New Perspectives on The Hildegard Organ

by Marcia Van Oyen

Marcia Van Oyen earned both master’s and doctoral degrees in organ and church music at the University of Michigan, where she studied organ with Robert Glasgow. Marcia currently serves as Director of Music and Organist at Glenview Community Church and is Dean of the North Shore AGO Chapter. She also writes reviews of organ music and books for The Diapason.

“Frank Ferko inhabits a unique and unusual musical world.  In the background is his love of the music of Olivier Messiaen. In the foreground appears mystery, and thus his intense interest in the visions of Hildegard, her music, and the world of medieval chant. None of this is unique or unusual in the decade of the 1990s, but his vivid musical imagination, sometimes terrifying, in other instances timelessly static and meditative, is unique.”1

The preceding quotation offers a microcosmic portrait of Frank Ferko as a composer. Elements of his compositions have evoked comparisons to Poulenc, Messiaen, James MacMillan, and Arvo Pärt, yet Ferko’s style defies neat categorization.  His coloristic approach, especially in his organ works, links him with the French.  His bent towards ethereal sounds and other-worldly texts allies him with the current phenomenon of “CD spirituality,” as evidenced by the popularity of Gregorian chant recordings and the music of Pärt and Tavener.2 The portrayal of programmatic themes, especially those of a symbolic and spiritual nature, looms large on his agenda. On the other hand, he is very aware of the need for practical liturgical music, and bears that in mind when writing sacred compositions.

The catalog of Ferko’s works includes choral anthems on liturgical, chant, and hymn texts; settings of poems by symbolist writers Rimbaud and Mallarmé; hymn preludes and programmatic works for organ; a symbolist one-act opera and a sprinkling of compositions for various solo instruments and ensembles, including an intriguingly titled piece for horn, clarinet and piano, “The North Side of Heaven (Near the Rotunda).”  He has been commissioned to write works for Valparaiso University, His Majestie’s Clerkes, and the Dale Warland Singers, as well as many churches. He has been the recipient of annual ASCAP grants since 1987 among other grants, and has won awards for his compositions, including the 1989–90 Holtkamp/AGO award for “A Practical Program for Monks,” a song cycle for tenor and organ.

Although Ferko now spends most of his time composing, he has twenty-five years of experience as a church musician, most recently serving as director of music at the Church of St. Paul and the Redeemer in Chicago, and continues to perform as an organist. Ferko received his Bachelor of Music degree in piano and organ performance from Valparaiso University. He received the Master of Music degree in music theory with a minor in organ performance from Syracuse University and holds a doctorate in music composition from Northwestern University, where he studied with Alan Stout. His teachers have included Richard Wienhorst (composition) and Philip Gehring (organ) at Valparaiso, and Howard Boatwright (theory) and Will O. Headlee (organ) at Syracuse University. This traditional foundation, an openness to diverse influences, and a willingness to experiment combine to create Ferko’s unique style.

I spoke with Frank Ferko about his compositional style and two of his most recent works, the Hildegard Organ Cycle and the Hildegard Motets.  Excerpts from that interview follow.

When did you start composing?

I got started dabbling in composition as a teenage church musician at a little country church in Ohio. I started playing organ at fourteen, directing the choir at sixteen, and began exploring different kinds of church music, especially new music. My earliest compositions were take-offs on Richard Wienhorst’s works. I later studied composition with him at Valparaiso. He guided me into writing my own modes and writing pieces using those modes. Wienhorst encouraged me to explore Bartok (who wrote his own modes) and that eventually led to study of the music of Messiaen.

I also studied sixteenth-century counterpoint with Wienhorst. As a final project, we had the option of writing a 5-voice motet or taking the principles of sixteenth-century counterpoint we had learned and writing a modern work. I opted for the latter, and I’ve been building on that ever since, taking ideas from early music and working them into a modern context.

Have you always had a strong interest in new music?

I have been very interested in new music. While in the doctoral program at Northwestern, I was encouraged to stay in touch with what living composers were doing. But being a church musician, I’ve also been very interested in chant, so there are these two polar ends of things—the very early music and current music—that fascinate me.

Besides Messiaen, what other composers do you look to for inspiration?

Many different eras have influenced me. I’ve played Bach, and Bach’s counterpoint has been a very strong influence. Having a strong piano background, I’ve played Chopin and Brahms. These large sounds and rich harmonies have always stuck in my mind, but I’ve veered more towards the French as time has gone on. What I like to listen to most are French pieces from the twentieth century. Some people say there are elements of Poulenc in my sound, and of Messiaen from time to time. The Messiaen influence is strong because my master’s thesis was an analysis of his piano cycle, “Vingt regards sur l’enfant Jésus.” I studied his compositional techniques very thoroughly. There are techniques that he invented, explored up to a certain point, and stopped. Why not take those further and do something else? Or take a particular technique and combine it with minimalism and see what happens? I like many of the early works of Philip Glass and I don’t mind exploring that territory. I pull ideas from all over the place.

What do you have in common with composers like Arvo Pärt and John Tavener?

I feel a common bond in terms of the philosophical approach, the way I’m approaching writing music. Arvo Pärt very definitely is an intensely religious person. John Tavener also. In that respect, I’m approaching the writing of pieces in the way that they are.  We all use common modality in our writing, and there are certain ways that we form melodic lines that may be similar, but we’re putting things together in different ways.

I hear some similarity with Tavener in the way you approach writing for voices.

I know what you mean.  I think this has to do with the fact that we have learned how to write for the human voice. Many composers have learned instrumental writing and try vocal writing and don’t understand the voice. You have to understand the limitations.  You have to be very careful how you set text, especially vowels. That comes from studying early music and counterpoint—examples of glorious music for the voice. In that sense, there’s a certain similarity between Pärt, Tavener, James Macmillan and myself in the use of the materials. We all write well for voices.

As I’ve listened to your music, I’ve noticed that acoustics seem to a play a key role. Are live acoustics required for a true performance of your works?

I like live acoustical settings, the reverberance. This goes back to my love for chant and how a single line can spin and create other sounds. I can take a single line, a choral sound or an organ sound and create some interesting ear perceptions with the acoustics. The reverberance needs to be there. I’ve played the organ cycle successfully in relatively dead rooms, but there’s a whole dimension that’s missing. For example, the first movement of the organ cycle has a water drop idea, intended to reverberate through the room. It’s written at a very slow tempo to allow that to happen.

Do you have a special affinity for writing for the organ? What is there about it that works especially well for your music?

One of the reasons I’ve written so much for the organ is because it is my instrument and I like writing things that I can play, though I don’t write with myself as performer in mind. I understand it, and I’m very well aware that there aren’t that many composers today who feel comfortable writing for the organ. I enjoy it, so I’ll write pieces for the organ. With the organ, if I’m unsure about something I’ve written, I can sit down and try it out.

The musical ideas presented in the Hildegard Organ Cycle could best be presented successfully on the organ. The colors of the instrument and the acoustical setting in which organs are often found make it possible to express certain ideas in a way that cannot occur in other situations. The organ works are usually tailor-made with the tonal colors of the organ in mind. The approach I use in incorporating specific colors into my organ works allies me closely with the French composers who have always been colorists.

Do you think you almost have to be an organist to write music for the organ?

I tend to think so, although there are some people out there who are not organists and yet have written some very fine music for the organ. I’ve tried to get composers I know to write for the organ. They’re a little interested and they think the various colors and stop names are interesting, but it’s complicated for them. How do you deal with all these keyboards and these pedals? The thing that’s usually the biggest stumbling block is the registration—they don’t know what to suggest.  Some composers leave it up to the player. I object to that. I think it really is the composer’s responsibility to inform the performer as to what tone colors to use, because there’s so much choice involved there. Particularly when writing interesting harmonies, chromatic lines, and dense textures, I think it behooves the composer to let us know just what kind of color he wants. A composer wouldn’t write a piece for orchestra and give the conductor a piano score, leaving it up to him to decide who’s going to play what.  It’s not the conductor’s job to do that. An organ composer has to be the orchestrator. Composers usually have colors in mind, but are reluctant to write them down because they’re unfamiliar with stop names and know it’s going to differ from one instrument to another. Poulenc sat down with Duruflé and registered the organ concerto. Composers should sit down with organists and do that. Somebody who does play the organ knows the instrument and its capabilities so well that they can incorporate things that a non-organist wouldn’t do. But the same thing happens with writing for other instruments. A player can write more intimately for an instrument than a non-player.

You also perform as an organist, playing your own works.  What else do you perform?

On an upcoming recital, I’m doing one movement from the Hildegard cycle along with works by Bach, Brahms, Helmut Walcha, and Heinz Werner Zimmerman. Mostly Germans because it’s a germanic organ. Yes, I play other people’s music—especially when a church organist. I still improvise, that’s one thing I’ve always done—postludes—that’s kind of fun.

I studied improvisation with Philip Gehring, and he improvises all the time. He always said you can’t really teach it, but every Sunday in chapel services we heard him doing it. It was the best example. His postludes were always improvisations on the last hymn. When I became an active organist, I started doing the same thing. The early ones I did I’m sure were just horrors, but you just keep doing it and you learn. I would hear something I thought was interesting and I would work that into a Sunday morning improvisation and just see where it would lead, combining the idea with a hymn tune, which I always used as the basis. It was a good way to pick up ideas I was hearing and develop them into my own compositional style.

Was the organ cycle composed through improvisation or sitting down and writing?

Some of it came from improvisation, some from just sitting down and writing. Actually, the tenth movement, the terrifying one, did begin as a postlude for a church service. I started the postlude with the repeated chord figure with big gaps between the chords. Heads went up. It was a gripping effect. I remembered that later and thought it would be a good way to end this organ cycle.

The music and writings of Hildegard von Bingen are currently receiving attention. 1998 is also the 900th anniversary of her birth. What prompted you to write music based on her writings?

I wrote most of the organ cycle back in 1990, before Hildegard became a big cult thing. I wanted to do something that would make people aware of who this woman was, what she did, and what she experienced.

What led you to choose Hildegard’s “Visions” as the basis for your works?

In the late 80s, my church choir in Hyde Park did a concert every spring.  There were a couple of women in the choir who were vocal feminists, and they said, “We never sing any music written by women composers.” I started exploring, finding music written by women composers. I had discovered the name Hildegard in the early 80s. In putting together this concert, I started researching her music and transcribed chant melodies into modern notation. The choir was fascinated. I found other women composers from the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries. We did an evensong and concert in which all the music was written by women. That got me looking into Hildegard, and I wanted to find out more. I did more research and looked at her last book,  “De Operatione Dei,” which includes the ten visions. I had been wanting to write a large work for organ, and later that year I decided to write an organ cycle based on the ten visions.

You've written a detailed preface, a “guidebook” if you will, which provides information as to what’s being portrayed in each of the movements of the organ cycle. Without this guidebook, what can an average listener discern?

Most of the music I write is written on at least three levels—there’s the surface level, where anybody can just walk in and they will hear something they can appreciate. It will wash over them and they’ll either like it or hate it. They’ll form an opinion right away, but they’re really not appreciating what’s in the music.

The second level at which I write is an assocation with technical devices, for example writing numbers rhythmically or pitch-wise into a piece of music. There are other numerical phenomena which have also found their way into my music such as the Fibonacci series and certain kinds of numerical proportions such as 2:1, 3:2, or 4:3—proportions that were used for tuning in the medieval period.

The third level is extra-musical assocations—the programmatic elements. The whole organ cycle is program music: specific depictions of ideas that Hildegard presented in her descriptions of her visions. Most people haven’t read the “Visions,” which is why I wrote the “guidebook.” I thought I should condense some of these ideas into a concise format and provide the information for people so they have some idea of what the basic program is.

What are the most effective means for communicating ideas through music?  Without knowing the program, what images in the organ cycle can a listener recognize?

There are certain obvious techniques that can be built into the music. The water drops [in the first movement] come across pretty clearly. The fifth movement with the repeated clusters has a tendency to sound like somebody’s angry, and Hildegard was. She was talking about the anger and judgment of God. I wanted to show that anger. Writing great big clusters that are very dissonant and shaking away with full organ is a way of doing that. Another technique is to present thematic material in an obvious way, such as an unaccompanied single line melody, repeated. Repetition is an important way to impress a musical idea on people. In the organ cycle there’s one chant melody that comes back throughout the cycle—and people remember that. They recognize it in different guises and are aware of it

What was the impetus for composing the Hildegard Motets? How were the texts selected?

The fifth one was the first one to be written, and that came about purely as an experiment. I was in a group, now defunct, called Chicago Composers Consortium, and we did three concerts a year at the Three Arts Club. In 1991, His Majesties Clerkes had done the first Chicago performance of Arvo Pärt’s “Passio,” at Orchestra Hall. One of the people in the consortium had heard the concert, raving about the Clerkes’ performance of the Pärt. We decided to do a whole concert of choral music and hire His Majesties Clerkes to perform seven new works. Since I had been working on the Hildegard Organ Cycle, I had also looked at some of her poems in the back of the book which contains the visions. I bought a critical edition of the poems and found them amazing. I wanted to write a substantial piece for the Consortium program, so I was looking for a longer text. The Holy Spirit text, a sequence hymn, seemed like a good choice. I knew what the Clerkes were capable of, and figured they could do just about anything. I wanted to take advantage of that and wrote a fairly challenging piece. They really liked it and asked to keep the copies of the piece to perform again in their regular season. That was in the fall of ’91. In February ’92, I decided I wanted to write a whole cycle on these texts because they’re so vivid, intense, and wonderful. I decided on the number nine as a mystical number, then chose the texts. The Clerkes were celebrating their tenth anniversary, and decided to commission the set of works for their final concert in 1993. The texts were selected with liturgical use somewhat in mind, variety in terms of the language Hildegard used and variety of lengths—some long and some short. I wanted some continuity and some contrast.

Are the Hildegard works liturgical music or concert music?

The Hildegard pieces were originally intended to be concert works I knew when I wrote them that people—particularly church organists with the proper instrument, acoustics and a good choir—would probably want to use these pieces in the liturgical setting. Many of the pieces in the organ cycle are fairly quiet and not terribly long. They could work as prelude music. The first movement could be used with a baptism, with the water symbolism. There’s an implication of Advent in the seventh movement, the slow, lush movement with the long melody in the celeste chords. Even though the motet cycle was written as a concert cycle for His Majestie’s Clerkes, I thought people might want to use the individual movements in church settings, so I found texts of Hildegard that had assocations with liturgical settings and outlined that in the preface notes. These pieces have crossover quality—they can work in concert or in a church setting.

Widor once said “To play the organ properly, you need to have a vision of eternity.” Does that statement apply to performing your Hildegard works?

Yes, I think there’s truth to that statement. There’s a certain amount of that with the Hildegard pieces. Performers will have a much better understanding and be able to bring out what’s in the music much better if they have the textual associations, the implied ones in the organ cycle or the expressed ones in the motets, if they know where Hildegard was coming from, they have a good translation to work from, and they understand the texts. The performance will be much, much better. Many little musical points are strongly associated with the texts.

Some people have used the term “organist-theologian” to describe composers such as Widor, Tournemire, and especially Messiaen. Do you identify with that role, being an organist and composer yourself?

To a certain degree, yes. I think I’m creating similar kinds of things, at least with the Hildegard pieces. When I perform those works, I know exactly what is going on there because I’ve read all the visions and commentary of Hildegard. Reading them was a very intense, moving experience. It  moved me to write the organ cycle. I wanted to put the theology into music. I want people to know about what I felt from reading the texts when they perform or hear this music.

I was intrigued by the statement in the liner notes of the Hildegard recordings, “Frank Ferko inhabits a unique musical world . . .” (quoted at the beginning of  this article). What is your response to that?

