órgano español del siglo XVII,” in Actas del I Congreso Nacional de Musicología (Zaragoza: Institución “Fernando el Católico,” 1979),  133–142.

2. Ibid., 121.

3. Ibid., 138.

4. Ibid., 138–139.

5. Peter Williams, The European Organ 1450–1850 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978, third impression), 245.

6. See James Wyly, “The Pre-Romantic Spanish Organ: Its Structure, Literature, and Use in Performance.” D.M.A. dissertation, University of Missouri at Kansas City, 1964, 280–283.

7. This is the eleventh (unnumbered) page in Kastner’s preface to his edition of Correa’s Facultad orgánica, first published as volumes VI (1948) and XII (1952) in the series Monumentos de la Música Española (Barcelona: Instituto Español de Musicología).

Gavin Black

Organ Method V

This follows directly from last month’s column. The approach to learning pedal playing that I am outlining here is not materially different from that in my columns on pedal playing between November 2007 and February 2008. Here it is recast as something addressed directly to the student, which the student can use with or without a teacher. This month’s column simply introduces the notion of learning the feeling of moving a foot from one note to the adjacent note. This feeling is, as far as I can tell, the best foundation upon which to build solid pedal facility.

 

Looking at the pedals while playing

Everyone is tempted to look at the feet, either from time to time or quite regularly. However, each time that you look at your feet while you are working on a pedal exercise or trying to learn a pedal part you deprive yourself of a chance to become more secure in your pedal playing. You might or might not increase your chance of accurately finding the note that you are looking for. Security at the pedal keyboard comes from a firm inner sense of the physical shapes and distances involved—the kinesthetics of the pedal keyboard. Any time that you do not rely on that sense, you fail to develop it further. Of course, the reason that players, especially beginners, are temped to look at the feet is the fear that this physical sense of where the pedal keys are will fail. In fact, this sense can become extraordinarily reliable: it must, since the practice of looking at the pedal keyboard can be quite problematic if it is used at all regularly. (Looking at the feet makes it easy to lose your place in the music, and it tends to introduce small hesitations into playing.) The pedal exercises and learning strategy used here will enable you to rely on the kinesthetic sense from the very beginning—the sequence of exercises has been designed with that particularly in mind. In turn, relying on that sense from the very beginning will make it reliable. You will be comfortable looking at your feet very little indeed—or not at all. This approach asks you from the very beginning to understand what is going on physically in your pedal playing, and to participate quite consciously and actively in the creation of your own particular pedal technique. This has the added advantage of making the process more interesting.

 

Heel and toe

Playing pedals means pushing down pedal keys with the feet. In theory any part of the foot can be used to depress a pedal key, but the front and back of the foot—the toe area and the heel—are the most useful. Further, the toe area, at least, can be thought of as divided into parts: the inside of the foot, or big toe side, the outside of the foot, or little toe side, and the front or center of the foot, under the middle toes—the tip of the shoe. (The heel area could be thought of as divided into similar regions, however the shape and size of the heel makes it more natural to think of it as a continuum.) All of these areas are completely suitable for playing pedal keys. The choice of which particular part of the foot to use in playing which notes is referred to as pedaling—the pedal version of fingering. As with fingering, pedaling choices are influenced by many factors. Some of these are directly about the music: the shape of a musical line, considerations of tempo, articulation, and phrasing. However, pedaling choices are also affected by logistic factors that are independent of the music itself: the height of the bench, the exact shape and size of the pedal keyboard—including details such as the size of the sharps/flats in relation to the naturals—and the physique and habitual posture of the player. Pedaling choices for the same passage of music, and overall tendencies in pedaling choices, will vary from one player to the next depending on all of the factors mentioned above; plus different types of repertoire require different approaches to pedaling.

 

Flexing the foot

The physical gesture involved in playing a pedal key with the toes is a gesture that can take advantage of the full flexing ability of the foot. Playing with the heel can take much less advantage of that flexing, since the heel is located much closer to the ankle, and does not move up and down very much with the flexing of the foot. Playing with the heel is, therefore, a gesture that is controlled somewhat more with the leg. It is easier, in the earlier stages of learning to play pedals, to execute toe pedaling with a relaxed and fluid motion than it is heel playing. (In the long run it is just as possible to play in a relaxed and fluid manner with the heels: that is just something that comes about more naturally after a player is familiar with the pedal keyboard and comfortable on the organ bench.) It is also the case that the gesture of flexing the foot and, in a sense, reaching with the toes is a gesture that feels like pointing: it is easy and natural for even someone who is not yet a trained organist to know by feel where the toes are and where they are pointing. Again, it is not a problem—it is not difficult—to develop an equally secure sense of this for the heels: it just naturally comes later. Therefore, the first several pedal exercises that I provide are all meant to be played with the toes alone. Heel playing will be introduced shortly.

