McGill Summer Organ Academy

The McGill Summer Organ Academy took place in Montreal from July 8–18, 2013 during a fearsome heat wave. This biennial two-week event, which was founded in 1997 by Artistic Director John Grew, brings together teachers and students from all over the world and takes advantage of the great variety of first-rate organs in a small area of downtown Montreal near the McGill University campus. On the McGill campus itself is the marvelous 1981 Hellmuth Wolff organ at Redpath Hall, the first “authentic” French Baroque organ in North America and the first organ built by Wolff with suspended action. John Grew, who arrived at McGill in 1976 and whose distinguished career has focused on French organ music, was prescient in bringing the instrument into existence years before the general public’s reawakening of interest in the French Baroque, which began, perhaps, with the production of Lully’s Atys by Les Arts Florissants in the late 1980s. 

There were seven two-week seminars on seven different instruments: John Grew on French Classical repertory, Hans-Ola Ericsson on Messiaen, Olivier Latry on Vierne, William Porter on 17th-century North German repertory, James David Christie on Bach, Sietze de Vries on improvisation, and Hank Knox on harpsichord repertory. The Academy included evening recitals by all the faculty on the instruments they used in teaching  their classes, and a Saturday excursion to two churches outside of Montreal: Saint-Alexandre Presbytere, where Jonathan Oldengarm played a short recital on the 1896 mechanical-action Casavant restored by Juget-Sinclair, and the Old Brick Church in West Brome, where Bill Porter played a concert of Italian music on the Hiroshi Tsuji organ, the first organ exported from Japan.

Along the way there was a stop at the Juget-Sinclair workshop, where their work on a 58-stop organ for Dallas was explained. There was yet another excursion to see the large, not-yet-completed Casavant at the Maison Symphonique, a new concert hall in downtown Montreal, that will be inaugurated this May by Olivier Latry. The Academy kicked off with a lecture by Elizabeth Gallat-Morin, the scholar who in 1988 discovered the Livre d’Orgue de Montreal, the largest extant manuscript collection of French Baroque organ music, and whose talk included a fascinating account of the early history of importing French organs to Canada.

I heard excellent reports from fellow students about their classes. The two I attended, Grew’s French Classical and Porter’s North German, offered a wealth of information on scholarship and interpretation, and despite the different national styles naturally shared an attention to Baroque articulation, fingering, pedaling, score-reading and registration. Grew commented at the first class that students have been coming to the Academies with increasing background in French Baroque style. Certainly recordings and research in the last few decades have given us all great resources, including most recently David Ponsford’s book, French Organ Music in the Reign of Louis XIV. Grew was, characteristically, being generous; the resources are there but many of us rely on our teachers and adopt their horizons, which may only sometimes include an awareness of performance practices. But nothing trumps charismatic teaching and demonstration. 

Grew often showed us how early fingering can produce elegant and natural articulation. He played the first four bars of the Duo of Grigny’s Veni Creator with only the second and third fingers, using the fourth finger for the first time on the last note of the fourth bar, and noting that the pinky is usually a termination (a “stop sign”). He spent much time on questions of ornamentation, registration and articulation. Couperin said “we write differently from the way we play” and the task of the performer is to know how to read the notation. Students in the class were constantly rewriting their scores: prefixes to trills should be played faster than the sixteenths with which they were notated; notes inégales should be applied where appropriate, sometimes sharp, sometimes gentle; thirds might be split and filled in as coulées; fast scales (tirades) should be played on white keys only and the prevailing accidentals cancelled; cadential accidentals, such as raised leading tones, should be applied retroactively to their quick prefix notes; notes with mordents, which are always played quickly, can be rendered more expressive with slow appoggiaturas; the pedal might take over the bass line for a few notes when tenor and bass diverge by more than an octave. None of these things is indicated the score.

Sometimes this extended to substantial correction, as in the famous bar in Grigny’s Recit de tierce en taille where the melody is notated a step too high, resulting in some pungent but erroneous dissonances (Grew’s recording is one of only two, along with Kimberly Marshall’s, which corrects the mistake). This correction comes with a conundrum, however: J. G. Walther and J. S. Bach both copied Grigny’s Livre d’Orgue, and although Walther corrected the mistake, Bach didn’t. Was the composer of the most powerful but logical dissonances yet written somehow tickled by this unintentional one? 

One other element of this class was the interchangeable pedalboards: a fairly conventional German-style pedalboard and a French pedalboard with smaller keys, which thankfully was not as difficult to play as it looked. At the end of the two-week session Grew exhorted everyone to read Couperin’s L’art de toucher le clavecin—indeed, to keep it on our bedside table. 

The natural expressivity of early fingering was one element in Porter’s teaching as well. He showed how the second variation in Böhm’s Freu Dich Sehr, O Meine Seele, which repeats a short-short-long figure in various positions over the interval of a major ninth, can be played with the middle fingers only, not turning the wrist and reaching for a new position “like a spider,” but by keeping the center of gravity in the middle of the hand and “dancing on the keys,” thereby revealing the music to be a “narrative of figures.” Porter’s class continually shunted back and forth between scholarship and interpretation, and he showed how they fertilize each other, starting with: What are we looking at in a printed edition—ostensibly an Urtext—where only flawed manuscripts exist? Porter made sure we knew, for example, that Klaus Beckmann’s Buxtehude edition utilizes techniques of criticism he learned as a theologian and that he constructed hypothetical originals that exist in no source, presenting what he thought Buxtehude might have meant to say.

Porter showed how articulation was related to bowing techniques, which in turn were related to metrical stress patterns, and in turn again to the idea of inflecting music like speech. The interaction of strong and weak beats was shown to have many ramifications, including pedaling: for weak-to-strong beats use the same foot, for strong-to-weak beats the other foot. We examined what a plenum meant in the 17th century, and how the plenum depended on the quality of the mixtures and the degree to which they were suited to polyphony. He pointed out that we know Praetorius played free pieces on two manuals, and that Johann Kortkamp, a student of Weckmann, said that Weckmann pulled stops for his teacher Praetorius, all implying somewhat more varied registrations than we often now hear.

To prepare for the class on Scheidemann’s Magnifact Primi Toni we sang that chant as it was notated by Franz Eler in his Cantica Sacra of 1588—slowly! Porter pointed out that slowly sung chant better balances the organ versets and leads to alternatim settings that are not as dominated by the organ as we currently often hear. Porter exhorted us not to worry so much about the spaces between notes, but more about achieving the right character, a useful reminder to be less fussy. Altogether this class was a goldmine of information and insight, and the scores I used now have more of my class notes on them than musical notes. And what a pleasure it was to hear and play the beautiful 1961 Beckerath at the Church of the Immaculate Conception.

The next McGill Summer Organ Academy will be held in 2015 and will be co-directed by John Grew and Hans-Ola Ericsson. Ericsson is now in his third year on the McGill faculty and before relocating to Montreal was in Pitea, Sweden, where he inaugurated the Gerald Woehl Studio Acusticum organ (see Kimberly Marshall’s article in the February 2013 issue of The American Organist). Until then a great way to keep developing early music score-reading skills via charismatic teaching would be to view the two videos by fortepianist Malcolm Bilson, Knowing the Score and Performing the Score. 

William Kuhlman is Professor of Music at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa, where he has taught since 1969. He is currently director of the Luther College Study Abroad program located in Nottingham, England. He is a member of Concert Artists Cooperative.

The twenty-third International Organ Festival was held at Saint Albans Cathedral and Abbey from July 7–16, 2005. The festival, which began in 1963, was the brainchild of Peter Hurford, Master of Music at St. Albans from 1958–78, who with his wife Patricia was inspired by the installation of the 1962 Harrison & Harrison organ, co-designed by Peter Hurford and Ralph Downes, in the cathedral. This exhilarating week of organ, choral, multi-media, symphonic and chamber events set the City of St. Albans abustle with activity and provided a welcome environment for visitors from the U.K. and abroad.

Friday

Friday’s opening event featured David Briggs, a recent addition to the New York City organ community and former winner of the improvisation competition at St. Albans in 1993. The evening was devoted to a showing of Cecil B. DeMille’s silent film “The King of Kings.” For almost two straight hours, Mr. Briggs provided soaring and majestic improvised accompaniments. This presentation to an audience of over one thousand proved to be the perfect marriage of music to the on-screen drama. Briggs’s improvisations not only reflected but enhanced the action on screen in a dramatic and powerful way reminiscent of Dupré at times, Messiaen, Cochereau and Langlais (one of his mentors) at others.

Saturday

Undaunted by his exhausting evening twelve hours prior, Briggs demonstrated the small three- to 12-stop pipe organs on exhibition in the north transept of the cathedral. Once again, he was brilliant, serving up a smorgasbord of improvisations appropriate to the size and voicing of each of the nine instruments, some in Renaissance style, others in modern variation forms, and still others in spirited and delightful sorties à la Louis Vierne. One of the most ingenious of all the demonstrations was improvised on two adjacent Vincent Woodstock twins of three stops each, placed at right angles to each other and played simultaneously by Briggs with one hand on each organ. The last demo was on the largest of the nine organs heard, this one by Harrison & Harrison: a spirited excursion into “Three Blind Mice” en stile Jehan Alain by a master improviser riding the crest of his triumph the previous evening and obviously enjoying every minute of it.

The final session of the morning was an illustrated talk by the cathedral organist at Southwell entitled “Painted Pipes Make Merrier Music” tracing the history of English organ case decoration.

Ludger Lohmann, one of the competition jurists, played an afternoon recital on the II/26 Peter Collins “Silbermann Organ” at St. Saviour’s Church in town. The beautiful Romanesque lines and elegant bricked columns made for a particularly apt setting for his fine performance in a tidy acoustic—transparent and articulate renditions of Bach’s Pièce d’Orgue, Fantasie BWV 562, and Trio Sonata No. 5; the de Grigny Veni Creator and Mozart K. 608 were given polished and elegant readings as well.

Evening Prayer was beautifully sung by the Men and Abbey Girls Choir directed by Simon Johnson with organist James Davy. The highlight was a stunning rendition of the James MacMillan setting of Christus Vincit. Special prayers for the victims and families of the disaster in London the previous Thursday were said.
Even with a chorus of 236 singers and hundreds of previously heard performances, a fresh Messiah staging can be a revelation. Heard in the bright, present acoustic of St. Albans Cathedral under the direction of Andrew Lucas, such was the case. Hearing Messiah 998 years after this grand Norman structure was begun was a musical highlight of Festival 2005. By the second chorus, occasional problems with togetherness had been rectified by Maestro Lucas, and despite the rather large forces, choruses were rendered in a light buoyant style in which consonants rang out clearly and precisely. This was a visceral and gutsy performance—no holds barred, make no mistake about it, as the rendering of the Hallelujah Chorus well proved. The singing from both soloists and chorus was at once elegant and controlled but enthusiastically glorious.

Sunday

The Service of Commemoration on Sunday morning July 10 was a profoundly impressive service honoring the sixtieth anniversary of the end of World War II, which was celebrated the previous week throughout the United Kingdom. Included were emotional recollections from two men and one German woman recalling the sacrifice and horror of war and their life experiences of sixty years ago. Beautiful renditions by the Cathedral Choir of Men and Boys included the John Ireland anthem “Greater Love Hath No Man” and moving performances of the Walton Te Deum, “God Save the Queen” (sung with gusto by all), and the postlude played by organist Simon Johnson, Bach’s BVW 548, the “Wedge.”

Former organist and choirmaster at St. Paul’s, London, and more recently appointed to a similar post at St. Thomas Church, New York City, John Scott was the second jury member in concert Sunday afternoon in St. Albans Cathedral. Langlais’ La Cinquième Trompette (1973) was written during the composer’s convalescence from a near-fatal illness. This seldom-played and extraordinary piece was well-performed by John Scott on the colorful and powerful 75-rank Harrison & Harrison. Two chorale preludes from Clavierübung III, “These Are Thy Holy Ten Commands” and “Jesus Christ Our Savior,” came off nicely in clear and transparent registrations, the first lovingly rendered, the second dancing along in a great flight. Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A minor, BWV 543, was played with appropriate doses of freedom and flexibility. The Mendelssohn “Andante with Variations in D” was published posthumously not long after Mendelssohn’s death in 1847. Percy Grainger’s “Handel in the Strand” certainly livened up the afternoon and warmed Mr. Scott to the crowd. Based in part on Handel’s tune “The Harmonious Blacksmith,” it was reminiscent of a piece the great Reginald Foort may have knocked off on one of his Sunday afternoon concerts in a town hall 60 or 70 years ago. Composer Ad Wammes’ Miroir is a delightful minimalist piece creating a hypnotic effect akin to dancing rays of light reflected in glass with little wisps of melody sneaking in the left hand part over the 140 bars of ostinato. The rhythmically dynamic and exhilarating Fanfare by one of Scott’s mentors, Kenneth Leighton, concluded the afternoon’s program. Oddly enough, this is a little-known and under-played piece in the U.K., since it was published in America and has never been easily available in the British Isles. It was played with the affection one might expect from Scott, a former choirboy in Leighton’s Wakefield Men and Boys in the late 1960s.

The Sunday Evensong was exquisitely sung by the Men and Boys of St. Albans featuring Shepherd’s service setting, hymns by C. Hubert H. Parry and C. H. Monk, and a particularly wonderful reading of Phillip Moore’s anthem “All Wisdom comes before the Lord.” One can only be impressed and filled with admiration at the precocious spirit of this superbly trained ensemble under Andrew Lucas’ expert leadership. Considering that this was the second service of the day for the boys, and the third in 24 hours for the men, one can appreciate the energy, talent and discipline of this and other choirs like it. The amazing feature of the St. Albans ensemble is that they are not part of a choir “boarding school” but rather are brought back and forth by committed and diligent parents for the nearly two hours of rehearsal each day, in addition to an extended Friday evening rehearsal of over two hours. The Dean of the Cathedral, the Very Reverend Dr. Jeffrey John, preached a fine sermon on “Music,” pointing out that if religious music lacks the power to ignite something inside of you beyond a nice warm glow, it can only be considered “religious wallpaper.” As usual, the organist Simon Johnson got a workout playing nearly nonstop the entire 35 minutes plus the Vierne First Organ Symphony opening movement for the pièce de sortie. His playing came to be highly regarded throughout the festival.

An ancillary event offered to festival participants and townsfolk was a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Trial by Jury, presented by the Regeneration Theatre Company at the old 19th-century court house in the middle of town, historic scene of many a banishment to Australia in the nineteenth century for petty (and not so petty) crimes. It proved to be a perfect setting for this lively and energetic production by this young and vibrant company and lent a new wrinkle to the phrase “high camp.”

Monday

On Monday, and the other weekdays, interpretation and improvisation semi-finals were held with nineteen competitors playing for the five-member international jury.

The “Three Choirs” concert on Monday evening brought in yet another full house, packing the cathedral to overflowing. Featured were the Men and Boys choirs of Winchester, Durham and St. Albans cathedrals. The “Battle of the Choirs” began with a beguiling rendition of Tallis’ rarely sung Loquebantur varlis linguis sung from the presbytery, followed by a processional sung in multi-phonic alternatim style on Iste Confessor Domini interspersed with organ settings by Tallis and Redford once again played by the masterful Simon Johnson. Winchester followed with a playful and spirited performance of Byrd’s Haec dies and a vibrant setting of Laudi alla beata vergine by James MacMillan.

It would seem unfair to compare the three choirs, each with their own personality, some with a more “forward” and soprano-dominant sound, and others with all components in sync. Suffice it to say that Andrew Lucas’ St. Albans Men and Boys bathed us once again in sumptuous choral sound in their renditions of the Brahms Geistliches Lied and Michael Tippett’s setting of the American spiritual Steal Away. The unconventional and highly difficult setting of Tippett’s Spanish fiesta-inspired Magnificat was sung by all three choirs as the first half came to a festive conclusion. The piece was commissioned in 1961 for the 450th anniversary of the founding of St. John’s College, Cambridge.