I was flattered. The remark addresses the organ cycle specifically. When I was practicing in preparation for recording it, the producer came up to the organ loft and said, “I want to hear the last movement on this instrument. This is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard. I want you to use as much organ as you can, a lot of reeds.” I agreed, that’s what the movement really needs. That last movement is terrifying, and yet there are other movements that are gentler that take you off into some ethereal land somewhere. I think that he was thinking of all the different moods that are created in that work and how different they are when you stop and think about them from beginning to end.

Every now and then I do pull in, into my own little world when I’m writing. There are a number of people who’ve taken an interest in my writing and they’ll ask me if I’ve heard the latest recording of James MacMillan because they find a similarity between his style and mine. I tell them I can’t listen to that for a few months because I’m working on something of my own. I have to completely pull myself away from other things and just immerse myself into my own little world while I’m writing. I don’t want to listen to anybody else’s music while I’m doing that. There is a little bit of reclusiveness that’s implied in that statement, but not to an excessive degree. I try to be sociable.

Would you describe your music as mystical?

There is definitely an ethereal quality that I try for. “Mystical” carries with it some other connotations, and I suppose that the things that I’ve written have a certain amount of that because of the text associations, especially Hildegard’s texts. There is mysticism involved in it, but generally, I’m coming at the music from a technical viewpoint. I’m trying to create a certain mood.

I noticed several settings of poetry by Mallarmé and Rimbaud in your list of works.  Is their poetry of particular interest to you?

I like symbolism, and Mallarmé is very symbolistic. Rimbaud wrote very colorful poetry. The symbolist poems are particularly interesting to me.

You seem to have a strong preference for ineffable ideas and symbolic texts.

I’ve always been fascinated by that kind of thing—the intangible things that we perceive in some way, either through an association or imagination. When we are thinking of intangible things, such as God, angels, saints, good, evil, love, and so on, I think it is natural for us to try to represent these intangibles in some tangible way. That’s why we have church buildings, stained glass, religious paintings, statuary, and religious drama. These are ways in which artists have tried to represent things which are in a way abstract. Music is perhaps the best way to express or represent abstract ideas. Music has the capability of expressing things that words or pictures just cannot accomplish. By connecting music with symbols it is possible to create a very powerful form of expression. Is there such a thing as a symbolist musician? Maybe that’s what I am.

•

Frank Ferko’s compositional style is woven from diverse threads: ancient mystical texts and medieval compositional techniques, minimalism and Messiaen, ineffable mysteries and concrete images, the highly complex and the startlingly simple. The result is a musical tapestry of exceptional depth and beauty, a vibrantly spiritual contribution to the musical palette of both concert hall and sanctuary.

Musical examples are reprinted by permission of E. C. Schirmer Music.

For more information about Frank Ferko and his music, visit his web-site: 

http://pubweb.acns.nwu.edu/~dahling/biography.html

Notes

                        1.                  The Hildegard Organ Cycle, Arsis CD 101, a statement made by producer Robert Schuneman in the liner notes of the recording.

                         2.                Patrick Russill, “Cantos Sagrados: Patrick Russill reflects on the holy songs of James MacMillan,” The Musical Times 1837 (March 1996): 35–37.

                        3.                  Philip Greenfield, “Review of The Hildegard Motets” The American Record Guide  6 (Nov./Dec. 1996):  p. 122.

A Performer’s Investigation, Part 1

by Gary Verkade

Knowledge

In order to acquire knowledge about John Bull’s work, it is important to know a little bit about what knowledge actually meant at the time the work was created. Here we are dealing with the late Renaissance–early Baroque, the exact date of the composition itself, as far as I have been able to determine, being unknown. Michel Foucault in his book, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences, states:

Up to the end of the sixteenth century, resemblance played a constructive role in the knowledge of Western culture. It was resemblance that largely guided exegesis and the interpretation of texts; it was resemblance that organized the play of symbols, made possible knowledge of things visible and invisible, and controlled the art of representing them. The universe was folded in upon itself: the earth echoing the sky, faces seeing themselves reflected in the stars, and plants holding within their stems the secrets that were of use to man (p. 17) . . . To search for a meaning is to bring to light a resemblance (p. 29) . . . There is no difference between the visible marks that God has stamped upon the surface of the earth, so that we may know its inner secrets, and the legible words that the Scriptures, or the sages of Antiquity, have set down in the books preserved for us by tradition. The relation to these texts is of the same nature as the relation to things: in both cases these are signs that must be discovered (p. 33) . . . Knowledge therefore consisted in relating one form of language to another form of language; in restoring the great, unbroken plain of words and things; in making everything speak. That is, in bringing into being, at a level above that of all marks, the secondary discourse of commentary. The function proper to knowledge is not seeing or demonstrating; it is interpreting (p. 40).

If knowledge in the Renaissance and Baroque is interpretation and uncovering order, then knowledge about a work of art created in this transition time at the end of the Renaissance and the beginning of the Baroque can only be about discovering an order and an interpretation. I do not believe that the impossibility of total certainty of the results of such inquiry should deter one from the attempt to understand a work in the sense the maker might have understood that concept of “understanding.” One thing is certainly true. Understanding, in this sense, for a musician cannot simply mean hearing and/or playing a work and responding with “like” or “dislike.” Our response must go deeper. “It is not enough to feel the effects of a science or an art. One must conceptualize these effects in order to render them intelligible” (Rameau, p. xxxv). We must dig in order to uncover what might be hidden from cursory view. We must, as Frescobaldi demands, “endeavour in the first place to discover the character of the passages, the tonal effect intended by the composer  . . . ”(Notes).

John Bull

 

John Bull (1562–1628) had his feet in the Renaissance and his head in the Baroque. In other words, he was a child of the Renaissance and experienced the beginnings of the new era as a grown man. He was the student of John  Blitheman. John is known as William in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, which contains an In nomine of his immediately preceding the Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la of Bull’s which is the subject of the present essay. Blitheman was known for his cantus firmus compositions, which occasionally demanded great virtuosity of the player. Bull’s education, grounded in Renaissance teaching as it must have been, certainly did not end with his formal studies. He was elected first Public Reader in Music at Gresham College, London in March of 1597 where he remained, except for a year’s leave of absence, until 1607, the year which saw his necessary marriage to one Elizabeth Walter, who was pregnant with his child. During his period at Gresham, the College was a hotbed of discussion of new ideas, inventions and discoveries from all over Europe.

For example, during the last quarter of the sixteenth century the ideas of Copernicus became more widely disseminated among the general public, the world view which stood the previous view of the universe on its head. What was formerly immovable, the earth, now was realized to be hurtling through space at unheard-of speeds. Bull must have been well-informed as to the revolutions in scientific thought in which learned men all across Europe were engaged. He was part of the established intellectual community; the universities did not ignore these new, ground-breaking ideas. He must have known about the fierce debates between the followers of Copernicus and those of Aristotle at Cambridge during the 1580s. For “we find Gresham College was, throughout the first half of the seventeenth century, a general clearinghouse for information concerning the latest scientific discoveries. Its professors of astronomy and geometry were among the ablest scientists of their day, and the college’s central location in London made their rooms a convenient rendezvous for all those who were actually contributing to the advancement of science in England” (Johnson, p. 263).

There is no need to go into the relevance of science to music in either the Renaissance or Baroque eras. That relationship has been amply discussed in a plethora of publications. What is important to note here is that the age in which Bull lived and worked was one of adventurous discovery, one in which science was revolutionizing the view of the world, as well as one in which, first in Italy and then in the rest of Europe, music, too, was undergoing revolutionary change. It is important to note that revolution, new ways of thinking, were part and parcel of Elizabethan life. Bull was no stranger to the new.

The hexachord

The hexachord was first described, but not named, in Guido of Arezzo’s treatise Micrologus of 1025–28. There are three hexachords, all of which have the same intervallic structure: the hexachordum naturale (C - D - E - F - G - A); the hexachordum molle, so-called because it included b molle, i.e., b-flat (F - G - A - B-flat - C - D); and the hexachordum durum, so-called because it included b durum, i.e. b-natural (G - A - B - C - D - E). Since medieval theory did not consider pitches of higher or lower octaves to be identical, seven hexachords were differentiated in the scale from G to e2, all of them beginning on C, F, or G. There was no concept of modulation. A melody exceeding the compass of a single hexachord was considered to be in transition from one hexachord to another. This movement was referred to as mutation. Tonal centers were not established by such movement, but rather the compass of a particular melody simply shifted from one area to another by making use of a pivot tone, a tone which belonged to both hexachords. Thus, for example, the tone sol in one hexachord could at the same time function as the tone ut in another. Yet, because the hexachord has the same construction whether based on C, F, or G, it has one interesting similarity to the major-minor tonal system: it has the potential to form the basis of a relative pitch system.

Guido’s treatise was referred to throughout the ensuing centuries, though the term “hexachord” itself apparently does not appear until about the 16th century. Although Masses based on the hexachord were composed, keyboard composers of the late Renaissance and the early Baroque seem to have been particularly fascinated by the musical possibilities offered by this theme. Pieces based on the hexachord were written by such important composers as Girolamo Frescobaldi (2) and Gregorio Strozzi in Italy, Johann Jakob Froberger in Austria, Pieter Cornet (the piece survives only as a fragment) and Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck in the Low Countries, Samuel Scheidt in North Germany, Pablo Bruna in Spain, and William Byrd (2), Thomas Tomkins (7!), John Lugge, and John Bull (3) in England.

John Bull and the hexachord

Thomas Morley, as Master Gnorimus in A Plaine and Easie Introdvction to Practicall Mvsick (1597) which is organized in dialogue form, spends at the beginning of that treatise a considerable amount of time explaining musical notation to Philomathes, a student in the dialogue. He does this by using the hexachord and the syllables ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la. Morley’s art of teaching music was not unique in England and musicians must have been familiar with this system.

 The adventurous John Bull composed three very different pieces on the hexachord. One, Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la [II], is an extended composition (292 measures in the Musica Brittanica edition, 237 irregularly-barred measures in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book) in which, after the second statement, the hexachord theme is treated principally as a cantus firmus in the soprano in long notes accompanied by figurations which become in the course of the piece quite virtuosic. Beginning with a long section in two voices, Bull introduces a third voice for a similarly long section, and then a fourth voice, the piece remaining four-voiced to the end. The subdivision of the beat changes a number of times in the course of this work and in addition to the metric two-against-three which occurs in the juxtaposition of duple and triple times, rhythmic two-against-three is also found in this composition, a favorite Bull device.

Another is the more contrapuntal, 188-measure Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la [III] (not found in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book) composition. The more sustained polyphonic nature of the five-part texture and the avoidance of metric and rhythmic variety (the piece moves principally in halves, quarters and eighths with some dotting of values) starkly differentiate this piece from the preceding one. In addition, the hexachord theme itself is found in several rhythmic forms, principally varying combinations of halves and quarters with some tied notes, dotted values and an occasional eighth-note.

The piece which is the subject of this essay is the shortest of the three hexachord compositions by Bull.

Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la [I]

Editions

I made the decision to use the version of the piece found in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book since it is clearly closer to the actual score of the piece as Bull himself might have written it. The version found in the Musica Brittanica edition, with its regularly-barred measures and its conformity to 20th-century notational practices, leads one to think that the piece may be in common time. Whereas I would like, as much as is possible for a musician living very much with both feet planted in the 21st century, to get into the musical mind of Bull as it manifests itself in this composition. One must assume that whoever copied the music in the 17th century had an understanding of the music he was copying and, especially, was closer to the manner in which it was notated than editors in the mid-20th century could have been. And it is the notation which provides the only clues we have directly from the composer, clues we need in order to reach some understanding of the work, without which appropriate interpretive decisions cannot be made. The importance of the manuscript and the collection in general speaks for going to the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book as primary source.

The theme

The theme (see Example 1) has two parts, which mirror each other, consisting of the ascending and descending hexachord. The highest note (at the first appearance of the theme an e1) is always repeated.

As do the other two compositions on this theme, the present work begins not only with the hexachordum durum, but also with the very same note: g0, although it is the soprano voice (not bass or tenor as in the other pieces) which here begins the work in this low register.

Meter

Since the irregular measures of 1/1, 2/1, 3/1, 4/1, 5/1, 9/2, and 12/2 do not seem to indicate any regular occurrence of accent, my attention was brought to the consideration of meter in terms of the theme as a whole. The whole note is the value at which the regular occurrence of the tactus takes place. The piece floats in an unaccentuated flow of regular beats of that tactus. The entrance of the hexachord theme every 13 whole-note units is the important, regularly occurring event in the work. The unit of measure is not the bar line, wherever it is drawn, but rather the whole note itself and we will subsequently refer to whole-note units rather than any measure numbers. The six ascending and six descending notes give us the duration of twelve whole-notes. Except for the first three statements and one curious half note during the 13th statement, the entire theme consists of 12 unvaried note values throughout.  The final pitches of the first two statements consist of two whole notes: two g0’s and two a0’s respectively. The final pitch of the third statement is one b0 whole note tied to another. After that, the final pitch of the theme is always a whole note separated from the following thematic statement by a whole-note rest. This makes the entire theme, the ascending and descending hexachord and the unit of rest, one phrase measuring 13 units (whole notes).

We can think of the hexachord theme as beginning with a downbeat and spanning the duration of 13 whole notes. A secondary accent occurs, perhaps, at the repetition of the highest note of the theme, which results in two units of six whole notes each. The 13th whole note of the first statement repeats the final note, that of the second statement repeats the final note with an ornament, that of the third is tied to the previous whole note. After that, the 13th whole note is a rest. The 13th unit of the hexachord theme functions, especially beginning with the fourth statement, as a breath, a metrical breath if you will, a moment of rest, of gathering energy, before continuing with the next statement. This music breathes in 13-unit phrases with a consistency unbroken until the end.

Transposition

The second statement of the hexachord theme begins a whole-step higher than the first statement; and the third statement begins another whole step higher. This transposition of the theme upwards by whole step is pursued rigorously up to f1, at which point the next statement would appear again on a G (g1, an octave above the first note of the piece). This Bull does not do, but rather jumps down almost two octaves to A-flat and begins the process of transposition by whole step upwards all over again, using the remaining pitches of the twelve-note chromatic scale.

Example 2 gives the initial notes of all 17 statements of the hexachord theme, the last 4 statements of which are all on the same pitch, g1. Thus we see that the cycle of whole-step transposition, beginning on g0, interrupted once at f1 and leaping down to A-flat instead and then continuing the cycle in order to return to g0, involves 13 statements of the hexachord theme.

Modulation

With the transposition of the hexachord theme Bull is forced to modulate to new keys at every single entrance of the theme. The composition manifests remarkable instances of modulatory prowess and enharmonic ambivalence. Consider Example 3.

The E-major chord at the beginning of Example 3 includes b0, the last note of the previous statement of the theme.  D-flat1 is the first note of the fourth entrance of the theme and it appears here immediately as D-flat and not as C-sharp, as might be expected from the previous harmony. The enharmonic modulation must take place somewhere and Bull chooses to do it here. Apparently, in spite of what the Musica Brittanica edition has done here (namely first spell c-sharp1, then tie to d-flat1), Bull is not interested in making a smooth, a plausible, enharmonic modulation (see Example 4).

We can see that Bull has not written a piece concerned with modulating to as many keys as possible, thereby enabling the hexachord theme to appear in those keys. The plan of his work is to transpose, to shift the hexachord theme; he shifts the theme and afterwards draws the harmonic consequences. The transposition of the hexachord theme is the given, leading to necessary modulation—not modulation leading to transposition of the theme. The transposition of the hexachord theme is the postulate which implies the stipulation of key, not vice versa.  In other words: the form is a priori and precipitates the harmony; the harmony does not precipitate the form.

Form

We have noted above that after 12 shifts or transpositions of the hexachord theme, i.e. with the 13th transposition, Bull returns, comes full circle transpositionally, to the g0 with which he started the piece, though here it is the bass voice and not the soprano as at the beginning. Here Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la could conceivably end. Bull has traversed the entire gamut of pitches available to him in the chromatic scale and returned back to where he had started. This disregards, however, the psychological strain through which he has put his listener. Bull must draw the consequences of going so far afield harmonically. He must first establish conclusively for the listener that one has arrived “home.” And that is not achieved by a single statement on G.