If we leave aside any artificial assistance, such as looking, or bumping the feet along the keys until you find the one you want, there are three ways to get a pedal note right: 

1) finding a note in relation to where the foot that will play that note last was; 

2) finding a note with one foot in relation to where the other foot is; and 

3) finding a note “from scratch,” in relation to where your body is on
the bench. 

The first of these—which includes both moving the toe area of the foot from one note to another, and playing a note with the heel when you have just played another note with the toe—is the most reliable, and the most powerful tool for developing secure pedal facility. The other two come into play once in a while. The exercises and practice techniques that we start with here rely on—and strengthen—the first way of finding notes. Later on we will address the other two. 

You have already noted which pedal key each of your feet rests on (or over) as you sit in a relaxed posture on the organ bench. Draw a pedal stop or two: make sure that you include at least one 8′ stop. Now, without looking, flex one of your feet in such a way that the toe area of that foot moves downward and plays something. What do you hear? You might hear a note; you might hear two adjacent notes. Notice what part of your foot actually touched and depressed the key. In general, most of us cannot play pedal notes “straight,” that is, with the tip of the shoe. Most feet are too wide for that. If you hear yourself playing two notes at once, then you need to turn your foot slightly so that one side or the other is touching the key. In general, people with wider feet need to turn more than people with narrower feet. There are some players whose feet are in fact narrow enough that they can play with the very end of the foot. If you find yourself to be one of those people, then you can ignore most of what I have to say about turning the foot to one side or another.

But assuming that you do need to turn your foot, which way should you turn? The fundamental answer to this is “whichever way is more comfortable.” Usually, in any given situation, one way will be definitely more comfortable than the other. If this is not the case—if they both feel much the same—then either will probably be fine. In general, however, if the note that you want to play is outside wherever your knee is then it will feel comfortable to turn the foot out and play from the big toe side; if the note that you want to play is inside wherever your knee is then it will probably work best to turn the foot in and play from the little toe side. (Outside means higher for a right-foot note and lower for a left-foot note; inside mean the opposite.) In first playing the note that lies under each foot, try turning each way. Is one easier or more comfortable? Which one? Does it conform to what I have suggested (outside/inside) or does it feel different from what that would predict? (Once you have turned each foot enough to play its note cleanly, make sure that you know what note it is. If you have perfect pitch, you will know. If not, play around on a manual keyboard until you match the pitch, then see what note it is. This is practice in not looking at your feet!) Fortunately, there are only two directions in which to turn your foot in order to play a pedal note, so it is always possible to try both and see which one works better. (Of course, by the time you perform a piece you should have worked this out long before.) There is enough variation among different people in the comfortable positioning of the knees—that is, in how close together or far apart the knees naturally fall while sitting on the organ bench—that it is not a good idea to try to come up with a general rule for which way a player should turn the feet for which notes. You the student must discover this for yourself. Furthermore, it is not something that is fixed. That is, you will not always turn each foot the same way for a given note, every time you play that note. Some particular musical or technical context may cause you to position a knee differently, which will change the angle of the foot, or something about the direction of a musical line—where the foot is going next—may affect things, perhaps in ways that can’t be predicted in advance.

 

From one note to another

Once you have played your one note with each foot, play the next natural note up and the next natural note down. You should achieve this in the following way: gently release the first note; then move the foot—in the air just above the pedal keyboard—through a very small arc that you guess might take it to the space over the next (natural) note. When you have arrived at that place, again flex your toes downward and play the note over which you have arrived. Let your ears tell you whether you have indeed come to the next note up or down. It is fairly likely that you will have gone too far. This is common, in fact almost universal at this stage. The gesture of moving one foot from one note to the next note is one of the smallest things that we humans ever do with our feet; it takes some getting used to. If you have gone too far—if the new note that you have just played is a third away from your starting note, or even more—then go back to your starting note and try again. Move less far. Don’t think that you have to know exactly how much less far you need to move before you try it: just move less far. This thought and gesture will probably bring you to the correct note. It might lead you to drop down into the space between your starting note and the note that you were hoping to play next. If so, then go back to the opening note and this time move your foot a little bit farther. 