Following the interval, the boys from the three choirs once again showed their stuff in a wonderfully rhythmic performance of the Britten Missa Brevis. The forty-plus men of the choirs then dug aggressively into a gutsy and forbidding setting of Gombert’s Magnificat Tertii et Octavi Toni. Jonathan Harvey’s piece entitled Toccata for Organ and Tape from the 1980s was a typical genre piece from that era, demonstrating the undying fascination composers had for combining the pings and poofs possible by combining these two sound sources.
Andrew Lumsden (Winchester) brought the three choirs together a second time in William Harris’s a cappella setting of Bring Us, O Lord God with poetry by John Donne. The celestial ending of the work and the great polish and richness overall exuded feelings of warmth and fondness for text brought by Victorian and post-Victorian composers like Harris (1883–1973).

James Lancelot (Durham Cathedral) brought the evening to a thrilling and fitting ending of a magnificent display of choral music at its most glorious with Howells’s Te Deum (Collegium Regale) written in 1944 for Boris Ord and the King’s College Choir of Men and Boys.

Tuesday

The evening concert on July 12 by Peter Hurford and The Swingle Singers proved to be pleasant enough for some audience members, but was overall an unexciting evening of old Swingle war-horses and “signature” pieces. The vocal dexterity and impeccable technique that is a Swingle trademark was marred by problems with both intonation and accuracy. Following “spot-on” choral singing by the previously heard choirs, the Swingles seemed under-rehearsed and unsure of themselves much of the time.

Peter Hurford managed to bail the evening out of complete disaster with some nice performances of Orgelbüchlein favorites in two different groupings, followed in each case with Swinglized renderings. He dashed off the “St. Anne” prelude as well as the “little” G-minor fugue and the Alain Litanies with his usual professionalism. This great artist and treasure of the international organ world celebrated his 75th birthday on St. Cecilia’s Day 2005.

Wednesday

Wednesday evening brought the Royal College of Music Junior Department Symphony Orchestra from London to town. The level and training of this fine ensemble of student musicians showed that they had the “right stuff” from the first note forward. The opulence of their sound bloomed (almost too much) in the rich and present acoustic of the St. Albans nave. But what was lacking in orchestral polish was compensated by the insatiable energy, enthusiasm and obvious love for playing as exemplified initially in a reading of the wonderful occasional music from Peter Grimes by Britten.

Despite some expected difficulty in keeping orchestra and organ together due to the great spatial separation between organ and ensemble, the first movement of the Guilmant Organ Symphony #1, played by Jane Watts and the Symphony under Richard Dickin’s able baton, rang dramatic and triumphal. The Harrison & Harrison once again proved a worthy partner to the RCM Symphony in a pleasant and agreeable reading of the second movement. The third movement brought to a thrilling conclusion this marvelous collaboration.

Following the interval, Elgar’s Enigma Variations were given a fabulous performance by these aspiring young artists. Like our young musicians at Interlochen and honors orchestras scattered about America, these students will form the nucleus for the next generation of professional orchestral musicians worldwide. When one hears groups like this perform so brilliantly, one can only wonder at the political or educational thinking that leads to elimination of instrumental music and arts program from American public schools.

Thursday

Thursday was the “Royal Academy of Music” day for those who opted to go down to London. We were greeted upon arrival by David Titterington, head of organ studies at the R.A.M., who began our day in the elegant 400-seat Duke’s Hall with a cordial welcome and outline of the day’s planned activities. Only the Weimar conservatory and the Liszt Academy in Budapest are older than the Royal Academy, founded in 1822. Beautiful portraiture and sculpture of important figureheads at the R.A.M. such as Sir David Lumsden, Sir Henry Wood and the Wesleys adorn the side walls. Elton John was cited as a graduate and a major supporter of the academy’s programs.

We heard some excellent playing of Franck and Langlais by academy organ students Jessica Cottis and Joe Fort on the wonderful 1993 Van den Heuvel. The organ was built in the Cavaillé-Coll style with a case modeled on the Trocadero case in Paris.

The David Josefowitz Recital Hall provided a perfect venue for the performance of early Italian organ music by the Piden Organ Fellow at the Royal Academy, Riccardo Bonci. The organ, a 1763 Italianate instrument, was a major find by the Academy. The instrument, originally thought to be from Naples, was lovingly restored in Florence by Riccardo Lorenzini who was undaunted by its wretched condition upon discovery in a Rome apartment. The case was restored by artists in the National Gallery in Florence. The 1' rank was discovered to be from the year 1590. A nightingale and bagpipe stops were added although not original to the organ. The tuning is meantone.

We heard Frescobaldi’s Toccata Quarta (Bk. II) played on the Voce umana stop with alluring charm; a Cavazzoni hymn on the Principale stop, which proved to be a gloriously warm and singing sound; a Gabrieli intonazione played on the ripieno or tutti sound and several other pieces showing off the bagpipe drone stop (the Zampogna) and the nightingale stop (the Usignolo). We were filled with admiration for not only the serene beauty of the organ sounds displayed making these lovely pieces come alive, but the virtuosity of this young and talented player who seemed totally at home in even the quickest passages using Diruta-style early fingerings (3-4, 3-4 ascending and 3-2, 3-2 descending).

The York Gate Keyboard Gallery provided the scene for Anne Page’s demonstration of the two-manual Alphonse Mustel “Orgue-Celesta” from 1907. Ms. Page launched into a masterful mini-lecture/demonstration of the beauties and unique characteristics of this little-known instrument, which sprang from the spirit of 19th and early 20th century invention employing the so-called “free reed” concept. It rose to the height of its popularity after the industrial revolution gave rise to the middle class. Its ability to make dynamic changes by subtle variations in the foot pumping, and a sustaining power beyond that of a piano, made it an attractive alternative for composers like Lefébure-Wély, Franck, Bizet, Vierne and others. Composition for the instrument quickly became a long-standing French tradition. Ms. Page has become a true savant of the instrument. Her passion for its possibilities became ever more apparent with her tour de force renditions of difficult compositions by Lefébure-Wély and others. She was quick to point out that this instrument was never meant to be a “substitute for the pipe organ” but a different kettle of fish altogether with possibilities beyond that of an organ. One of the highlights of the day was hearing the Prelude, Fugue and Variation of Franck in its original scoring for piano and harmonium. The effect was extremely interesting and rich in dynamic contrast. Other pieces by Karg-Elert and Vierne (24 Pièces en style libre) showed us how composers pushed the instrument’s possibilities to the limits.

The afternoon offering was a masterclass at St. Marylebone Parish Church, across the street from the Royal Academy and site of a fine Rieger organ from 1987. Jurist Jos van der Kooy led the class of students from the academy ready to offer up pieces by Karg-Elert, Bach, Messiaen and Reger.

Marvelous playing by the student musicians was elevated by helpful and insightful comments by van der Kooy, who holds positions at both the Grote Kerk of St. Bavo in Haarlem and the Vesterkerk in Amsterdam. Some profoundly insightful comments were mixed in among some wonderful “Kooy-isms” such as “open the swell box with your ears, not your feet,” “Don’t let pistons dictate your silences,” and “I think birds sing very sophisticated in France” (re: Messiaen).

The evening concert entitled “The Splendour of the Baroque” featured Emma Kirkby, soprano, Jos van der Kooy, organ, and the London Baroque in a diverse program of rarely heard music from the eighteenth century. Along with works by Handel, Bach and John Christopher Smith, were two of the most delightful Soler Concertos for two organs, perfectly executed by Jos van der Kooy and Jane Watts. With the Five Arias, employing rapturous texts from Milton’s Paradise Lost and set sensitively with homage to Handel by John Christopher Smith (1712–95), all was right in the heavens.

Improvisation

The improvisation prelims were conducted throughout the week. The given theme, Nun Danket All und bringet Her, came with the instruction to execute a fifteen-minute partita on it. The improvisation final on Friday morning required each player to split the 20 allowed minutes as they wished between the submitted theme (Veni Creator Spiritus) and the newly composed theme by Jos van der Kooy. The themes were handed to competitors 40 minutes before their allotted performance time.

The first improviser was the young Frenchman Jean-Baptiste Dupont, who brought a huge, blossoming, rhythmic and foreboding drama to his themes, not unlike the Cochereau of old. He integrated his motivic ideas into colorful textures and held the audience’s interest right through to his incredible ending.
Gerben Mourik from the Netherlands approached the themes in a much more subdued and restrained fashion, building in a relatively tonal and conservative style. His was a beautiful harmonic language with very clear exposition of both themes and an excellent registrational concept.

The third contestant and an obvious audience favorite was Thorsten Maus from Germany. His was the most conservative style of the three. While Maus’s harmonic language was not as interesting as the first two, his compact but thorough treatment employing various formal techniques was perhaps the best packaged.

The final recital by a jurist was played by Erwan Le Prado from France, a former student of André Isoir. He presently teaches at the Conservatoire de Caen in France. Le Prado’s Bach and Buxtehude works were played with great musical personality, nuance and sense of immediacy—by far the best Bach playing of the week. He brought to the G-minor Fantasy, BWV 542, the power it deserved in an enthusiastic and energized rendition. The little D-minor Trio, BWV 583, seemed an apt choice to play between fantasy and fugue since many of its motives bear a resemblance to the subject and countersubjects of 542. The fugue was played in a spirited and somewhat daring manner which, despite its in-your-face approach, worked admirably in the rather dry acoustic of St. Saviour’s Church.

The Alain Aria is one of those “less is more” Alain pieces that give voice to his uniquely colorful, vivid and quirky imagination. The Second Fantasy of Alain, with its haunting Arabic themes suggestive of the chant of the Muezzin from a minaret calling the faithful to prayer, whips up into a wild and whirling dance, ending as it began in a mood of secret and mysterious melancholy. For a Frenchman, a suite from the French Baroque seems almost obligatory. Le Prado displayed well the sonorities of the school with the Guilain Suite du Premier Ton on the 22-stop 1989 Peter Collins organ built in the style of Andreas Silbermann.

Le Prado’s final offering was Six Variations sur un psaume huguenot written by his mentor André Isoir. This rarely heard piece by the 70-year-old French performing giant takes as its theme Psalm 92 from the Genevan Psalter. It is Isoir’s one and only published organ work. The amazingly intricate textures are fully exploited by the tonal palette of the classical pipe organ in wonderfully imaginative and unexpected ways. One could hear the cross influences of contemporaries such as Gaston Litaize and Oliver Messiaen. The vibrant “Final” brought the afternoon’s recital to a dynamic and impressive conclusion.

Friday

Friday brought us to the interpretation finals. The common piece to be played that morning was the 9/8 Prelude in C by Bach. All three renditions were competent although several suffered from too heavy a pedal registration—easy to do on an organ not especially designed to play Baroque music and in a room with thick walls especially hospitable to the bass range. Others were somewhat more legato than current taste would condone, blurring the lines. Yet another played in a rather stiff, inflexible manner. But this was all for the judges to ruminate about.

The second and third pieces, from 1850–1970 and after 1970, were the choice of the performer. We heard Reger, Duruflé and Franck plus a wide range of short pieces from Dan Locklair and Thierry Escaich to Lionel Rogg and Jon Laukvik. What criticism could be applied to these gifted performers would have to do with subtle and ephemeral items such as lack of “fire,” clarity, and use of the acoustic in rests and tempi, and overall control of the pieces.

Needless to say, these were all superb performance that would stand up well in any recital venue. What a thrill it was to see a cathedral nearly packed with people, rapt with attention and interest in what these young performers had to say.

After considerably more deliberation by the panel, a decision was announced. First prize for interpretation and its attendant $9600 purse went to Andrew DeWar of the U.K. Dewar was the second prize winner in the 2003 competition and is currently pursuing studies at the Musikhochschule in Stuttgart with Ludger Lohmann. Dewar also won the “Prize of the Audience” ($900).

The second prize ($5300) went to another Brit, Henry Fairs, a graduate of the Musikhochschule in Cologne and former student of Susan Landale. The first prize for the improvisation competition ($7000) was given to Gerben Mourik of the Netherlands, currently studying at Tilburg Conservatoire. The Douglas May Award ($1300) for one who is not a recipient of any other prize for the best performance of any competition piece in the quarter-final and semi-final rounds went to Simon Bell of Great Britain.

Final accolades were bestowed on each by town and festival officials and patrons at a festive ceremony in the great nave of the cathedral on Saturday morning, followed by a recital by the finalists in both improvisation and interpretation. Once again, the cathedral was packed with audience members.
Henry Fairs began the concert with the Elgar First Sonata opening movement, which the judges had requested that he perform since he had played it so brilliantly during an earlier level of the competition. It proved to be the perfect choice to begin this auspicious event—a lovely rendering of this lush work on a wonderfully English-inflected instrument in an ideal setting.

Jean-Baptiste Dupont, the French improvisation-colorist extraordinaire, showed us once again his consummate mastery of sound and texture. In this forum, sans a given theme upon which to extemporize, he was able to let his juices flow freely and this he did right well, producing gigantic explosions of sound to flow in alternation with the loveliest shimmers imaginable.

Jonathan Moyers (USA), a doctoral student of Donald Sutherland at the Peabody Conservatory, played once again the Thierry Escaich Evocation II. The evocation most apparent in this piece written over a sometime tedious pedal point is the tune Freu dich sehr, o meine Seele. Mr. Moyers gave the piece as fine a reading (and perhaps better) as could be expected.

Thorsten Maus from Germany, a finalist in improvisation, started us off with a very typical British-sounding march melody to the great delight of all. We thought we were at the “Proms.” He spun out a number of CHH Parry/Percy Whitlock-like variations in a rondo form, some homophonic, others more imitative with small hints of Elgar’s familiar Pomp and Circumstance tune thrown in for good measure. It was just plain fun and a nice foil for the others who were “oh so moderne”! You’d have thought Mr. Maus was British-born and bred. Maybe a week in St. Albans rubbed off!

Daniel Cook of the U.K., a finalist in the interpretation competition, almost came up to the same high standard in his performance of the Duruflé Veni Creator established the night before. Once again, he seemed in total control of all aspects of the piece and gave it a fine reading.

Gerben Mourik, the Dutch winner of the improvisation competition, played next and in a lovely gesture to his English hosts chose to improvise on the hymntune Michael (“All my hope on God is founded”). Once again, he gave an altogether splendid performance with great inventive strokes in his theme and variations and employing many different techniques and formal procedures.
Andrew DeWar squeezed the mighty Harrison & Harrison dry in another tour de force reading of Reger’s Phantasie für Orgel über den Choral ‘Halleluja! Gott zu loben’, op. 52, no. 3, using every imaginable tonal resource available to him on this somewhat modestly sized cathedral instrument.

Congratulations and thanks to the staff, jury, patrons, townspeople and of course the competitors who came from all over the globe and combined to make the week such a marvelous musical experience for all.

