Tech Lines

Herbert L. Huestis, Ph.D., is Contributing Editor for The Diapason.

The RFP Sliding Scale

An "RFP" is shorthand for "Request for Proposal," a letter that most organ builders receive from prospective clients with regularity. On the one hand, some are exciting and invigorating. They represent a chance for the builder to do something special that enhances their expertise and experience. On the other hand, some are tragic in their shortsightedness. They are an invitation to add to the opus of indifferent or misinformed organ building that is so prevalent across the land.

I have coined the term "RFP Sliding Scale" to describe a downward trend that occurs when each successive phone call represents a stranger request than the time before. I can say from personal experience that this can happen. I am not making this up.

I would like to give a verbatim request, but privacy issues prevail, and examples must suffice. Here are some of the "truth is stranger than fiction"  RFPs.

Items that have been requested for a small unit organ

* Fit new "digital grade" contacts to each manual and pedal note. (Question: What is meant by "digital grade" ?)

* Fit new rocker tablets to accommodate a much-expanded stop list. (Why do folks want to obtain 33 "voices" from 3 ranks of pipes?)

* Install 12 new pistons and toe studs in the thumb-rails and pedalboard. (What's the organist going to use all those buttons for?)

* All pistons and reversibles are to be of the lighted type. (For candlelight services?)

* Install a chime relay in the Great and Swell. (You don't want to be far away from the chimes!)

* Connect the organ power supply to the building security system. (This one stumps me. I guess it has something to do with pews that "creak" in the night. Would the organ shut down when the building alarm was sounded?)

* Provide multiple memories, lockable with digital passwords. (That's it, you can use your ATM card to set combinations!)

* Provide a clock that "autocorrects" via a microprocessor for accuracy. (My VCR does that, but I have no idea how to hook up the organ to Channel 9.)

* Install a transposer with a warning indicator. (Perhaps the building alarm would do.)

* Set all console keys and switches to factory standards. (Problem: this is a Möller Artiste--no more factory.)

* Extend the Trumpet rank to give a 16-8-4 reed chorus on the Swell. (How to provide a Willis "full Swell" with one rank. This reminds me of the "one rank mixture.") [See White, "The One-rank Mixture; The Diapason, November, 1961, p. 25.]

* Add a Cymbale III. (That would double the size of the organ from 3 ranks to 6 ranks!)

* Here is a request that is a keeper: Engrave all stop tabs with preparations "masked with a semi-permanent,   non-staining, semi-opaque material." (Could this customer be asking for masking tape?)

These are honest-to-gosh examples that illustrate what I call the "RFP Sliding Scale." I am a believer in the adage that the customer is mostly right, and in these cases, I call back to inquire if we could stop by and have a look at the organ. I call attention to the fact that unit organs are "stand-alone" affairs that don't take too well to multiple additions and "improvements." This is my "Let sleeping dogs lie" approach. Nevertheless,  I have to learn to control my passive-aggressive impulses in these situations.

Part I appeared in the February issue, pp. 16-18.

The "art" of sound recording consists of selecting the proper microphones for a given situation and placing them in the most advantageous position. We will look at three basic techniques--coincident, near coincident and spaced omnidirectional--and then discuss which might be more beneficial given the specifics of organ layout and room acoustics.

Coincident Microphone Placement

We've probably all been to a concert where a professional recording engineer has set up one very large and impressive microphone on an equally large and impressive stand with which to make a stereo recording. Within that large microphone were actually two directional microphones which the engineer, with an amazing amount of flexibility, can select, position and modify by remote control. Coincident means "to occupy the same area in space," and that's what a stereo microphone has: two mono mikes occupying the same space within the microphone housing. One of the characteristics of all coincident techniques is that the sound arrives at the left and right microphones completely "in phase."28

Figure 10 shows how you can position two cardioid (unidirectional) microphones in a coincident position. The strength of this technique is that it gives a fairly realistic stereo image when played back through speakers (i.e., the first violins seem to be on the left, and the double basses seem to be on the right). The weakness is that the stereo image seems to lack a "sense of space."29 Since cardioid microphones are directional, they accept sound from the source in front of them and reject sound, such as reverberation, coming from the room behind the microphones. This may be a plus in an extremely reverberant room.

Professionals may also choose to use two "figure of eight" directional microphones30 set in an "X" pattern at 90° to one another, each of which picks up not only sound from in front but some from behind as well. This coincident technique, invented by British scientist Alan Blumlein in the 1930s, can give very natural sound in some circumstances.

Another coincident technique favored by some professionals is the "M-S" system31, which requires a special processing network to resolve the recorded sound into left and right stereo signals. An advantage here is that it gives the mixing engineer greater control of the stereo image from the mixing desk than is available with any other technique.32

Near-Coincident Techniques

In a successful attempt to improve the stereo illusion, sound engineers began to separate the coincident microphones ever so slightly so the sound arrives at the microphones just slightly out of phase, thus contributing additional information which enhances the stereo image.33

We'll discuss two similar setups, the ORTF system from the French National Broadcasting Organization and the NOS system from Dutch Broadcasting. Both of these use cardioid (unidirectional) microphones. The ORTF system splays the microphones out at a 110° angle and separates the recording capsules by 17 cm (63/4"), whereas the NOS has the mikes at a 90° angle with a 30 cm (113/4") separation.34 These near-coincident techniques are superior to two strictly coincident cardioid microphones. Professional audio stores sell inexpensive adjustable rigs to hold two cardioid microphones on one mike stand in a near-coincident configuration similar to NOS (see Fig. 11). A near-coincident variation of the Blumlein technique places two figure of eight mikes at 90° to each other in an "X" configuration, but separated by about 7".

Spaced Omnidirectional Mikes

In many of the coincident or near-coincident configurations we just discussed, you are recording primarily the sound of the organ alone. With a spaced pair of omnidirectional microphones, however, you are recording not only the direct sound from the source, but also the room's response to the sound--reverberation--which is a big plus in organ recording. Under the best circumstances, the sound of spaced omnis can be very open and sensual indeed.35

How far apart should the microphones be spaced? The minimum is about 4'--that is, 2' on each side of the centerline drawn between the sound source and the microphones. Omni mikes are typically spaced 1/3 of the way in from the edges of the sound source. For example, if the organ is 18' wide the microphones could be placed 6' apart--3' on either side of the centerline (see Fig. 12).

If the sound source is very wide, however, two omnidirectional microphones may be spread so far apart that an aural "hole in the middle" becomes apparent. This is alleviated by placing a third omnidirectional microphone directly in the center, and then with a mixer adding just a bit of its sound to the left and right channels.26 If the volume of the center mike isn't kept quite soft compared to the left and right mikes, however, you will kill the stereo effect. A variation of this "center channel" technique provides a third mike to accent a soloist.

Spaced Pair of PZMs

Spaced PZM microphones behave very much like a spaced pair of omnidirectional mikes. The bass response of PZM mikes is enhanced when they are resting on a surface at least 4x4'--thus the floor is an excellent place for them. However, you don't want to bury them in the shadow of a pew or other obstructions, as this will modify their hemispherical pickup pattern. The author's favorite PZM setup uses two 4x4' pieces of masonite37 which are stored at the church and placed on top of the pews as needed. For flattest frequency response, place the PZM 1/3 of the way off center--8" off center on a 4x4' panel38 (see Fig. 13). For personal analysis recordings, you may be able to position the mikes on the console (see Fig. 14).

Which Is Better?

There is a spirited debate in the audio world between the proponents of coincident or near-coincident techniques versus the advocates of a spaced pair of omnidirectional mikes. The coincident techniques--which ensure that the left and right channels are in phase--used to solve problems that no longer exist today: the difficulties of cutting the master from which LP recordings (remember LPs?) were stamped, the difficulties of phono cartridges (remember them?) tracking low frequency sounds on LPs, and the problem of sound cancellation on mono radio stations (a rare breed) as out-of-phase stereo signals were summed to mono.