There follow four more statements of the hexachord theme, all on G, all on the same g1, all in the soprano voice. However, just as Bull begins to anchor the listener in the hexachordum durum, he changes what has up to that point been a duple to a triple division of the beat. Now this is a common device found at the ends of many compositions of this period and others: triple subdivision as ecstatic conclusion. Statement 14 consists of three half notes per whole note. Occasionally the half notes are subdivided into duple quarters which sound against the (now dotted) whole notes. Statement 15 contains both duple and triple subdivisions of the beat; the quarter notes here are ambiguously either triple subdivisions of the duple half notes or duple subdivisions of the triplet half notes. This rhythmic ambiguity occurs exactly at the point where Bull is interested in being unambiguous harmonically, i.e., he can now afford to be ambiguous on the rhythmic level now that the harmonic level has become more stable. Statements 16 and 17 return to duple subdivisions on all levels, as had been the case from statements 1 to 13.

So at the end of the composition there are five statements of the hexachordum durum. The first of these five statements (on g0) occurs at the end of the transposition process begun at the outset of the piece and belongs to that process. It rounds off that section of the piece. The final four statements (on g1) are no longer part of that process, but provide the necessary anchoring in G in order for the piece to come to a satisfactory close.

Counterpoint I: beginning and end

The hexachord appears as a cantus firmus, it does not take part in any imitative counterpoint. Three of the four voices are, then, not predetermined by the form. The opening of Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la is instructive (see Example 5) and merits a close look. It is not marked by strict imitation carried through the three free voices.

The soprano begins, opening with the hexachordum durum on g0. The bass enters one half note later on the same g0, before the soprano moves to its second note. The two voices sound together for the duration of one half note with the same pitch, thus obscuring the two-voiced texture. The bass continues stepwise downwards through the fourth unit. At unit three the alto enters with a motive different from both the hexachord in the soprano and the descending motive in the bass. It enters on the only available note between soprano and bass: g0. The tenor enters one unit later with the descending motive first heard at the bass entrance. However, the entrance of the tenor is obscured by the fact that at that same moment the alto and the soprano sound the same note together: c1. In other words, at the entrance of the fourth voice one hears only three voices. This obscures not only the texture again, but the imitation between bass and tenor as well. Significant, and genial, about the beginning of the work is that all four voices start from exactly the same point, exactly the same pitch: the final of the hexachordum durum, g0.

The descending fifth motive, found in the bass and tenor voices, does not reappear as such throughout the rest of the work until the very last measures. The motive is given one prefix note and is found here in all three free voices. This reminiscence of the beginning provides a fitting and appropriate close to the work (see Example 6).

Counterpoint II: alto motive

At the beginning of the work (see example 5) the soprano has the hexachord as cantus firmus and the bass and tenor voices imitate each other, in fact the first five pitches are exactly the same. The alto voice is here unique, free. It proves to have a more productive motive than that shared by tenor and bass, and, indeed, we find that it is not imitation which is most significant here or in the work as a whole. There are scattered passages which employ imitation in one form or another, more or less strictly, between two or three voices. There seems to be no overall formal principle which dictates when and where imitation between the voices takes place. It is one of the compositional means at Bull’s disposal and he uses it without ever losing the prevailing sense of freedom which the three voices have in the face of the strict formal construction of the transposition scheme of the hexachord.

The emphasis is not on imitative counterpoint, but rather on a free development of the concept of imitation. One can see this on the freedom with which Bull treats the alto motive, heard at the outset (see Example 7) and referred to henceforth as the alto motive no matter in which voice it is found.

During the course of the second statement of the hexachord theme, we hear this motive in different guises in three of the four voices (see Example 8).

Rhythm and intervals are altered, and inversion is heard in the alto and bass as well as retrograde in the bass voice. Just a few units later, during the third statement of the hexachord theme, the alto motive is found using a passing tone (see Example 9).

The part of the motive which is found at units 33–34, using the quarter-note passing tone, is one that is found in all the three free voices at that point and plays a role through the fourth entrance of the hexachord theme. The alteration of the alto motive thus generates a further motive that is used contrapuntally in these passages.

In Example 10, taken from the fourth statement of the hexachord theme, we find an interesting canon, interesting in the fact that it is not strict. The bass voice leads, followed by the alto voice one whole note later with a rhythmically enlivened version of the bass voice. Also noteworthy is how the same note takes on different harmonic functions. This is due, of course, to the fact that one of the voices is the bass and the other the alto. It also has to do with the fact that, although the entrance of the d-flat1 in the alto is rhythmically analogous to the entrance of the d-flat0 in the bass, namely mid-unit, the d-flat1 enters with the length of a whole note and obscures the fact that the alto voice is, contrary to the bass, placed on the unit (beat). Thus the g-flat0 in the bass becomes dissonant at unit 44, whereas the g-flat1 in the alto at unit 45 is consonant for its entire duration. So, too, the e-flat0 in the bass is consonant for its duration, but, the e-flat1 in the alto at unit 47 becomes dissonant.

This last example demonstrates the developmental possibilities of the alto motive. Given its construction (see Example 7), the small ambitus of a perfect fourth, the prominent interval of the third, and the half step at the end, it is a motive that is related to any other motive using those intervals. It is possible to recognize in example 10 that the alto line is directly derived from the alto motive in the bass voice. In other cases it is more difficult to assert that other motives with similar constructions were consciously fashioned from the alto motive. Nevertheless, many of the passages contain motives constructed with thirds and fourths, or often end with a half step, which fact is not surprising in music that is articulated with cadences.

From units 86–93 (see Example 11), the end of the seventh and the beginning of the eighth statement of the hexachord theme, we find the alto motive used in free imitative fashion between soprano, alto and tenor. Interesting is the alto voice which mirrors itself beginning at unit 89 and then tacks on a cadential e-flat1 - d1 - e-flat1.

Example 12, from the tenth statement of the hexachord theme, demonstrates a still freer treatment of the alto motive or, if you will, those primary intervals of which the alto motive is constructed. The passage does not illustrate imitative counterpoint, but rather a free development of the alto motive. Notice particularly the alto voice which, as in the previous example, mirrors itself and pivots around f-sharp1.

Immediately following this passage, at the end of the tenth and the beginning of the eleventh statement of the hexachord theme, the soprano states two versions of the alto motive successively, the first descending (i.e, inverted), the second ascending (see Example 13).

There are further passages in which the alto motive or fragments thereof play a role in the contrapuntal texture of the work. Often, just as is the case in a number of the above examples, they are worked into phrases which are much longer. The motive shines forth suddenly from within the context of something larger than itself and contributes to the unity of the work.          

Gary Verkade was born in Chicago and grew up in the south suburbs. He studied music at Calvin College and the University of Iowa in the United States, and in 1978 he received a Fulbright grant to study at the Folkwang-Hochschule in Essen, Germany, and lived in Germany for 17 years. He has performed much new music throughout Europe and the United States and is the composer of music for organ, electronics, chamber and improvisational ensembles.Verkade has been a guest professor/lecturer/performer at universities in Europe and the United States; he served on the music faculty of Carthage College, Kenosha, Wisconsin, from 1995–2000. He is presently on the faculty of the Musikhögskolan i Pitea, Sweden, where he continues to teach, perform, compose, record, and write about music.

by Earl Holt

Earl Holt is a graduate of Elon College, the University of Michigan, and Arizona State University, where he recently completed the D.M.A. degree in organ performance with Robert Clark. Dr. Holt served on the music faculty of San Jacinto College North in Houston from 1982-90, and is currently Director of Music at the First United Methodist Church of Gilbert, Arizona.

Introduction

In Organ Technique: Modern and Early, George Ritchie and George Stauffer summarize the contribution of American composers to organ music of this century:

If the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries belonged to Europe as far as organ building and composition are concerned, the twentieth century belongs to the United States. For it has been America, with its extraordinarily eclectic culture, that has set the standard for the Modern Era.1

Organ building in the United States since the late 1960s has returned, more and more, to seventeenth- and eighteenth-century principles of design and construction; the interest in the tonal resources of these instruments may account, in part, for some American composers' renewed interest in the organ. Another contributory reason for interest in organ scoring is the possibility of early public performances, in comparison to the relative improbability of having large-scale modern orchestral works performed. Logistical difficulty and expense of paying multiple performers, combined with a lack of acceptance of modern art music by aging concert audiences, make orchestral conductors reluctant to program such works. In contrast, compositions for solo instruments or small ensembles are more likely to receive an early hearing. Some composers have written works for organ in combination with other instruments, particularly percussion; an important example of the genre is William Bolcom's 1967 work, Black Host for organ, percussion, and electronic tape.

In her book, Survey of Organ Literature and Editions, Marilou Kratzenstein attributes renewed interest in American organ composition to the Hartt College Annual Contemporary Organ Music Festival, held during the 1970s and early 1980s. She writes that "it is at least partly due to the efforts of this festival that an impressive number of composers not formerly associated with the organ have begun to view the organ as a viable vehicle for expressing contemporary ideas."2 Commissions have undoubtedly played a major role in the creation of new organ works, too. In particular, all four of the American compositions examined in this article resulted from commissions.

Viktor Lukas writes in A Guide to Organ Music that modern American composers "have recognized and been encouraged by the organ's diversity today, but that diversity along with, in the minds of some, the instrument's association with liturgical functions seems to have discouraged many gifted composers from writing on a scale similar to their output for other instruments."3 Lukas cites only Igor Stravinsky and Norman Dello Joio as examples, however, and his observation is more characteristic of the first sixty years of this century than of the last several decades. Lukas's comment has validity, nevertheless; it is questionable, for example, whether the sole organ works of George Crumb or Ellen Taaffe Zwilich would have been composed without commissions.

Major American organ composers of the past two decades have turned increasingly to programmatic, secular subjects. They have also incorporated modern performance techniques into their writing (tone clusters and cluster glissandos, for example), most of which are unassociated with past or present church usage. As a result, works that display these techniques are often inappropriate for church services. Even Bolcom's Gospel Preludes, based on church hymns, are at present more suitable for concerts than for church services. If western-European trends in organ composition are a paradigm, the secularization of the organ is likely to continue in the United States.

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

Mysteries by William Bolcom

Background

William Bolcom, born in Seattle, Washington in 1938, attended Mills College, the University of Washington, and Stanford University. At Stanford, he studied composition with Leland Smith; Bolcom also studied composition at the Paris Conservatory with Olivier Messiaen, Darius Milhaud, and Jean Rivier in the 1960s. Bolcom's career has included piano performance and composition; he has written organ, piano, choral, vocal, and orchestral works. In the 1980s he completed his fifth symphony and a violin concerto. The premiere of his first opera, McTeague, was at Chicago's Lyric Opera in October, 1992. Since 1973 Bolcom has taught at the University of Michigan, where he is a professor of music composition.4

Bolcom's organ works are Black Host for organ, percussion, and tape (1967), Praeludium for vibraphone and organ (1969), Chorale Prelude on "Abide with Me" for organ solo (1970), Hydraulis for organ solo (1971), Mysteries for organ solo (1976-77), Humoresque for organ and orchestra (1979), Three Gospel Preludes for organ solo (1979), Gospel Preludes, Book Two for organ solo (1980-81), Gospel Preludes, Book Three for organ solo (1981), and Gospel Preludes, Book Four for organ solo (1984). In all, the Gospel Preludes comprise four books of three pieces each. The third and fourth books, previously available only in manuscript, were published in 1994. The publication of the third book of Gospel Preludes also includes the 1970 Chorale Prelude on "Abide with Me" as an extra piece.5

The work selected for this article is Mysteries.6 Organist and composer William Albright, professor of music composition and associate director of the electronic music studio at the University of Michigan, played the premiere. The performance took place at the University of Hartford's Hartt International Contemporary Organ Music Festival, held July 21-25, 1980.7 Walter Holtkamp Jr. commissioned the work for the festival; it was subsequently published in 1981.8

Structure

Mysteries is a suite of four through-composed movements that are unrelated in motivic material. The movements are "The Endless Corridor," "Eternal Flight," "La lugubre gondola," and "Dying Star." In a note to the player, Bolcom states his preference that "the four movements be played together as a set, for cumulative effect."9

"The Endless Corridor" is a trio, and is the only movement with changing meters. Little stepwise motion occurs in the three voices of the trio, which move almost entirely by leaps of fourths, fifths, sixths, or sevenths. The voices are not imitative and the rhythm of individual beats is varied, so the same rhythm rarely appears simultaneously in two voices. This compositional technique makes each voice appear to move independently. Although the form of the movement is not ABA in the traditional sense of repeated motivic material, the registration does create that impression; one registration in mm. 1-9 and 20-32 flanks a differently colored registration in mm. 10-19, the central one-third of the movement.

"Eternal Flight" is a pointillistic movement with spatial rhythmic notation. It is in three continuous sections: (1) staccato figures and clusters that increase in frequency, tempo, and dynamic; (2) whole-note clusters that increase in texture and dynamic to full organ, and then reverse the process; and (3) staccato chords and short figures that decrease in frequency, tempo, and dynamic.

Viktor Lukas writes that the third movement, "La lugubre gondola," "suggests a gently rocking gondola through soft dynamics and an emphasis on lower registers and gently moving chord changes."10 Except for one short section (11/2-11/3), the movement is unmetered; that section is marked "all values relative," however.11 As in "Eternal Flight," this movement has three continuous sections: (1) low-pitched arpeggios with long note values; (2) overlapping, ascending melodic figures that lead to a few seconds of eighth-note figuration; and (3) another (abbreviated) section of long note values to end the work. Characteristic of this movement is the frequent use of pauses of various lengths that serve as sound objects.

"Dying Star" begins with rapid, scherzo-like figuration in spatial rhythmic notation. A pedal citation of the chorale melody An Wasserflüssen Babylon then joins the texture. Later, a fragmented version of J.S. Bach's harmonization of the same chorale, in 3/4 meter, alternates with the spatially notated figuration, which gradually becomes more widely dispersed. To heighten the effect of disintegration, which Bolcom describes as "floating in and out, like a radio signal from a distant star," he uses dramatic pauses ranging from seven to thirteen seconds.12 The movement ends with a pppp chorale fragment, and a final pause.

Registration

In a note to the player, Bolcom writes about the desired instrument for Mysteries: "The object is that this music should be equally effective on any type of organ, large or small, Romantic or Baroque--even on electronic organs."13 Each movement can be performed on a two-manual instrument, although a three-manual instrument is optimum. Because the score rarely indicates crescendos or diminuendos that require expression shades, the work can be performed adequately on an instrument without expressive divisions.

Although a large list of specific stops is not required, two movements recommend registrations that are often unavailable on small instruments. First, "La lugubre gondola" requires a 32' pedal Bourdon, but a footnote indicates that a 16' stop may be substituted if a suitable 32' stop is unavailable. Second, "Dying Star" requires a pp 16' and 2'  stop combination for the Bach chorale harmonization.

Bolcom writes that "registration is largely left to the organist, except for a few suggestions here and there."14 Because of the wide latitude given to the performer, and the variety of acceptable instruments, there are many possible registrations. Table 1 has an appropriate registration for a three-manual instrument.

The beginning of "The Endless Corridor" requires a "cool-sounding" 8' pp stop for each manual and a pp 16' pedal stop.15 The upper voice (right hand) requires a "different color" in m. 10 and the middle voice (left hand) requires a similar substitution in m. 14. The change in timbre can result from substituting a different 8' stop, adding a soft mutation, or substituting a 4' stop and playing an octave lower. It is important to maintain the pp dynamic; therefore stops of significant dynamic contrast should be avoided. The two manual voices return to their original registrations in mm. 18-19, and continue to the end of the movement.