This thought process is crucial to the work of learning to play pedals. In learning and in practicing you are trying things out. Everything will not be right the first time. The good news is that if you play a wrong note in working on a pedal exercise or a pedal part, only one of two things can have gone wrong: either you moved your foot too far or you didn’t move it far enough. Furthermore, you can tell by listening which of these things happened. The way to arrive at correct practicing is simply to go back to the starting point, and move the foot again, correcting that motion in whichever direction is indicated. If you went too far before, go less far now; if you didn’t go far enough before, go farther now. It is not necessary to try to calculate how much farther or less far to go: in fact, it is counterproductive to get too specific about it. It is always a small amount. 

This way of thinking about it always gives good results. 

After you have become comfortable moving each foot from the starting note (the note over which the foot naturally falls) to the adjacent notes up and down, try the same thing elsewhere on the keyboard. Move each foot around, to random places, in both directions. Then, after playing a note, move up, back, down, always moving by one step at a time, always moving the foot just up off the key that you have been playing and through the air to the next note. Always pay attention to the comfortable tilting of the foot to one side or the other. Note that this may change from one note to the adjacent note. Never accept an uncomfortable foot.

 

 

Gavin Black

Organ Method X

This follows directly from the end of last month’s column.

 

Take the same approach and follow the same procedures with these additional exercises. These are also four-finger exercises that allow for choices of fingering (2-3-4-5 and 1-2-3-4) and therefore for comparing the feel of different fingerings. They add different, slightly more complicated, note patterns (Examples 1 and 2).

Each of these can also be moved to different positions on the keyboard: moving to a different C as a starting place gives you a chance to practice the feel of the same patterns with different arm angles. When you start on other pitches, change the key signature in such a way as to keep the melodies the same. This will give you a chance to experience different physical shapes with these exercises. Try each of the eight short exercises starting on F, with B-flats, and starting on D, with F-sharps. These flats and sharps may very well change the feel of some of the alternate fingerings, perhaps making some of them distinctly uncomfortable—be on the lookout for this.

You can also start any of the exercises described so far on a raised key. For example, try starting on F#, with the full F# major key signature. Again, be aware of difference in the feel of the fingerings. Keep everything light and relaxed, and remember all of the points listed above.

As you move these exercises to different places on the keyboard, whether by octave or by transposing into another key, make a clear decision as to whether you should write out the new notes, or whether you can effect those changes at sight and by memory. There is nothing wrong with either approach: it is important, however, that you not be distracted from the playing and practicing by worrying about the notes. If the transposing at sight is even a little bit distracting, please go ahead and write things out. (This is absolutely crucial for a student who is new to keyboard playing, and should be done without fail at this stage in the learning process.) The same applies to trying different fingerings: write them in for now. You cannot practice a variety of fingerings effectively if you—even some of the time—don’t quite remember what fingering you are using. Again, if you are beginning your keyboard study with this work on organ, thinking about fingering is something that you can do—for yourself, in large part—even from the very beginning. Remembering your fingerings, especially different ones for the same passage, is tricky at first, though both necessary and completely feasible in the long run.

The following exercises expand the scope of the notes that you are playing: that is, the notes range a little bit farther over the keyboard (Examples 3 and 4). Each of these eight exercises suggests a slightly different approach to fingering. For example, the second and sixth exercises can be played simply by positioning the five fingers above the five different notes, and then playing those notes. (This gives, for the second exercise in the right hand the fingering 1-3-5-4-2-3-2-1; and for the seventh of these exercises—in the left hand—the fingering 5-3-1-2-4-3-4-5.) The first exercise, for the right hand, and the corresponding fifth, for the left hand, are the first pair that we have seen in which the fingerings in the two hands cannot mirror each other. This fingering works very naturally in the right hand: 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1-2-1-3-5. In the left hand the closest corresponding fingering—which would start out 5-4-3-2-1—ends up getting us into trouble (try it and see). Other fingerings will work, for example 4-3-2-1-2-1-2-3-4-5-4-2-1.

 

Playing scales

The last of these exercises for each hand is a scale. (In the physical act of playing, a scale is just a stepwise pattern that spans an octave. It is not intrinsically different from other stepwise patterns.) You should try playing this scale with a number of different fingerings. For example:

R.H.: 1-2-3-1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1-3-2-1 

L.H.: 5-4-3-2-1-3-2-1-2-3-1-2-3-4-5

R.H.: 1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4-3-2-1-4-3-2-1

L.H.: 4-3-2-1-4-3-2-1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4

R.H.: 3-4-3-4-3-4-3-4-3-2-3-2-3-2-3

(quite detached: basically eighth notes with eighth-note rests in between; light and relaxed)   

L.H.: 3-2-3-2-3-2-3-2-3-4-3-4-3-4-3 

(likewise)

The first of these in each hand is the standard (piano) scale fingering. The second is a variant of that, which might be appropriate in some situations, but is included here simply to afford more practice with a variety of fingerings. The third is a version of the sort of scale fingering that was prevalent before about 1700. 