Further, as Edward Tatnall Canby observed in Audio, the bureaucracy at National Public Radio mandates coincident recording techniques (especially M-S) and gives them a hard sell in spite of the fact that many listeners find something important missing in the resulting recordings.39 Agreeing with Mr. Canby, Christopher Czeh, Technical Director of WNYC Public Radio in New York wrote:

The phase differences between spaced omnidirectional microphones help the listener in mentally recreating the spatial acoustics of the original performance. I have used spaced omnis for classical recordings for six years and have obtained excellent results. The major reason I prefer spaced omnis over coincident mikes is that they sound better in most circumstances.40

David Wilson of Wilson Audiophile Recordings, agrees and notes the crucial difference between the ears and microphones:

Microphones "hear" very differently than ears do. The microphone is very literal in what it picks up. There is no neurological ear-brain system that compensates for ambiance and perspective. For most recording, I prefer omnidirectional microphones because they are more natural sounding. That is, they more naturally integrate the sound of the instrument with room acoustics, and that's very important with pipe organs. In almost every organ recording I've made, however, I've experimented with a coincident pair of directional microphones, almost out of a sense of technical duty. After listening to the test results, I've almost always gone back to a spaced pair of omnis.

Frederick Hohman of Pro Organo has a different view:

My personal preference is for good directional microphones--not omnidirectional. A pair of these can be placed in any conventional pattern and configuration one desires. A single stereo mike could be the easiest way to do a quick setup, since this eliminates the factor of microphone spacing.

Jack Renner of Telarc, who has recorded Michael Murray in many diverse situations, looks at the broad picture:

The thing about coincident or near-coincident microphone techniques such as the ORTF configuration with directional mikes, or the crossed figure of eights, or the M-S systems, is that while they may not be everyone's cup of tea in terms of finished sound--I myself like the sound of a pair of spaced omnis--the coincident techniques will give you a perfectly acceptable recording and are a very safe way to approach a recording of anything.

How Far from the Organ?

How far the microphone(s) are placed from the sound-producing elements of the organ is one of the critical decisions in any recording setup, and it won't be the same for all circumstances. If an organist is making personal "analysis" recordings, a relatively close microphone position will give increased clarity, especially in a reverberant room. If the goal of the recording is to show the organ/room combination to its best advantage, a more distant position will increase the proportion of room (reflected) sound. Pipedreams' Michael Barone, who has probably listened to more organ recordings than anyone and who has made quite a few organ recordings as well, has some definite opinions:

A lot of people think that to get a sense of space they need to record from the back of the hall, and so many organ recordings are made miserable by this "gray tunnel" effect. But you don't want to put the microphones within two or three feet of the chamber either. You want to place the microphones where there is an obvious focus of the sound, but where the sound has begun to excite the room and participate in the acoustics of the space.

John Eargle of Delos agrees that most people tend to place the microphones too far from the organ, and describes how he decides where to place the microphones:

First I walk around the room while listening to the instrument. The best place for the mikes is within a zone where the direct sound of the organ and the reverberant sound coalesce. What you have at this magic point is a very natural blend of room sound, plus good articulation from the instrument.

David Wilson is a firm believer in recording some "tests" to determine the best place for the microphones:

Generally I will start testing with a very close placement, say perhaps 10 or 12', which is closer than I believe is ideal. We will record 30 seconds or so of music and move the microphones back--generally I move them back in 3' increments--and record another test. We repeat this procedure five times. I also vary the height, starting with a height which is less than ideal--I believe 8' or so is the minimum satisfactory height--and go up from there to perhaps 20' or higher. I also vary the spacing between microphones. I start with the microphones closer together than I think they should be, say 4', and separate them further. By listening to the playback of these tests, we discover the best distance from the organ, height and between-mike spacing.

Jack Renner also stresses listening:

In placing the microphones, a lot of it is experience and a lot is listening. I have the organist play with various combinations of stops and I walk around the room listening until I find a place that sounds focused and blended--a place where all the registers seem to come together and where the bass pipes especially sound good and solid. You will find a point where there is good balance between the direct sound from the pipes themselves and the reverberant sound of the room, where you have a pleasing mix and where you don't hear various voices "popping" in and out, which is one of the biggest pitfalls in organ recording.

Aesthetics and Mike Distance

Crucial factors in deciding how far the microphones should be placed from the organ may well be the type of organ, the type of room and the type of music to be recorded. You might expect one type of presence, articulation, clarity and room sound for an all-Bach program on a tracker organ in a moderate-sized church, and have completely different expectations for a program of Romantic music on a large Romantic organ in a reverberant cathedral. Personally, I think a good number of recordings of the latter type have been ruined because the engineer was striving for too much clarity. These misguided attempts often have harsh, close-up organ tone and inadequate reverberation from mike positions that were too close. In this context it is very educational to listen to the same organ played by various artists and recorded by different engineers.41 Despite what the "experts" say, only you can decide if you like cathedral music to wash over you in a sea of reverberation.42

More than two Mikes?

When the sound source is very wide, for example a symphony orchestra or an organ that is quite spread out from left to right, you may have to spread a pair of omnis so far apart that you begin to lose sound from the middle--giving rise to the expression "the hole in the middle." Some recording engineers solve this problem by placing a third omni mike directly on the center axis of the sound source and mixing it on site into the left and right channels at a much softer level. This is Telarc's standard three-mike setup for symphony orchestras, although for concertos they will use additional mikes if necessary to highlight the soloist. Telarc's standard organ setup is two spaced omnis. However, they used a three-mike setup to record the wide organ at Methuen Music Hall, with the mikes about 35-40' back from the organ. When John Eargle recorded Robert Noehren on the large Rieger which sits front and center in the chancel of the Pacific Union College Church in Angwin, California:

We used three spaced omni mikes, 15-18' from the organ case. This case, like most trackers, is fairly shallow--eight feet deep at most. If there is a magic zone for mike placement that seems to work with this type of instrument, it is in the 17-20' range.

Other recording engineers, David Wilson included, do not use this technique because they feel that mixing a centrally-positioned monophonic mike into the left and right channels dilutes the stereo effect.

Recording the Reverberation

In order to capture the way an organ really sounds in a room, it is sometimes necessary to add additional microphones to record the reverberation. Few American churches have an excess of reverberation, but many have more than would be captured by the setups we have described thus far--two or three microphones placed relatively close to the organ. So a pair of microphones at some distance from the organ, with a small amount of the output of the left "reverb" mike mixed into the left channel and vice versa, does the trick. One might think that a single mike placed at a distance with the output shared between the channels--a variation on the "hole in the middle" technique--would suffice, but this is not usually done:

Reverberation from a single [distant] source divided between the left and right channels is unsatisfactory because the resulting sound, which, to give a natural effect, should be distributed across the space between the two loudspeakers, appears in this case to emanate from a single point.43

When John Eargle recorded Robert Noehren playing the organ he had built in 1967 for The First Unitarian Church in San Francisco:

I wanted to accurately portray the physical layout of the organ--which is arranged left to right in the rear gallery--so the primary mikes were a pair of directional cardioids splayed in a near-coincident configuration. The room is not reverberant, but there is enough room sound to give a nice glow and enhance the music. So we used an additional coincident pair of directional mikes, aimed more or less at the side walls, to capture this glow.

When Michael Barone recorded the Fisk organ at House of Hope in St. Paul, Minnesota, he encountered a similar situation:

The organ, which has a Rückpositiv, is located in the rear gallery. It generates a lot of bass energy, but that is not apparent in all areas of the room and generally not along the center aisle as the bass energy tends to hug the walls. So we placed a single stereo mike in the center aisle on a stand tall enough to get it well above the Rückpositiv. We also placed a pair of omni mikes a little further back from the organ closer to the side aisles, and then mixed the four inputs together until it sounded good--it's a little like cooking!

John Eargle describes his technique recording the large encased Rosales tracker organ at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Portland, Oregon:

The organ is located at the back of a rather deep chancel. Two omnidirectional microphones were used for direct pickup of the instrument in the chancel area, while a coincident pair of directional mikes was placed out in the church for reverberant pickup.

Improving the Room

There are basically two things you can physically do to the room before recording: decrease the noise and increase the reverberation. Potential noise sources that you may be able to do something about include: ventilation and heating systems, buzzing fluorescent lights, open doors or windows, etc. You may have to work around other noise sources like vehicular and air traffic, school children, and even expansion sounds from the roof as the sun heats it up mid-morning and it cools down in the evening.

It will increase the reverberation in an empty church significantly if the pew cushions can be removed. This is John Eargle's standard practice and he gets a lot of benefit for a reasonable effort. If the church is large and storage of the cushions is a problem, try stacking the cushions from two pews on top of the third, etc., etc. This will expose two-thirds of the hard pew surfaces (see Fig. 15). Or if the church has theater-type chairs with plush cushions, flip all the bottoms upright to minimize the absorptive surfaces.