No specific stops are indicated in "Eternal Flight." The opening section (5/1-7/2) requires at least two manuals, one with a pp registration, and the other somewhat louder for the sf material. If three manuals are available, the pp material is divided at random between two of the manuals, as indicated in the score.16 The pedal has to alternate between pp and sf dynamics in the opening section; this switch can be accomplished by quickly coupling soft pedal stops to the Great manual for the sf spots only. The middle section (7/2-8/2) is played on the Great manual alone. For the crescendo to fff and the subsequent diminuendo to pp, the crescendo pedal and other expression pedals may be used; if neither is available, a console assistant can add or remove stops. Registration for the final section (8/2-9/4) is the same as at the beginning, with the exception that the Great manual is not used.

The registration shown in Table 1 for "La lugubre gondola" is specified in the score. For the two manuals, Bolcom wants stops of "different but related color."17 In the pedal, a 32' flue is best, although the piece can be performed with a 16' pedal stop.

"Dying Star" requires an "8' soft flute with much 'chiff'''  for the flute figuration that continues throughout the movement.18 On a large instrument, a combination of 8' flute stops, instead of a single stop, is often necessary for sufficient dynamic. Registration for the harmonization of An Wasserflüssen Babylon (16/1), is "2' and 16' only--with a distant, otherworldly registration."19 Because of the ppp dynamic, there is often little choice of stops, however. On a large instrument it may be possible to couple manuals together for the desired pitch combination and timbre. The same chorale registration is coupled to the pedal, because the chorale cannot be played on manuals alone. The 4' pedal stop that was added for the "subliminal" chorale melody at the beginning of the movement (13/1-15/1) is removed before the chorale harmonization begins.

Double pedal technique is necessary for all movements except the first. In addition, pedal clusters are in "Eternal Flight" and "La lugubre gondola." Because of the slow tempos, however, the clusters are easy to play. The pedal clusters in "Eternal Flight" have to be carefully practiced, nevertheless; some require awkward positions--the C to E-flat interval played by the left foot in 8/4, for example.

Interpretation

Because of the programmatic theme of Mysteries, each movement should be interpreted in a way that is consistent with the text associations. For example, in the trio "The Endless Corridor," Bolcom creates the aural impression of three slowly moving, endlessly drifting voices. No tonal, motivic, or rhythmic relationships exist between the voices, no suggestion of cadence or phrase structure occurs, and the angularity of the voices discourages melodic perception.

The rhythm of "The Endless Corridor" is played precisely as written; because the irregular motion of the voices has been created rhythmically, further rubato is unnecessary and contrary to the character of the movement. Legato articulation further enhances the intentional monotony. Selection of thinly voiced, distant-sounding stops is consistent with the "cool-sounding" stops mentioned in the score. Slight shading with expression pedals is appropriate at locations indicated in the score.

In contrast to the precisely notated rhythm of the first movement, the spatial rhythmic notation in "Eternal Flight" allows considerable freedom in rhythmic interpretation. Creating a sense of immense space is important at the beginning, with a certain unpredictability when the pointillistic staccato clusters are played. Near the end of the opening section (6/3-7/1), the clusters and figuration become more densely packed, as if drifting closer and closer in space; the increased density should not be perceived by the listener as an increase in tempo, however. Bolcom indicates short accelerandos at irregular intervals by using arrows (----> ).

A series of ritardando arrows ( <----) reduce the tempo at the beginning of the middle section of "Eternal Flight" (7/2). The middle section has the broadest tempo, the thickest texture, the longest note values, and the loudest dynamic of the movement. The legato, parallel clusters in this section require a considerable amount of finger substitution, but the long note values allow sufficient time.

The third section of the movement (8/2-9/4) reverses the motion of the first section in a gradual process of disintegration: (1) clusters that are at first close together become spaced farther and farther apart; (2) the dynamic decreases; (3) pitch becomes gradually lower; and (4) texture thins to single notes. The performer helps to communicate the disintegration by allowing playing gestures to become gradually slower, to the point that notes in the final few systems are gently pressed down. If the console is in view of the audience, it is vital that the performer not relax his/her body posture, so that intensity is maintained during the increasingly longer periods of silence between the final notes.

"La lugubre gondola" has a stifling, airless quality created by the long note values, low pitches, and pauses of various lengths. Although the movement is almost entirely unmetered, the note values are relative, and must be played precisely in rhythm. Because of the difficulty in counting the long note values, the performer can count quarter notes, at the rate of one per second, as a basic pulse, and write the number of quarter-note pulses over each note in the score as listed in Table 2.20

The comma symbols used for the long pauses of varying lengths are unexplained in the score. The same symbols appear, however, in a previous Bolcom work, Hydraulis, and are defined in a foreword as "pauses, ranging from long to very short, depending mainly on context of the passage." In a recent letter, Bolcom confirmed that the Hydraulis pauses also apply to Mysteries.21

The eighth-note figuration that appears in the metered middle section of the movement (11/2-11/3) is played with light, elegant articulation. In the unmetered final section (11/3-11/4), playing gestures become increasingly slower; intensity must be maintained during the pauses, though.

The title "La lugubre gondola" is from an 1882 piano piece of the same name by Franz Liszt. Liszt had the inspiration for the piece while watching funeral processions by gondola through the Venetian canals, when he was staying with Richard Wagner and Cosima (Liszt's daughter, who had married Wagner) in Venice. Anecdotally, Liszt abruptly quit working on his final oratorio and wrote two versions of La lugubre gondola in December 1882, after he had a strange presentiment--presumably of Wagner's impending death. Irrespectively, Wag-ner died in Venice two months later, and his body was borne by gondola in the funeral procession.22 Although not widely performed, several pianists have recorded the piano piece La lugubre gondola, No. 1; listening to such recordings is helpful in establishing the mood of the Bolcom movement, because the central, metered section of the Bolcom movement quotes the Liszt work.

"Dying Star" begins with thirty-second-note flute figuration marked "legato, even throughout."23 A more detached articulation is appropriate, however, if the room is acoustically live or if the selected flute does not have enough chiff for articulative clarity. Nevertheless, the articulation should not be a mechanical staccato.

The thirty-second-note figuration in the right-hand part continues to the end of the movement, and it is impossible to play all four voices of the An Wasserflüssen Babylon chorale fragments (beginning at 16/1) in the left hand alone. It is therefore necessary for the pedal, coupled to the manual, to play the tenor and bass voices of the chorale. Articulation for the chorale is molto legato for both manual and pedal parts. Bolcom commented on the significance of An Wasserflüssen Babylon to this movement: "That chorale prelude always gave a chilling intimation of eternity; I could imagine a dead Earth with some eternal record[ing] of it [An Wasserflüssen Babylon] playing (or a ghostly organist)."24

During the long blocks of silence (beginning at 16/4 and continuing to the end of the movement) it is important to follow Bolcom's instructions: "These pauses are exactly timed--be sure to remain physically suspended during them so that the tension is not lost."25 As in the second and third movements, the fourth also ends with a gradual disintegration of musical texture in space and time.

No errata were discovered in the score, and Bolcom confirms that he knows of none. Mysteries has not been commercially recorded. Bolcom lists a performance time of seventeen minutes and ten seconds for the entire work, broken down by movement as follows:

The Endless Corridor  [3:35]

Eternal Flight   [2:40]

La lugubre gondola     [5:45]

Dying Star       [5:10]26

Pastoral Drone by George Crumb

Background

George Crumb, born in Charleston, West Virginia in 1929, studied composition at Mason College of Music and Fine Arts (B.M., 1950), the University of Illinois (M.M., 1953), and the University of Michigan (D.M.A., 1959), where his principal composition teacher was Ross Lee Finney. His compositions include chamber, orchestral, vocal, and instrumental works, and he has received many honors, including the 1968 Pulitzer Prize for the orchestral work Echoes of Time and the River. Since 1965 Crumb has been professor of music and composer-in-residence at the University of Pennsylvania.27

The work selected for this article, Pastoral Drone, is Crumb's only solo organ work.28 David Craighead, professor emeritus of organ at the Eastman School of Music, played the official premiere at First Unitarian Church in San Francisco on June 27, 1984, at the national convention of the American Guild of Organists, which had commissioned the work for the occasion.29

Structure

Crumb wrote the following notes about Pastoral Drone in Don Gillespie's book, George Crumb: Profile of a Composer:

Pastoral Drone, commissioned by the American Guild of Organists and composed in the summer of 1982, represents my first essay in the solo organ genre (my Star Child of 1977 included organ as an addition to the orchestral resources).

Pastoral Drone, cast in one continuous movement, was conceived as an evocation of an ancient "open-air" music. The underpinning of the work is provided by relentless drones executed on the organ pedals. The periodical "bending" of the basic drone sound (a lower D-sharp and a higher G-sharp, spaced as an interval of the 11th) announces the principal structural articulations of the work. The drone is overlaid by strident, sharply etched rhythms in the manual parts and the dynamic throughout is sempre fortissimo ("boldly resounding"). The characteristic sound of Pastoral Drone will suggest a kind of colossal musette.30

In the Gillespie book, theorist David Cope writes about Crumb's works from the early 1980s, including Pastoral Drone:

These later works show a progressively more inclusive use of tonality and interesting new approaches to formal organization. Although Crumb's stylistic "fingerprints" are indelibly impressed on every page, one also perceives an ongoing tendency toward new modes of expression.31

Two drones are in Pastoral Drone: a pedal drone based on a perfect eleventh (D-sharp to g-sharp), and a manual drone based on the perfect fifth. The pedal drone continues from beginning to end, interrupted at times by chromatic movement, but always returning to the same interval. The manual drone changes pitch six times, however. These pitch changes delineate the seven main sections of the work.

Each section contains the same three parts: (1) simultaneous pedal and manual drones with ff chromatic clusters constructed from neighboring tones to the drone; (2) a double pedal solo during which the feet move chromatically; and (3) a freely composed part, consisting of rapid manual figuration over the drone bass in the pedal. In sections 2-6 the three parts are presented exactly in that order. In section 1, however, the pedal solo is delayed, occurring in the middle of the manual figuration part. Section 7 is differently ordered, too; it begins with alternating pedal solos and manual figuration, and then concludes with a ff chromatic cluster in both manuals and pedal. Table 3 is a structural outline of the work.

As shown in Table 3, the manual drones, built on the pitches G-sharp, B, D, and F, outline a diminished-seventh chord. The symmetrical structure outlined by these tonal areas forms an arched rondo, with the distinctive manual drone, punctuated by clusters, serving as a ritornello. Besides using the tonal shifts of the manual drone, Crumb emphasizes the symmetrical structure in other ways: (1) quasi danza triplets in sections 3 and 5 flank the central section; (2) the parallel pedal movement from the first section returns, expanded, in the last section; and (3) the order of the parts is skewed in sections 1 and 7, as noted above.

The freely composed parts of each section are improvisatory in character. Each part is based on a unifying rhythm, headmotive, or harmony, and the end of each phrase is dovetailed. For structural material, Crumb uses tritones, perfect fourths in parallel motion, pentatonic sequences and clusters, and both whole-tone scales in simultaneous parallel motion.

The work is in changing compound meter, with only two exceptions to regular compound beats: (1) a single simple beat at m. 44, beat 2; and (2) pedal stop additions that occur on the second half of the simple beat in m. 72, beats 2 and 3, and m. 75, beats 2 and 3. Crumb uses traditional notation for the work, except in mm. 68-69, where a single enlarged accidental affects all five notes of each pentatonic cluster.

Registration

A three-manual instrument is necessary to perform Pastoral Drone. Because the manual compass is F-sharp to c'''', 61-key manuals are recommended. The score indicates three ossia passages (mm. 40-48, 56-58, and 78-84), marked come sopra, that are intended to make the work playable on an instrument with 56-key manuals by playing the passages an octave lower. A 56-key instrument's top key is g''', however, and the pitch a'''--requiring a 58-key compass--occurs in m. 66. In a recent letter, Crumb acknowledges that the pitch a''' was overlooked. He writes: "I was unaware that one note was outside the 56-key range. Perhaps the 56-key notion should be abandoned!"32 Although less common than 56-key instruments, 58-key organs can encompass all pitches, if the performer follows the octave displacement directions in the score.

The same ff registration, listed in the score at the beginning of the work, is needed each time the manual drone ritornello occurs:

            Gt.--full

            Sw.--full with 16'

            Pos.--full

            Ped.--32'16' 8'4'

            No couplers--Sw., Pos./Gt.

At the ritornello, a 16' reed plenum with mixtures is appropriate for the Great manual, with full registrations on the Swell and Positive manuals, too. The pedal drone is marked f sempre. Because the same pedal registration sounds, unaltered, through the first seventy-one measures, it should balance the Swell and Positive manuals, and must not be oppressively loud.

The registration direction "No couplers--Sw., Pos./Gt." is ambiguous at first glance, but apparently refers to the continuous alternation between coupled and uncoupled manuals: the Swell and Positive manuals are coupled to the Great manual during the ff introduction to each section, and then uncoupled for the rest of the time.

Manual changes are clearly marked and should be followed exactly. Additions to the pedal in mm. 72 and 75 are on simple divisions of the compound beat. Table 4 lists an appropriate registration for each section.

If the ossia passages are taken (on an instrument with manuals of fewer than sixty-one keys), the registration must be adjusted to mask the jump to one octave lower (mm. 40-48, 56-58, and 78-84). A footnote in the score that gives directions for this adjustment is unclear, however: "Ossia: play this passage (concluding at *) down one octave without 16' or 8' (come sopra)."33 What it should state is that (1) if 16' stops and couplers are the lowest-pitched stops used in the measure before the ossia, those 16' stops and couplers are removed for the duration of the ossia; or (2) if 8' stops and couplers are the lowest-pitched stops used in the measure before the ossia, those 8' stops and couplers are removed for the duration of the ossia.

Because of the large number of registration changes within the work, an instrument with an adjustable combination action is optimal. Otherwise, the performer will need a console assistant for stop changes.

Interpretation

Clean articulation clearly aids the "precise and sharply etched rhythm" that Crumb prescribes.34 Crisp articulation is particularly necessary in the rapid thirty-second-note figuration that occurs throughout the work. Furthermore, the dynamic, which is never less than f, creates a level of sound that takes time to disperse, particularly in a room that is acoustically live.

Except for the quasi danza parts, the freely composed parts are always introduced by an articulative element that imitates the percussive attack of bagpipes or musettes. Grace notes serve this purpose in sections 1 and 4, mordents in section 2, quintuplets in section 6, and arpeggios in section 7. The grace notes are played before the beat of the principal note; all other figures are played as written. In section 3, a distinction exists, and should be observed, between the dotted and triplet rhythms.

In the final cluster that ends the work, the right thumb has to play three notes at once: f-double-sharp, g-sharp, and a. The tip of the thumb plays the g-sharp, and the base of the thumb plays the two white keys. This maneuver is made more difficult by the position of the hand that is necessary to play seven notes at once.

A tenuto marking occurs at the pentatonic clusters in section 6 (mm. 68-69) and at the arpeggios in section 7 (mm. 73, 76, and 78). The tenuto causes a temporary broadening, and not a dramatic slowing, of the tempo; the passages that flank the tenuto passages are a tempo.

The pedal part is simple; throughout most of the piece, the organist merely holds down the two-note drone. Nevertheless, because of the wide distance between the two notes (a perfect eleventh), the length of time that they must be sounded, and the fact that they must be played by the toes, it is imperative that the organ bench be low enough that relaxed leg weight can be used to maintain the drone. Chromatic movement in the pedal part is marked legatiss. sempre, as opposed to the articulative clarity that is necessary in the manual parts.

C.F. Peters has published two versions of Pastoral Drone. The earlier version is an excellent-quality manuscript reproduction and the later version is typeset. Both are dated 1984, and both have the same cover, title page, and catalog number. Nevertheless, minor revisions in pitch, notation, registration, performance directions, dynamics, and scoring were made for the typeset version.35 Asked about the differences in the two versions, Crumb writes: "The typeset version is the definitive version. I checked the typesetting very carefully (I prepared it myself!)--so I hope there are no errata."36 Table 5 contains a comparison of differences in the two versions.