Recitalist, teacher and recording artist, Marie-Claire Alain is one of the leading personalities in the world of organ music. Born into a family of musicians at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, she studied music at the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Paris, where she won four first prizes, soon followed by several awards in international competitions.
Marie-Claire Alain’s concert tours have led her throughout the world, including numerous trips to the United States and Canada since 1961. Critics praise the clarity of her playing, the musicality of her interpretations, the purity of her style, and her mastery of registration.
Greatly sought after as a teacher and justly famous for her lectures illustrated with musical examples, Marie-Claire Alain bases her teaching on extensive, unrelenting musicological studies in organ literature and performance practices of early music. After teaching for sixteen summers in Haarlem, The Netherlands (1956–1972), she now holds a workshop every summer in Romainmôtier, Switzerland, where the house organ from her family home in France is located. She taught for many years at the Conservatoire National de Region de Rueil-Malmaison, followed by several years at the Conservatoire Supérieur de Paris. Her discography is impressive, containing over 220 recordings, including the famous “integrales” or complete works (J. S. Bach, Couperin, de Grigny, Daquin, Franck, Handel, J. Alain, etc.), which have won her numerous Grands Prix du Disque in France and abroad. In addition, an educational DVD featuring Mme. Alain was produced by the American Guild of Organists in 2002. Marie-Claire Alain has received honorary doctorates from Colorado State University (Fort Collins), Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas, The Boston Conservatory of Music, McGill University, Montréal, Canada, and most recently in 2006 from the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. In 1984, she was named International Performer of the Year by the New York City AGO chapter, and in 1999 was given the AGO Lifetime Achievement Award. In France, she was awarded the degree “Commandeur des Arts et Lettres.”
As an outgrowth of her great interest in the pipe organs of her own country, Mme. Alain serves on a commission of the French government for the promotion and construction of new pipe organs in France. Classic CD magazine named her one of “The Greatest Players of the Century” in 2001 in a list that included the entire classical music world. For many years, she has been an adjudicator at organ competitions all over the world. In 1999 she was president of the jury of Concours Suisse de l’orgue, and on several occasions she has presided over the juries of the Concours International de Chartres and of the Musashino International Competition in Tokyo.
—Stephen Hamilton
 

In 1965, a brilliant young student of Arthur Poister, Byron L. Blackmore, moved to my hometown of La Crosse, Wisconsin, to assume the city’s only full-time church position. I had the privilege of being his first organ student at the age of 13, and it was Byron who introduced me to the artistry of Marie-Claire Alain. He had me purchase her recordings of de Grigny, Couperin, Bach, Handel and Jehan Alain, and from these recordings my life completely changed. I immediately fell in love with her incredible musicianship, her extraordinary attention to detail, touch, ornamentation, breath, style and, above all, music-making, and I knew I wanted one day to be her student.
I met Marie-Claire for the first time at a concert she performed in Rochester, Minnesota, when I was 14 years old. She made a very ordinary electric-action organ come alive. Following the concert, we spoke at the reception in French, and she patiently coached our conversation along, helping me with my first year “command” of the language. She was so kind, warm and encouraging. She gave me her home address in L’Etang-la-Ville and told me to keep in touch. I couldn’t believe such a great artist would be so kind and take so much time with a young student. Many years later, I realized I was the same age as her only son, Benoit. She has always had a loving maternal relationship with all of her students.
Throughout my high school and early undergraduate years, I followed her around the country for masterclasses and concerts. The most memorable was her week-long seminar at Fort Collins, Colorado, in 1971. It was amazing to see her deal with so many diverse students. She had an uncanny way of meeting every student where they were and helping them change by opening their ears and minds. She received her first honorary doctorate on this occasion and, twenty years later, I had the honor of placing a doctoral hood over her head as Chair of the Organ and Harpsichord Department at the Boston Conservatory. After my junior year at Oberlin, I decided to take a year off and go to Paris to study privately with Marie-Claire. We worked mainly on classical French works, Buxtehude, and Jehan Alain. Her attention to detail, her pleas to always listen to the music, and her insistence that the organ itself was one’s best teacher changed my approach to performing and certainly influenced me greatly in my own teaching. As I was particularly interested in Buxtehude, she encouraged me to go to North Germany and play the historic organs, which I did. Because of this, I devoted the next ten years of my life to an intensive study of Buxtehude and the North German masters of the 17th century.
Marie-Claire Alain taught all her students to question, to be stylish, eclectic, open, inquisitive, ready to do research, always prepared to learn and change one’s mind, and to live as a 20th-century musician. She stressed the importance of knowing, studying and performing music of our entire heritage and to be “diversified” (she was using this term years before investment companies did!). Her performances of music including the complete classical French masters, Muffat, Bruhns, Bach, Franck, Liszt, Widor, Jehan Alain, Duruflé, Messiaen and Charles Chaynes were all equally thrilling.
The most moving day of my life was in Paris in January, 1995, when Marie-Claire invited me to move from “vous” to “tu”—but it never feels right when I do this. The respect I have for our “Mâitresse” is too great. Happy birthday, dear Marie-Claire—thank you for all you have given the world—you will live forever!
—James David Christie
Professor of Organ
Oberlin Conservatory

It is both a privilege and an honor to be invited to join with those who are contributing tributes to Marie-Claire Alain. Like many, I first became acquainted with her through her prolific recordings and writings. It was not until the 1981 organ workshop at Colorado State University, Fort Collins, that I had the opportunity to observe her as a recitalist and teacher, and to get to know her as a person. My wife Marian was at the conference with me, and we were completely captivated at how the remarkable personality of Mme. Alain showed forth in all that she did—conducting classes and performing. Her enthusiasm and love for many different styles of music, along with her attention to detail and appropriate fingering, were things that those of us who were observers could retain far into the future.
Marian and I both found Mme. Alain to be supremely generous with her musical ideas, and gracious in letting us “pick her brain”! I clearly recall Marian remarking wistfully how she wanted so much to play Franck’s E-Major Choral, but her hands were too small. The immediate response was “Oh nonsense! I’ll show you how to do it!”
Aside from music and pedagogy, Marian was quite taken with her many other interests, especially relating to her home life—her children and the roses she tended to with loving care. We couldn’t get over how, being a genius, she was so very down-to-earth!
Regarding Mme. Alain’s stature as a teacher and scholar, the two occasions that gave Marian and me the best opportunities for observation and assimilation were the Fort Collins workshop and then, sometime later, a similar week at the Eastman School of Music.
The five-day Fort Collins event included a recital, which was divided in half and played on two different organs. The first part, devoted to Bach, was played on the 3-manual Casavant (1969) at the university. The second half was at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church where the organ is a 2-manual Phelps (1974). This program included Nivers, Franck, and Alain. It was of interest to me to note the effective way in which she handled the Franck and Alain on an unenclosed instrument that was predominately North German in style.
I was also greatly interested in her class presentation of the connection between French and German organ music. There were five groups of music for illustration:
1. Music written on religious texts. (from Couperin Parish Mass, Bach Partita O Gott du frommer Gott)
2. Use of liturgical melodies (four excerpts from de Grigny Mass; Bach, four chorales from BWV 651) 3, 4. Bach’s influence through the 19th century (Bach Prelude & Fugue in a minor, Franck Choral No. 3 in a minor, Bach Passacaglia, Franck Choral No. 2 in b minor)
5. Connections of J. Alain with J. S. Bach (Bach Sonata No. 3 in d-minor, Alain Variations sur un thème de Clement Janequin, Choral Dorien, Choral Phrygien, Litanies).
Marian and I gained so much from the sessions that week that I find myself wishing I could hear them all over again!
One especial gesture of kindness that I cannot forget is the beautiful note that Mme. Alain wrote to me following Marian’s death ten years ago. This letter completes the esteem and admiration we both had for Mme. Alain for all these years—as a performer, teacher, and a wonderful person!
This is to wish her continuing great joy and success for many, many years!
—David Craighead
Professor Emeritus
Eastman School of Music

Like my friend and colleague Jim Christie, I was also a young person in Wisconsin when I first came to know of Marie-Claire Alain. Playing the organ was my first love, and it was during my senior year in high school that I went to hear her play a recital at Northwestern University. The program made such an impression on me that to this day, 35 years later, I can still remember some of the compositions that she performed.
My decision to enroll at the Lawrence University Conservatory of Music was largely based on the fact that their organ teacher, Miriam Duncan, had recently returned to the States after a year of sabbatical study in Europe. During that year she was a student of Anton Heiller, but also took some lessons from Mme. Alain, specifically to study early French music. So, having the opportunity to study with a student of Marie-Claire Alain, I soaked up information and performance practice like a sponge. All I wanted to do my freshman year was to play early French music! Quite coincidentally, in the fall of my sophomore year, I happened to win a contest in which I played Clérambault’s Second Suite. Anton Heiller was on the jury and was the first to plant the seed that perhaps I might want to study with Mme. Alain myself some day. That’s exactly what I did during my senior year. After graduate school I went back to France for two more years.
Mme. Alain’s students traveled to her home in L’Etang-la-Ville, a western suburb of Paris. (In about the mid-1970s, she affiliated herself with the conservatory at Rueil-Malmaison, and so students after me studied in a more structured conservatory environment.) It was such a relaxed environment (including her cat sitting on the window sill) that it was more an atmosphere of friends getting together than a young student in the presence of a great teacher. My lesson time was on Tuesdays at 10:15, and I was her only student of the morning. Sometimes the lessons were an hour; sometimes they stretched to 90 minutes or more.
I’ll never forget my first lesson. One can imagine what a bundle of nerves I was, yet Marie-Claire put me instantly at ease with a simple admonishment: “You’re not here to impress me with how well you play, nor to make me cry with what beautiful music you can produce. You’re here to learn.”
And so it was, for three years, countless lessons during which we covered all of the major French Baroque literature, nearly the complete works of Bach, and most of the music of Jehan Alain, Franck and other French masters, as well as a generous smattering of North German music, too. The repertoire at each lesson was totally different. Only once did I play the same piece twice.
Mme. Alain’s teaching style was similar to what I had been used to as an undergraduate. She started with the assumption that one could at least play the notes and beyond that very little was ever necessarily right or wrong. Often she would throw out a provocative question about interpretation just to quiz general knowledge of a period and style. On more than one occasion I caught her purposely stating something totally contrary just to see if I’d have the wherewithal (or nerve?) to contradict her! More than anything, Marie-Claire made a very conscious effort to allow her students the freedom to express themselves at the organ. I remember her saying “the last thing the world needs is a bunch of little Marie-Claires running around!” Since then I’ve always been of the opinion that the mark of a really great teacher is one who can teach without stifling the spirit or creativity of the student. Her students bear her imprint without being her clone.
In the 30 years that have elapsed since those days as a student in France, I have been continually impressed with Marie-Claire’s continued interest in her former students. It is often said that her students are like her children and that, while they grow up and move away, the bond remains nonetheless. When I consider the sheer number of students that she has taught over her impressive career, I wonder how she has time to do anything else except to keep up with her extended family. Recently, I’ve heard Marie-Claire play any number of times and, like Horowitz or Rubenstein, who played well into their 80s, she continues to play beautifully. Clearly you’re not ready to retire from performance, Marie-Claire! Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your wisdom, your guidance, your inspiration, and, most of all, for your enduring and loving friendship.
—Thomas F. Froehlich
Organist, First Presbyterian Church
Dallas, Texas

One of the great pleasures for me during the past 30 years of teaching at McGill has been those numerous occasions when Marie-Claire Alain came to give masterclasses and play concerts. The most memorable of these was in November 2001 when her visit happily coincided with the Fall Convocation, and McGill was able to confer a Doctor of Music, Honoris Causa, on her. The text of the citation that I read was as follows:
“Marie-Claire Alain is one of the legendary musicians of our time. Mme. Alain was born in 1926 at Saint-Germain-en-Laye into a home full of music. Her father, Albert Alain, who had studied with Caussade, Guilmant, and Vierne, was an accomplished church musician, performer, and composer. Her brother, Jehan, killed in action in 1940, left a legacy of some of the 20th century’s finest organ music. A second brother, Olivier, became a leading musicologist. By the age of 12, Marie-Claire was already, on occasion, replacing her father in the organ loft. Her own teachers, after her father, included such illustrious musicians as Marcel Dupré, Maurice Duruflé, André Marchal, and Gaston Litaize: a goodly heritage indeed.
“As concert organist, Mme. Alain has toured worldwide and made over 200 LP recordings and more than 60 CDs, and earned numerous prizes, including multiple Grands Prix du Disque. “As a pedagogue, Mme. Alain has had a spectacular career. Students from the four corners of the globe have flocked to Paris to study with her, their names reading like a veritable Who’s Who of the organ world today. Probably no other organ teacher has produced so many prize winners at international competitions. Her courses are legendary, her teaching marked by an open questioning manner and a quest for authenticity in matters of historical performance practice.
“Mme. Alain has also been a champion of historical instruments, evidenced by the great care she takes to choose the most historically appropriate instrument for each recording project. This obviously entails exhaustive research.
“As a scholar, Mme. Alain has published numerous articles on performance practice, many of which have been widely translated. We are pleased to note frequent citation in musicological literature of one of her articles published by McGill in L’Orgue à notre époque, a collection of papers and proceedings of an organ symposium held at the University in 1981 on the occasion of the installation of the French classical organ in Redpath Hall.
“Marie-Claire Alain has been named a member of the Swedish Royal Academy of Music. The city of Lubeck granted her the Buxtehude Prize in recognition of her work promoting early German music, and the city of Budapest awarded her the Franz Liszt Prize. In France, she is a Commander of the Légion d’honneur and a member of the Ordre Nationale du Mérite and of the Ordre Nationale des Arts et Lettres.”
The 2001 visit of Marie-Claire also happily coincided with the 20th anniversary of the splendid Wolff organ in Redpath Hall. She gave masterclasses on both weekends before and after convocation and played a memorable recital. During the planning stages of this organ in the late 1970s, she was always ready and willing to answer questions, or to point us in the right direction and open doors. Needless to say, planning an historical copy in the 1970s was somewhat more nerve wracking than it might appear today. It was a great adventure, and Marie-Claire knew how to encourage us to stay the course whenever doubts set in.
There are many anecdotes that come to mind. One of the most memorable for me dates from 1969 when she invited all her students to come to Poitiers. She had just completed a recording session over the preceding two days, and there she was giving us a class on this great Clicquot. The energy and the generosity were breathtaking to say the least. And of course there was wonderful food and wine in a little restaurant sympathique!
A story that I love to tell my students, especially those having difficulty remembering where the stops are, concerns a visit to play a concert on the von Beckerath in my church in Montréal. I met her at the airport around 11 am and we proceeded to the church. She spent about half an hour trying out various registrations and asking my opinion but she never wrote anything down. Then we went off for a leisurely lunch bien arosé. After lunch she went to her hotel to rest and to study her scores. That evening she played her concert from memory and pulled all her own stops in the process. All the registrations worked magically! What métier!
There were the many occasions when she traveled for concerts and I would go along as assistant, especially during the Haarlem organ academies. Not only did I get a chance to play some incredible organs, but we drank some splendid wine.
When all the faculty were assembled to teach at the 2003 McGill Summer Organ Academy, I realized that half of the fourteen were her former students. I think that even she was a little surprised—at least momentarily—when I announced this at the opening dinner. Has there ever been an organ teacher more admired and loved by her former students than Marie-Claire Alain?
—John Grew
University Organist, Chair of Organ Area, Schulich School of Music,
McGill University
Artistic Director,
McGill Summer Organ Academy

It was in 1961, when I was a 13-year-old organ student, that the Des Moines (Iowa) Chapter of the American Guild of Organists presented Marie-Claire Alain in a concert at University Christian Church on the Walter Holtkamp pipe organ. It was impressive to hear her performing from memory, and captivating to hear Litanies for the first time.
From that moment, I became obsessed with finding all of her recordings. My quest took me to every bookstore and record shop in central Iowa, and unearthed recordings of Couperin, de Grigny, Buxtehude, Pachelbel, Franck, Alain, and Widor; Musical Heritage Society had the good sense to issue her performances of all the works of Bach.
In 1967 during my college years, Mme. Alain performed in St. Louis at the Priory on an instrument with mechanical action. I remember her playing all six of the Bach Schübler Chorales, the third Trio Sonata, the St. Anne Prelude and Fugue, and the Franck Pastorale as well as Messiaen’s Dieu Parmi Nous and both of the Jehan Alain Fantasies. The clarity and vibrancy of her rhythm coupled with her registrations made this concert an unforgettable example of personal expression and music making.
From 1972 to 1986, I taught organ and theory at a small college in Virginia that was fortunate to have a new concert hall housing a Flentrop organ. In 1973, 1978, 1982 and 1985, Marie-Claire Alain came to campus for concerts and masterclasses. It was inspiring and exciting to hear her perform and teach as well as to have the opportunity to solidify a blossoming friendship. As a pedagogue, Mme. Alain has sought out scores and documents that helped bring historical research alive and into the mainstream of today’s teaching.
In 1973, an inquiry about private study took me to Paris for the first of several such sojourns. Her enlightened teaching brought current performance practices to my inner musical ear and new expressive sensitivity to my playing especially in early French music and the music of Bach. Our lessons on her house organ or at her church at St. Germain-en-Laye shall forever remain as highlights of my career.
Since moving to New York City in 1991, it has been a joy to present Mme. Alain in concert at The Church of the Holy Trinity (Episcopal) in four special events. Her New York City appearances have been inspiring. Her preeminence as a musician has been noted in the New York Times referring to her as “the Grande Dame of the organ world” and by the New York City AGO chapter bestowing upon her its “Performer of the Year” accolade. The AGO national council presented her with a lifetime achievement award following her concert at The Church of the Holy Trinity in October 1999. The education committee of the Guild further endorsed Mme. Alain’s prominence as a teacher by filming her masterclasses at Holy Trinity and the University of Kansas for the AGO Master Series.
We all come together to honor Marie-Claire Alain on her 80th birthday as a performer, teacher, scholar and friend, and to celebrate her life, her love of music, and her lasting influence on our profession. —Stephen Hamilton
The Church of the Holy Trinity (Episcopal)
New York City