Some Typical Solutions

The following are some microphone selection and placement solutions for various types of rooms:

Excessive reverberation--Use a pair of cardioid (unidirectional) microphones in a near-coincident configuration such as ORTF or NOS.

Minimal or average reverberation in a large room--Start with a pair of spaced omnis or PZM mikes and then, if you have mixer capabilities,44 try an additional coincident pair of directional microphones further back in the room mixed very subtly into the main pair (left into left and right into right).

Very wide sound source--Use a pair of spaced omnis or PZMs 1/3 in from the edges of the sound source. If necessary, a third omni in the center can be very subtly mixed in if there is an audible "hole in the middle." Alternatively, experiment with a splayed pair of directional cardioid mikes in the ORTF or NOS configuration.

Divided organ on the left and right sides of chancel or gallery--Try a pair of spaced omnis or PZMs. At Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, David Wilson recorded the huge Aeolian-Skinner which is divided in left and right chambers in the chancel plus a Bombarde Division at the rear center of the chancel. He used just two omnis spaced 8' apart, on stands about 20' high placed in the nave about 15' from the organ.

Rear gallery placement or organ high in the chancel--Unless the rear gallery is very deep (potentially allowing microphone placement within the gallery), you will need stands that allow you to get the microphones well up in the air.

Gallery placement with a Rückpositiv--The mike stands must enable placing the mikes well above the Rückpositiv if the correct balance between divisions is to be recorded (review the section on mike stand safety).

Organ is in a chamber on one side of a large chancel--The "standard" placement of a pair of spaced omnis on either side of the center aisle or a pair of coincident mikes in the center aisle pointed toward the rear of the chancel will pick up too much sound in one channel and not enough in the other. If the chancel is big enough, you might try a pair of spaced omnis within the chancel, each of which is the same distance from the organ.45 Alternatively, you might try a pair of cardioid directional mikes in the ORTF or NOS configuration within the chancel placed opposite the organ chamber and pointing at it. A third possibility is a pair of PZM mikes taped to the chancel wall opposite the organ.  With these solutions, the reverberation component will likely be nil, calling for reverberation mikes further back in the nave.

Organ is in a chamber on one side of a small chancel--If the chancel is not that large, try to adapt either of the above alternatives through placement within the nave. For example, if the pipes are on the left of the chancel, place a near coincident pair of cardioids on the right side of the nave pointing towards the organ. Or if using a spaced pair of omnis, keep the left and right microphones approximately equidistant from the pipes. Always avoid placing an omni mike too close to a wall to prevent hard reflections.

Modifying Registrations

If the purpose of the recording is to hear the effect of a piece you're learning or to document a recital performance, then the registrations are chosen for the live performance and the recording is secondary. But if the primary purpose is to create a recording which shows the music, artist, organ and room off to best advantage, the question of modifying registrations to serve that end is legitimate. English recording engineer Michael Smythe offers this advice:

One must keep a keen ear open for stops that do not record well. What may sound fine in the church may come through the loudspeaker as an opaque noise, for example, the booming sound which 16' pipes quite often produce on certain notes. Therefore the organist has to rethink his registration for recording, which may be totally different from a recital. Sometimes one can do nothing about it, however, there being no suitable alternate stops.46

The late Michael Nemo of Towerhill, who made numerous recordings of John Rose on the huge Austin at St. Joseph Cathedral in Hartford, concurred:

From a technical point of view, there are some problem stops. For example, 32' flues like a Bourdon or Open Wood can be quite pleasing in person. As most stereo systems won't reproduce anything at all from the bottom range of a 32' stop, however, it doesn't mean much on a recording. And by virtue of strong, low-frequency fundamental, these stops often create enormous standing wave problems in the room. No two 32' stops are alike in the way they record, however--some can be quite delicious and others only cause problems.

Excessive Dynamic Range

In addition to eliminating problem stops, there is the question of the dynamic range of large, Romantic organs. Consider Dupré's Cortège et Litanie, which begins very quietly on a solitary Choir Dulciana (sans pedal) and ends fff with a page of crashing chords over an octave pedal point. While this enormous dynamic range can sound glorious in person, if the recording level is set as it should be for the fff climax, the pp sections on tape will recede into inaudibility. If you turn up the playback volume so you can actually hear some detail in the pp sections--which you certainly can in a live performance--when the piece gets to the ff and fff sections you will be blasted into the next county unless you turn the volume back down again.

In the analog days when recording was done on magnetic tape, you would have a good bit of tape hiss competing with the Dulciana and thus there was motivation to avoid excessively soft sounds. But now that professional recording is done on hiss-free DAT,47 many engineers--reveling in the huge dynamic range of DAT recordings released on CD--are creating recordings of large, Romantic organs that virtually force listeners to keep their fingers on the volume control, especially when using headphones.

There are two ways around this. One is for the organist to compress the dynamic range of the organ by, in the Cortège et Litanie, for example, leaving the sub and super couplers off48 for the climax and substituting the Geigen Diapason for the Dulciana at the beginning--at that volume level the Geigen will sound like a Dulciana and the climax will be good and loud nonetheless. Another option is for a recording engineer who reads music and can follow the score to increase the volume level of the very quiet parts at the mastering stage.49 The final recording should not simply enshrine the technical capabilities of the DAT/CD medium but should be a reasonable facsimile of the way the performer's artistry actually sounds in the room.

Conclusion

Making recordings can be a useful tool for self study, a means of communicating with potential employers and professional competitions, a satisfying hobby, a part-time career, or the means to artistic fulfillment. We have endeavored to explain the bare minimum required for an understanding of the process. We have given some "quick and easy" prescriptions for personal recording. And finally, we have explored professional recording techniques used by some of the top pros in the field, whom we sincerely thank for their time and generosity.               

Herbert L. Huestis is a contributing editor of The Diapason.

Technical support: real assistance or smoke and mirrors?

There are lots of jokes about technical support, especially in the world of computers and the geeks who know them best. I am most fortunate that my son, well-trained in binary matters, arrives at my home for a waffle breakfast almost every Saturday, and in the process invariably attends to some small problem on Dad's computer. Last week it was slow printers--something about "spooling." Well, he unspooled it, and I thought it was more like untangling a fishing line than de-installing bits and bytes that were out of place in the infernal machine.

Pipe organs embrace the oldest technologies in the form of sticks and levers to make pipes speak, while at the same time tantalizing players with a myriad of buttons and other computerized gizmos that stretch the imagination to new heights of perversity. I was more than a little shocked to learn that Canadian conservatory training for organists "requires" the use of an organ with expression shoes and a combination action for the edification of an advanced student. The implication is that a lowly tracker organ built in the historical style is somehow insufficient for the practice of literature these students need to learn. Before I elicit too many howls of protest, I'll concede that technological "advances" are perceived as a necessary part of the education of the pipe organist, regardless of the many and varied aesthetics of the instrument.

With technological advancement  comes the responsibility of managing resources and, from a professional builder's point of view, making sure that all systems included in a pipe organ work reliably. In the world of business that governs the creation, construction and installation of pipe organs, most high-tech components of the organ are "sourced"--that is, they are made by specialty firms that sell their products directly to organ builders. Builders install these products in their organs and the client (i.e., the player) is the actual "user" of these materials. Put another way, the source company is a "third party supplier," the organ builder is the "contractor," and the church or other institution is the "client," who hires an organist, who in turn is the poor sap with all the questions when things go wrong just as he begins the doxology.

Most suppliers of electronic goods are quick to provide a high level of technical support. This means that they will hold hands with both "users" and "contractors" in assuring that their goods are put to the right application and that, indeed, all the parts are working as they should. Many will go way beyond the mere requirements of a guarantee to stand behind their product. However, there are a few caveats that might help illuminate the situation.

Most organ builders know how to ask the right questions, but the organists whom they serve may not know how to ask for help when it comes to managing the buttons. Often an itinerant technician will discover (if they are listening) that an organist has been "working around" a problem that could easily have been solved if it had been identified.

When a problem is brought up and head scratching ensues, players should feel confident that technical support will be swift, sure, and helpful. Delays and finger pointing do far more damage to a supplier's (and a contractor's) bottom line than the cost of a quick phone call and decent explanation of how to proceed in specific situations. A frustrated technician can only pass on subliminal "Don't buy" messages!