At the beginning of the manuscript version there are also two short instructions that are not in the typeset version: (1) the beginning registration has the direction "Sw. and Pos. balanced dynamically;" and (2) a footnote on the first page states "All long notes should be full value!"37

Pastoral Drone has not been commercially recorded. Gillespie lists a performance time of eight minutes, but the work is actually only six minutes and twenty seconds in length when played at the tempo indicated in the score.38

Praeludium by Ellen Taaffe Zwilich

Background

Violinist and composer Ellen Taaffe Zwilich, born in Miami, Florida in 1939, graduated from Florida State University and the Juilliard School. Her composition teachers were John Boda, Elliott Carter, and Roger Sessions. Besides becoming the first woman to take a composition D.M.A. degree at Juilliard, Zwilich was also the first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize in music, which was awarded in 1983 for Symphony No. 1. Most of her compositions are chamber and orchestral works, including two symphonies. She has accepted numerous commissions from major orchestras.39

The work selected for this article, Praeludium, is Zwilich's only solo organ work.40 It was commissioned by the Boston chapter of the American Guild of Organists and published in 1987. Organist James David Christie played the premiere at the Church of the Advent in Boston, Massachusetts on May 1, 1988.

Asked in 1993 if she were planning any other organ compositions, Zwilich wrote: "YES! I will be writing a work for chorus and organ for next season, and I'd love to write more--I love the instrument."41 The work, A Simple Magnificat for SATB chorus and organ (1994), has now been completed and published. The premiere was recently performed at the Yale Institute of Sacred Music, which commissioned the work.42

Structure

In the preface to the score of her first symphony, Zwilich describes her approach to composition:

First, I have long been interested in the elaboration of large-scale works from the initial material. This "organic" approach to musical form fascinates me both in the development of the material and in the fashioning of a musical idea that contains the "seeds" of the work to follow.

Second, in my recent works I have been developing techniques that combine modern principles of continuous variation with older (but still immensely satisfying) principles, such as melodic recurrence and clearly defined areas of contrast.43

This organic approach to the composition of Symphony No.1, whose premiere was in 1982, is similar to the organization of Praeludium, published five years later. The opening Maestoso of Praeludium contains the compositional techniques that shape the work: (1) complex harmonies and dense textures that result from piling up thirds; (2) distinctive articulative elements, or headmotives, used to begin melodic lines; and (3) frequent changes in texture.

Brochure notes in a 1986 recording of Zwilich's Symphony No.1 describe the first movement of the symphony, but they also accurately describe the genesis of Praeludium:

Everything in the work arises from the melodic and harmonic implications of the first fifteen bars, music Zwilich says she felt compelled to write. These [evolutions] work up to a sustained allegro that ultimately subsides into an ending as quiet as the beginning. All the most complex harmonies come from piling third upon third upon third.44

Praeludium develops according to the same construct. It contains four continuous sections: Maestoso, Più mosso, Allegro moderato, and Tempo I. Material from the Maestoso is later developed in both the Più mosso and the Allegro moderato. Both the tempo and dynamic increase gradually until the climax (mm. 168-73). The final section, Tempo I, has the tempo and dynamic of the Maestoso. The structural organization of the four sections of Praeludium is illustrated in Table 6.

Registration

In a note to the player, Bolcom writes about the desired instrument for Mysteries: "The object is that this music should be equally effective on any type of organ, large or small, Romantic or Baroque--even on electronic organs."13 Each movement can be performed on a two-manual instrument, although a three-manual instrument is optimum. Because the score rarely indicates crescendos or diminuendos that require expression shades, the work can be performed adequately on an instrument without expressive divisions.

Although a large list of specific stops is not required, two movements recommend registrations that are often unavailable on small instruments. First, "La lugubre gondola" requires a 32' pedal Bourdon, but a footnote indicates that a 16' stop may be substituted if a suitable 32' stop is unavailable. Second, "Dying Star" requires a pp 16' and 2'  stop combination for the Bach chorale harmonization.

Bolcom writes that "registration is largely left to the organist, except for a few suggestions here and there."14 Because of the wide latitude given to the performer, and the variety of acceptable instruments, there are many possible registrations. Table 1 has an appropriate registration for a three-manual instrument.

The beginning of "The Endless Corridor" requires a "cool-sounding" 8' pp stop for each manual and a pp 16' pedal stop.15 The upper voice (right hand) requires a "different color" in m. 10 and the middle voice (left hand) requires a similar substitution in m. 14. The change in timbre can result from substituting a different 8' stop, adding a soft mutation, or substituting a 4' stop and playing an octave lower. It is important to maintain the pp dynamic; therefore stops of significant dynamic contrast should be avoided. The two manual voices return to their original registrations in mm. 18-19, and continue to the end of the movement.

No specific stops are indicated in "Eternal Flight." The opening section (5/1-7/2) requires at least two manuals, one with a pp registration, and the other somewhat louder for the sf material. If three manuals are available, the pp material is divided at random between two of the manuals, as indicated in the score.16 The pedal has to alternate between pp and sf dynamics in the opening section; this switch can be accomplished by quickly coupling soft pedal stops to the Great manual for the sf spots only. The middle section (7/2-8/2) is played on the Great manual alone. For the crescendo to fff and the subsequent diminuendo to pp, the crescendo pedal and other expression pedals may be used; if neither is available, a console assistant can add or remove stops. Registration for the final section (8/2-9/4) is the same as at the beginning, with the exception that the Great manual is not used.

The registration shown in Table 1 for "La lugubre gondola" is specified in the score. For the two manuals, Bolcom wants stops of "different but related color."17 In the pedal, a 32' flue is best, although the piece can be performed with a 16' pedal stop.

"Dying Star" requires an "8' soft flute with much 'chiff' for the flute figuration that continues throughout the movement.18 On a large instrument, a combination of 8' flute stops, instead of a single stop, is often necessary for sufficient dynamic. Registration for the harmonization of An Wasserflüssen Babylon (16/1), is "2' and 16' only--with a distant, otherworldly registration."19 Because of the ppp dynamic, there is often little choice of stops, however. On a large instrument it may be possible to couple manuals together for the desired pitch combination and timbre. The same chorale registration is coupled to the pedal, because the chorale cannot be played on manuals alone. The 4' pedal stop that was added for the "subliminal" chorale melody at the beginning of the movement (13/1-15/1) is removed before the chorale harmonization begins.

Double pedal technique is necessary for all movements except the first. In addition, pedal clusters are in "Eternal Flight" and "La lugubre gondola." Because of the slow tempos, however, the clusters are easy to play. The pedal clusters in "Eternal Flight" have to be carefully practiced, nevertheless; some require awkward positions--the C to E-flat interval played by the left foot in 8/4, for example.

Interpretation

Because of the programmatic theme of Mysteries, each movement should be interpreted in a way that is consistent with the text associations. For example, in the trio "The Endless Corridor," Bolcom creates the aural impression of three slowly moving, endlessly drifting voices. No tonal, motivic, or rhythmic relationships exist between the voices, no suggestion of cadence or phrase structure occurs, and the angularity of the voices discourages melodic perception.

The rhythm of "The Endless Corridor" is played precisely as written; because the irregular motion of the voices has been created rhythmically, further rubato is unnecessary and contrary to the character of the movement. Legato articulation further enhances the intentional monotony. Selection of thinly voiced, distant-sounding stops is consistent with the "cool-sounding" stops mentioned in the score. Slight shading with expression pedals is appropriate at locations indicated in the score.

In contrast to the precisely notated rhythm of the first movement, the spatial rhythmic notation in "Eternal Flight" allows considerable freedom in rhythmic interpretation. Creating a sense of immense space is important at the beginning, with a certain unpredictability when the pointillistic staccato clusters are played. Near the end of the opening section (6/3-7/1), the clusters and figuration become more densely packed, as if drifting closer and closer in space; the increased density should not be perceived by the listener as an increase in tempo, however. Bolcom indicates short accelerandos at irregular intervals by using arrows (----> ).

A series of ritardando arrows ( <----) reduce the tempo at the beginning of the middle section of "Eternal Flight" (7/2). The middle section has the broadest tempo, the thickest texture, the longest note values, and the loudest dynamic of the movement. The legato, parallel clusters in this section require a considerable amount of finger substitution, but the long note values allow sufficient time.

The third section of the movement (8/2-9/4) reverses the motion of the first section in a gradual process of disintegration: (1) clusters that are at first close together become spaced farther and farther apart; (2) the dynamic decreases; (3) pitch becomes gradually lower; and (4) texture thins to single notes. The performer helps to communicate the disintegration by allowing playing gestures to become gradually slower, to the point that notes in the final few systems are gently pressed down. If the console is in view of the audience, it is vital that the performer not relax his/her body posture, so that intensity is maintained during the increasingly longer periods of silence between the final notes.

"La lugubre gondola" has a stifling, airless quality created by the long note values, low pitches, and pauses of various lengths. Although the movement is almost entirely unmetered, the note values are relative, and must be played precisely in rhythm. Because of the difficulty in counting the long note values, the performer can count quarter notes, at the rate of one per second, as a basic pulse, and write the number of quarter-note pulses over each note in the score as listed in Table 2.20

The comma symbols used for the long pauses of varying lengths are unexplained in the score. The same symbols appear, however, in a previous Bolcom work, Hydraulis, and are defined in a foreword as "pauses, ranging from long to very short, depending mainly on context of the passage." In a recent letter, Bolcom confirmed that the Hydraulis pauses also apply to Mysteries.21

The eighth-note figuration that appears in the metered middle section of the movement (11/2-11/3) is played with light, elegant articulation. In the unmetered final section (11/3-11/4), playing gestures become increasingly slower; intensity must be maintained during the pauses, though.

The title "La lugubre gondola" is from an 1882 piano piece of the same name by Franz Liszt. Liszt had the inspiration for the piece while watching funeral processions by gondola through the Venetian canals, when he was staying with Richard Wagner and Cosima (Liszt's daughter, who had married Wagner) in Venice. Anecdotally, Liszt abruptly quit working on his final oratorio and wrote two versions of La lugubre gondola in December 1882, after he had a strange presentiment--presumably of Wagner's impending death. Irrespectively, Wag-ner died in Venice two months later, and his body was borne by gondola in the funeral procession.22 Although not widely performed, several pianists have recorded the piano piece La lugubre gondola, No. 1; listening to such recordings is helpful in establishing the mood of the Bolcom movement, because the central, metered section of the Bolcom movement quotes the Liszt work.

"Dying Star" begins with thirty-second-note flute figuration marked "legato, even throughout."23 A more detached articulation is appropriate, however, if the room is acoustically live or if the selected flute does not have enough chiff for articulative clarity. Nevertheless, the articulation should not be a mechanical staccato.

The thirty-second-note figuration in the right-hand part continues to the end of the movement, and it is impossible to play all four voices of the An Wasserflüssen Babylon chorale fragments (beginning at 16/1) in the left hand alone. It is therefore necessary for the pedal, coupled to the manual, to play the tenor and bass voices of the chorale. Articulation for the chorale is molto legato for both manual and pedal parts. Bolcom commented on the significance of An Wasserflüssen Babylon to this movement: "That chorale prelude always gave a chilling intimation of eternity; I could imagine a dead Earth with some eternal record[ing] of it [An Wasserflüssen Babylon] playing (or a ghostly organist)."24

During the long blocks of silence (beginning at 16/4 and continuing to the end of the movement) it is important to follow Bolcom's instructions: "These pauses are exactly timed--be sure to remain physically suspended during them so that the tension is not lost."25 As in the second and third movements, the fourth also ends with a gradual disintegration of musical texture in space and time.

No errata were discovered in the score, and Bolcom confirms that he knows of none. Mysteries has not been commercially recorded. Bolcom lists a performance time of seventeen minutes and ten seconds for the entire work, broken down by movement as follows:

The Endless Corridor  [3:35]

Eternal Flight   [2:40]

La lugubre gondola     [5:45]

Dying Star       [5:10]26

lists stops suggested in the score for a three-manual organ.

Because the Trompette en chamade 8' is used as a solo stop against the full Great manual, the stop is most convenient on a secondary manual or floating division. If a chamade is unavailable, another loud trumpet or combination of reeds can be substituted. For the last pedal notes in the work, a 32' Bourdon is effective, although a footnote in the score indicates that a 16' Bourdon may be substituted, if necessary.46

Interpretation

 

In the preface to the score, Christie writes: "Praeludium was conceived in the spirit of the 17th-century North German 'Stylus phantasticus' and is to be performed as a fantasia with interpretive spontaneity and much freedom. The articulations are indicated to encourage clarity in all lines and textures."47 Besides working for clarity, the performer should observe the tempo markings in the score. As illustrated in Table 6, the tempo increases at major structural posts until the climax of the work (mm. 168-72).

A vocal 16' principal is specified in the score for the short pedal solo at the beginning of the Maestoso; if the principal is unavailable, 16' and 8' flutes are substituted. The pedal voices should be articulated cleanly, with attention paid to agogic accents that are marked above or below some of the notes. The molto legato marking in m. 3 applies to stepwise movement in m. 3 and mm. 8-10. Because of the wide leaps in double- and triple-pedal textures, an entirely legato articulation is impossible.

The pedal solo is followed by a section of densely textured harmonies that arise gradually out of piled-up thirds. The aural effect of piling up thirds is one of individual melodic lines coalescing into a chord; this recurrent compositional technique serves as a unifying characteristic of the work. During the process, the gradual change from Choir manual to Great manual in mm. 15-18 requires the left hand to "thumb up" to the Great manual while simultaneously holding three notes on the Choir manual. Depending on the instrument and the location of the manuals, it may be possible during this section to "thumb down" to the Great manual from the manual above, thus making this manual change less difficult.

The pedal motive at the beginning of the Più mosso is marked non legato, but the sixteenth notes should be given sufficient length for the pedal reeds to speak. The low pedal thirds in mm. 34-47 can be played by the left foot alone. In mm. 50-55, the accel. poco a poco increases the tempo to 112; restraint is necessary, however, because of a natural tendency to accelerate too much during the long note values. The right-hand part in mm. 62-64 is played one octave lower if the instrument has a short upper octave.

The climactic section, Allegro moderato, is a fugato that contrapuntally combines its subject with motives from the first two sections of Praeludium. Articulation of the staccatos and slurs in this section should be observed exactly as marked in the score. At m. 153 the Trompette en chamade may be coupled to the Great manual to achieve the fff dynamic. Alternatively, additional intramanual couplers or a sfz mechanism can be used.

Three short passages in the third section (mm. 131-34, 153-56, and 160-63) are marked: "Omit upper notes if not available."48 Even if the upper notes are available, though, it may be necessary to omit them if the sound is too overbearing. The extreme dissonance, in combination with full organ and high register, is excessively loud on some instruments.

At the climax in mm. 168-72 it is necessary for the left thumb to take the top two notes of the left-hand chord, because of the thirteen-voice texture at that point. Also, a meter change from 4/2 to 4/4 occurs in mm. 171-74; the note values remain constant, however. At m. 174 the pedal has to be reduced quickly from fff to subito mp.

Finally, the short closing section, Tempo I, serves as a soft codetta to Praeludium. In m. 185 the final pedal interval, a perfect octave, has the instruction: "32' Bd. alone or play the lowest 'A' on Bd. 16' only."49 Another possibility, however, is to play the pitches A and e on the 16' Bourdon; the resultant harmonic produces the desired 32' tone.

The score has one error: Page 6, Measure 81, Beat 2: the sharp in the bass clef should precede the F, not the A.

Praeludium has not been commercially recorded. The performance time is approximately eight minutes, if played at the score tempos.   

Notes

 

            1.         George Ritchie and George Stauffer, Organ Technique: Modern and Early (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1992), 304.

            2.         Marilou Kratzenstein, Survey of Organ Literature and Editions (Ames, Iowa: Iowa State University Press, 1980), 190.