You should also try this scale—and any transpositions of it that you want to make—playing every note with the same finger. The three middle fingers are more natural for this than the thumb or the fifth finger. In doing this, you should expect the notes to be detached—but just enough that the motion from one note to the next is smooth, no “lurching”. You should also keep it slow—again so that the motion can be smooth. (It would indeed be quite unusual to play a long stepwise passage all with one finger, however, playing two or more notes in a row with one finger is common, and this is a good systematic way to practice it.) 

The third and seventh of these exercises are the first ones in which you are asked to spread the fingers in such a way that adjacent fingers do not necessarily play adjacent notes, though this happens only briefly. The first three notes of exercise two or six and the first three notes of exercise three or seven are the same: C, E, G. However, the exercises go on to different places, which suggests different fingerings. Exercises two and six can start like this:

Right hand: 1-3-5 [-4]

Left hand: 5-3-1 [-2]

However, exercises three and seven should probably start like this:

Right hand: 1-2-3[-5]

Left hand: 5-4-2 [-1]

The latter two measures of the third exercise—right hand—could be played with the “standard” scale fingering 5-4-3-2-1-3-2-1, or, just to practice a different feel, a variant: for example, 5-4-1-4-3-2-1-3. 

 

Thoughts on fingering

It should be clear by now that I am asking you, the student, to think about the fingering of these fairly simple exercises for yourself, albeit with some guidance. This is, of course, on purpose. Learning to devise your own fingerings is one of the most important aspects of your learning to play organ—or any keyboard instrument. The primary purpose of these exercises is to help you begin to explore the touch and sound of the instrument. However, while you are doing that, you can begin to gain experience thinking about fingering—rather than just implementing fingerings devised by someone else. This may take more time now, but it will save you a lot of time later on.  

 

For the beginner

If you are a beginner—having more or less never touched a keyboard instrument before—you should nonetheless have been able to do everything that you have encountered so far, if you have taken it slowly and carefully, and paid attention to the suggestions and instructions. It is extremely important that you feel very comfortable with everything that you have encountered so far before you go on. There is no harm in spending extra time with these beginning steps.  

 

Articulation

There can be a very direct relationship in organ playing in particular between fingering and articulation. Simply put, if a fingering does not allow you to keep holding one note in a passage while you start to play the next note, then going from that first note to that next note will be detached rather than legato. This is simply a fact, not a judgment or even a suggestion about what to do in any situation. There are many places in the organ repertoire where a fingering that actually requires a detached articulation and makes legato impossible—that is, a disjunct fingering—is appropriate or necessary or good. There are also many places where a legato fingering is a good idea or necessary, though there are indeed places where a legato fingering is impossible. The clearest example of disjunct fingering is, of course, playing successive notes with the same finger. Note that if a fingering allows legato, it usually does not require legato: you can release notes early.

If you neither need nor want legato in a particular situation, it is not necessary to create a legato fingering. A legato fingering is often—though certainly not always—more difficult than a disjunct fingering. A disjunct—non-legato—fingering that is comfortable will allow you to create a wide variety of articulations, short of full legato.

 

Other considerations

Physical comfort and logistic convenience are crucially important first principles of fingering. When you are trying to come up with a fingering for a passage—whether it is fairly simple, like the exercises above, or as complicated as the repertoire gets—the first step is to examine where the hand most naturally lies, what is the most comfortable hand position, what has the fewest steps and can thus be most easily remembered. This does not give all of the answers to all of the fingering questions, but is a good place to start. 

All else being equal, it is useful to plan fingering based on what is going to come next. (For example, that is the point of the different fingerings for the notes C-E-G in exercises three and seven.) Of course, fingering is also about where you have just come from, but the more you can plan fingering based on where you are going, the better.

When either hand is playing only one note at a time, fingering choices are usually very flexible. The more notes or voices a hand is playing, the more constrained the fingering will be. It is often better to change fingers on repeated notes—that is, to play successive notes that are the same as one another with different fingers. This is important enough that I will discuss it at some length later on.