The point of all this is that organ technicians owe it to their clients to evaluate the suppliers of high-tech components of pipe organs with questions relating to technical support before any other aspect of the product is considered. Forget the bells and whistles for a moment--even how many memory levels are available or what the "programming" options are. The first questions that should be asked--and answered satisfactorily--are: "How good is the technical support?" "How prompt is the response to a problem?" Success in this department will be reflected in a better bottom line for the builder and reliability for the player.

If one may indulge in melodrama, one might refer to "The Curse of Equal Temperament" when commenting on the method of tuning that steadfastly refuses to take into account the relationship between an instrument, its music and player. "Equal" is tuning for the sake of tuning, done by successive generations of tuners who practice their craft exactly the way they were taught to do it, no questions asked. And the whole business has been cast in cement by electronic tuning devices--ETDs--in widespread use today!

Looking back over the past two centuries, we can take note of several events that contributed to this situation. They include the invention of tuning forks, the industrial revolution (with its myriad of factories that produced musical instruments) and the emergence of ETDs such as the Conn Strobotuner.

Tuning forks as we know them appeared in the early 1800s. Their fixed pitch enabled a reference to specific frequencies for tuning of musical instruments; tuning practices previously had varied widely by region and nationality. Tuning forks were a valuable resource for the stabilization of tuning everywhere. By the end of the 19th century, they were used for temperament tuning in the great piano houses such as Broadwood and Moore.

The turn of the 19th to the 20th century was surely the golden age of the piano, and in North America the houses of Steinway and Heintzman represented a pinnacle of musicality and at the same time promoted the artisanship of factory craftsmen unparalled in our own times. The revival of the organ as an "authentic" instrument would wait some fifty years, and with it the same emphasis on tuning as an integral part of a musical instrument.

Thinking back on the piano and its artists of the early twentieth century, one can reflect on the incredible tuning of these instruments, made for Rubinstein, Horowitz, Richter, Gilels and so many others. Pianism was almost a cult, and the tuners who worked on these instruments behind the scenes contributed a rare form of art to the piano. They defined its sound, its carrying power and its musicality as surely as the artists who played it so superbly.

With the revival of the tracker organ, tuning once again became an integral aspect of the musicality of these instruments. Temperament is most carefully thought out by artisan organ builders today with or without the help of tuning machines.

Machines? Yes, the same tuning devices that began with tuning strobes evolved into electronic displays of one sort or another, as varied as one might imagine. To some extent, they displaced "aural" tuning, so highly valued within the community of piano tuners and technicians. Unfortunately, some tuning practitioners passed "go" on the Monopoly board and skipped ear training by jumping into machine tuning as a quick means to an end. However, fine tuners the world over incorporated tuning devices into their tool kit as important aids to the musical ear that was already hard at work. It is this kind of practitioner that exemplifies the best in the tuning business.

The "curse" of machine tuning is that it implies that equal tuning is mathematically precise, and that the ear is irrelevant to the outcome of setting a temperament. Semantics are everything, and it is something of an understatement to say that "equal" tuning is not at all equal! An artistic tuning, whether in a baroque temperament for Bach cantatas or a modern tuning for a Rachmaninoff piano concerto, is anything but equal. It is what the music demands. A marvelous example is the use of the Vallotti temperament for performances of Beethoven's "Emperor" Piano Concerto. Yes, it works very well. One can only marvel at the work of the world's best piano tuners on the concert stage. The tuner's ear is alive and well in our finest recordings and live concerts--as it should be in the presentation of our finest pipe organs.

The "blessing" of machine tuning is that it provides the opportunity to record "best" tunings for various instruments and occasions--for tuning devices are not only tone generators of various pitches with an array of mathematical relationships, they are recorders, too. They make possible the quantification of any kind of tuning, from pianos to organs to gamelans. They are, in a sense, the power that destroyed some important aspects of tuning by ear, but they are also the force that brings back aural tuning. This is a happy conundrum that should be exploited for all it is worth.

The tuning device as recorder provides the opportunity to use temperament in an artistic manner to give expression to the best qualities of an instrument (and sometimes, to suppress the worst ones). For example, a concert grand piano in a large hall derives carrying power from vibrations generated within the temperament, as well as the soundboard and case of the instrument. For this reason, mild temperaments with more- and less-pure thirds benefit these pianos if they are speaking in a vibrant hall. On the other hand, a pure temperament can go a long way to smooth out a small piano with short strings that are full of false beats. Try that on your spinet in the choir room. You will be amazed at the improvement in sound!

Some practical considerations for the tuner

For the benefit of the reader who is truly interested in investigating the benefits of 19th-century (or earlier) temperaments with the help of machine tuning, this last of three articles will be devoted to the practical application of tuning techniques. Since it is widely available at low cost, the ETD (Electronic Tuning Device) of choice will be Robert Scott's TuneLab97 software, available at <www.tunelab-world.com&gt;. A basic computer and sound card are also required. With this tuning program, there will be a set of historical temperaments that offer a wide range of options for the tuner. Temperament files are extremely simple. They are notated in cents deviation from an equal distribution in this manner:

Representative Victorian Temperament (Moore)

C   2.5

Cs  0.0

D   1.5

Ds  1.0

E  -1.5

F   2.0

Fs -0.5

G   3.0

Gs  0.5

A   0.0

As  1.5

B  -1.0

Armed with this modification to equal proportional tuning, the tuner can proceed to lay bearings for a temperament. Fear not! I am not going to give the reader blow-by-blow instructions on how to tune. But it is important to note that most tuning failures result from tempering the wrong intervals first! Therefore, with this temperament one can follow the practice of using F, A and Cs tuning forks to divide the circle of fifths into manageable portions, so that one will not choke on a cumulative error. In this case, A and Cs may be set from tuning forks A=440 and Cs=277.18. "A" is used to embark on the white notes in the circle of fifths, and Cs is used for the black notes. As a rule of thumb, the intervals involving black notes are tuned first, pure or nearly so, and the intervals involving white notes are tempered and tuned last. Follow that rule, and you will avoid the trap of "reverse well" tuning.

The tuning fork F=349.23 completes the triad of foundation notes. In well-tempered tuning, "F" will be raised to provide the desired effect of the third F-A. Generally, the F-A and C-E triads will determine the nature of the well-temperament desired, whether mild, moderate or intense, as in the baroque temperaments. This is where the sound and character of the instrument and its music come in.

If one is tuning "equal" temperament, the thirds F-A-Cs¢-F¢-A¢ provide a very useful octave and a third in which to lay the bearings. These thirds will increase their vibrations as they ascend. This is one of the tests used in setting equal temperament. Conversely, in laying well-tempered bearings, the thirds will alternate in vibrancy between white and black keys. F-A will be slower than equal, A-Cs will be the same as equal (13.7 cents wide), Cs-F will be faster than equal, and once again, F¢-A¢ will be slower than equal. So far, the only adjustment has been to sharpen "F" to make a relatively slow third F-A.

Once this has been accomplished, one should tune Cs-Fs-B relatively pure and Cs-Gs-Ds-As-F relatively pure, monitoring the computer screen while one tunes these notes. Then, tune A-E-B and A-D-G-C-F relatively tempered, while monitoring each note on the computer screen. This will provide well tempered bearings, while applying tuning tests to the process. There will be little chance of a cumulative error of any significance.

Since the tuner is applying aural tests as well as reading a computer screen or a dial tuner to monitor progress, this work can be carried out at the organ console or the inside of the organ case, or preferably both. A tuner's assistant can do much more than hold keys. It is very helpful if they monitor an ETD while the tuning is in progress. This prevents errors and speeds up the tuning.

Which temperament to use?

There are literally hundreds of temperaments from which to choose, so it is very useful for each tuner to develop criteria which work for them. Several points are worth consideration.

It is most helpful to adopt a temperament that allows equidistant bearings for the tuning of a circle of fifths. The F-A-Cs method provides this option in both well and equal tempered tunings.

Another consideration is the provision of various degrees of purity within a related group of well tunings. An example of three temperaments that progress from mild to moderate are Moore, Peter Prelleur, and Young (1799). All are based on zero deviation in cents for the notes A and Cs, and increased purity for the triads C-E-G, F-A-C and G-B-D.