            3.         Viktor Lukas, A Guide to Organ Music, 5th ed., ed. Reinhard G. Pauly, trans. Anne Wyburd (Portland, Oregon: Amadeus Press, 1989), 229.

            4.         John Woodford, "His Night at the Opera," Michigan Today 24, no. 4 (December 1992): 1-3.

            5.         Michael Lawrence Mazzatenta, "The Gospel Preludes of William Bolcom" (D.M.A. diss., Arizona State University, 1991), 95; William Bolcom, Letter to this writer, October 20, 1993; Id., Gospel Preludes, Book Three (New York: Edward B. Marks, 1994).

            6.         William Bolcom, Mysteries (New York: Edward B. Marks, 1981).

            7.         "Hartt Contemporary Organ Music Festival," The American Organist 14, no. 7 (July 1980): 22.

            8.         Bolcom, Mysteries, 1.

            9.         Ibid., 2.

            10.       Lukas, 238.

            11.       The symbol 11/2-11/3 refers to page 11, system 2 and page 11, system 3 of the score. All score references to movements 2, 3, and 4 of Mysteries, which are unmetered, will use this system.

            12.       Bolcom, Mysteries, 16.

            13.       Ibid., 2.

            14.       Ibid.

            15.       Ibid.

            16.       Ibid., 5-6.

            17.       Ibid, 10.

            18.       Ibid., 12.

            19.       Ibid., 15.

            20.       A footnote on page ten of the score defines a stemmed double whole note as two times as long as a double whole note.

            21.       William Bolcom, Hydraulis (New York: Edward B. Marks, 1976), 2; Id., Letter to this writer, October 20, 1993.

            22.       Stanley Sadie, ed., The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians (London: Macmillan and Co., 1980), s.v. "Liszt, Franz," §4: Rome and the last years, by Humphrey Searle.

            23.       Bolcom, Mysteries, 12.

            24.       Bolcom, Letter to this writer, October 20, 1993.

            25.       Bolcom, Mysteries, 16.

            26.       Ibid., 2.

            27.       H. Wiley Hitchcock and Stanley Sadie, eds., The New Grove Dictionary of American Music (London: Macmillan Press, 1986), s.v. "Crumb, George," by Edith Borroff.

            28.       George Crumb, Pastoral Drone (New York: C.F. Peters, 1984).

            29.       Byron Belt, "AGO National Convention San Francisco 1984," TAO 18, no. 8 (August 1984): 29.

            30.       George Crumb, "Annotated Chronological List of Works," in George Crumb: Profile of a Composer, ed. Don Gillespie (New York: C. F. Peters, 1986), 112.

            31.       David Cope, "Biography," in George Crumb: Profile of a Composer, 14-15.

            32.       Crumb, Letter to this writer, Oct. 14, 1993.

            33.       Crumb, Pastoral Drone, 9.

            34.       Crumb, Pastoral Drone, 4.

            35.       References to the score in the text of this article are to the later, typeset version.

            36.       Crumb, Letter to this writer, Oct. 14, 1993.

            37.       Crumb, Pastoral Drone (manuscript version), 3.

            38.       George Crumb, "Annotated Chronological List of Works," in George Crumb: Profile of a Composer, 112; Two hundred seventy-nine total beats divided by forty-four beats per minute equals 6.34 minutes.

            39.       Hitchcock, s.v. "Zwilich, Ellen Taaffe."

            40.       Ellen Taaffe Zwilich, Praeludium (Hillsdale, New York: Mobart Music Publications, 1987).

            41.       Zwilich, Letter to this writer, October 21, 1993.          

            42.       Zwilich, Telephone conversation with this writer, April 24, 1995.

            43.       Richard Dyer, brochure notes for Ellen Taaffe Zwilich: Symphony No. 1, New World Records NW336-2, 4.

            44.       Ibid., 5.

            45.       Zwilich, Praeludium, 2.

            46.       Ibid., 11.

            47.       Ibid., 2.

            48.       Ibid., 9-10.

            49.       Ibid., 11.

This article will be continued.

by Peter Hardwick

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

 

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

Organ Music

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A New Series of Organ Music Established by MorningStar Music Publishers

Marilyn Biery

Marilyn Biery, DMA, AAGO, is Associate Director of Music at the Cathedral of St. Paul in St. Paul, Minnesota. An ardent supporter of composers and performer of new music, she has collaborated with Libby Larsen, Stephen Paulus, David Evan Thomas, James Hopkins, Pamela Decker, and others. She is editor of the new Concert Organ Music Series at MorningStar Music. Biery earned Bachelor and Master of Music degrees in organ from Northwestern University, and her Doctorate from the University of Minnesota.

It was a frustrating two years of hopeful submissions and
disappointing rejections. Imagine--you are a performer and enthusiast of
new music and you have just been given the greatest gift: a piece of music
written and dedicated to you! You so emphatically believe this composition
should be shared with the world that you do everything you can to find the
piece a publisher, only to be told that it is “a wonderful piece that
won’t sell” or “beautifully written, but the sales it would generate
in today’s market wouldn’t offset the cost of printing it.”

In the spring of 1999, Jim (Biery) and I were given the gift
of an organ duet by one of our composer friends, David Evan Thomas of St. Paul.
Written in the Dust is a symphony for organ duet, written by a versatile composer
whose works have been performed by the Minnesota Orchestra and the Minnesota
Opera, who is Composer-in-Residence at the Schubert Club in St. Paul, and whose
undergraduate years of study at Northwestern University included organ lessons
with Robert Delcamp, currently University Organist at University of the South
in Sewanee, Tennessee. Written in the Dust is
a semi-programmatic work based on the scripture story from John 8: 3-11
about the woman who is caught in adultery, whose punishment was to be stoned
for her sin. Jim and I are convinced that Thomas’ duet is one of the
finest examples of literature written for the genre. We were so excited about Written
in the Dust that after the premiere, I
started sending it off to various publishers for consideration. I tried
publishers in the United States, England and France. All were very impressed
with the work; none agreed to publish it.

In the fall of 2001, I broached my frustration to Mark
Lawson, President of MorningStar Music Publishers. MorningStar was founded in
1987 by Rodney Schrank; in 1997 Mark Lawson became president and has continued
the MorningStar tradition of publishing quality music with particular emphasis
on choral, organ and handbell music. Not only did Lawson agree to publish it,
he suggested that we start a series of music that would fit into this category:
Concert Organ Series at MorningStar. The series would include pieces that were
not composed for worship (although some portions or movements could be used as
such), that would be primarily non-chorale based, more virtuosic, more
extended, and more developed than the music currently published by the houses
which promote (primarily sacred) organ music in the United States today. Lawson
says: “I would like this series to encourage composers to continue to
create concert works, and MorningStar will endeavor to make them available to
those interested in obtaining them.”

The reason that Lawson could suggest such a project without
as much concern for its potential to return the publisher’s investment is
that his investment is minimal. Technology today has made it practical for
composers to print their own publisher-ready scores using a computer program,
and therefore submit camera-ready copy. Some publishers use this system often,
others still have their own engraver convert the computer file so that it
matches their other printed scores. In the case of MorningStar, Lawson decided
to ask each Concert Organ Series composer to submit their score camera-ready,
and then MorningStar would print the copies as needed instead of committing to
a set number of printed copies.

What Lawson has done with the formation of this series is to
make a commitment to supporting composers who are writing for the organ as a
concert instrument, by advertising and making their works available through his
catalog of music for the church. Since the beginnings of the idea in 2001, the
catalog has grown to include music by Herb Bielawa, James Biery, Emma Lou
Diemer, Charles Hoag, James Hopkins, Robert Sirota, David Evan Thomas, and
others.

Emma Lou Diemer, 1995 AGO Composer of the Year, has had
numerous collections of organ pieces published.  In addition to her organ music, Diemer has written many
works for orchestra, chamber ensemble, solo voice, choir and electronic tape. She
has received an ASCAP award for publications and performances annually since
1962. Diemer says of the Concert Series: “This venture by MorningStar is
producing a treasury of new music that every concert organist will want to
delve into.”1

Herb Bielawa is a free-lance composer and pianist, married
to organist Sandra Soderlund. He has written music for instrumental ensembles,
piano, harpsichord, organ, choir, electronics, chamber opera, band and
orchestra. Bielawa recently remarked on the MorningStar series:
“MorningStar’s new series is certainly a beacon in a very dark sky.
Their bravery in embarking on this kind of project to support serious classical
music is truly laudable.”2

James Hopkins, Professor of Music Composition at the
University of Southern California, whose compositions have been performed by
the National Symphony, Denver Symphony, Los Angeles Philharmonic, Seattle
Symphony, Pacific Symphony, Fine Arts Quartet, the Western Arts Trio and the
Washington Choral Society, has received commissions from the National Endowment
for the Arts, Pasadena Chamber Orchestra and the American Guild of Organists.
Hopkins says: “I am very pleased that MorningStar provides an outlet for
music which, because of its technical demands, duration, or other elements will
necessarily not have a large commercial market. Nevertheless, this music, I
hope, merits serious attention by those whose abilities and performance venues
make these compositions entirely appropriate.”3

John Nuechterlein, President and Chief Executive Officer at
the American Composers Forum, based at the home office in St. Paul, is
supportive and enthusiastic about MorningStar’s new series: “Three
cheers to MorningStar for taking this giant leap forward. New work is critical
for the long-term health of the repertoire, and the Concert Organ Series will
offer a visible showcase for the best literature being written for organ
today.”4

Libby Larsen, American composer and tireless advocate for
contemporary music and musicians, says: “To challenge ourselves with the
compelling poetic voices of our time is really the only choice for serious
students and performers of the organ.”5

This new series deserves to thrive under the good will and
support of organists at all levels of experience and technical expertise. Organists
can support this project by collecting these scores either for performance or
for personal libraries of organ music. The list of pieces currently offered by
MorningStar on the Concert Series follows, with some description of each work.

MorningStar Concert Organ Series list of works

Organ Solo:

A Diet of Worms, Michael Horvit

Subtitled “An Entertainment for All Hallows Eve and
Other Cheery Occasions,” A Diet of Worms was written for the first annual
“Monster Concert” of the Houston Chapter of the American Guild of
Organists, held on Halloween night 1979. The title is a play on words, relating
to the two main themes employed in the work. The main body of the piece is a
passacaglia based on the children’s song “The worms crawl in, the
worms crawl out” (the tune from Paul Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s
Apprentice). The other important theme is the chant melody Dies Irae from the
pre-Vatican II Requiem Mass, which Hector Berlioz used as the “Witches
Sabbath” theme in his Symphonie fantastique. In the composer’s mind,
this made a connection to the medieval Church conclave, the Diet of Worms.

h2>Celestial Wind, Robert Sirota

In composing Celestial Wind, Sirota was inspired to write a
brilliant toccata based upon Acts 2:2-3:

And suddenly there came a sound from heaven of a rushing and
mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting.

And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire,
and it sat upon each of them.

Sirota’s aim was not merely to imitate the sound of
rushing wind and flames, but to also evoke the sense of awe and ecstasy that
must have been felt by Jesus’ disciples at this manifestation of the Holy
Spirit. (Example 1)

Cityscape, Morgan Simmons

Cityscape dates from 1992 and was composed for inclusion in
an organ recital of Chicago composers as part of the Fourth Presbyterian
Church’s annual Festival of the Arts. The theme of that year’s
festival was “Faces of the City.” This three-movement work, which
depicts facets of the city, is based on a three-note descending scale (C-B-A),
the opening notes of the popular song, “Chicago, Chicago, That
Toddlin’ Town.” Coincidentally, this same melodic sequence marks
the beginning of Old Hundredth, and a citation of that melody occurs in the
third movement. The Fourth Presbyterian Church is located on the part of North
Michigan Avenue which is known as “The Magnificent Mile.” Each of
its Sunday morning services begins with the singing of Old Hundredth, sung to
the text of the Doxology. The first performance of Cityscape was played by
David Schrader, to whom it is dedicated.

Overture to Coriolan, op. 62, Ludwig van Beethoven, arranged
for organ by James Biery

Beethoven composed nine symphonies, eleven overtures, a
violin concerto and five piano concertos, sixteen string quartets, nine piano
trios, ten violin sonatas and five cello sonatas, thirty large piano sonatas,
an oratorio, an opera, two Masses, and numerous smaller pieces, but only one
curious work for the pipe organ, an odd little Prelude which passes through all
the major keys. In 1824 Beethoven wrote to Freudenberg, an organist from
Breslau, “I, too, played the organ frequently in my youth, but my nerves
could not withstand the power of this gigantic instrument. I should place an
organist who is master of his instrument at the very head of all
virtuosi.”6 The opening unison C’s and exclamatory chords of the
Coriolan overture, each followed by some of the most resounding rests in all of
music literature, allow the magnificent King of Instruments to add its own
voice to Beethoven’s powerful music.

Deux Danses, James Hopkins

Hopkins’ Deux Danses for organ was composed in 1983
and was premiered by James Walker at the AGO Far-Western Regional convention in
June of that year. The titles for each of the dances were suggested by two
legends from Greek mythology. The title of the first dance, Mirror of Medusa,
refers to the tale of the Medusa. She was one of the three fearsome monsters
called Gorgons. Her body was covered with scales, her hair was a mass of
twisting snakes, and whoever looked at her turned into stone. In the legend,
Medusa was slain by the Greek hero Perseus, who used a shield of polished
bronze as a mirror with which to see her. The title of the second dance, The
Circle of Bacchants, refers to the followers of Bacchus, the God of Wine. The
Bacchants, being frenzied with wine, rushed through the wilderness
“uttering shrill cries and performing frightful deeds.” (Example 2)

Fantasy on Cortège et Litanie of Marcel Dupré,
James Hopkins

The Fantasy on Cortège et Litanie of Marcel
Dupré was composed in 1986 as a solo piece for concert organist Cherry
Rhodes and first performed by her in October, 1989, at Grace Cathedral, San
Francisco. Because of the very orchestral nature of the writing, the composer
decided in 1994 to recast the work in a second version for small orchestra. The
Fantasy is based on the two main themes of the well-known work Cortège
et Litanie of Dupré. Even though one or both of these themes is almost
always present in some form, there is in fact no direct quotation from the
original work. The harmonic style, while incorporating some fairly dissonant
combinations, nevertheless retains Dupré’s original E major tonal
framework. The first part of the Fantasy consists of several short sections
that evoke a vague, dream-like atmosphere. After a brief cadenza, the
rhythmically driving central portion of the work is heard. A short
recapitulation of earlier material and a final triumphant outburst bring the
Fantasy to a joyous conclusion. Hopkins’ Fantasy won first prize in an
international composition contest sponsored by the Los Angeles Chapter of the
AGO.

Five Pipe Organ Adventures, Herbert Bielawa

This set of relatively short organ pieces dates from 1993
and was written for specific groups of musicians: those who have recently
become interested in the pipe organ, those who have yet to discover it and
those who are intrigued by the pieces themselves. The Adventures were composed
with a capable keyboard player in mind, with minimal skill or experience
playing pedals. The pedal parts are fairly basic and undemanding. The number of
pedal notes in Adventures is limited, changing foot position occurs when manual
activity is minimal, and occasionally no pedal is required at all.

Four Biblical Settings, Emma Lou Diemer

This major work was commissioned by the Ventura, California
chapter of the AGO. The four movements feature a variety of styles, including
minimalism, rhythmic innovation, and subtle dissonances. It was premiered on
June 30, 1993 by Sandra Soderlund in Santa Barbara. The movements are based on
Psalm 90, Psalm 121, Isaiah 11:1 and Isaiah 35:1. The first movement is in a
minimalist style and is innovative in the way that the increments in
“volume” of the crescendo pedal are used not only for drama but to
define the phrase structure of the movement and to express the imagery in Psalm
90. The second movement (Psalm 121) has expressive, upward bending lines. The
third movement (Isaiah 11) weaves in the chorale “Jesu, meine
Freude.” The last movement (Isaiah 35) is characteristically joyful and
rhythmic in its use of various groupings of eighth-note patterns. (Example 3)

Metopes, James Hopkins

Commissioned by the Far West Regional Convention of the
American Guild of Organists, Metopes was composed in the summer of 1990 and
first performed by Cherry Rhodes in June 1991. The work consists of two
extended movements, Arachne’s Web and The Gift of Nessus. These are
connected by the brief “Interlude,” for pedals alone, which serves
to unite the two by motivic transformation. The title Metopes is the
architectural term that refers to the sculptured marble slabs between the
triglyphs of a frieze. These spaces were frequently decorated in low relief
with depictions of scenes from classical Greek mythology.