 

For the experienced player

If you are coming to the organ having already studied and played another keyboard instrument, and if you have previously played pieces that are in two voices—that is, pieces in which there is indeed only one note at a time in each hand—find such a piece that you already know and bring it to the organ now. Work out fingering that is comfortable and in accordance with the discussion above, as much as possible. (This may be largely the same as the fingering that you have used for the piece previously on piano or harpsichord; it may differ from it somewhat.) Then practice the piece hands separately, slowly and carefully. Look at the keyboard as little as possible; an occasional glance is fine, but by and large keep your eyes on the music. As with the exercises above, you should listen carefully for articulation, and you should listen to the sonority. 

Try out different registrations. Do not assume in advance that a certain kind of sound will be right for the piece and other sounds wrong: try things and listen. A strictly two-voice piece is always a candidate to play on two manuals. Try your piece out that way, in all sorts of different configurations. Does it feel more comfortable or natural to have the right hand on a higher manual than the left or the other way around? Or are they both equally comfortable?

 

(The next section, which will constitute next month’s excerpt, consists of a short two-voice piece by Samuel Scheidt, with a discussion about fingering it and practicing it. It is geared towards those students who have little or no prior keyboard experience but who have gone through the exercises and practicing described so far. That is followed by exercises in which each hand plays more than one note at a time, with further discussion about how to make fingering choices and how to practice.)

 

 

Gavin Black

Organ Method II

This is the first part—roughly the first half—of an Introduction designed to orient the beginning student to the instrument itself: what an organ is, what it feels like to sit at the console and begin to play, what you have to know in order not to find the initial experience of the organ overwhelming. One of my own earliest attempts to practice organ has always served as a caution to me. I was about thirteen years old, and I had arranged with a nearby church to practice on their organ. I had barely played at all prior to my first visit there. Of course, they were being quite nice and supportive to let me use the instrument. When I got there, I turned the key and got the instrument going. I started trying to play. No matter how few stops I put on—and I was trying to be quiet—the sound stayed the same: rather loud. I concluded that the organ was broken, and I was scared to death that I might have broken it. I turned everything off, left, and later called to tell my contact at the church that the instrument was broken, trying to tell the story in a way that made it look like I hadn’t done it. Of course, in fact, someone had simply left the crescendo pedal a little bit on. I had never heard of a crescendo pedal, so I panicked. I always hope to spare other beginners experiences like that. The Introduction is just a brief run-through of some concepts that I think the student should bear in mind before beginning to play. The last section of the book will be a more thorough discussion of organ history, types of organs, developments in organ repertoire, and so on. An important part of that section will be suggestions for further study, since of course what we know about the organ and its history keeps expanding and changing. As always, I strongly welcome any feedback. 

 

Introduction: the instrument

What is the organ? The answer to this question is surprisingly elusive. No student should expect to come up with a definitive answer, when no experienced professional can; every student, especially one new to the instrument, should  think about it, and can confidently expect to find thinking about it fascinating and absorbing. 

The word “organ” and its equivalent in other languages—orgue, orgel, órgano, and so on—has been used for many centuries and in many parts of the world to denote a musical instrument. That musical instrument has changed—evolved—over the centuries, and has also differed, to some extent, in different parts of the world. This evolution and these differences have been substantial: probably as substantial as the process that led from the harpsichord to the piano, or from the shawm to the oboe. In the case of the organ, however, its name has not changed. (Here’s why the name has not changed: because the biggest and most striking organs are solid, immovable objects that cost a lot and that in part define the spaces that they inhabit. Changes in organs have usually been sold as improvements, upgrades, updatings, or even restorations, no matter how new or innovative the content of those changes was, not as new instruments. New developments in smaller, portable instruments—a new action type in a stringed keyboard instrument, or a new kind of bore in a double-reed instrument—have usually been sold as new instruments.) A definition seems impossible: it is a challenge to find any one thing to say that is categorically true of all organs. Description, however, is possible, if it is flexible enough to encompass all of this magnificent variety. So, the organ is:

1) A musical instrument. This is obvious: it’s what we are talking about. Maybe it is not even worth mentioning, except that it is one of only two things that we can mention that are really true of all organs. The second one is that it is:

2) A keyboard instrument. In fact, even this is not quite universal. There have been barrel organs and other mechanically operated organs—organs that play themselves. However, for someone coming to study organ, someone who wants to learn to play, we can assume that it is a keyboard instrument that we are talking about.