One may take into consideration the balance of triads in a symmetrical or non-symmetrical array. A symmetrical array of triads will increase vibrancy in direct proportion to the number of accidentals in each key. Asymmetrical triads will favor certain keys and are more consistent with harpsichord tunings where temperaments are chosen for specific literature.

Blessing or curse: from anathema to good fortune

If one looks upon machine tuning as a curse for its illogical suppression of musical values (modulation being the first victim), the descendants of strobo-tuners must bear a heavy burden of resentment. However, the computer and its dedicated mechanical brethren have rescued those who still tune by ear by providing the means to record their "best" tunings, and experiment with the most musical tunings for each instrument. Credit must be given to a significant group within the Piano Technicians Guild for their unflagging efforts to promote both aural tuning and the use of unequal, "well" and nearly-equal temperaments. A review of the comments of these technicians reveals a dedication to musical performance that stands as an inspiration to organ technicians and tuners as well. Commendation and approbation is also well deserved by artisan organ builders who have often stood alone in a sea of indifference by insisting that temperament and tuning are significantly related to each musical instrument they produce. There are many organ builders who will not resign their instruments to "ordinary tuning and care," but who steadfastly maintain their own instruments so that among other things, the tuning will be preserved. Bravo (!) to these dedicated builders.    

Home entertainment
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries the Aeolian Organ Company established itself as the leader in the extremely high-end market for residence pipe organs. Their list of clients reads like a “Who’s Who” of wealthy industrialists and financiers: John D. Rockefeller, Charles Schwab, Frank W. Woolworth, Henry Clay Frick, Horace and John Dodge, and Louis Comfort Tiffany, to name a few. Rollin Smith’s exhaustively researched and excellent book, The Aeolian Organ, provides a wealth of information about this extraordinary company. I found the appendices to be especially good reading. One is a list of patrons, another is the opus list. I took a walking tour of mid-town Manhattan one afternoon photographing the residences that housed these fantastic organs.
I have Aeolians on my mind because I’m in the midst of installing their Opus 1014, originally built for the residence of John Munroe Longyear in Brookline, Massachusetts. We got a call from the real estate developer, who was converting that grand and opulent residence into condominiums, offering the organ at no cost providing it could be removed within the week. It could, and a purchaser appeared in short order. I have renovated the instrument, releathered the roll-playing mechanism, and I write from a California hotel room at the end of the fourth day of installation.

This is an eight-rank organ (Photo 1, half-way done). There are seven on the manual duplex chest, allowing each to be playable from either keyboard, and there is a substantial pedal Bourdon 16′. There is an ornately decorated keydesk with Aeolian’s particular style of tilting-tablet stop controls mounted obliquely on either side of the keyboards. And above the music rack is the spectacular contraption known as the spool-box. Two rows of holes in a brass bar, known as the “tracker-bar,” represent two 58-note keyboards. The bar is mounted in an airtight box with a sliding glass door. Below the bar is “take-up reel,” above it the spindles that accept the paper roll. To play a roll, you place it in the spindles, draw the paper across the surface of the bar, connect it to the take-up reel, turn on the spool-box motor, close the sliding glass door and turn on the ventil that charges the spool-box with air pressure (Photo 2, spool-box).
The pressure inside the spool-box energizes a little brass pointer that causes wonder the first time you see it, but when the blank leader of the paper has passed a red center line appears. The pointer follows the red line allowing the operator to see that the paper is tracking properly. If it wanders to one side or the other, you correct it by turning a little key under the bottom manual that moves the take-up reel to the left or right.

The next thing you see as the roll passes the tracker-bar is a suggested registration printed on the paper. You select your stops, and when the holes in the paper start appearing they allow the air pressure to pass through the holes in the tracker-bar and notes start to play. As the music progresses registration changes are suggested, and a dotted line moves back and forth across the paper indicating the position of the expression pedal (Photo 3, tracker-bar).
Behind the tracker-bar is a system of tubing that carries the little puffs of air to the spool-box contact machines, where tiny leather pouches are inflated to activate a pneumatic action that operate the contacts (Photo 4, tracker-bar tubing). The spool-box contact machines perform exactly the same function as the keyboards—both are wired in parallel to the inputs of the relay, so it’s possible to play a duet with the machine.

There’s a little lever marked “Tempo Indicator” just above the keyboards (Photo 5, tempo indicator). This is in fact not an indicator but a throttle. It operates a sliding valve that controls the amount of air flowing into the motor that turns the spindles in the spool-box. Letting in more air is the equivalent of shoveling on more coal or stepping on the accelerator—the motor speeds up and the music goes faster. Our modern ears are geared to expect the pitch to change when a recording speeds up—but not in Aeolian land. It’s a funny sensation to hear the tempo changing with the pitch staying the same. But the tempo indicator has a very important function. Of course it allows the performer to select the speed, but also gives sensitive control to the tempo, allowing ritardando, accelerando, and rubato.
If the roll is playing a piece of a significant speed that calls for frequent registration changes, you find yourself with your hands full following the leads on the paper, changing the stops, operating the swell pedal, controlling the tempo with musical sensitivity, while all the time taking care that the paper is tracking properly. If you miss the little red line moving away from the pointer you hear the music scramble as the tracking is lost.
At the risk of overusing technical jargon, here’s what happens when the player plays a single note:

1. Air blows through the hole in the paper roll, through the spool-box tubing to the spool-box contact pouch.
2. The pouch inflates, opening a primary valve that exhausts a box pneumatic.
3. As the pneumatic exhausts, it pushes up a rod that in turn pushes on a brass contact.
4. When the contact is made, electricity travels through the relay to a magnet on the windchest.
5. The magnet is energized, lifting its armature to allow a primary pouch to exhaust.
6. As the pouch exhausts, it opens the primary valve that in turn exhausts the secondary pouch.
7. The secondary pouch draws open the secondary valve.
8. The secondary valve exhausts the key-channel in the windchest.
9. As the key-channel exhausts, the interior of all the pouches for that note (one for each stop) are exposed to the atmospheric pressure.
10. A stop that is turned on has pressure in the stop channel waiting to play notes.
11. When the key-channel is exhausted, the note pouches of any stop that’s on can exhaust.
12. The exhausting note pouch opens the pipe-valve.
13. Air blows into the pipe and the note sounds.

As much as I understand how these actions work, and as much as I know that they work very fast, I’m still amazed that all of those steps working in sequence can possibly work fast enough to make any kind of musical sense—let alone work so fast as to be able produce notes repeating at 20 or 30 times a second.
An organist playing “the old fashioned way” (pushing down keys to make notes play) is limited to three or four notes in each hand and two in the pedals. And think about it, it’s not all that often that you’re really playing ten notes at a time. Turn on couplers and you might be asking the organ to produce 20 or 30 notes at once. The Aeolian player has no such limitations—some of the rolls include complicated chords and passages that could not be played by two organists at once. Stop the roll at a busy moment and count the holes in the paper from left to right—I’ve found places where there are 30 notes playing at once . . .