Arachne’s Web refers to the story of the maiden
Arachne, a mortal who was exceedingly skilled in the art of weaving. She
unwisely challenged the goddess Minerva to a contest. Minerva was greatly
displeased by Arachne’s obviously greater skill at weaving. To punish
Arachne for her impudence, Minerva transfigured Arachne into a spider that
hangs by its own thread. Musically, an almost constant stream of descending
thirds depicts the weaving while above it an ever more ornate melody is spun
out. An angry outburst terminates the melodic elaboration, and the movement
ends quietly with the opening material.

The Gift of Nessus relates to the story of the centaur Nessus
who attempted to run away with Dejanira, the wife of Hercules. Hercules heard
her cries and shot the centaur in the heart. The dying Centaur told Dejanira to
take a portion of his blood and keep it to be used later as a charm to preserve
the love of her husband. Dejanira did so and before long had occasion to use
it. In one of his conquests Hercules had taken prisoner a fair maiden, named
Iole, of whom Dejanira became jealous. When Hercules was about to offer
sacrifices to the gods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white
robe to use on the occasion. Dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to try
her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of Nessus. As soon as the
garment became warm on the body of Hercules, the poison penetrated into all his
limbs and caused him the most intense agony. The garment stuck to his flesh and
as he wrenched it off, he tore away whole pieces of his body. This movement
begins in a low register as a slow dance with menacing sounds. As the music
gradually moves higher, the dance becomes more complex and animated. A quiet
middle portion that develops the material heard thus far provides a foil to the
dramatic and agonized final dance episode.

Of Things Hoped For, David Evan Thomas

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the
evidence of things not seen,” writes Paul in his letter to the Hebrews.
Thomas’ two-part work is based on the idea of faith; the experience of
writing a piece on such a subject enabled Thomas to express his own thoughts:
“Faith and I have an uneasy dialogue, since my own faith is so . . .
mercurial. But just as the act of writing a letter is the quickest way to draw
a friend close, the meditation of writing music often makes the ineffable
concrete. I found when all the notes were down that a reverent murmur had grown
into a crowning shout of praise. Paul’s words came to mind, and thus a
title.”

Of Things Hoped For begins with a modest arching phrase,
supported by a descending pedal line. The ensuing meditation develops a new
melismatic idea along with toccata elements, leading to a grand statement. A
dance follows, based on the melisma, which stretches and flips the material.
The little bass line from the opening reasserts itself as a soprano tune, first
in a quiet B-major episode, then--triumphantly and in D major--in the
trumpet. The two movements may be performed together, or may stand alone; they
would work well in a worship setting. Marilyn Biery commissioned Thomas to
write this work in honor of James Biery’s birthday in 2001; it was
premiered by James in May 2001, at the Cathedral of St. Paul in St. Paul,
Minnesota. (Example 4)

Organ Booklet, Herbert Bielawa

The movements in Bielawa’s Organ Booklet are
essentially etudes modeled upon the various “Organbooks” in
history. It was from Bach’s term Orgelbüchlein that he drew the
title for these organ etudes. Bielawa set himself the task of making use of the
classical major and minor triads and manipulating them in unusual ways. The
challenge was to create a fresh marriage of familiar triads with unfamiliar and
unexpected developmental procedures. Whereas the triads are from antiquity,
their combination is from the present.

Prologue, Reflection and Jubilation on York, James Biery

In Biery’s search for possible material on which to
base this commission for The Congregational Church of Green’s Farms,
Westport, Connecticut, he came across the hymn “O Lord, Almighty God, Thy
Works.” The history of the text coupled with the quirky angularity of the
melody proved irresistible. The hymn was one of several “hymns and
spiritual songs” found in the third edition (1651) of the Bay Psalm Book.
The Bay Psalm Book was published by the Congregationalist settlers in the
Massachusetts Bay Colony; in 1640 it was the first book published in English in
North America. “O Lord, Almighty God” was popularly known as
“The Song of Moses and the Lamb” and was sung at the first great
council of Congregational Churches in New England, the Cambridge Synod of 1648.
The hymn is sung to the tune York, which is one of the twelve Common Tunes from
the Scottish Psalter of 1615. At one time in England it was second only to Old
Hundredth in popularity.

Even though the Prologue, Reflection, and Jubilation is
based on the tune York, the entire melody is not heard until the third movement.
The Prologue is a tribute to one of Biery’s favorite 20th century
composers, Maurice Duruflé. The running figuration heard throughout is
built upon the first four notes of the hymn. The main theme, played on the
string stops, begins with the ascending triad of the opening phrase of the hymn
(transformed to the minor mode).

The first movement melts into the second, a serene
“Reflection.” Once again the melodic line begins with the first
four notes of York.

An improvisatory recitative passage leads into the final
“Jubilation.” This movement pays homage to Calvin Hampton, the
gifted and innovative New York composer who died in 1984 at the age of
forty-six. Again the rising triadic motive is prominent, now in the major key.
The hymntune is first heard in the pedal part, and then triumphantly in a final
grand statement. (Example 5)

Psalm 151, Emma Lou Diemer

Psalm 151 was commissioned by Joan DeVee Dixon in 1998 in
honor of Alvin Broyles. The piece moves restlessly with sixteenth-note
figuration, punctuated by melodic ideas that alternate between the hands. Psalm
151 builds to a dramatic close in which an A major chord emerges from the
contrasting sonorities and is sustained full organ to the end. (Psalm 151 is one
of the non-canonical psalms found in the Dead Sea Scrolls at Quamran.)

Scherzo, Emma Lou Diemer

Scherzo was written in 1996 in honor of Carolyn and David
Gell and for the dedication of the Schulmerich Carillon at Trinity Episcopal
Church in Santa Barbara. The piece is mostly for manuals, and sections of it
may be played with various bell sounds contrasting to light organ
registrations. It is in the style of a traditional scherzo, bouncy and bright
in character.

Six Chorale Preludes on Ton-y- Botel, Herbert Bielawa

In Giocoso, the tune is in the pedal for several measures
but turns into a fugal subject in partial imitation. In Cantilena the tune is
embedded inside the staccato “peppering” of the texture. Canone
Doppio is a double canon with fragments of the tune in the pedal. Cadenza is a
flourish for the pedals where the tune is laced into the rush of sixteenth
notes with a few commentaries on the manuals. Preghiera is a prayer in which
very delicate flakes of sound accompany the pedal, which presents the tune.
Maestoso is a grand finale with the tune appearing in the manuals and pedal
alternately. (Example 6)

T.S. Eliot Impressions, Dennis Bergin

T.S. Eliot Impressions (Set 1) was inspired by the four
“Ariel” poems of T.S. Eliot. The poems are entitled “Journey
of the Magi,” “A Song for Simeon,” “Animula,” and
“Marina.” Colorful organ registrations, late twentieth-century
musical language and references to other organ works and chant melodies are
employed in this musical representation of Eliot’s poetry. The poems
mark, in part, Eliot’s conversion experience to orthodox Christianity.
The spiritual theme of T.S. Eliot Impressions is that of a journey from
darkness to light and from despair to hope.

Organ duet, two players, one console:

Auld Lang Syne, Eugene Thayer, edited by Robert C. Mann

The organ works of Eugene Thayer are not widely known today.
Thayer (1838-1889) was a well-known and highly respected organ
recitalist, pedagogue, composer and church musician who held church positions
in Massachusetts and New York. Robert C. Mann has provided this edition of
Thayer’s duet on Auld Lang Syne, which Thayer transcribed for duet from
one of his solo compositions. Thayer used duets as teaching pieces: he would
play the secondo part and his student would play the primo part. Unfortunately,
this duet is printed with each performer having their own score, making it
necessary to have an organ with a wide music desk in order to fit both scores
on it.

Evensong, Charles Callahan

Both of the Callahan duets in the MorningStar Concert Series
were commissioned by Raymond and Elizabeth Chenault. Evensong was premiered in
May of 1987 at the Spoleto Festival in Charleston, South Carolina. It is based
on two evening hymns: Tallis’ Canon and Ar Hyd y Nos. Evensong is quiet in
nature and uncomplicated in texture.

Largo ma non tanto, J. S. Bach, transcribed for organ duet
by James Biery

Biery has transcribed the middle movement of the Bach
Concerto in D minor for Two Violins, BWV 1043, for organ duet. This duet
requires the secondo player to sit in the middle of the bench to play the
ripieno part (which uses pedals), and the primo player to sit off to the right
side in order to play the two solo parts (manuals only). (Example 7)

Ragtime, Charles Callahan

Ragtime was also premiered in 1987 at the Spoleto Festival
by the Chenaults. The title of this piece conveys the compositional style of
this lively and colorful duet.

Psalm Variations, James Hopkins

Psalm Variations was composed originally in the spring and
summer of 2000 for orchestra. The piece was reworked in the summer of 2002 for
organ duet, and is dedicated to Marilyn and James Biery.

Psalm Variations is based on the American folk melody
Resignation. This melody is most often associated with the text “My
Shepherd Will Supply My Need,” a metrical paraphrase of Psalm 23 by Isaac
Watts (1674-1748). Although Psalm Variations is not a religious piece,
the variations do follow the flow of the text.

Written in the Dust, David Evan Thomas

Written in the Dust by David Evan Thomas was inspired by an
address given at the First Unitarian Society of Minneapolis in November 1998 by
the Rev. Dr. Kendyl Gibbons, Minister of the Society. Gibbons’ address
focused on the biblical story from John about the woman, caught in adultery,
whose punishment was to be stoned for her sin (John 8: 3-11). Jesus said
to the crowd “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to
throw a stone at her,”  and
then he dismissed her, saying, “Go and sin no more.” The
semi-programmatic movements of Written in the Dust are entitled “Jesus,
the Woman and the Pharisees” (verses 3-6), “The Writing in
the Dust” (6-8), and “Go, and sin no more”
(9-11). Written in the Dust contains all the ingredients which make this
a masterful, virtuosic work for duet: a brilliant pedal cadenza, “pedal
fans” in the outer movements, motives which are started by one player and
finished by the other, ranges of motion for each player that cover the keyboards,
fast figuration, conversational passing back-and-forth of musical ideas, and
elegant, lyrical writing. All combined, they enable Written in the Dust to tell
a compelling musical story. It was premiered in October 1999 by Marilyn and
James Biery at the Cathedral of St. Paul in St. Paul, Minnesota. (Example 8)

Duet, two organs:

Chantasy, James Hopkins

Chantasy for two organs was a commission from Mount Angel
Abbey, St. Benedict, Oregon, in thanksgiving for the two recently installed
Martin Ott organs. It was premiered by Cherry Rhodes and Ladd Thomas on October
17, 1999 in the Abbey. Hopkins calls it a “chant fantasy” on the
Kyrie and Sanctus of the Missa Cum Jubilo. Much of the harmonic language of
Chantasy is reminiscent of the music of Maurice Duruflé. (Example 9)

Voluntary for Antiphonal Organs, James Biery

The Voluntary for Antiphonal Organs was composed for and
first performed at the 1988 National Convention of the Organ Historical Society
in San Francisco. The piece is constructed using the standard sonata form with
a brief slow introduction.

Organ with instrument:

Divertimento (string quartet), Charles Callahan

A light-hearted piece, with considerable contrapuntal
activity among the instruments and a mystic element of calmly soaring melody in
the quiet sections.

Easter Canticles (organ and violoncello), Robert Sirota

The three movements of Easter Canticles--Vigil,
Crucifixion, and Resurrection--are structured as a triptych after the
iconostasis7 of an Orthodox church. The three panels are meditations on scenes
from the Passion of Jesus Christ: his prayerful agony in the Garden of
Gethsemane, his crucifixion and resurrection. With the combination of cello and
organ, Sirota sought to capture the mysticism of these three moments of the
Passion. The first movement is agonized and restless, the second portrays the
crucifixion, even down to the hammering of the nails into Christ’s hands,
and the third depicts Christ’s light-suffused resurrection.

The Kraken, Charles Hoag

The Kraken is a work for organ pedals with the player also
playing a large tam-tam (or the player could also be joined by a
percussionist). It is based upon the poem by the same name by Alfred Lord
Tennyson (1809-1892). The Kraken is a mythical Norse sea monster. The
opening lines of the poem give the setting for the music, which starts on the
lowest possible pitches and works upward to a frenzy in both instruments:

Below the thunders of the upper deep,

Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,

His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep

The Kraken sleepeth . . .

Organ and Voice:

Canticle of the Sun (high voice), David Evan Thomas

Canticle of the Sun, a setting of the poem by St. Francis of
Assisi, was commissioned by the Twin Cities (Minnesota) AGO and first performed
by soprano Elizabeth Pauly and organist James Biery in 2000.

The parallel verses of St. Francis’s poem inspired from
Thomas a series of variations on what could be called a Theme of Praise, a
declamatory melodic idea that emphasizes fourths and fifths. After the initial
presentation of the theme (“All praise to you, my Lord”), the
speaker moves from extolling sun and moon to praising each of the four elements
of the medieval world (wind, water, earth, fire) taking in all of creation.
Because the text is concise--only a few key images per variation--it
remains for the organ to develop the material through figuration, texture and
registration, as well as to provide links between sections, each of which
explores a different tonality. A special place is reserved for the human art of
forgiveness. The vocal line here descends into its lowest register, accompanied
by the simplest organ texture, before rising up again in fountains of praise.

Concertos:

Concerto for Organ and Orchestra, Gerald Near

This concerto by Gerald Near was conceived in the grand
traditional manner. The movements follow the usual form for a concerto: Sonata-allegro,
Slow movement (in no particular form) and Rondo (Toccata). It is scored for
chamber orchestra in a desire to make the work more practical and accessible.
Gerald Near’s music is published by Aureole Publications and distributed
by MorningStar.           n

by Earl Holt

Background

William Albright, born in Gary, Indiana in 1944, attended the Juilliard Preparatory Department, the University of Michigan, and the Paris Conservatory. He studied composition with Ross Lee Finney, Olivier Messiaen, and George Rochberg; organ study was with Marilyn Mason at the University of Michigan, where he joined the faculty in 1970. At present, he is professor of music composition and associate director of the electronic music studio.50

Albright's compositions include works for organ, piano, harpsichord, chamber orchestra, theater, and chorus. As a performing organist, he champions late twentieth-century organ repertoire, including his own compositions and those of other composers. A 1972 article in The Diapason reviewed an organ recital in which Albright performed his own Organbook I and Organbook II, and works of William Bolcom and Charles Ives:

The American Guild of Organists has never been known for its adventurousness. Cautious and conservative, the guild is comprised of organists and choirmasters who are more concerned with service playing and church music, than with the avant-garde. Thus it was uncharacteristic but admirable that the local AGO chapter last night presented the Cleveland debut of William Albright, leading young composer-performer of radical new organ music.51

Albright's improvisatory style of writing has tongue-in-cheek humor, lively rhythm, and inventive registrations. Albright was named 1993 Composer of the Year by the American Guild of Organists, which published articles on his organ compositions in its journal throughout 1993.52

Albright's organ works are Chorale-Partita in an Old Style on "Wer nur" for organ solo (1963), Juba for organ solo (1965), Pneuma for organ solo (1966), Organbook I for organ solo (1967), Organbook II for organ and tape (1971), Stipendium peccati for organ, piano, and percussion (1973), Gothic Suite for organ, strings, and percussion (1973), Dream and Dance for organ and percussion (1974), Sweet Sixteenths: Concert Rag for organ solo (1975-76), Jericho: Battle Music for organ and trumpet (1976), Organbook III for organ solo (1977-78), The King of Instruments for organ and narration (1978), Halo for organ and metal instruments (1980), De spiritum for organ and two assistants (1980-81), Bacchanal for organ and orchestra (1981), That Sinking Feeling for organ solo (1982), David's Songs for organ and mixed choir or SATB solo voices (1982), Enigma Syncopations for organ, flute, and percussion (1982), Romance for French horn and organ (1982), David's Songs for organ and antiphonal choirs (1982), In memoriam for organ solo (1983), 1732: In memoriam Johannes Albrecht for organ solo and optional narration (1984), Carillon-Bombarde for organ solo (1985), Chasm for organ and optional "echo instrument" or tape (1985), Symphony for Organ for organ and percussion (1986), Deum de Deo for organ and mixed choir (1989), Valley of Fire for organ and saxophone quartet (1989), Whistler Nocturnes for organ solo (1989), and Flights of Fancy: Ballet for organ (1992). Albright's latest work, Flights of Fancy: Ballet for organ has eight movements; it was commissioned by the 1992 AGO National Convention in Atlanta.53

The work selected for this article is 1732: In memoriam Johannes Albrecht.54 Robert Anderson, professor of organ at Southern Methodist University, commissioned the work and played the premiere, which was at the St. Nikolai Church in Leipzig, Germany, during the Church Music Festival Bach Tercentenary in 1985. An Evening Dance, the last movement of 1732, was published separately in The AGO 90th-Anniversary Anthology of American Organ Music in 1988.55 C.F. Peters subsequently published the complete work; although copyrighted in 1986, it was unavailable until 1990.