In the late 1960s, while I was an undergraduate student at St. Olaf College, my teacher, Robert Kendall, arranged for his students to travel to Minneapolis to hear a recital by Marie-Claire Alain. The recital was held in the cavernous sanctuary of Central Lutheran Church, and on that evening every seat was occupied. There was a sense of anticipation as the crowd was waiting for the first sight of the performer, and it was evident that we would be experiencing something exceptional that evening. I remember the thunderous applause when she appeared—a tiny figure facing that huge crowd—and I remember that she performed completely from memory. But even now, over 40 years later, I vividly remember being completely transported by her music making. I had no idea that organ playing could be so beautiful, could communicate so clearly. I wanted to meet her after the recital, but the crowd completely engulfed her, and we students were whisked away back to Northfield. That evening I vowed to meet her someday and thank her for that recital. Little did I know how our lives would intersect. Through the years, I heard her play many times both in North America and in Europe. I not only got to meet her, but to study with her, and she became the dominant musical force in my life. I discovered that not only can she communicate with her playing, but that as a teacher Marie-Claire is without peer. Whenever I feel my busy schedule overwhelming me, I have only to remind myself of Marie-Claire’s prodigious output as a performer, recording artist, teacher, and scholar, and I realize I’m moving in slow motion in comparison. While most of us know Marie-Claire as the recipient of numerous awards and honors, her greatest pride has been her family—both the family that she grew up in and the family that she created. Without the inspiration, love and support of her family, she could not have had the career that has brought her so many accolades. Her home is full of laughter, good food and good wine. My wife Patti and I treasure the evenings that we spent with Marie-Claire and her late husband, Jacques Gommier. I don’t think we have ever laughed more than on those occasions. The close and gregarious relationship that she enjoys with her children and grandchildren is reflected in her music making. Marie-Claire likes good food. She likes to read books; in fact, she learned English in large part by reading novels in English. She loves flowers, especially roses, and has always made room for a big garden in her yard. She finds knitting a good way to relax. She loves to drive—fast!! She has traveled more than anyone I know.
I recently reminisced with Marie-Claire about the first time I heard her play. She was pleased to know that she had achieved the goal she sets each time she performs—to communicate her love of the music. It has been my great fortune to know Marie-Claire—as a teacher, a colleague and a friend. Happy Birthday Marie-Claire!
—James Higdon
Dane and Polly Bales Professor of Organ
The University of Kansas

Some 40 years ago, I took a carload of students from Albion College (Michigan) to hear a little-known organist from Paris perform one of her first concerts in the United States. We were all dazzled by her technique, musical sensitivity, versatility of style, but above all, her ability to communicate with the audience. My friendship with this great artist, Marie-Claire Alain, began when we met and visited after her recital.
As a result of that first encounter I arranged to study with her during the early summer of 1966 at the Alain family home in St. Germain-en-Laye on the now famous “Alain Organ,” and also on the smaller house organ in her home in L’Etang-la-Ville. Later that summer I took her classes at the International Summer Academy for Organists in Haarlem, the Netherlands.
This petite young lady sat on the bench at that huge St. Bavo console, would swing around to face the various student groupings, and instantly switch from French to German to Italian to English. Amazing! She had a command of the music like no one else I had ever known. Always gracious and kind, she gently corrected and coached us with skill and authority.
A particularly memorable experience happened during that Haarlem experience. She announced to the class that she would be playing a recital on the famous Schnitger organ in Zwolle, and since I had a car I volunteered to be her chauffeur. Now if I were preparing a recital—anywhere—I’d arrive at least one day in advance. But arriving mid-afternoon on the day of the recital was apparently plenty of time for her, and that commenced only after we first took time for a beer to quench the thirst after a warm afternoon drive.
She graciously let me spend some time “trying out” the great Schnitger—a real challenge for me since its pitch was one step higher than A=440, and my ears and fingers couldn’t reconcile playing the Bach E-flat Prelude in the key of F. Obviously this was not a problem for her.
We had dinner across the town square, and when the check hadn’t arrived just minutes before the recital was to begin, I remained to settle up while she hurried across the plaza. By the time I arrived she had already begun what was to be a brilliant performance to a packed church. What an ability to concentrate!
After that wonderful summer there were many more occasions to experience our friendship, usually in conjunction with a recital. Many of those times she was a guest in our home, occasionally joined by her husband Jacques Gommier. Being a true friend, she invited us to be their guests in Paris and Maule. Marie-Claire Alain has countless friends in this country and Europe as witness the long receiving lines after every recital. Even though she may be exhausted after a demanding day of teaching and playing, she’s always warm and friendly to all who greet her, and always available for advice and counsel—and a hug.
This remarkable artist has made more friends for the organ than any one other person I know. Happy birthday, dear friend.
—John Obetz
Professor Emeritus
Conservatory of Music
University of Missouri at Kansas City Organist Emeritus, the Community of Christ World Headquarters (formerly RLDS), Independence, Missouri

Study

I first heard Marie-Claire Alain play in Detroit in 1964. The following day, she was on campus at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, with Marilyn Mason. Dr. Mason was driving her to Lansing for a masterclass and recital, and I was invited to accompany them. As I observed Mme. Alain’s work with students in the masterclass, I realized that she had not only an enormous wealth of knowledge to share and could immediately analyze what might help the person’s playing, but also was exceptionally kind and down to earth. Right then I began to formulate the idea of studying with her. A few weeks later when she played in Evanston, Illinois, I drove over to hear her. Afterwards I got up the nerve to ask if I might come to study with her.
I went to Paris after completing my master’s degree at Michigan. I was 22 years old, knew little French, yet felt instantly at home. As it turned out, I was her first full-time American student.
On the day of my first lesson, she picked me up at the train station in St. Germain-en-Laye and took me to the family home. In the parlor was a 4-manual organ. My lessons would be on the Alain organ! We got right to work and later that afternoon I went back to Paris with a large list of repertoire to learn. From then on, after lessons I tried to write down everything she said in a notebook as I took the return train. I still have that notebook.
Our lessons were usually two hours in length. As they progressed, I came to understand that pieces needed to be learned in their entirety for the first lesson, and “perfected” by the second. Except for large Bach works, pieces were seldom brought a third time. My repertoire grew by leaps and bounds. She would allow me to play a piece through before making comments. Good work on my part was met with generous praise; criticisms were delivered gently. She got to the important things immediately. Once in a while, for example, she might show me fingerings for a small hand. But her approach to everything was musical first and foremost; technical work came only when necessary to express the music. She was always kind, often funny, and lessons were an absolute joy. (See continuation of this article.)

In all his studies, D’Arcy Trinkwon has been fascinated by the person behind the musician. An early interest in the Dupré tradition inevitably led to Jeanne Demessieux, and his particular interest in her began when he first heard her recordings in the early 1980s. Over the years he has explored, researched and studied in depth all he could of her, fascinated and inspired by her legend. Inspired by her Salle Pleyel programs, in 1994 he presented eight concerts in as many weeks: “The King of Instruments” was a celebration of the great masterpieces and culminated in a complete performance of her famous Six Etudes—then the first organist to do so in recent time. He has since become particularly associated with them and her other works as a result of his numerous performances of them. He is vice-president of Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux. D’Arcy welcomes any correspondance on the subject of Jeanne Demessieux and, time permitting, hopes to write a serious and comprehensive biography of her.

The year 2008 marks the fortieth anniversary of the death of Jeanne Demessieux, and it may therefore be interesting to reflect on various aspects of her extraordinary career. Where did this legend begin and what has been her legacy? And what of the enigmatic lady herself—of whom so many have loved to talk, yet of whom so few have ever really known much. This article deliberately reflects more on the person and the artist than would a conventional academic study, and inevitably space here cannot discuss every angle of her career. A more purely biographical article appears by this writer in Organists’ Review, November 2008.
Jeanne Demessieux died on November 11, 1968: born in Montpellier on February 13, 1921, she was only 47. One might even say that she “disappeared,” for the dazzling star of this organist had already dimmed somewhat: once the talk of organists worldwide, a legend in her own younger years, the changes of musical fashions—as well as several unexpected twists of fate—had rendered her almost something of a bygone curiosity. This is reflected in the fact that some who were studying elsewhere in Paris during the ’60s never even crossed the city to hear her play at the Madeleine.
At the time, the circumstances surrounding her passing were only discreetly alluded to and, as with so many musicians of exceptional achievement, much of what she had achieved was all too quickly forgotten, overlooked in favor of newer artists. A large crowd attended her Paris funeral in the Madeleine, and on that day even the organ—of which she had been titulaire since 1962, and that she so loved—mourned. Instead of flooding the church with music as it had so many times under her remarkable hands, it stood silently in respect of her passing, a vast black drape hanging from its gallery to the floor. Only some days before she died, she had told friends “I can hear the flutes of the Madeleine” as she lay convalescing in her bed after nearly two months in hospital. Little did she know she would never play the instrument again.
And how did this woman, once the “Queen of Organists,” become almost overlooked in her later years, bypassed in favor of a younger generation? The spectacular successes and triumphs of her youth have been unparalleled by any other organist, yet the burning apogee of these years seemed almost to burn part of her out as the blaze faded, leaving her inwardly exhausted and bereft. An artist of the great virtuoso tradition, her style became less popular as the so-called Organ Reform movement continued to sweep through and gain ever-greater momentum like a rushing wind. And there was her health. Throughout her life, Jeanne Demessieux battled with serious health problems, undergoing numerous operations beginning in her early 20s. She fought cancer silently in an age when any public knowledge of such an illness was a social taboo that would leave the sufferer ostracized and an outcast.
Few ever got to see the woman behind the public persona; being both very reserved, but also having an uncommon force of character and purpose, she didn’t let many people see the “person” behind, except the few she truly trusted. It must also be surmised that the famous “rupture” with Dupré probably seriously affected her faith, and it was a “scandal” she was aware would never leave her.
In many ways, so many elements of her life seemed always to have two such opposing poles: on one hand triumph and fame, on the other, obscurity; being “the chosen one” of her master Dupré, but then being bypassed and cast out; being very much a “grande dame” when at the organ or mixing professionally, yet being a woman of an (at times) uncomfortably reserved nature. The gentleness and sensitivity she showed those whom she trusted contrasted with her strong opinions and individuality. On one hand she was admired as a great artist—on the other she was viewed with suspicion because her brilliance was such that some simply couldn’t see past that alone, and undoubtedly many seethed with jealousy. Even Demessieux herself was aware of the two poles in her personality—gentleness, sensitivity and creation contrasting with “violence” (although her exact word, it referred more to force and strength of character than any darker force). This duality in her nature reflected the two very different natures of her adored parents: her father—cultivated, artistic, sensitive and affectionate; her mother—highly strung, a forceful, driven nature disguised behind an emotive, gentle façade.
By quite some years, she was the first woman to achieve international fame as a virtuoso organist, and her gender undoubtedly had a serious impact on her career. Not only was she entering what was at the time an almost exclusively male domain, it undoubtedly meant that she had, in fact, to be even better than her male colleagues to be accepted as their peer.
She had immense good fortune; she was taken under the wing of the great Dupré when she was still only fourteen. In her, he saw at last the messenger he had been looking for: someone of unlimited and precocious talent, the prophet who would bear the torch of the glorious French organ school forward from him, as he himself had done from his own master Widor. In addition to his other responsibilities and work, he devoted the next eleven years to her education, tirelessly and meticulously preparing her for the role he knew she could fulfill. Proclaiming her as his true successor, he elevated her prowess to such a level that she simply had no realistic competition; even before her famed 1946 debut, he proclaimed to Léonce de Saint-Martin: “You know that I do not say anything glibly, and I say Jeanne Demessieux is the greatest organist of all.” He proclaimed that posterity would rank her alongside Clara Schumann.
Cocooned in this privileged world of Dupré’s home in Meudon, she was loved and nurtured by him and his family as their own. Yet only a year after her triumphant debut concerts, he abruptly severed all contact with her, cutting her off and out of his life without any explanation. Anyone wishing to understand the possible motives and reasons is strongly encouraged to refer to the excellent article by Lynn Cavanaugh, which offers the best considerations of this issue. [See “The Rise and Fall of a Famous Collaboration: Marcel Dupré and Jeanne Demessieux” by Lynn Cavanaugh, in The Diapason, July 2005.] Although she was devastated and suffered enormously from this, some around her felt it was actually a good thing; they were all too aware that under the gently acquiescent girl was a woman who would be unable to live in another’s shadow. Despite Dupré’s unlimited generosity to her (he did, after all, do everything possible to plan her future triumph and success), they knew she could never be a puppet—however well-intentioned the master.
Again, the reader is refered to the above-mentioned article, which discusses with great clarity the unfortunate situation and “fall-out” of this “rupture.” Undoubtedly, there were some who reveled in the scandal of the “fallen angel” and used the situation both for their own opportunity, and also as an advancement in the “turf war” that undoubtedly existed in the Parisian organ world. Despite the fame she enjoyed outside Paris (and to a lesser degree in France), she was certainly given the cold shoulder by a certain faction of its organists and concert promoters. As a result, even today many in France are surprised to know of the celebrity she had outside their country because of her having been largely ostracized from the French organ world. Her music remains largely unknown there.

The legend begins
Jeanne Demessieux made her debut in 1946 at age 25. Dupré himself had arranged a series of six recitals at the Salle Pleyel, Paris, in which he could launch the career of this, his most exceptional pupil. He planned every detail for their maximum impact, even calling them “Six Historic Recitals.” Even the venue, the restoration of its organ, the setting of the stage were a specific part of their big scheme to launch her career. An audience of 1,725—considerably more than was customary for a debut recital (on any instrument) in Paris at the time—witnessed the level of accomplishment she displayed. It was a level that no other organist had before displayed, and the reaction of the audiences at these concerts was simply sensational. Her debut was compared to those of Horowitz, Menuhin, and Gieseking; Dupré himself said “You have shown us this evening that we are in the presence of a phenomenon equal to the youth of Bach or Mozart . . .”
Of Paris’s finest organists present—including Langlais, Litaize, Grünenwald and Falcinelli—Duruflé more humorously (but no less seriously) declared “Next to Jeanne Demessieux, the rest of us play the pedals like elephants!” The press gave free reign to the emotions felt by all, and noted that not even Liszt himself could have stunned them more—and the musical sensitivity she displayed was compared to that of Vierne. At the conclusions of these recitals she was often almost mobbed by the throngs who came to hear her as they clamored for autographs and a closer glimpse of her; their enthusiasm was like fire.
In short, these recitals were a triumph the like of which had never been seen before and has not since. They heralded what was to be an unparalleled few years.