3) An instrument with a pedal keyboard. The pedal keyboard has been a characteristic of the organ for a very long time indeed, but it has never been universal. It would be unusual nowadays (but not necessarily actually wrong) for someone who could not play the pedals at all to describe himself or herself as an “organist”. However, over the centuries many organs have been built without pedal keyboards, and something like (very roughly) half of the organ repertoire consists of pieces that do not need pedals.

4) A wind instrument. For many centuries all of the instruments that were considered “organs” were ones in which the sound came about through the application of wind. Some sorts of pipes—wooden or metal, with or without moving parts, similar in their ways of producing sound to wind instruments such as flutes or to reed instruments such as clarinets or oboes—were set up ready to receive a breath of wind—not from human lungs, but from some type of bellows system. This was then delivered to the correct pipes, through one sort of mechanism or another, when a player pushed a key. However, beginning in the early twentieth century, inventors began to create ways of making sound through electricity without the use of wind, which were then gathered under the umbrella of the organ. In the early twenty-first century, a large proportion of the organs in use have no pipes and use no wind: they are one sort or another of electronic organ, most creating sound through the use of computer technology. Many but not all of these electronic organs are explicitly intended by their makers to imitate the sounds of pipe organs. 

(Of course, the electronic organ has always been a source of controversy. If it is in theory trying to sound like a pipe organ, how well does it succeed? Is the sound as beautiful and stirring as the sound of a pipe organ? Is it artistically appropriate to play organ repertoire from before the era of the electronic organ on such an instrument? Does it offer any advantages—portability, more stable tuning, an even greater variety of sounds? And so on. One interesting point about these controversies is that they are new to recent decades only in their details. All changes in organ design over hundreds of years—and change has been the only constant—have met with both condemnation and adulation, and everything in between.)

5) An instrument with “stops”. That is, an instrument with discrete different sounds that can be used separately or in various combinations. This is highly characteristic of the organ, and essentially every organ beyond the very smallest is set up this way. Of everything that we have so far listed here, it might be the closest to a definition, or at least to a thread binding together all of the instruments that have been accepted as “organs” over the years. It is not quite universal: there are organs small enough that they make only one sound—that is, they have only one stop, so the business of combining stops does not apply. It is also not found only in the organ. Harpsichords also have stops, for example. However, the concept of stops and the combining of stops is essential to the artistic task of playing the organ. With most musical instruments, the player has one basic sound available, but has the ability to shape the nature of that sound somewhat, through dynamics or other means. With the organ, the player has several or, usually, many different sounds available. However, the ability to shape the nature of any given sound is limited. 

6) A place. More than any other musical instrument, a pipe organ is part of the architecture, part of the substance of the structure where it lives. Very few organs move around. Those that do are very small and not designed to play very much of the organ repertoire: they are valid organs, but they are not the most characteristic. Organists can feel enveloped by the instrument. The organ, rather than the room or the building, is where they are when they are playing. And if the instrument is an essential part of the architecture, then the architecture is also part of the instrument. The acoustics of the room in which it is found are always part of the sound of an organ, and the layout of the instrument in the room can dictate things about how it can best be used. 

7) A technological marvel. In the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance large church organs—fully mechanical with several keyboards and many stops—were at least candidates for the most advanced and intricate technology that had yet been developed. The history of the development of technology for the organ—key and stop action, and pipe design—moves in sync with the overall history of technology, including the application of electricity and of computer-driven functions. 

8) Whatever you the student think it is or want it to be. Why are you studying organ? Did you fall in love with the sounds? If so, were they of one particular organ, or a type, or a wide variety? (It could be even one particular stop.) Is it repertoire that draws you to the instrument? If so, what repertoire? A piece? A composer? An era? A variety of things? Is it the sense of power? That is a bit facetious, but also real: an organist at even a fairly small organ commands more sounds and a greater range of dynamics than any other performer: it is not even close. That can be intoxicating, and, since it is not harmful, there is no reason that we should not enjoy that intoxication. Is it a place—a place where you have heard organ music, whether a church or a concert hall or a practice studio? Is it an inspiring performer or teacher or friend? Is it a connection to one of the religious practices that make use of organ music? Try not to forget what drew you to the instrument and what makes you love it—especially if the hours of practicing ever threaten to seem long. At the same time, try to be open to discovering all of the sides of the organ. 

With all of this variety, how do we get started? 

I will end the excerpt here, because it is a fairly logical stopping place. Next month’s excerpt will begin with keyboard and stop control layout, and go on from there. It will discuss the beginnings of registration, and practice habits.