I’ve tried to give an idea of how the organ’s action works, but I’ve not told you anything about how the paper rolls are driven (Photo 6, spool-box motor). You know about the throttle that controls the flow of air to the motor, but the motor itself is a marvel. It contains three two-part pneumatics connected by a camshaft. On the end of the camshaft there’s a gear that drives a chain that drives a transmission that turns the spool-box spindles (Photo 7, spool-box transmission). The transmission has a feature controlled by a stopknob labeled “Aeolian Re-roll”—a rewind function that rolls the paper back onto its original spool at the conclusion of a performance.
It’s time for me to make a confession. I have added a solid-state relay with MIDI to this organ. But while confessing, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. I am not using MIDI to add voices to the organ. “MIDI Out” from the organ’s relay feeds “MIDI In” of a sequencer. Play the organ either with the rolls or the keyboards and the sequencer captures the music as a data stream that can be played back. So the organ can now be played three ways. This allows the player/operator/performer/musician to rehearse a performance on a roll, master the registration changes, the subtleties of tempo and expressions, and play back the whole performance entirely automatically. And perhaps most important, it allows essentially unlimited repeat performances without exposing the fragile 100-year-old paper to wear and tear (and I do mean tear).
This organ, Aeolian’s Opus 1014, was built in 1906. In 1906 Theodore Roosevelt was president, Typhoid Mary was exposed in New York City, six of George Bernard Shaw’s (1856–1950) plays were on stage in New York, and 400 people were killed in the great earthquake in San Francisco (Enrico Caruso was in town for that event, and swore that he would never return to a city “where disorders like that are permitted”).1 Automobiles were barely established as a significant mode of transportation, and the railroads were in their heyday. In this context we see how revolutionary was the work of Wilbur and Orville Wright—their first flights at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina were accomplished in 1903.
This Aeolian organ spent last summer in the workshop attached to my house, and the summer-time guests were amazed and amused as I put the organ through its paces—each time causing a “rowdy hour” in the midst of a dinner party. Imagine how it must have astounded Mr. and Mrs. Longyear’s guests in 1906. Decades before radio and television, before stereo and compact discs, and most of a century before home movie theaters, this home-entertainment system represented the very apex of technology. Those fashionable dinner guests would have had nothing against which to compare the organ. I imagine that many were simply bewildered. Some, not all, of my friends were able to follow my explanation of how the thing works. Few of Mr. Longyear’s guests would have had technical backgrounds that would have allowed them even the dimmest comprehension.
But, boy, does it work! This was my first experience with an Aeolian player, and while I had it dismantled on my workbench, while I was cutting the tiny pouches for the spool-box contacts, while I was cleaning and assembling the spool-box tubing, I had the intellectual assurance that it would work, but it seemed improbable enough that I was purely delighted when I ran it for the first time (Photo 8, spool-box contact pouches before; Photo 9, spool-box contact pouches after). And I’ve been dwelling on the mechanical. This is above all a wonderful musical instrument. The voicing is imaginative, clear, and brilliant. The selection of voices is magical. The various combinations of stops are both thrilling and beguiling. What a fabulous appliance to add to the home that has everything.■

Part two of two

II.

The balance of this article will explore some of the methods used by Schoenstein in designing symphonic organs.

Tonal Variety

In planning a symphonic organ, no tone color that might be useful is excluded from consideration, and if something new seems appropriate we will develop it. We see no problem in combining individual sounds from French, German, English and American traditions of different periods in one instrument. This may seem like a dangerous approach, and it is . . . for those who must follow only established rules. If, on the other hand, a designer has in mind a well-formed image of the tonal architecture and its end result, the freedom to include elements of rare beauty handed down to us by the great builders of the past can open new avenues of creativity. This approach is only successful when applied with the strictest of discipline. Anything that does not blend and pull its weight in the ensemble or serve in a variety of solo or accompaniment roles should not be included. Collecting multiple elements of different traditions in an attempt to combine two or more repertoire-specific instruments into one is usually disastrous. The once-popular procedure of building an organ with a German Great and Positiv and French Swell or adding a romantic Solo to a neo-classic design are ideas that have, fortunately, lost their appeal. The goal should be to create an ensemble that has integrity in its own right and is able to acquit itself musically in a number of different styles with such conviction that there is no need to claim “authenticity.”

An equally important rule of design is to avoid making an instrument any larger than necessary or practical. No organ should have more stops than it needs to get its musical job done. No organ should be so large that it becomes unseviceable or acoustically chokes on its own bulk. When too much organ is squeezed into too little space and/or spread hither and yon, maintenance and tuning problems are sure to result. An organ should be of adequate size to be considered symphonic, but that size is much smaller than one might think. The smallest organ we have made that can qualify is the 15-voice, 17-rank instrument in the chapel of the University of St. Thomas, Houston, Texas (see stoplist). Certainly 40 to 50 voices provide ample opportunity for design freedom and 60 to 70 voices are all that should be required even for very big buildings. An example of our approach in a large symphonic plan is at First Plymouth Congregational Church in Lincoln, Nebraska (see stoplist). Note that this instrument has 73 voices if the separate gallery organ is not included.

Our stoplists show how we combine various tone colors, but a few explanatory notes may be in order. When combining individual stops into groups, we think of them in these categories: first, traditional choruses of diapasons and reeds; second, stops of moderate power from all tonal families serving in both accompanimental (manual and pedal) and in solo roles; third, ethereal stops--the extremely soft and delicate tones of the flute, string or hybrid type; fourth, bass stops of exceptional depth and power; and fifth, heroic solo stops. Some stops, of course, can fit into more than one of these categories but the classification is useful in reviewing whether or not the organ has all of the tonal characteristics common to a good symphonic ensemble.

Since the diapason is unique to the organ and the tone most often used, we seek to provide several (with appropriate chorus development), each of distinct character, on organs of even modest size. They vary not only in scale, but in mouth width, slotting, etc. We like to include stops of the echo diapason class (dulcianas, salicionals, etc.) as well. During the organ reform movement, open flutes, particularly at 8’ pitch, were not in vogue. We tend to include more open than stopped flutes. Stops of genuine string tone have not been popular either. This is a sad omission and certainly an organ without them cannot be considered symphonic. We like to include a family of strings and celestes from very narrow to very broad scale, all with true string quality rather than the geigen principal type that served as string tone in neo-classic organs. We try to include at least one of each of the color reeds (Clarinet, Oboe, Vox Humana and, where possible, horns, and specialty stops such as the Orchestral Oboe) as well as a complete chorus of trumpet tone (in large schemes, those of both closed and open shallot type). To broaden both dynamic and color ranges, very soft flue stops (often of the hybrid, tapered types) and bold solo stops (usually of the trumpet or tromba class) are important. In small schemes these effects can be had with stops doing double duty through effective expression.

We have developed several new voices. Some of these are variations on long established styles such as our Celestiana, which is a very narrow scale, quarter-tapered hybrid of clear but very soft flute tone; the Cor Seraphique with its Vox Angelique celeste is a larger scale version. Our Corno Dolce and Flute Celeste are brighter renditions of the E. M. Skinner Flauto Dolce and Flute Celeste. We find this bright character more generally useful in smaller instruments. The Voix Sérénissime is a small scale string of extremely keen intonation but of soft volume. The Silver Flute is a narrow-mouth, non-harmonic version of our large Harmonic Flute. It may be thought of as a metal Claribel Flute. 

The Symphonic Flute is a new development, also called Bœhm Flute, incorporating many different pipe constructions throughout its compass to achieve an interesting effect found in the orchestra’s family of transverse flutes. The flute of the symphony orchestra is bright and reed-like in its lower register with a full, increasingly powerful and pure, bell-like treble. These tone qualities are carried downward to the alto, bass and contra-bass flutes and upward to the piccolo. The Symphonic Flute was realized after extensive studies with flute players and manufacturers, as well as a careful review of Bœhm’s treatise. The tonal character is achieved, as in real flutes, by maintaining nearly the same diameter from bass to treble. The diameter progresses unevenly to achieve particular effects, but it does not reach the half-way point until the 48th pipe. The pipes in the bass therefore are of string scale progressing through principal, moderate flute, a wide flute, to very wide flute at the top. Pipe construction is of five varieties: slotted; non-slotted; harmonic; double mouth harmonic; and double mouth, double harmonic. This new solo color for the organ is both powerful and beautiful.

We employ high wind pressure for beauty, precision, or smoothness of tone where it is required. Solo flutes and strings and all closed shallot chorus reeds certainly have benefited from this treatment. Loudness can be achieved by other means, but carrying power without harshness is most perfectly achieved through heavy pressure.

A final note on tone is perhaps the most important point in this essay: Beauty of tone trumps all else in organ design. Beauty is perhaps too simple a term. Organ stops of great character can be quite bold and assertive, colorful and mysterious, languid and wistful. They are all forms of beauty to my ear. The secret is committed voicing. By that I mean making tone that has something to say, not simply playing it safe with blandness. Anyone who studies organ tone knows what I mean. Great voicing imparts something extra to energize a tone and make it appealing. A single diapason of beautiful quality will outplay a 100-rank organ that is all bluster and blandness. An organ may look symphonic on paper, but if the character of tone is not beautiful, it cannot qualify. An organ of any type with beautiful tone will surpass a poor symphonic one. However, if beauty of tone can be combined with all of the flexibility promised in the symphonic ideal, the result can be sublime.