Her career
That first evening (February 26, 1946), when that young woman walked out onto the stage at the Salle Pleyel, dressed simply and elegantly in a pale blue dress, had an impact on the organ world, and it was never the same again.
As a result of the word spreading—as well as due to the very careful particular public relations that the Duprés had planned—the young Jeanne quickly received a flood of invitations to give recitals throughout Europe. On many of these occasions she was the first woman ever to play in those cathedrals, churches and concert halls. Within a few years she had played in virtually every major European city, having given 200 recitals in only four years. As was the case with outstanding performers in an age before the numerous distractions of society today, her concerts usually attracted and drew capacity audiences—both fascinated by her as a woman, but also stunned by what they heard.
In the autumn of 1947 she gave a second, equally triumphant series of six recitals at the Salle Pleyel.
Her London debut was on February 26, 1947 at Westminster Cathedral (where she would return many times). Attended by the whole of the Willis firm, Willis himself had to attend to a cipher immediately before the recital began! She made five visits between 1946 and 1948 alone, including a concerto at the Proms with Sir Malcolm Sargent, Jeanne loving the great Royal Albert Hall instrument. However, it is worth noting that the English critics were usually fairly hostile and, although not widely known, there was a definite intrigue involved here. In 1947 the London Organ Music Society, then headed by George Thalben-Ball, made a request that she pre-sent herself and undergo something of an audition for them; understandably insulted, she flatly refused such a ludicrous request—but they, with a pompous attitude, never got over the fact that she did. Equally—unlike the Americans—they seemed to have a serious issue with being so outshone (in so many ways) by a woman! At the time, English organ critics were usually organists from this Society, and the mean-spirited reviews they gave were in stark contrast to those given by the Americans whose generosity of spirit and enthusiasm knew no limits. During her years of training and preparation, Dupré had warned her she would undoubtedly encounter elements of jealousy. However, the audiences themselves and non-organist critics in the UK also shared this enthusiasm. Although not widely known, in 1953 Demessieux played, by invitation of the young Queen Elizabeth II herself, at her coronation in Westminster Abbey.
At the time of the Pleyel recitals, Dupré had been both planning and insistent that Jeanne must go and make her debut in America; he saw her potential as an artist to achieve considerable fame and success. She, however, flatly refused to agree to go there unless assured of the best possible terms and conditions; her strong-willed nature was beginning already to assert its independence. It has been written and suggested that Dupré was trying to manipulate her into something uncomfortable—to create a Hollywood-style glamor star—but surely he only saw the very real chances for her to make a great life and in turn give herself the freedom such success would allow to devote herself to music. Dupré left for another of his own tours there the following year. Upon his return he never spoke to or had any dealings with her again.
Jeanne’s first tour in North America did not, in fact, take place until 1953: but it was simply triumphant, the audiences and critics alike stunned by the experience. [See “The American Recital Tours of Jeanne Demessieux,” by Laura Ellis, The Diapason, October 1995.] Perhaps only Virgil Fox displayed a similar degree of virtuosity, although his style was, of course, far more flamboyant and his repertoire far more popular. She returned again in 1955 and 1958, and on each occasion packed audiences from coast to coast rewarded her with feverish ovations.
In the early days of her career, her virtually non-stop schedule of concerts included nearly every major city of Europe and North America—all the more remarkable since travel was in those days more reliant on slow trains and sea. Touring was not something she enjoyed, finding it exhausting and, at times, nothing but a punishment. She made only three tours of North America, apparently refusing any further invitations because of a wish to remain near her aging and ever more frail parents.
Unlike many were beginning to do, Jeanne refused to travel by plane unless absolutely necessary; as result of losing a great friend in a crash in her youth, Jeanne was terrified of flying. Undoubtedly, as the years progressed and younger organists were increasingly leaping on planes to play everywhere, this must have curtailed her activities and left her somewhat behind. Disliking traveling generally, unlike such as Dupré, she never ventured further afield to such places as Australia either.
The apogee of her career was undoubtedly during the late 1940s to the mid-1950s. Although she continued giving recitals widely after that, a new generation was emerging—figureheads of the so-called Organ Reform movement—whose fresh ideas and new approach to the organ were captivating followers, leaving the grander virtuosos of previous generations somewhat bypassed. But certainly no other organist—before or since—could ever claim such an auspicious beginning to a career as Jeanne Demessieux.

Repertoire
What did Jeanne Demessieux’s repertoire include? As may be expected, her choice of music was very much based on the traditions of the French Romantic school; during her years with Dupré she studied most of Bach’s works (including all the great preludes, toccatas, fantasias, fugues, sonatas, Orgelbüchlein), as well as many of the works that were the cornerstone of Dupré’s own repertoire—including the great works of Liszt, Franck, Mendelssohn. She also studied numerous works of Dupré himself—both sets of preludes and fugues, both symphonies, Evocation, Le Chemin de la Croix, the Variations, Suite Bretonne and Sept Pièces—all of which she performed in Meudon before 1946. And there was the “riddle” of the Etudes he wrote for her, the transcendental sketches he later regrouped. (It may be pertinent to remark that this was not done, as has been incorrectly noted by some, after the “rupture” between them: it was openly discussed between them prior to her Salle Pleyel debut.)
Jeanne’s concert programs are fascinating to study. However—as with all performers who play from memory—the inevitable restrictions of memorized concert repertoire meant there were, as a result, numerous repetitions of the same works. This aside, all her programs show a decided concern for a variety and balance of periods, texture, styles and emotional impact. Despite a certain classical austerity and obvious concern for music of serious quality, purity and refinement—much in the way a concert pianist of the same era would have chosen that instrument’s classics—there was also very much a regard for aural and structural color.
Nearly every program included at least one major work of Bach, often supplemented by an intimate and expressive chorale prelude or two. Although she played all six of Bach’s trio sonatas in a recital at Dupré’s home on March 19, 1942, only very occasionally did she perform one of these in her subsequent programs. By contrast, some of Handel’s concertos (I, II and X) featured regularly in her programs, complete with spectacular cadenzas of her own—and it may be worth noting here that Dupré’s edition of these was, in reality, almost entirely her work, done during her years of study with him. A variety of other Baroque composers featured occasionally in her concerts—some of these obviously being taken from Dupré’s series Anthologie des Maïtres Classiques. She seemed to like opening recitals with Purcell’s Trumpet Tune, something she first played as an encore in one of her Salle Pleyel programs, when she noted how it “refreshed the audience.” From the Hamburg recording we can today hear on CD, she opted for a bright, sparkling approach to this music, this quite in contrast to the heavy, ponderous and pompous style often given to the same work by many English and American players of her time. Mozart’s Fantasia in F minor, K. 608 was obviously another favorite work of hers, and she performed it frequently. Generally, however, she only included the odd Baroque piece as a bit of “fluff” in her early years; in the ’60s she did, however, include more works—such as Buxtehude, sometimes a suite of Clérambault—although she obviously felt her attentions better directed (and requested) towards more specifically “concert” music. Of particular note (for it being unusual) was her including a fugue of Gibbons in a recital at Westminster Abbey on May 3, 1956—also because it appears that was her only performance of anything English. She did not appear to play any American works.
Despite performing all the Mendelssohn sonatas and preludes and fugues in her youth, these were only rarely included subsequently, whereas the three great works of Liszt featured throughout her whole career and were of obvious great importance to her. Occasionally she chose one or two lighter works of Schumann (a fugue, perhaps a canon) or, less often, maybe a Brahms prelude, usually placed as a moment of contrast after or before a big piece. An unusual work in her repertoire (from the ’50s onwards) was her own transcription of Liszt’s Funérailles—one of the first times being at Westminster Abbey on May 3, 1956, and subsequently she played it quite often. She never wrote it out, instead playing her transcription from memory of the piano score. Similarly, many of her actual compositions were never written out until they were exactly as she wanted them in her head.
The music of César Franck was of particular importance to her, and after Bach it appeared more regularly than anything else. It is interesting to note that on the organ in her apartment, an instrument bought on the success of her American concerts, she hung the famous print of César Franck serenely playing the organ of Sainte-Clothilde.
Other than Franck, the only French Romantic composer she performed with any regularity was Widor, the Allegro from the Sixth Symphony being presented often. Only rarely did she perform a complete symphony—occasionally maybe the Gothique—but the variations of both this and the Fifth appeared often, the latter regularly in her later programs. Interestingly, Vierne (whose music would have suited her so well) only occasionally appeared: for example, sometimes the Scherzo of Symphony No. 2 appeared, much in the role of a refresher between bigger works.
Of the twentieth century, only three names ever appeared with regularity: Messiaen, Berveiller and Demessieux herself. Other than her early years—during which they appeared only occasionally—she hardly ever performed any works of her other contemporaries.
She frequently performed one or two of her own pieces. Apart from her very early concerts, she did not play the Six Etudes as a complete set, later often taking just one or two (Tierces, Notes Repetées, Accordes Alternatés and Octaves being those she chose most often). She did sometimes include one of her choral preludes (Rorate Caeli—her own favorite of the set—and Attende Domine appearing most often), and the austere and granite-like Dogme from the Sept Méditations seems a work she had particular affection for, it appearing many times; occasionally she played one or two other movements from this same set. The Triptyque (with its mysterious and poignant Adagio written just a day or so after the “rupture” with Dupré) appeared on programs throughout her career. In the 1960s, the then recently written Prélude et Fugue and the Répons pour le temps de Pâques quite often featured, as had her Te Deum in the years following its own composition.
Jeanne’s association with Jean Berveiller was of significance. Both apparently loved jazz and particularly Duke Ellington—and the influence of this “lighter” music is reflected in Berveiller’s colorful style. His music suited Jeanne’s obvious wish to bring freshness to her programs, and she played many of his works—Epitaphe, the Suite, his transcription of Franck’s Redemption, and Cadence, written for her 1953 U.S. debut (although one wonders why she didn’t include any of her own Etudes there, for they are far more spectacular). And, of course, there was that famous Mouvement—organists sought to unearth the score for so many years. However, not all these works were, as has been variously claimed, dedicated to her.
Messiaen was of particular significance to Jeanne; he greatly admired her, and she was one of his first and most powerful advocates. She regularly performed his pieces in recitals. Movements of both L’Ascension and La Nativité appeared frequently, as did the whole suites occasionally. For example, she gave the first complete performance of the former at London’s Royal Festival Hall on May 15, 1957, and she played the complete La Nativité at the English Bach Festival on July 1, 1964 in Christ Church, Oxford. She also played Le Banquet Céleste, Apparition de l’Eglise Eternelle, and Combat de la Mort et de la Vie regularly. It is also interesting to note that many players of younger generations who later became associated with this music first heard it in performances (either broadcast or live) by Jeanne Demessieux. It is also a measure of the respect Messiaen held for her that he frequently invited her to be an examiner for his analysis class at the Conservatoire.
And Dupré? She performed so much of his music during her years of study, and some pieces also featured in her earliest public recitals outside France. She performed the Prelude and Fugue in B as part of London debut, and the Symphonie-Passion for a recital there on March 13, 1947 for the Organ Music Society. (This recital has often, erroneously due to Felix Aprahamian, been cited as her London debut.) She also performed the Suite in London.
But did she ever perform Dupré after the “rupture”? Very seldom and from the rarity with which she did, one may believe it was only when specifically asked. She never played any in America, but it is poignant to note that she included the Symphonie-Passion in what was to be one of her final recitals—one in Chester Cathedral, as part of the Chester Festival in July 1967.
Whatever her feelings of betrayal and disappointment, her respect for Dupré as an artist, as much as for the values he upheld and represented, never diminished; neither was she ever known to make any remark against him. A testament to this was the article she contributed to Études (Paris, April 1950) entitled “L’art de Marcel Dupré.”

Improvisation
Improvisation featured in all of her recitals, and her extraordinary skill in all forms of this art was widely known. Dupré once claimed that he could train any technically competent organist to improvise a five-part fugue within six months; so, given the extraordinary gifts of this pupil, it is not surprising that he trained her in this skill to be as brilliant (more, some said) as he was himself. At her first Salle Pleyel recital, she improvised a four-movement symphony. She also did the same in her March 1947 London recital, whose brilliance prompted George Thalben-Ball to say—with a reserve of generosity typical of the British organists—that it was “trick” improvisation because “no one can think that fast”! The French prowess at improvising specific and disciplined musical structures was a world apart from the meandering service-style improvisation of the English, and, again, one notes the distinctive “green eye” looking at her.
Of particular note was a recital she gave at the Conservatoire in Liège on March 1, 1957, the entire program of which was improvised! During it she improvised in numerous forms and structures—from choral variations, a trio sonata, prelude and fugue, paraphrase, and various treatments of chorale (polyphonic, contrapuntal, canon, fugue, ornamented).

Concertos
Quite unusually for an organist of her times, Jeanne was invited to perform concertos fairly often. There were the Proms, the performances with orchestras in France, Belgium and elsewhere—although never, surprisingly, America. She wrote her own “concerto,” Poème, in the very early ’50s, giving its premiere in 1952, as well as that of Langlais’ Concerto. In December 1964 she gave the Belgian premiere of Poulenc’s, also performing Jongen’s Symphonie Concertante with the Orchestre de Liège. Less successful was her recording of two of Handel’s concertos with the Suisse Romande orchestra; she found working with its conductor, the aged Ernest Ansermet, very difficult and was infuriated by his despotic wish to control the proceedings—including her playing, and even trying to suppress her cadenzas. Again, her strong will and individuality were far too strong to be so treated by a despotic conductor.

Recordings
Nearly all the recordings Jeanne made were for Decca, in those days probably the most significant recording company. Her first were several 78s, featuring works by Bach, Widor, Franck, Mendelssohn, and Purcell’s Trumpet Tune.
Then she made numerous LPs—several were made at Victoria Hall in Geneva in the early 1950s; in addition to the Handel concertos mentioned above, these included works of Bach, Liszt, Widor and Franck. A recital of Bach and Franck on the organ of St. Mark’s, North Audley Street (an instrument later removed to Holy Trinity, Brompton, where it remains) was also issued. A project a few years later for her to record a series in Notre-Dame (Paris) was never realized, much to her great regret. She did, however, record several mixed selections at the Madeleine a few years before her famous recording of Franck made there, for which she won the Grand Prix du Disque in 1960. Two years later she was appointed Organiste-titulaire of this great church and its organ, an honor she considered so special she admitted she “cried with joy.” She had served prior to this appointment as organist in the church of Saint-Esprit during her teenage years.
In the early 1960s, Messiaen agreed she should record his (then) complete works. Although greatly passionate about this project, her refusal to sign the contract easily and continued questioning and bargaining of its terms meant that by the time of her unexpected death, the actual contract remained still unsigned. On the strength of her extant recordings, one can only imagine how we have missed out from these never being recorded. Her last recording was made at Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral as part of the celebrations of the then new cathedral and its organ.
It was rumored that during the ’50s she recorded the Six Etudes for Decca, although this may have been just a legend. Certainly this writer has failed to unearth any concrete facts about these.
Many of Demessieux’s recordings have now been reissued by Festivo and are available on CD. They testify to an artist of exceptional gifts and clearly disprove the claim of those who tried to brand (even dismiss) her merely as an empty virtuoso.

Performance style
Jeanne Demessieux was a spectacular and transcendental virtuoso. Although the influence and tradition handed down to her by Dupré is apparent, her playing obviously had a personality decidedly her own, one markedly different from his; despite certain similar elements, there are few other similarities. From recordings we can hear her remarkable strength of authority, characterized by the same rigorous heroism and rhythmic power that Dupré demonstrated—but her playing demonstrated very little of Dupré’s rigidity, instead displaying a far more emotional expressive range, even at times being remarkably sensual.
In recitals, critics repeatedly spoke of her commanding mastery, taste, responsibility and respect for the composers and works she played (with the exceptions of those less generous mentioned earlier). Again, from her recordings, it is also very clear that she listened intensely to her own playing and to the inner workings of what she played. She was also very aware of and sensitive to acoustics, which she employed in a very personal way.
Demessieux once remarked “a performer has her rights,” implying that a performer must create an interpretation. Unlike many of the “organ reform” brigade, she, like Dupré and other virtuosos, did not attach great importance to slavishly following the score indications and registrations (as some have insisted we all should) in either her own or others’ music without question or a certain (tasteful) liberty. From her journals we can note frequent questioning of things such as metronome markings and performance indications. Her ambition was clearly to make music “live,” free from rigidity and the dogmatic approach certain other performers favored.
Another point is worth mentioning with regards to certain British and American reviews in which it was claimed she was simply a dazzling virtuoso and nothing more. For one, they missed that her playing—decidedly French—was strikingly different from the often overtly sentimental styles of performance common in both countries at the time. Few players had the exceptional sensitivity and subtlety she was capable of in her Bach chorales, her Franck. Maybe her excessive brilliance actually irritated some who were made all the more aware of their own limitations.
One thing is certain: no one, especially not Demessieux herself, would claim any were “definitive”—for such a claim would only reveal more arrogance and ego than true artistry. But these recordings are a wonderful testament to a great artist; we younger generations have truly missed out, not being able to hear her live.

The performer
The commanding presence of Jeanne Demessieux was widely remarked upon, and she was known for an aristocratic “hauteur” combined with a feminine, graceful demeanor. As with Dupré (and most of his pupils), once seated at the organ she was virtually motionless. Sitting bolt upright with regal carriage, she played with remarkable physical dignity and relaxation, and had no interest in the kind of performing histrionics and display that were customary in America—something often remarked upon by the press. This seemed to cause an even greater impact on the audiences, because the authority and strength of her performances belied her small and fragile physique. Dupré himself had repeatedly spoken of her power and strength as a player, even using the terms “masculine” and “virile.”
In the early days of her career, applause in churches was not customary and recitals were quite a sober affair; she presented herself accordingly in reserved, but elegant, attire. However, in concert halls or more relaxed venues Jeanne brought a sense of occasion and glamor not previously known in recitals and not adopted as the norm for many years afterwards. She was known for beautiful, stylish long evening gowns, often including a train that she would drape gracefully over the back of the organ bench. Perversely, this often obscured the pedals and her legendary pedal prowess from the view of the audience! The silver shoes—with their high Louis XV heels—in which she always played have become part of her legend. However, it would be quite wrong to believe there was anything remotely exhibitionist or “flashy” about her presentation—this was quite contrary to her reserved nature; it was for her just presentation and style.
Other than occasionally during church services, she never used music and played everything entirely by memory, never traveling with any scores. According to Marie-Madeleine Duruflé-Chevalier, who was a loyal and trusted friend, she had little (if any) difficulty in recalling any of the great works of the repertoire from memory.