Structure

Albright describes 1732 as "a program sonata in the style of Bach's Capriccio 'on the Departure of his Beloved Brother' and of the Biblical Stories of Johann Kuhnau, Bach's predecessor at Leipzig."56 The sonata traces events surrounding the emigration of Albright's ancestor, Johannes Albrecht and family, to the New World from early eighteenth-century Germany. Albright recommends either that a narrator read short lines of historical material from the score, or that program notes be distributed.

1732 has seven movements: (1) Introduction; (2) The Family Albrecht in Germany; (3) William Penn Invites the German Farmers to Buy Land in the New Colony that Bears his Name; (4) Exodus of the Palatines, 1683-1754; (5) Settlement of the Land: on the Schuylkill River in Berks County; (6) Frank to the point of Rudeness, the Albright Clan Guards Honesty as a Cardinal Virtue; and (7) An Evening Dance: the Thanks of the Family for their Divine Providence. Individual movements are unrelated in motivic material, except for a few instances of reminiscence music. The work has numerous citations from existent music and parodies of past composers' styles. Table 8 lists the citations and parodies in 1732.

A sequence of five perfect fifths, C-G, A-E, F-sharp-C-sharp, G-D, and B-F-sharp, is repeated five times in the "Introduction," with rhythmic and ornamentational alterations in each repetition. This movement is similar to the opening movement of Organbook III, "Fanfare/Echo," which has the same registration and the same compositional basis--accented, staccato, open fifths in both manuals and pedal.57 The "Introduction" to 1732 is considerably shorter, however, and ends abruptly with two sets of three chromatically descending perfect fifths.

The second movement, "The Family Albrecht," begins with dissonant ff flourishes (mm. 1-12) and repeated staccato clusters (mm. 12-14). Then, additional ff flourishes and "nasty" minor seconds return to interrupt the citation of Bach's Kantate 82 (mm. 15-50).58 After the citation, more flourishes (mm. 51-56) and staccato clusters (mm. 56-58) follow. The movement ends with a citation of Psalm 118: Lobwasser Psalter.

The first nine measures of the third movement, "William Penn's Invitation," are "slow and pompous," and in dotted rhythm. Notes are repeated in manuals and pedal at three different dynamic levels. In the following section (mm. 10-21), back-to-back citations illustrate the coincidental similarity between Bach's Kaffee Kantate and Moussorgsky's Market Place at Limoges.

The fourth movement, "Exodus of the Palatines," musically depicts the ocean voyage of the Albright clan and their subsequent arrival at the port of Philadelphia. The gently rocking motion in the citation from Bach's Kantate 56 represents calm seas (mm. 1-14). Against that background are ascending B-flat arpeggios, played canonically in the right hand and pedal parts. Then, rapid tremolos, glissandos, and scherzo-like flute figuration depict the "danger of storm and pirates" (mm. 15-36).

A stylized toccata (mm. 37-45) illustrates "the hardship of passage, the steadfastness of Anna Barbara, the stinking water and meager rations."59 The toccata consists of a descending figure in nonuplets repeated in the manuals against a pedal line that descends by perfect fifths. The suffering of the passengers ("the stinking water and meager rations") is represented by a descending chromatic motive from Bach's Capriccio "on the departure of his beloved brother." The motive is developed in the styles of both Busoni and Schönberg (mm. 46-62). Bach's Kantate 56 is then cited a second time to represent the voyagers' arrival in the New World; this time the citation is accompanied by descending B-flat arpeggios, again played canonically in the right hand and pedal parts. The movement ends with a Pennsylvania "Dutch" (Deutsch) folk song melody, played in high register and accompanied by the left-hand figuration from Kantate 56.

A "Franckian Chorale" introduces the fifth movement, "Settlement of the Land." After patriotic-sounding themes, harp "strums," the suggestion of a waltz, and a comically extended dominant preparation (mm. 26-34), the music depicts the action and gunfire of a Revolutionary War battle. The "Franckian Chorale" then returns for the triumphant conclusion of the war.

The sixth movement in the suite, "Frank to the Point of Rudeness," is the only one that has a consistent meter, 4/2, throughout. Staccato figuration, "de la manière 'Beethoven'," is interrupted by sffz minor seconds on the 32' pedal reed, and by "duck-like" quacks on the Krummhorn. The movement concludes with a two-measure reminiscence of the "Introduction," and a final quack.

The seventh movement, "An Evening Dance," is a molto vivo two-step in 2/2 meter. Various Appalachian "stomps," banjo and fiddle music, and folk harmonic progressions represent a barn dance celebration.

Registration

Because of the large number of registration changes, an instrument with three manuals is recommended. The work requires 58-key manuals and a 32-key pedal clavier; an instrument with 56-key manuals and a 30-key pedal clavier can be used, however, by making two adjustments in the second movement: (1) changing the 4' pedal stop to a 2' stop and playing the pedal line an octave lower in mm. 42-45; and (2) playing the right-hand part an octave lower in mm. 59-60. If a 2' pedal stop is not available for mm. 42-45 (on a 30-key pedal clavier), Albright suggests an alternative: "Play the right-foot part of m. 44 (only) with the left hand; mm. 43 and 45 are to be played as written."60 If this alternative is necessary, (1) the left hand should omit the c''-e'' interval on the second and third beats of m. 44 in favor of the melody transferred from the pedal, and (2) the pedal should remain at 4' pitch, with the ossia (8va bassa) not taken. Expression pedal markings in 1732 are infrequent; the work can be performed on an instrument with no expressive divisions.

Albright sometimes specifies particular tonal colors but more often uses dynamic markings to indicate ensemble registrations. Table 9 lists specific stops and tonal colors required.

Besides the stops listed in Table 9, the instrument needs both a 16' reed plenum and a 16' principal plenum with mixtures for the necessary timbral and dynamic variety. On some instruments it is possible to overcome stop limitations with intramanual couplers.

Interpretation

In a 1980 lecture on "Creativity and Expressivity" at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln, Albright stated his view that "expressive performance is possible on the organ, an instrument capable of unending sound, primarily through the skillful use of time or duration."61 A report in The American Organist summarized his lecture:

Albright stressed the need to think of personality in each line, to think of action and reaction within the composition, to sense the direction of the music in order to heighten its activity or to spread the tempo slightly as needed. He said that this can be done in passages that are notated in equal values. To play in this manner helps the listener avoid a kind of "grayness" in which the sounds are undistinguished and run together. In his own recent works, Albright has included words and phrases to assist the performer to characterize lines and sounds, to express personality in the music.62

The programmatic character of 1732 suggests an adventure story, told against a background of musical sound effects. Dry wit and humor are evident in both music and narration, although organist Douglas Reed, who has performed and written about many Albright works, deemphasizes that aspect of the work:

The format of the work is similar to Albright's earlier The King of Instruments (1978) as both works employ a text, a narrator, and various musical styles. The spirit of 1732, however, is somewhat more serious and personal than the humorous, sometimes irreverent The King of Instruments. 63

Asked to comment on how solemn, or how tongue-in-cheek, 1732 is intended to be, Albright writes: "I have done it relatively seriously, with dramatic inflection [in the narration] when appropriate. The humor, somewhat ambiguously, will come through. Satire it is not, and it's not exactly tongue-in-cheek."64 A narrator is clearly preferred for performances of the work, but lengthy program notes from the score may be substituted.

Except for the sixth movement, which is entirely in 4/2 meter, Albright uses simple or irregular changing meters throughout the work. There is an idiosyncrasy, however; a single measure of compound meter, 9/8, is in the fifth movement (m. 6). Note values are relative throughout the constantly changing meters.

The notation in the "Introduction" is complex in order to achieve the effect of the manual and pedal parts moving slightly out of synchronization. Rhythm, therefore, must be precise, especially the irregularly timed releases of the perfect fifths. This short, Coplandesque movement suggests open frontier, and is played without rubato.

The ff flourishes at the beginning of "The Family Albrecht" are dramatic and turbulent. A ritardando is specifically not included at the end of m. 14, thereby producing maximum contrast between the violent staccato clusters and the ppp entrance of Kantate 82. Furthermore, the ff flourishes that interrupt the chorale are intended to be shocking; the performer does not telegraph his intentions either by body movement or by excessive rounding of phrases. The final section of the movement (mm. 61-66) is the Lobwasser Psalter, which represents the enduring faith of the farmers. It is registered and played semplice. In mm. 63-64 the hands are deliberately out of synchronization, as indicated by the complex notation. Those two measures produce a blurred effect, with one hand moving slightly ahead, or behind, the other.

The beginning of "William Penn's Invitation" has an exaggerated, pompous character. The Kaffee Kantate citation (mm. 10-16) that follows is marked with intentionally passé "Baroque" articulation--two slurred notes followed by two staccato notes--which should be carefully observed. The Moussorgsky citation in m. 17, a whimsical comparison to the Bach citation, is played with the indicated articulation.

"Exodus of the Palatines" begins with a Kantate 56 citation and gentle, ascending arpeggios. Articulation is legato. The marking senza rit. in m. 14 indicates an abrupt shift into the "storm and pirates" section (mm. 15-36). The coloristic effects suggest a dramatic theatre organ accompaniment to a silent movie adventure. The white-key glissando in m. 30 is performed with the nails of the index and middle fingers of the right hand.

The toccata with "strange and contrasting sounds" in mm. 38-45 is a stylized imitation of late nineteenth-century French grand orgue toccatas. The chromatic lines in the citation of Bach's Capriccio "on the departure of his beloved brother" (mm. 46-62) are played movendo ma espressivo and legato, perhaps suggesting an overly sentimental phrasing.

The music must be allowed to "breathe" during the pause between mm. 62 and 63. The melody in the folk song that ends the movement (mm. 69-81) may be phrased at the punctuation marks in the accompanying text.

The performer has to adapt quickly to frequent, abrupt changes in style in "Settlement of the Land." For example, the change in style from maestoso Franckian chorale in mm. 15-16 to Viennese waltz in mm. 17-18 must be instantaneous, because the waltz is only a few beats long. The performer must also evince the playfulness of the exaggerated dominant preparation in mm. 27-34 as a cadential second-inversion chord, accompanied by florid thirty-second-note scale runs, arpeggios, and broken chords, raises the expectation of a cadence; instead, another long, florid passage begins.

The Revolutionary War battle scene in mm. 37-46 is marked violent, but the tempo should not increase. Moreover, the tempo does not vacillate anywhere in the movement; at the two spots that most tempt the performer to change the tempo, l'istesso tempo is marked. The last section in "Settlement of the Land" (mm. 47-54) represents the triumphant conclusion of the battle. The B-C-sharp long trill that begins in m. 47 should be played as fast as possible.

"Frank to the Point of Rudeness" is a scherzo that is played on as many manuals as possible, with "registration constantly shifting, ad lib." The dynamic also changes, therefore, depending upon the stops chosen. The entrance of the 32' or 16' pedal reed in m. 10 must be sudden and unexpected. Articulation in this movement is clearly marked and should be followed exactly. During the pauses in m. 18 and m. 20 the performer remains suspended in mid-gesture.

In "An Evening Dance," the fastest and most technically difficult movement, "the composer is imagining the bluegrass music his forebears might have preferred."65 The pedaling is done almost entirely by the left foot, which swings back and forth in the manner of a theatre organist. The pedal line in mm. 65-72 may be whistled or sung by the narrator, according to the score.66 A footnote to the "Fingerbreaker" section, ff with gusto, in mm. 93-116 states that "during this difficult solo a small amount of 'gloss' and approximation may be necessary."67 Nevertheless, it is quite possible, with practice, to play the section accurately, even at the rapid tempo. Another difficult segment is the vide passage (mm. 129-32); despite the technical difficulty, the molto vivo two-against-three rhythm is exciting, and should be included, if possible.68 The right-hand part in the final section, mm. 135-54, is suggestive of swing jazz, and is effective when played in a swing rhythm. Asked if such an interpretation is appropriate, Albright commented that it is "probably OK, but at that tempo, it probably doesn't matter much."69

Table 10 lists score errata, as confirmed by Albright.70 1732, which has not been commercially recorded, is approximately fifteen minutes in length.

Notes

                  50.           Hitchcock, s.v. "Albright, William."

                  51.           Wilma Salisbury, "William Albright," The Diapason, no. 748 (March 1972): 17.

                  52.           Philip Brunelle, "William Albright: 1993 AGO Composer of the Year," TAO 27, no. 1 (January 1993): 10.

                  53.           Douglas Reed, "William Albright: Organ Music of the 80s," TAO 27, no. 4 (April 1993): 60-63; Hitchcock, s.v. "Albright, William;" Brian Morton and Pamela Collins, eds., Contemporary Composers (Chicago: St. James Press, 1992), s.v. "Albright, William;"  Corliss R. Arnold, Organ Literature: A Comprehensive Survey, 2d ed., vol. 2, (Metuchen: Scarecrow Press, 1984), s.v. "Albright, William;" Kratzenstein, 190; Marilyn Mason, "Forty Years Commissioning Organ Music," TAO 20, no. 4 (April 1986): 101, 103; Albright, E-mail communication with this writer, April 24, 1995.

                  54.           William Albright, 1732: In memoriam Johannes Albrecht (New York: C.F. Peters, 1985).

                  55.           Philip Brunelle, ed., The AGO 90th-Anniversary Anthology of American Organ Music (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 3.

                  56.           Albright, preface, i.

                  57.           William Albright, Organbook III (New York: C.F. Peters, 1980), 1-7.

                  58.           Albright characteristically uses colorful performance directions in his works.

                  59.           Albright, 1732, 13.

                  60.           Albright, Letter to this writer, June 25, 1994.

                  61.           Delores Bruch, "Creativity and the New Organ," TAO 14, no. 1 (January 1980): 33.

                  62.           Ibid.

                  63.           Reed, 60.

                  64.           Albright, Letter to this writer, November 15, 1993.

                  65.           Reed.

                  66.           Albright, 1732, 27.

                  67.           Ibid., 29.

                  68.           A vide passage is an optional cut.

                  69.           Albright, Letter to this writer, November 15, 1993.

                  70.           Albright, Letter to this writer, June 25, 1994.