Balance

To achieve balance there must be a center of gravity and in the symphonic organ it is at 8’ in the manuals. Each division should lay its foundation at the 8’ level. This, after all, is where the music is written. In our symphonic concept, upperwork is considered a coloring agent, a way of adding a distinctive character to the 8’ line. Therefore, in chorus design, as a general rule, scales decrease as pitch levels increase. Where we have the luxury of two mixture stops in a division, we vary them in color and dynamic rather than pitch: for example, one at mf and another at ff or one with a tierce and one without. Sometimes the mixture is enclosed separately. We avoid flutiness and overemphasis of off-unison pitches in upperwork; pure, clear diapason tone is the goal. Most 8’ stops, particularly those that must blend with related upperwork, have high harmonic content, a satisfying brilliance in their own right. Eight-foot stops are also regulated in a treble-ascendant fashion to emphasize the melody line; pipes become progressively slightly louder as they ascend the compass from the middle of the keyboard.

Horizontal balance is equally important and we believe that all of the manual divisions should be of adequate power to balance one another; the Swell and Great approximately equal and the Choir only slightly below. Reeds and flues should be equally balanced, but in certain acoustical situations the reeds should dominate. In dealing with chambers or in rooms of dry acoustic, open flute, string, and chorus reed tone are far more effective in producing tone of noble and powerful character than is diapason upperwork.

Clarity

One only has to see the density of a Reger, Widor, or Elgar score to realize that clarity is vitally important in romantic and modern music--as much as in early music. Many organs just present great blocks of sound. This may be titillating, but it is not music making. The notes must be heard if the intent is to be expressed. Most of the burden for clarity rests on the organist, who must judge his instrument and his acoustic; but the organ must not stand in his way. Clarity is achieved in an organ by many means including steady wind, precise action, voicing for prompt, clean attack and clear tone that is steady and free of irritating chiff, wild harmonics, and white noise.

Enclosure

There are vital qualities of freshness and presence associated with unenclosed pipework, but we believe that having pipes unenclosed is a luxury that can only be afforded in a scheme that also has a full range of resources, including Pedal stops, enclosed in at least two boxes. In smaller jobs the entire organ should be under expression, although sometimes circumstances dictate otherwise, for example where the Great must be placed forward of the Swell. In very large jobs it is good to have tones of similar character enclosed and unenclosed so that each class of tone can be used in its full range of expressive beauty. The best enclosure is masonry. Hollow brick faced with cement is the preferred construction and this points out the advantage of organ chambers in some situations. If an organ is primarily used for accompaniment where dynamic control and atmospheric, ethereal effects are of utmost importance, a properly designed and located chamber is ideal. An enchambered organ is as different from an encased free-standing one as a piano is from a harpsichord. Each has its advantages and each must be designed differently. The enchambered organ requires a stoplist emphasizing stops scaled and voiced for exceptional projection and carrying power, higher wind pressure, and a layout taking maximum advantage of the opening and preventing echoes within the chamber. In recent years chambers have been thoughtlessly despised. It is time to recognize their value as a means of increasing the range of musical options offered by the organ.

Dynamic Control

The symphonic organ must provide the organist with three distinct types of dynamic control: continuous, discrete-terraced, and sudden. These are all qualities common to the symphony orchestra, but often illusive on the organ. The continuous dynamic is achieved on the organ only through the use of the expression box and shades. A good expression box when fully open should not rob the pipes of clear projection and presence to any great degree, but when closed should reduce loudness from at least ff to p. To achieve this, a box must be reasonably sound proof with adequate density to control leakage of bass and must be well sealed when closed: Gaps are anathema to good expression box control. The shades cannot be too thick because their bulk will not permit a full use of the opening. Shades should be able to open 90 degrees. They must be fast acting and silent. Achieving smooth, continuous expression control is one of the greatest challenges in organ building.

To achieve a continuous dynamic range from fff to ppp we have developed a system of double expression, placing a box within a box. (See drawing.) The inner box is placed at the rear of the outer (main) box so that there is a large air space between the two sets of shades. When both sets of shades are closed, the space contained between them provides a very effective sound trap. We place the softest and most powerful sounds inside the inner box of the division. For example, a pair of ethereal strings and the Vox Humana; the high pressure chorus reeds and a mixture. A balanced expression pedal is provided at the console for each box. On large instruments a switching system allows the organist to select conveniently which shades are to be assigned to each balanced pedal. With the shades not quite fully open, the stops within the inner box are at a normal volume level to balance the rest of the division. With both sets of shades fully closed the soft stops in the inner box are reduced to near inaudibility and the chorus reeds are reduced to the level of color reeds. With all shades fully open, the chorus reeds and mixture are slightly louder than those of the Great. The Vox Humana usually has its own shades with a console switch to shift from pp to mf. There are many expressive possibilities with this system. For example, a crescendo may be started using the ethereal strings with both boxes closed, opening the inner box until the level is equal to the soft stops in the outer box, which are then added. The outer box is opened, adding stops in the normal manner while closing the inner box. The chorus reeds and mixture are drawn and the inner box reopened to complete the crescendo. This is done with ease after a bit of practice. During the installation of our organ in Washington, D.C. at St. Paul’s Church, music director Jeffrey Smith accompanied the Anglican choral service with nothing more than the Swell organ for over a month. It was the double box arrangement that made this possible.

The discrete-terraced dynamic requires having an adequate number of stops of similar or related tonal quality at different dynamic levels so that increased power is achieved in increments by adding stops. This effect is realized by hand registration, pistons, or a well-arranged crescendo pedal.

The third character of dynamic--sudden change--is usually done with manual shifts, second touch, very fast-acting expression shades, or a silent, fast and uniform stop action controlled by either the combination action or the Crescendo pedal and backed up by a steady, responsive wind system. Without this, a symphonic approach to organ playing is impossible. Clattery mechanism is annoying under any circumstances but especially so when sudden changes are required in the midst of a phrase, for example, to underscore an anthem or hymn text. We have introduced a device that adds another means of accent: the Sforzando coupler. It is a simple device wherein a coupler, for example Solo to Great, is made available through a momentary-touch toe lever. A fff combination can be set on the Solo and added to a ff combination on the Great at a climactic point with a brief touch of the toe to create a sforzando effect.

Wind System

There has been much discussion in recent decades about the virtue of flexible or “living” wind. If the wind supply were under the direct control of the player to be manipulated at will, there might be some point to argue. Since it is not, unsteady wind has no place in the symphonic organ. The whole point of the symphonic approach is to seek absolute control by the organist of all resources. So-called flexible wind is set in motion according to the design of the system and the demands being placed upon it. The organist can strive to achieve a reasonably pleasant effect, but he cannot have full control over the result. We believe in providing absolutely steady wind using a multiplicity of regulators, not only to make available different wind pressures, but to assure consistent response from all pipes under all playing conditions. Most chests are fed by at least two steps of regulation, each with spring control, so that the final regulator in the system does not have too much differential for which to compensate. A moving bass line should not upset the treble; intervals and chords should not de-tune when wind demand is high. It’s also important for the wind system to have more than adequate capacity to handle any demand and to have quick refill response so that staccato tutti chords will sound firm and full as they do in the orchestra. All too often, organs with great nobility of sustained tone turn into gasping caricatures when the forward motion of the music goes beyond their limits.

Another important wind system effect is a beautiful vibrato. We have developed a Variable Tremulant device, which allows the organist to control the speed of the beat from a balanced pedal at the console. We employ this normally on solo stops such as our Symphonic Flute. The normal, completely metronomic tremulant of the organ seems a bit unnatural when applied to lyrical passages. The Variable Tremulant allows the organist to simulate the more subtle vibrato used by first class instrumentalists and singers. The Vox Humana is also provided with a slow/fast tremulant switch, to fit both general and French Romantic repertoire.

Action

Speed and precision of both key and stop action are critical to the success of a symphonic organ. Key action must be lightning fast on both attack and release and respond uniformly from all keys regardless of the number of stops or couplers employed. Stop action must be fast and clean, i.e., without any hesitation or gulping on draw or release. Again, the entire action system must be silent. To meet these requirements we use electric-pneumatic action with an individual-valve windchest. (See illustration.) The expansion cell provides a cushioning effect similar to that of a note channel in a slider chest. It also allows placement of all action components near one another on the bottom board to reduce action channeling and increase speed.

The most important musical advantage of individual valves is to eliminate interdependence of pipes. With the exception of mixtures, where all pipes of a given note always speak together, we consider it a serious musical defect to place pipes on a common channel where the wind characteristics are different depending on the number of stops drawn and where there is a possibility of negative interaction within the channel. This is especially true, of course, with combinations of reeds and flues on the same channel and/or several large stops using copious wind. Each pipe should produce the same sound each time it is played no matter how many others are combined with it. As with flexible wind, the organist loses a degree of control over his instrument if random changes in pipe response can occur.