Teacher
In her years of study, Dupré had repeatedly spoken of his wish that she would succeed him as Professor of Organ at the Paris Conservatoire, also expressing his wish that she succeed him as Organiste-titulaire at Saint-Sulpice (“only Jeanne Demessieux can occupy the organ loft of the great Widor” he declared). Indeed, on a few occasions about the time of her first Salle Pleyel recitals, she took his class while he was absent giving concerts. However, after the “rupture” these were just shattered dreams. The conservatoire post was in the end filled by another Dupré disciple, Rolande Falcinelli.
In addition to her concerts, Jeanne did, however, teach both organ and piano throughout her career. In the early days, she was teaching some 25 hours each week, on top of which were 14–15 hours for Saint-Esprit. After all this came the most important call on her time—her own practice; she often worked eight hours a day at the organ, as well as composing. And in addition to all these demands, was the greatest of all—her hectic concert schedule!
In Paris she taught privately in her apartment, also doing some teaching in Nancy. She was appointed professor of organ at the Royal Conservatoire in Liège in 1952, a role she took with great responsibility, traveling every week on the train from Paris for two or three days. She was as exacting with her pupils as she was with herself. However, she managed this imperceptibly, and their testimonies speak always of her kindness, warmth and encouragement as a teacher—and her unlimited generosity in encouraging them to achieve their maximum. She was also enthusiastic, encouraging and aware that a pupil may wish and need to explore other styles and traditions of performance than her own—illustrated by her recommending one student to go to study with Anton Heiller, who was then setting Europe alight with his brilliant interpretations, in a style very different from her own. Among her outstanding pupils were noted virtuosos Pierre Labric and Louis Thiry.
She was also invited to give various masterclasses and interpretation courses—among them Dublin in 1954 and Haarlem in 1955 and 1956, where she also become chair of the jury for the competitions. Following Dupré’s retirement, she was several times invited to be on the jury for the organ class at the Paris Conservatoire.

Organ building
What is less known is that Jeanne Demessieux had a passionate interest in organ building: she was fascinated by traditions and future ideas for organ building. Again, it was Dupré who had awoken this, and again—as with everything she did—she cultivated her own views and knowledge. She admired many diverse types of instrument—the great Cavaillé-Colls of course (particularly those in Rouen, Saint-Sulpice, the Madeleine and Notre-Dame), but also many older instruments, such as those in Weingarten and various great Dutch instruments.
In the 1960s, she began a major project for the French government to undertake a classification and study of the great instruments throughout France. Her private papers include a large file of her notes written in longhand analyzing many aspects of each of the numerous instruments considered in detail.
Perhaps least favorite for her were some of the large, heavy and ponderous American instruments. One note in her diary remarked a certain instrument was flat, dull and heavy in sound—“unfortunately, just what Dupré would love!”

The person
Jeanne was a person of complex personality—although not in the “temperamental” way. She could have great charm, yet be very aloof and display noted reserve with people. While not displaying any offensive ego or arrogance, she was well aware of her capabilities and stature: how could she not have been?
Her “duality” has been touched on earlier. A woman of highly intellectual capacity, with a remarkable ability to learn and retain, she was not interested in the superficial—thus she found many of the inevitable post-concert receptions (these being especially part of the American scene in the days she played there) quite dreadful; she loathed them, and even felt she’d earned her money just by enduring “ordeals,” as she called them! She seemed to have confused many—some saw her as very shy, others as reserved, some as charming, some as distant and impersonal. Yet under these various exteriors was a woman who was perhaps exactly all of these things by turn. She was also an observer of others—she noted in her diary how, on one of the boat trips going to play in America, she asked to dine alone at her own table—so that she could watch all the other passengers from a distance, but not have to mix with them or exchange superficial conversation. She also remarked elsewhere that she did not like the “snobbism” of certain artistic and cultural circles, some of whom were there merely because it was “the thing to do.”
Few—realistically only a mere handful—ever knew the real person behind the woman. Of those who did, all have spoken without limit of generosity of her kindness, gentleness, distinction, warmth and charm; to these people she was never affected by her celebrity, but remained a person of modesty and humility. She retained a sincere loyalty and friendship with those she trusted. Possibly the “rupture” with Dupré scarred her here too, for she never allowed many to ever become close to her again.
When relaxed, she had a sparkling and engaging personality, and to some she was a breath of fresh air from the usual, more drab male colleagues whom promoters had to entertain. Her correspondence to friends reflects a charming and effusive spirit; the radiant and effusive tone here was of great warmth, energy and spirit.
What was not publicly known in her life was that she suffered precarious health throughout much of her life, battling cancer in particular. It must be remembered that, until only recent generations, the discussion of illness—particularly serious illness—was an absolute social taboo; knowledge of any serious illness could often leave a person socially outcast, even professionally ruined. In addition to cancer, she had repeated bouts of “nervous exhaustion”—undoubtedly exacerbated by constantly fighting cancer plus her own fragility in order to continue working. Her drive, however, is reflected in that on several occasions she was up and traveling merely days after one of the many operations she underwent.
It was typical of her reserve that she lived in only modest accommodation—her apartment being only two rooms in a suburb of Paris. Yet she died owning multiple properties.

The last years
The auspicious successes and good fortune of her youth did not follow her through to middle age. Although the center of everyone’s attention in her youth, this changed. Despite the unswerving loyalty and love of her family, Dupré—the man she loved as her mentor and second “father”—turned against her (as did many in the wake of this), and the wider organ world began to look at new and emerging younger artists, rather overlooking her in the process. Understandably, for someone as sensitive as she undoubtedly was, this must have been immensely difficult to endure.
In the mid 1960s, she began to look back on her life and reflect, sometimes quite plaintively, and began to speak to those she trusted of her exhaustion and serious inner fatigue. Some who met her in these years spoke of her displaying quite visible inward sadness, despite the smiling and charming exterior. In addition to the enormous drain her illness must have had on her, her soul seems to have become disillusioned not with music itself, but with it as a profession and with all it had demanded of her. Despite her luck, she felt trying to establish her career had been a constant battle, many having viewed her either with suspicion or envy (often both). The dreams of her youth were shattered and soured, the sadness of her broken alliance with Dupré had distressed her immeasurably. Instead of looking back on a happy childhood, she began to look back with resentment on a childhood of solitary study, on a life of great personal disappointment, of disillusioned sadness at betrayed trusts. As a performer, the outstanding fame of her youth had waned.
One wonders how Dupré must have felt when she died, something he is never known to have divulged. Once as dear to him as his if she was his own daughter, to whom he had promised so much (and against whom he had turned against violently), she died—as did his own daughter, Marguerite—from cancer far too young. One wonders what he felt, and notes how pointless all those wasted years of non-communication surely were.

The legacy
The legend of Jeanne Demessieux has been of far greater importance than many have considered, or been willing to admit. Maybe some even felt such discussion would have distracted from their own achievements? To many, the star of this brilliant artist has always been something quite untouchable, and many organists (this writer among them) have practiced themselves into a frenzy in the hope of attaining just a little of her level of brilliance. Many openly freely admit how much they have been inspired by her image, and nearly every outstanding female organist since has, inevitably, at some stage been compared to her. Some people were, of course, less generous (as is their right) or simply didn’t appreciate her style, and undoubtedly there were also those who may even have been well served by the waning of her star and her passing because it gave them more space to grow. Yet she still remains one of the most talked of organists of all, a name virtually every organist knows.
Today there is renewed interest in her both as performer and composer and younger generations are discovering a legend anew. Her music is being discovered and performed more than ever before. Her influence is a great deal more than just the eternal talk of “the silver shoes.”

Further reading
Jeanne Demessieux, “Un Vie de Luttes et de Gloire” by Christiane Trieu-Colleney, Les Presses Universelles 1977
Jeanne Demessieux: Témoignages de ses Elèves et Amis, published by Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux, 1901
“Six Etudes, Op. 5, of Jeanne Demessieux,” by Marjorie Ness, The Diapason, August 1987, pp. 9–11.
“The American Recital Tours of Jeanne Demessieux,” by Laura Ellis, The Diapason, October 1995, pp. 14–18.
“The Rise and Fall of a Famous Collaboration: Marcel Dupré and Jeanne Demessieux” by Lynn Cavanagh, The Diapason, July 2005, pp. 18–21.
The recordings of Jeanne Demessieux now reissued by Festivo contain excellent writing by one of her devoted friends, Pierre Labric.

Websites:
Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux: http://cat.uregina.ca/demessieux/

Dr. Carolyn Shuster Fournier thanks Father Michel Chausson, James David Christie, Jean-Louis Coignet, Pierre Farago, Jean Fonteneau, Yves Fossaert, André Isoir, Alain Louvier, Yvonne Mills, Francis Prod’homme, and Pascale Rouet for their assistance in preparing this article. Author of numerous articles for The Diapason, she is a French-American organist, musicologist, international concert organist and titular of the Aristide Cavaillé-Coll choir organ at La Trinité in Paris, France. She has premiered numerous contemporary works, collaborating with composers such as Jacques Castérède, Jacques Chailley, Jacques Charpentier and Daniel Pinkham. In April 2009, she recorded a CD in homage to Nadia Boulanger at La Madeleine in Paris. She is Chevalier in the Order of Arts and Letters.

Vital music-making is the heartbeat that animates André Isoir. Honorary organist at the church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés in Paris, Chevalier of Arts and Letters and recipient of the National Order of Merit, André Isoir has received the highest distinctions as an international concert and recording artist, with a vast repertoire and more than sixty recordings to his name. An eminent professor, he has taught over 900 organists from all over the world. A Renaissance man, he is also a composer who has made many transcriptions. Fascinated by organ building, he has been a consultant for numerous organ restorations and has served as a corresponding member of both the French Historical Monuments Commission (1970–85) and the Commission of Unclassified Historical Monuments from (1980–84).

Initial inspiration
André Isoir was born on July 20, 1935 in Saint-Dizier (in Haute-Marne, near Reims). He played the bugle in the city band. At age fourteen, his life was transformed when he heard J. S. Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543, played on the organ in the chapel of his school. He immediately fell in love with this instrument. For the next two years, he studied on this organ with a Salesian priest and accompanied on the harmonium a church choir led by his father, an amateur musician. When Noëlie Pierront1 came to Saint-Dizier with the Philippe Debat Vocal Ensemble2 and performed a stunning rendition of Marcel Dupré’s Prelude and Fugue in G Minor, Isoir had the opportunity of playing Bach’s Fugue in G Minor, BWV 542, for her. Impressed by his immense talent, she encouraged him to come to Paris to study at the César Franck School.3

Musical training
In 1952, André Isoir enrolled at the César Franck School, then located on the rue Vavin, near Notre-Dame-des-Champs, in the Montparnasse district. After studying piano with Germaine Mounier, he then studied with two of Louis Vierne’s former students: Geneviève de La Salle and Édouard Souberbielle. First he entered de La Salle’s organ class.4 An excellent musician, she enabled him to acquire a firm technique and taught him to play with elegant phrasing, varied articulations, and refined registrations. She excelled in the art of registration so much so that Joseph Bonnet requested that she spend hours with him preparing for his concerts and recordings on the Gonzalez organ at Saint-Eustache. She gave her lessons on a Pleyel studio organ with electro-pneumatic action,5 teaching the works of Bach, Alain, Duruflé, Franck, Messiaen, and Vierne, leaving aside those by Widor and Gigout. In February 1956, when Geneviève de La Salle left to teach at the Gregorian Institute in Lisbon, Isoir succeeded her as organist and choirmaster at Saint-Médard in Paris.6
To acquire a solid musical formation, Isoir studied Gregorian chant as well as improvisation and harmony with René Malherbe,7 harmony with Yves Margat, counterpoint with Marcel Bitch, and continued piano with Germaine Mounier. This prepared him to enter Édouard Souberbielle’s8 organ class. This “true aristocrat of the organ” possessed a vast culture and an eminent spirituality that deeply influenced all of his students. He expanded each student’s personal perceptions by making them feel uncomfortable with their own opinions. This enabled them to acquire an elegant style.
In Souberbielle’s class, Isoir continued to play, notably, works by Bach and Franck, but more importantly, he began to play the early French composers. Influenced by his son Léon,9 Édouard Souberbielle served as consultant for the construction of a Roethinger organ in the French classic style (curiously enough with electric action) at the Benedictine Abbey in Limon (in the southern part of the Île-de-France). Voiced by Robert Boisseau, this organ included a Plein-jeu as described by Dom Bédos. It thus served as an inspiration to future constructions in this style by Philippe Hartmann and Pierre Chéron. In addition, Souberbielle’s refined and inspiring approach to improvisation, enrobed with Ravel-like harmonies, concentrated on the free treatment of a theme and, of course, the fugue.
In order to launch a career, it was necessary to obtain a First Prize in organ from the Paris Conservatory. While still enrolled at the César Franck School in September 1957, André Isoir entered Rolande Falcinelli’s10 organ class and Olivier Messiaen’s analysis class at the Paris Conservatory, where his fellow students included Xavier Darasse and Yves Devernay. He remained there for three years, taking lessons on a “really horrible organ”11 and received his Second Prize in organ on June 15, 1959. On June 22, 1960, he unanimously obtained, with the strong support of Maurice Duruflé, a First Prize in organ performance and improvisation. Fifteen days earlier, Isoir had received the ultimate degree that really mattered to him—the Superior Diploma in organ and improvisation at the César Franck School.
At the César Franck School, Isoir met many of his future friends and colleagues: Denise and Michel Chapuis, Jeanne Joulain, Éliane Lejeune-Bonnier, Elisabeth and Joachim Havard de la Montagne, Simone and Jean-Albert Villard, Émmanuel de Villèle, Paule Piedelièvre, and others, as well as his future wife, Annie Kergomard, whom he married in 1961.12 During his military service, from 1960 to 1962, he played brass instruments in a military band, along with Francis Chapelet, who became one of his closest friends.13

Beginning a musical career: skills as an improviser and a composer
Following his studies, Isoir’s international career was launched when he won various competitions: in Saint Albans (England), where he received the First Prize in 1965, and in Haarlem (Holland), where he won prizes for three consecutive years (1966–1967–1968). He also won the “Challenge Prize” and is the only Frenchman to have earned that distinction since the beginning of this competition in 1951. Isoir excelled in the ephemeral art of improvisation that enabled him to express his thoughts eloquently. For him, even a minimum amount of imagination, when it’s coupled with an assimilation of various styles and a sufficient preparation of an abundance of fresh ideas, can enable one to improvise well. He was fascinated with presenting, in a short span of time, a coherent form with appropriate registrations that bring out the style of the proposed theme. His vital musical personality, ready to receive and develop unexpected ideas (it is not surprising that he is an avid fisherman!) has been fully revealed through his improvisations.
Animated by a love of accompanying the liturgy, André Isoir used his improvisation skills to prepare the parishioners to pray and become spiritually receptive. From 1956 to 1971, he served as organist and choir master at Saint-Médard in Paris.14 He began his concert career by giving a recital in this church in October 1963, of classical works from the Flemish and German schools (Leonhard Kleber, Sweelinck, Wilhelm Karges, Scheidt, Lübeck, Pachelbel, Buxtehude and Bach). He played in such a manner that the romantic Stoltz instrument (1880) sounded like a German baroque organ!15 Throughout his career, he constantly presented lesser-known works in his programs.
In 1970, he was named as one of the four organists at Saint-Séverin, along with Michel Chapuis, Francis Chapelet, and Jacques Marichal, re-establishing the former Parisian tradition of having four organists. In 1963, Alfred Kern had successfully reconstructed the 1745 Claude Ferrand organ in a neo-classic aesthetic (under Michel Chapuis’ guidance, with Philippe Hartmann redoing the action). Isoir has many fond memories of the pre-Vatican II repertoire that he accompanied there. While at Saint-Séverin, he composed a Ravel-like Agnus Dei, with the text in French. (See musical example.) In 1973, after having served as a consultant for the reconstruction of Haerpfer-Ermann’s organ at Saint-Germain-des-Prés, he was appointed organist there, along with Odile Bayeux, following a long line of blind organists who had served there (notably Augustin Barié, André Marchal, and Antoine Reboulot).16
In February 1974, Les Amis de l’Orgue awarded him with a First Prize for his first organ composition, Variations sur le Psaume 92 [“Variations on a Huguenot Psalm”]. James David Christie was in the audience for this occasion. When he told André that he really loved his piece more than any other and wanted to play it regardless if it won the prize or not, Isoir gave him his personal copy of the score on the spot! When the work was published by Forberg Verlag in Germany in 1979, Christie noticed that one variation had not been published:

When I asked André about this several years later, he told me in his very humble and self-effacing manner that he felt the piece was too long with seven variations and six were enough. The work is an absolute masterpiece and the audiences love it; I have played it in concert often since 1975. I tried to commission André in 1989 for another major organ work, but he refused. He said he found composition too stressful and preferred improvising and performing the repertoire of others. I have often lamented the fact he did not devote more time to adding great repertoire to the organ. I always felt his glorious, exciting improvisations would have been the seeds of many a great composition.17
André Isoir has made numerous transcriptions, many of which have been published by Delatour France.