The most important reason for absolute uniformity of chest response under all conditions is the fact that pipes do not have the flexibility to adjust for variations in attack, wind supply, and release as do other wind instruments. A trumpet player, for example, can adjust attack, tone color, and release to an amazing degree of subtlety through precisely coordinated changes in breath, diaphragm, throat and mouth shape, tongue motion and position, embouchure, mouthpiece pressure, etc. In an organ, all of the analogous elements of control are set in place permanently by the voicer with the sole exceptions of wind regulator (diaphragm) and pipe valve (tongue motion). The pipe cannot change to accommodate variations in valve action and wind supply. As described before, wind supply cannot be controlled by the organist. This leaves the valve as the only means of control—and that control is limited even on the best mechanical actions. I submit that this element of control is actually a negative because variations in valve action, being different from the one experienced by the voicer, will be more likely to degrade pipe speech than to enhance it. If the key touch can affect attack and release but not all the other elements of tone production, then it follows that the organist is placed in the position of devoting his thought and energy toward avoiding ugly effects instead of concentrating on elements of performance that can be under precise and complete control. By maintaining absolute uniformity the performer knows what will happen every time a pipe is played.

Rather than searching for the elusive quality of touch control on the organ, we believe it is best to enhance speed of response and accuracy. The best way for an artist to achieve lyrical phrasing, clear articulation, and accent is through absolute control of timing. This is facilitated by keyboards with an articulated touch, providing a definite feel of the electric contact point, and an action that is immediately responsive both on attack and release. A sensitive player can then realize the most intricate and subtle musical ideas on what is essentially a large machine. The more the mechanism gets in the way of performance, forcing certain techniques, the less artistic freedom one has and the further the organ strays from the mainstream of instrumental and vocal music.

Flexible Control

We seldom acknowledge that the organist assumes the roles of orchestrator, conductor and instrumentalist—a daunting task to say the least. In effect, he is given nothing more than the kind of three-stave sketch that a composer might give to an orchestrator. The decisions an organist must make about registration are directly analogous to the orchestrator deciding on instrumentation, doubling, voice leading, chordal balance, etc. Since the organ is really a collection of instruments, the organist also has the conductor’s job of balancing the dynamic levels of individual sounds, accompaniments, inner voices of ensembles, counter melodies, and so on. As an instrumentalist he must have virtuoso keyboard technique. To achieve all of this requires great flexibility of control. The temptation is to load the console with a bristling array of playing aids. However, it is easy to pass the point where complexity becomes self-defeating. Here are some of the guidelines we use in designing consoles. First, the console must be comfortable. Dimensions should be standard and then, as far as possible, adjustable to conform to different organists. In addition to the adjustable bench, we have on several occasions provided adjustable-height pedalboards. We use a radiating and concave pedalboard and also non-inclined manual keys on the theory that when changing from one keyboard to another it is important that they be uniform. Controls must be placed in positions that are easy to see, memorize and reach. The combination action should be as flexible as possible providing the organist the opportunity to assign groups of stops to a piston at will. For example, on our combination action with the Range feature the organist can, while seated at the console, change divisional pistons into generals and vice-versa, assign pedal stops to a manual division, rearrange reversibles, etc. Multiple memories, of course, are now standard and of great value.

In addition to the multiple, assignable expression boxes, Variable Tremulant, and Sforzando coupler mentioned elsewhere, we like to include three special Pedal accessories on larger instruments. The first is a coupler bringing the Pedal to the Choir to facilitate fast pedal passages in transcriptions of orchestral accompaniments. The second is a Pedal Divide which silences the Pedal couplers in the low notes and silences the pedal stops in the upper notes. This allows the simultaneous playing of bass and solo lines on the pedalboard. The third is Pizzicato Bass, with a momentary-touch relay activating pipes of the Pedal Double Open Wood at 8¢ pitch. This provides a clear, pointed attack to the bass line reminiscent of divisi arco/pizzicato double bass writing for orchestra. This effect has been very useful in articulating bass lines, which on the organ are otherwise clouded rhythmically. The octave note is hardly noticeable, but the increase in buoyancy of the pedal line is quite amazing.

The most valuable and perhaps most controversial flexibility device is unification (extension). Certainly nothing other than tracker action has caused more argument over the last 50 years. The individual valve system obviously makes unification both simple and economical. Unification offers several musical advantages as we will see, but there are great dangers as well and it is most unfortunate that it has been so misused that some cannot see any of its advantages. We employ unification in symphonic organs, large and small, wherever a positive musical advantage can be achieved. Unification is, after all, merely coupling of individual stops rather than entire divisions. Whereas coupling is generally accepted, unification is not despite the fact that coupling of individual stops can offer a far more artistic result.

Perhaps the most interesting use of the unification is in creating new sounds. For example, to produce the stunning orchestral effect of trombones, tenor tubas, or horns playing in unison, we developed the Tuben (III) stop. This converts a chorus of 16’, 8’, 4’ tubas or trumpets into a unison ensemble by bringing the 4’ stop down an octave, the 16’ stop up an octave, and combining these with the 8’ stop. The three tones of slightly different scale but similar character create a most appealing unison effect and can be further combined with other stops of similar color at 8’ pitch. We have done the same with 16’, 8’ and 4’ Clarinet stops creating unison ensemble Clarinet tone, a common orchestrator’s device and most valuable to the organist for accompaniment and improvisation.

A traditional use of unification is in pedal borrowing from the manuals. We use this device extensively based on observation that one of the most difficult tasks facing an organist is finding a bass of suitable volume and color. We sometimes also borrow stops from one manual to another so that a stop may be used without tying up another manual with a coupler. A common application is transferring the Choir Clarinet to the Great so that it may be played against the Choir mutations. In some cases we derive an entire third manual on a moderate size organ from stops of the Great and Swell. This manual may either contain solo stops selected from both of the other manuals or a combination of solo stops from one manual and a secondary chorus from the other. A recent example is at Spring Valley United Methodist Church, Dallas, Texas. We occasionally extend stops—commonly downward to 16’ in the manuals and occasionally upward. Stops so treated must not be considered substitutes for primary chorus material. In other words, the organ must stand on its own as a completely straight design before any unification is employed. Stops extended upward must have a character of tone such that if a straight stop were to be employed, the scale would be the same or nearly so. Thus, extensions of string stops are much more likely to be successful than extensions of diapason stops.

Unification should not replace the ensemble of straight voices; it should simply make them available in different ways. If a stop can be useful also in another place or at another pitch and if this does not compromise the integrity of the organ’s design then we believe it is wrong not to include the unification. Failure to do so limits the organist’s musical options. The real point of the straight organ design concept is having all of the necessary independent voices even if one must give up some attractive ones to assure good ensemble. Once this is achieved, there is nothing wrong with making the voices you have do double or triple duty. It is interesting to note that in organs of a century ago a solo stop might be contrived through the use of couplers. A stop name would appear on a combination piston, the function of which was to draw a stop, a unison-off coupler, and an octave coupler thus making a 16’ reed, for example, available at 8’ as a solo stop. One can conclude that the earlier builders were not against unification, they simply did not have the practical means to do it. Unification and other devices to enhance flexibility need not be used by organists who do not like them, but to leave them out of the specification is to deprive others the full use of the costly resources the organ offers. Players of other instruments are always searching for ease of control so that their energy can be concentrated on musicianship. Organists might be a happier lot by doing the same instead of idolizing the organ’s ancient limitations.

Conclusion

We may be entering the greatest era in the fascinating life of the organ. The improvement in substitute electronic instruments has released the organ industry from the burden of making cheap pipe organs for customers with low expectations. Builders are working more and more for those with cultivated taste who appreciate an artistic approach to the craft. Organs are seldom purchased as a piece of church equipment as they were in days past. Now there is a place for all types of high quality pipe organs from antique reproductions to historically informed eclectic schemes to modern symphonic instruments. If the organ is to progress musically, it will be through the further development of its expressive—symphonic—qualities and the realization that the organ is a wind instrument ensemble with great potential, not merely a sometimes-awkward member of the early keyboard family.

Reprinted with permission from the Journal of The British Institute of Organ Studies, Vol. 26, 2002. Peter Williams, chairman; Nigel Browne and Alastair Johnston, editors. Positif Press, Oxford.