Interest in organ building and in early French music
Fascinated with mechanics in his youth, Isoir has always loved to tinker with and repair broken clocks. In the early 1960s, at an antique dealer’s near Saint-Séverin, he acquired an eighteenth-century barrel organ [a serinette] from Nancy, a cylindrical instrument that was used to teach domestic birds how to sing. He then constructed a copy of this instrument and installed ten pipes: C, D, E, F, G, A, B-flat, B-natural, C, and D. He reconstructed the cylinder with eight tunes, according to the indications specified by Engramelle, and incorporated an air by Couperin, La petite chasse. He has also built two regals and a virginal.
Francis Prod’homme, the organizer of concerts at Notre-Dame in Pontorson, near Mont Saint-Michel, has related an example of André Isoir’s generosity.18 During one evening meal, Isoir observed that Francis’s clock was not well-regulated and that it needed to be “tuned.” As on numerous other occasions, Isoir proclaimed “I will take care of that for you.” In several minutes, and with a delightful child-like smile that lit up André’s face, the clock was once again happily chiming in universal harmony.
Isoir’s close friend, the organ builder Jean-Georges Koenig,19 taught him how to construct wooden pipes. His friend, Father Michel Chausson (a priest who built organ pipes) taught him how to construct metal pipes. In addition, in 1965, Isoir constructed his first regal with Jean-François Clément and worked with Gérard Fonvielle, who built him a harpsichord. Isoir is not in favor of building exact copies of instruments; he prefers to play mechanical-action instruments that enable the performer to bring out the vocal polyphonic lines and to play a large part of the repertoire. His repair kit has accompanied him on his various concert tours, and he has admitted that on many occasions that he has spent more time repairing and tuning the various organs than rehearsing on them!
The composer Alain Louvier attests to André Isoir’s capacities as a “solitary navigator” [“navigateur solitaire”]:

André Isoir could have constructed a hydraulic organ, an aeolian, solar or geothermal . . . and could have taken it on a non-stop trip around the world on a trimaran sailing raft . . . he knew how to do everything, to repair anything. One would have thought that he was born in an organ case! A true genius in making repairs, with practically nothing he could fix a tremolo, a reed pipe, even its mechanism.
I imagine him—as an organist in the Iron Age—busy cutting down trees, carving wood, casting tin, hammering it, and, finally, creating his own organ, the fruit of his ear and his unbounded imagination.20
Isoir’s innate inventive spirit in improvisation and organ building led to his fascination with the interpretive possibilities of “recreating” early French organ works. Right from the start, Isoir realized that the organs he had played in the 1950s and 1960s in Paris, most of them in the neo-classical style, were not suitable for early French repertoire. This had not stopped interpreters such as Abel Decaux, Joseph Bonnet, and André Marchal from playing this repertoire. With restorations of magnificent organs like Jean-Esprit Isnard’s 1772 basilica organ in Saint-Maximin-en-Provence (restored by Pierre Chéron in 1954) and François-Henri Clicquot’s 1790 organ at Saint-Pierre Cathedral in Poitiers (restored by Robert and Jean-Loup Boisseau in 1971–1972), organists began to discover the splendid sound of these organs as well as a lively, variable wind and a suspended mechanical action, which allowed one to vary the attack.
Obtaining a varied, responsive action is extremely important to André Isoir. The French classical organ, with its sensitive action and lively wind, needs only a minimum amount of material to offer a maximum sound effect. For example, in Poitiers, with a wind pressure of 110 mm., four or five stops suffice to fill the cathedral. Following Alfred Kern’s reconstruction of the Saint-Séverin organ in 1968, René Delosmes, Pierre Hardouin, Jean Fellot, Alain Lequeux, Michel Chapuis, Francis Chapelet, and André Isoir, presided over by Jean Fonteneau, united to protect early French historic organs: they founded the French Association for the Preservation of Early Organs (A.F.S.O.A.—Association française pour le sauvegarde de l’orgue ancien).21
By consulting early sources, Isoir discovered that the early French repertoire can be moving and expressive. Once he had studied the various treatises and documents, notably with the musicologist Jean Saint-Arroman, he realized on the one hand that the knowledge of these texts did not suffice to bring this music to life; on the other hand, he was also aware that spontaneity and freshness never come by chance. To attain the elegance, distinction and well-proportioned expressions that are so characteristic of French art, one must study the various imperative rules and then put them aside, along with any automatic mechanical responses. Instead, one must use one’s intuition to find a harmonious balance, continually determined by good taste, the ultimate guide. As with wine tasting, it is so much more important to “taste” its fragrance than to recite texts about it. Isoir was especially guided by the writings of Eugène Borrel, who wrote that eighteenth-century art was “elegant, distinguished, warm without excessiveness.”22 Simplicity is a sign of real intelligence. Isoir particularly loves playing early French music because it gives the interpreter a great deal of freedom in bringing this music to life.

Organ professor
For André Isoir, teaching is a sacred mission, enabling one to give priceless treasures to others, helping them to feel completely at ease while playing. He taught organ and harmony at the Angers Conservatory (1966–79);23 at the conservatoires in Versailles and Orsay (1974–83);24 and from 1982 to 1996 at the Boulogne-Billancourt Conservatory as well as at various summer academies: Lagny (1982, 1985, 1986), Meaux (1983), Mitry-Mory (1984), Luxembourg (1989) and Nemours (1993). Among his 900 students are Jörg Abbing, Michel Bouvard, Jean Boyer, Monika Dabrowska-Beuzelin, Frédéric Denis, Frédéric Desenclos, François Espinasse, Pierre Farago, Yves Fossaert, Dominique Fournier, Jean-Louis Gil, Juliette Grellety-Bosviel, Emmanuelle Haïm, Makiko Hayashima, Léonid Karev, Joachim Kunze, Sven-Ingvart Mikkelsen, George Ritchie, Henri de Rohan, Pascale Rouet, Christophe Simon, Liuwe Tamminga, Timothy Tikker, Jean-Michel Verneiges, Francis Vidil and Haru Yamagami, to name but a few. Convinced that knowledge about organ building is indispensable to improving one’s interpretation, notably in the art of registration and touch, he also taught his students the rudiments of organ construction and maintenance. According to organist and composer Pierre Farago, his successor as organ professor at the Boulogne-Billancourt Conservatory,
When André Isoir taught and played, the instrument was transformed under his fingers, and relinquishing its mechanical aspects, became purely organic—if I dare say—like a living being gifted with flowing expressiveness. His teaching is subtle and complex, insisting on utmost rigor, with utmost patience, without ever expressing it in the form of a dogmatic principle. The scores we studied were never cenotaphs, empty monuments or museum graphics, but rather sleeping beauties which ought to be brought back to life.25
In the early 1980s, the composer Alain Louvier, Director of the Conservatory in Boulogne-Billancourt, met André Isoir during the construction of the Koenig organ in the concert hall there. In spite of the fact that the city did not really want to invest in what the “very cultivated and refined” mayor Georges Gorse referred to as an “accordion for the wealthy,” Louvier appreciated Isoir’s “sense of humor, in addition to his wide-ranging competence, which both worked wonders.” Louvier had included stops in this organ with the seventh and eleventh harmonics that produced quarter tones. He was astonished by Isoir’s use of these stops:

By combining these experimental stops with the voix humaine, he was able to produce a sort of strange Bombarde 16 on the pedal that the city could not afford . . . thanks to his extraordinary acoustical intuition, one could play a Bach chorale with quarter tones, that were not noticed as such.26
In his teaching, André Isoir constantly emphasized the importance of acquiring a more fluid technique, of becoming sufficiently inventive in bringing music to life. At my first lesson at the Boulogne-Billancourt Conservatory in 1983,27 we spent two hours looking at possible interpretations of the first movement (a Plein-Jeu) of Jean-Adam Guilain’s First Suite. I felt as if André were an optician who kept inserting different lenses to ask me if I could read the letters. It was necessary to understand the structure and the vital expression of this work from the inside out, to let the notes speak naturally. A deep harmonic and melodic analysis of each work, coupled with a fantastic imagination, enables one to perform this music spontaneously.
In the eyes and ears of a great artist, no detail is too small to be taken into consideration. An authentic artist with a vital personality abandons all preconceived static conceptions with prefabricated formulas and continually externalizes his capacity to listen to his playing, thus enabling him to understand more fully and to communicate an inner musical message. Each artist is a medium who communicates the deep spiritual message of the music. When I wrote to Frank Taylor in 1983, to share my experiences with him, he replied:

I’m happy you are studying with André—I think he’s perhaps the greatest eclectic (all round good) organist in the world. And I would rather hear him play anything, than anyone else I can think of. Give him my very most affectionate best wishes when next you see him.28
Recognized as an excellent teacher, in 1991 André Isoir co-authored, with Dominique Ferran and François-Henri Houbart, a practical catalog of the organ repertoire, in order of difficulty for the first ten years of organ lessons. It presents exercises and methods, early music until the seventeenth century, separate chapters on the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the traditional notation and new notation in the twentieth century, concertos and unclassifiable pieces.29

International concert and recording artist with an eclectic repertoire
André Isoir first gave concerts in North America in the 1960s, thanks to his friend Jean Fonteneau, an assistant organist at Saint-Séverin. In 1971, Isoir performed in Oberlin (Ohio), Quebec, Montreal, at Harvard University, and in New York. At that time, Fisk was building his famous organ for the Old West Church in Boston. Isoir provided him with numerous details concerning the construction of the French-style reed stops incorporated into this instrument, thus contributing to the movement in favor of restoring instruments to play early French music in the United States. In 1974, he performed in Toronto and in Buffalo, where he met with the early French music specialist David Fuller. In 1975, he played concerts in Toronto and Montreal. In 1976, he returned to Harvard and gave recitals in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.
In November 1989, James David Christie invited André Isoir to come to the United States for a mini-tour in Boston. He testifies to Isoir’s memorable performances in Wellesley and Worcester:

He played a fantastic concert at Wellesley College on the meantone Fisk organ, complete with short octave, sub-semitones, a three-octave keyboard range, etc. He ended his program with a super-charged, exciting performance of his transcription of Bela Bartók’s Roumanian Folk Dances (originally for piano solo).
He played at Holy Cross, Worcester, and ended the program with an incredible improvisation on “B-A-C-H.” I think there is an archival recording of the Holy Cross concert; it was just stunning and André was in his usual top form, having the time of his life.30
During this last tour to the United States, Isoir also gave masterclasses on the Charles Fisk organ at the Old West Church for the AGO national convention. On this occasion, Isoir has quite fond memories of the moments he spent with Frank Taylor, Barbara Owen, and Charles Fisk.
Isoir has inaugurated at least eighty organs. I was privileged to attend the memorable inauguration of the Gonzalez organ at Meaux Cathedral on June 8, 1982. That year, he also inaugurated the Grenzing organ at Saint-Cyprien (in the Périgord, where he also served as a consultant) and the Marc Garnier organ at the church in Esquelbecq. On November 3, 1990, he was especially pleased to inaugurate the restored Aristide Cavaillé-Coll organ in Saint-Dizier, his hometown. In addition, he often plays with other musicians. In 1973, he toured with Georges Brassens in Paris and the Île-de-France, playing twenty-one concerts on a positive organ built by Jean-Loup Boisseau.
Isoir has given numerous concerts outside of France, performing in Freiberg on September 18, 1983. In 1988, he was absolutely delighted to perform for the first time on the magnificent organ in Weingarten, in Sion in 1989, in Lübeck and Hamburg in 1990. He has also performed on numerous occasions in Japan: in 1978, 1987, 1990 and 1993. In 2006, he toured Russia, performing in Moscow and St. Petersburg.
In addition, he performs regularly on the four-stop, one-manual organ that the builder Philippe Vialle built for him. Isoir had added a tremolo and a “cymbale” made up of fifteen pipes that he “invented,” only to discover since then that it is present in several diverse and unknown pieces. He rarely ever plays the same piece on the same organ.
The variety of styles in his eclectic repertoire is revealed by the pieces that four composers have dedicated to him. In June 1973, Jean Langlais acknowledge his “classical side,” appropriately dedicated to him his Plein-Jeu, the first movement of his Suite baroque, op. 176.31 In 1983, Alain Louvier’s Etudes for Aggressors, Book Six for Organ (Études pour Agresseurs, livre 6 pour orgue), published by Alphonse Leduc in 1987, were written for the mechanical-action three-manual Koenig organ in the concert hall at the Boulogne-Billancourt Conservatory. He dedicated these pieces to Isoir, who premiered them.32 They use the same techniques as in his previous five books for piano and harpsichord (ten fingers, two palms, two forearms, without fists), but with the addition of two feet! The two last pieces are appropriate tributes to André Isoir, who also plays the trombone and the French horn: Lionel Rogg’s Finale (written in the spring of 1994) was inspired by the sumptuous sonorities of the American big band;33 Pierre Vidal’s piece, entitled Cromorne, was written in 1996.36
In 1971, Jacques Le Calvé, the director of Calliope, was so impressed by Isoir’s performance of this repertoire that he asked him to make his first record at the Church of Saint-Jacques in Compiègne (L’Orgue français au Grand Siècle, works by André Raison, Jacques Boyvin and Guillaume-Gabriel Nivers).
Among his favorite historic French organs, Isoir has recorded numerous times on the J. Boizard (1714) historic organ of the Abbey of Saint-Michel-en-Thiérache: in 1987, The Couperin Dynasty, François “the Great,” Armand-Louis, Gervais-François Couperin (ADDA 581063); in 1993, Nicolas de Grigny, Complete Organ Works (Erato S.A./Radio France, MUSIFRANCE 4509-91722-2); and in 1997, Jean-Adam Guilain, Four Suites for the Magnificat (1706) with the Demoiselles of Saint-Cyr, directed by Emmanuel Mandrin (France Musique, Tempéraments, TEM 316012, Distribution Harmonia Mundi).
André Isoir has always felt comfortable playing a vast repertoire (although never ever Reger!). Among his recordings of romantic works, two were made on the Cavaillé-Coll organ at Luçon Cathedral: César Franck’s Complete Organ Works (Calliope, CAL 9920/1, 1987, recorded in 1975) and The Romantic Organ, works by Boëly, Lefébure-Wély, Guilmant, Pierné, Widor, and Ropartz on the Cavaillé-Coll in Luçon and on the Isnard/Cavaillé-Coll/Boisseau organ in Pithiviers (Calliope, CAL 5922). In 1996, he recorded The Organ in Compiègne during the Second Empire on the Carlier/Plet organ at Saint-Antoine in Compiègne (Calliope, CAL 9934).
Isoir loves performing on successful neo-classical organs, such as the Pascal Quoirin in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence and the Haerpfer-Ermann at Saint-Germain-des-Prés in Paris. Among the recordings that bear witness to this, he recorded François Couperin’s Messe des Paroisses and French Noëls on the Saint-Séverin organ (Calliope, Le Livre d’Or de l’Orgue français).
Rodin’s most penetrating thoughts concerning French taste that have been perpetuated from the eighteenth century to the twentieth century sum up André Isoir’s approach to an eclectic repertoire:

The additions of previous centuries in our cathedrals, in different styles—chapels, stained-glass windows, decoration—do not destroy the harmony of them, because throughout the various periods these embellishments have been determined by the same French taste.35
In the same spirit, it is not surprising that in November 2000, Isoir recorded repertoire from the fourteenth century to the end of the nineteenth in celebration of the 500th anniversary, in 2001, of the Renaissance organ in Lorris, one of the oldest organs in Europe.36 This is in spite of the fact that this organ only has a 48-note keyboard with a 14-note coupled pedalboard and is tuned at A=405/408! Father Michel Chausson, who initiated the restoration of this historic instrument, admires André Isoir: he is among “all those who have provided great poetical inspiration to twentieth century organ interpretation.”37 Our world needs such a spirit more than ever.
From 1976 to 1993, Isoir crowned his career with an ultimate homage to his great teacher Édouard Souberbielle, by recording J. S. Bach’s complete organ works on six different organs by German builders (fifteen CDs produced by Calliope, 9703-17). His greatest joy was recording Bach’s Passacaglia and Fugue on Josef Gabler’s monumental stunning organ (1737–1750) at Weingarten Abbey, a legendary instrument conceived around the number 6: the number of the beast of the Apocalypse, six windows, six tonal plans, 6,666 pipes.
Grenzing’s Saint-Cyprien organ is among Isoir’s favorites, where he rerecorded, in 1993, Bach’s four Toccatas and Fugues along with the Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor. In 1988 and 1989, André Isoir played in European television broadcasts, notably on the France 3 channel, in programs written and hosted by Gilles Cantagrel and in Alain Duault’s “Musicales.”
In all his interpretations, Isoir’s deeply human approach gives a spiritual dimension to his artistic offerings. His interpretations are well conceived and prepared, yet spontaneous. His wife Annie observed that it was very rare to hear him play a piece in its entirety during his practice sessions. He usually works fragment by fragment, even measure by measure. More than searching for perfection, he aims at playing as naturally as possible. His eyes, ears and mind are constantly receptive to discovering new elements of a musical score. Adapting to each particular circumstance, his elegant playing moves his audiences. As Yves Saint-Laurent said, “without elegance that comes from the heart, there is no elegance.”
Thank you, André, for sharing your immense joy in making beautiful music and for so generously enlightening your audiences and students throughout the world.

All of the citations in French were translated by the author.
All photos are from the Collection A. Isoir, and are published with his kind permission.

Cicely Winter grew up in the state of Michigan, but has lived in Oaxaca since 1972. She studied piano and harpsichord at Smith College and the University of Michigan, where she obtained a B.A. in music and an M.A. in European history. She later studied piano performance at the post-graduate level in the School of Music at Indiana University. She presents organ, piano, and harpsichord concerts regularly, many of which benefit community service projects. In the year 2000 she co-founded el Instituto de Órganos Históricos de Oaxaca A.C. (IOHIO) and since then has served as its director. The IOHIO focuses on the protection and promotion of the sixty-nine historic pipe organs known to date in the state of Oaxaca.

The eighth International Organ and Early Music Festival took place October 21–27, 2010 in Oaxaca, Mexico, with the theme, “Celebrating the Bicentennial of the National Independence and the Centennial of the Mexican Revolution.” To honor the two most significant events in Mexican political history, the IOHIO (Institute of Historic Organs) presented its grandest festival yet. For the first time, music lovers were able to hear concerts on all seven restored organs, a unique opportunity to appreciate the richness and diversity of Oaxaca’s collection of Baroque instruments.
In addition, there were three all-day field trips to visit 12 unrestored instruments in village churches, most of which are usually inaccessible to the public; two masterclasses with Swiss organist and musicologist Guy Bovet; two choral concerts, one of which presented choral works that have not been heard for centuries from the early 18th-century notebook of Domingo Flores from San Bartolo Yautepec; the opportunity for organists to play the organ in the Basílica de la Soledad; guided tours of two archeological sites; an exhibit of historical material related to the organs from various Oaxacan archives; a talk about the organs and the work of the IOHIO; a view of Oaxaca’s splendid and varied scenery during field trips to the Tlacolula Valley and the Mixteca Alta; and a chance to sample the local cuisine and revel in the fiesta traditions in the villages.

October 21, Thursday
The festival began with the first of two masterclasses in San Jerónimo Tlacochahuaya given by Guy Bovet. Thirteen Mexican organists and organ students from Oaxaca, Mexico City, Puebla, Queretaro, Morelia, and Toluca, as well as one from the U.S., played for Bovet and a group of some 20 auditors from Mexico and abroad. Participants benefited immensely from Bovet’s explanation of the fine points of Spanish repertoire and performance practice. He carried out an important survey of Mexican organs in the 1980s and 90s sponsored by UNESCO and Pro Helvetia.
That evening, Mexican artists José Francisco Álvarez (organ) and Juan Carlos Murillo (trombone) offered the first concert of the festival in the Basílica de la Soledad. This is the first time the trombone has been featured in a IOHIO festival, and the sound blended brilliantly with the organ in a varied program based on arrangements by José Francisco. The magnificent polychromed case of the organ has the date 1686 inscribed on the side of the case, making it the oldest extant organ in Oaxaca.

October 22, Friday
The second organ masterclass by Guy Bovet in Tlacochahuaya once again focused on the Iberian repertoire of the 16th and 17th centuries. Participants presented works by Correa de Arauxo, Cabanilles, Bruna, Aguilera de Heredia, Cabezón, and Durón.
That afternoon, everyone gathered in the elegant space of the Francisco de Burgoa Library in the former convent of Santo Domingo de Guzman for the inauguration of the eighth festival.
IOHIO director Cicely Winter introduced Ricardo Fuentes and Beatriz Domínguez from the Coordinación Nacional de la Conservación del Patrimonio Cultural (CNCPN) who spoke about the goals of their institution and future collaborations with the IOHIO. Next, Alberto Compiani and Josefina Benavides from the “Radio Monterrey” station spoke about the weekly radio show “His Majesty the Organ,” which Compiani initiated as a result of his ongoing collaboration with the IOHIO. It is hoped that starting next year these programs may be broadcast in Oaxaca. Cicely Winter then offered a presentation about “The Historic Organs of Oaxaca and the Work of the IOHIO.” Her talk was prefaced by special recognition of the initiative of Don Alfredo Harp Helú in support of the restoration and maintenance of the organs.
This was followed by an exhibit of documents related to organs from various Oaxacan archives, “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam, el órgano oaxaqueño al servicio del altar,” which afforded an excellent overview of Oaxacan organ history. The exhibit was curated and presented by Polish researcher and IOHIO collaborator Ricardo Rodys.
The second concert of the festival took place in the Capilla del Rosario (ex-convento de San Pablo) and featured the Capilla Virreinal de la Nueva España directed by Aurelio Tello in the presentation of “Music from the Domingo Flores Book (18th century) of San Bartolo Yautepec.” This notebook was part of a treasure of manuscripts discovered by the IOHIO in Yautepec in 2001.

October 23, Saturday
The all-day field trip to the Mixteca Alta began with the third concert of the festival in Santa María de la Natividad. Barbara Owen opened the program with Baroque dance pieces. Later Guy Bovet improvised a sonata on a Mexican patriotic tune in the style of Sor María Clara and played a Fandango with guitarist Vladimir Ibarra. Gabriela Edith Pérez Díaz enchanted the audience with several pieces by J. S. Bach on the marimba. The Ibarra/Díaz duo then closed their program with a piece for marimba and guitar. At the end of the concert, each of the two IOHIO organ scholarship students from the community played a piece. We did not know that the Pan American Races would take place that day and that the highway was blocked. We were waved through by a police car but did not find out until the end of the day that the friends who drove their own cars to the concert were not allowed to pass.
The fourth concert of the festival in Santo Domingo Yanhuitlán was especially important because this organ has not been played for years due to ongoing restoration work in the church. The audience was transported by the combination of the program “The Splendor of the Cathedrals of Mexico in the 17th century,” presented by the Capilla Virreinal de la Nueva España directed by Aurelio Tello, the setting in one of Mexico’s most magnificent 16th-century Baroque churches, and the acoustics in the vaulted stone space. The renowned Uruguayan organist Cristina García Banegas accompanied the choir and enhanced the program with several magnificent 17th-century solo works.
Thanks to the ongoing support of the Federal Road and Bridge Commission, a special entrance was opened from the super highway, allowing us direct access to San Andrés Zautla and saving us over an hour of travel time. The fiesta and concert in Zautla are always a highlight of the festival. We were received in the atrium of the church by the local band with noisy fireworks, mezcal, and dancing, with the elderly women of the town dressed in their traditional skirts and blouses. We enjoyed a delicious stew with squash seed sauce, a special local recipe, served in the patio behind the church. After dinner, we filed into the church to hear the fifth concert of the festival, presented by organist Cristina García Banegas in alternation with Gabriela Edith Pérez Díaz, percussion, and Vladimir Ibarra, guitar. Banegas’s program combined light 18th-century dances with more modern works, including one of her own compositions, while Díaz and Ibarra offered modern works for guitar and complete percussion ensemble. The case decoration of this 4′ table organ (1726) is among the most elaborate in all of Mexico.

October 24, Sunday
This day was dedicated to visiting unrestored organs in the Tlacolula Valley. Our first stop was in San Matías Jalatlaco, located just on the edge of the historic center of Oaxaca City. This lovely 8′ organ, painted blue, was built in 1866 by Pedro Nibra and though missing some pipes, is quite restorable.
We continued on to San Andrés Huayapam and its lovely country church with a splendid gilded altarpiece. The 4′ table organ (1772) is in nearly perfect condition and would require little to make it playable. We were refreshed by a drink of tejate, a specialty of this community.
We made a brief stop at the famous tree in Santa María del Tule before proceeding to Santa María Tlacolula. It was market day and a local saint was also being celebrated, so the streets were packed and it was difficult to get one’s bearings because of the tall tents and rides. First we viewed the little 2′ 18th-century processional organ, the smallest in Oaxaca, which was built for a small chapel. Then we climbed up to the choir loft to see the 8′ organ in the choir loft. Dating presumably from the mid-18th century, this stately organ is nearly complete and has the most elaborately painted façade pipes in all of Mexico.
We were all set to proceed to Mitla for lunch, but a police car was blocking our vans and it took at least a half hour to track down the driver and convince him to move. As a result we had to rush through the rest of the day. After our midday meal in Mitla, we zoomed to San Dionisio Ocotepec to view one of Oaxaca’s earliest and most important organs (1721). This 4′ stationary instrument, though missing its pipes and keyboard, is the closest relative to the Tlacochahuaya organ. Its doors, which were removed from the organ, framed, and hung in the sacristy, were brought to the choir loft for viewing. One of them depicts King David playing his harp and the other, Santa Cecilia playing the Ocotepec organ, showing the bellows behind and the original façade decoration.
We arrived in San Jerónimo Tlacochahuaya just in time for the sixth concert of the festival. Guy Bovet offered an elegant program combining serious works of the Spanish repertoire with lighter pieces such as verses from the Sor María Clara notebook. His program ended with an improvisation on the Oaxacan tune “Amor Juvenil,” with Antonio de Jesús Hernández, the 15-year-old son of the sacristan on the trombone. This organ (ca. 1735) is the jewel in the Oaxacan crown. Its gorgeously decorated case and façade pipes make it a work of art in its own right and it synchronizes perfectly with the acoustics and exuberantly painted decoration of the church.

October 25, Monday
Participants had the choice of playing the organ in La Soledad or going on a guided tour of archeological site of Monte Albán with Marcus Winter of the INAH (Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia). There was free time for the rest of the day until the seventh concert of the festival presented that evening in the Oaxaca Cathedral by Cristina García Banegas. Her concert was varied and exciting, and included pieces from the Jesuit mission in Chiquitos, Bolivia. There was an excellent turnout for this concert.

October 26, Tuesday
We departed early in the morning for our two-day journey through the Mixteca Alta. This was only the second time that a concert had been programmed on the organ in Santa María Tlaxiaco, because its three-hour distance from Oaxaca City requires an overnight stay.
Our first stop was in Santa María Tinú. This small stone church houses an organ (1828) that is disproportionately large for the interior space. The organ, completely intact and played just a generation ago, still grunts and wheezes when the bellows located in the loft above are pumped. It is possible that it could be made to play again with just an overall cleaning and patching of the winding system.
We proceeded to San Mateo Yucucuí. The organ (1743) was never painted but is richly carved. The floor of the high side balcony on which the organ sits is much deteriorated, but the custodian had laid down some planks so that participants could get a closer look at the organ. The situation has been evaluated by the INAH and a repair project is under consideration.
Santa María Tiltepec is one of several extant organs located near Yanhuitlan. Appreciated by art historians for its richly carved façade, this 17th-century church houses one of Oaxaca’s oldest organs (1703), unique in both its construction technique and whimsical carved and painted decoration.
After lunch in Teposcolula, we ascended up through the pine forest to Santa María Tlaxiaco. Guy Bovet’s presentation of the eighth and final concert of the festival included some of the most stirring pieces of the 17th-century repertoire and ended with an improvisation on the “Canción Mixteca.” This beautiful 8′ organ, the only 19th-century restored instrument in Oaxaca, offers a broad palette of sound possibilities, which resounded throughout the beautiful church.

October 27, Wednesday
After breakfast, we departed for the late pre-classic and classic Mixtec archeological site of San Martín Huamelulpan for a guided tour by Marcus Winter of the INAH and a visit to the community museum.
From there we went to the nearby village of San Pedro Mártir Yucuxaco. The table organ here (1740) is complete and in excellent condition, even though its bellows no longer exist. It closely resembles the organ in Zautla, though without the painted decoration, the carved pipeshades include faces in profile, and the keyboard is one of Oaxaca’s most exquisite.
The open chapel, church, and ex-convent in San Pedro y San Pablo Teposcolula comprise one of the most amazing 16th-century Dominican complexes in Mexico. A project is nearing conclusion to gild the carved decoration of the 18th-century monumental organ in areas where there was no evidence of former gilding. The IOHIO was not notified of this project and it is being investigated. The organ has a similar profile to that of Yanhuitlan but was painted a cream color rather than polychromed, probably because of lack of funds at the time of the construction.
After lunch, we continued on to Santiago Teotongo, where we could admire the organ as part of one of the most splendid Baroque churches in Mexico. The organ seems to date from the mid-18th century because of the resemblance of its profile to the organ in San Mateo Yucucuí (1743). Even though it lost all its pipes and keyboard during the Mexican Revolution, the magnificent gilded and polychromed case still exists.
Our Mixtec tour culminated with a visit to the church and organ of Santiago Tejupan. This lovely polychromed organ (1776) is the last extant Oaxacan instrument to exhibit religious imagery on the case. Even though it no longer has its pipes or keyboard, the community is most interested in having it reconstructed some day. The name of the donor, cost of the organ, and date of construction appear inscribed on decorative medallions on the façade. Just before getting in to the vans to return to Oaxaca City, Cicely Winter announced that she had a surprise for everyone . . . a visit to one more organ! (just kidding!)

Everyone agreed that the Eighth Festival was spectacular. All the planning and organizational work beforehand really paid off and there were no major glitches, at least within our control. For the first time, we set up a screen and projected the concerts in the church below so that the audience could see the organist and the rest of the activity in the choir loft—this proved to be enormously successful. Three of the organ concerts included pieces from the notebook of the Oaxacan nun Sor María Clara del Santísimo Sacramento. The group of participants could not have been more congenial and included organists, organbuilders, organ students, anthropologists, academics, musicians, teachers, restorers, cultural promoters, and other professionals. It will be a pleasure to maintain contact with these wonderful new members of our growing IOHIO community. During the coming year we look forward to presenting more concerts, producing more CDs, continuing our documentation and conservation project, and writing a book about the Oaxaca organs. So when we organize our Ninth Festival sometime in 2012 we will have a lot to celebrate!