David Rumsey memorial concert

 

David Rumsey

David Rumsey⁴⁴ was born and educated in Sydney, Australia. He studied with Anton Heiller and Marie-Claire Alain in Europe 1963–66, then returned to a position at the University of Adelaide. Moving back to Sydney in 1969 he established a Department of Organ and Church Music, which survives the recent Australian educational and research funding cuts. For over 25 years, until 1998, he was the regular organist with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and as such frequently presided over the Grand Organs of Sydney Opera House and Sydney Town Hall. Associations with multimedia events have included performances of the Saint-Saëns “Organ Symphony” to 100,000 people with the orchestra in the Sydney Domain, the organ via microwave link from Sydney Town Hall. In 1998, he wrote, produced, acted, and performed in a highly successful 14-hour musical and dramatic spectacle on the life of J.S. Bach, with actors in period costume from the National Institute of Dramatic Art (AUS), and musicians playing period instruments. He resigned his post in Sydney in 1998 and moved to Basel, Switzerland, where he continues working as an organist and consultant, and as a Senior Researcher at the University of Bern. Since 2007 he has been responsible for the editing and CD-production of historic organ recordings released under the OehmsClassics label using the historic Welte organ and its player-rolls at Seewen (SO-CH) and is regarded as an authority on aspects of medieval organ culture. He is organist at Herz Jesu Kirche in Laufen (BL-CH) and in-house consultant and organist to the Museum der Musikautomaten, Seewen (SO-CH).

On Friday and Saturday, June 9 and 10, 2012, a concert and workshop focusing on the medieval organ were held at the Basel (Switzerland) Peterskirche. They dealt with concepts, designs, repertoire and the medieval organ used in ensemble.¹ Another symposium and series of concerts was later organized in and around East Friesland (Rhede), commencing Monday, September 3, 2012, running until Sunday, September 9, dealing with much the same topics.² Some instruments and participants were common to both events. Elsewhere Kimberly Marshall played and held courses in Sion (Switzerland) during October 2012. Other events in Europe during the summer of 2012 dedicated to the medieval organ included one arranged by Jos van der Giessen in the Netherlands.

Kimberly Marshall’s 1989 book, Iconographical Evidence for the Late-Medieval Organ in French, Flemish and English Manuscripts,³ was of seminal influence to much of this blossoming culture. It was the most oft-quoted work at the Basel and Rhede conferences. A colloquium in 1995 at Royaumont (France), two years after an 11th-century Theophilus organ had been reconstructed there by Antoine Massoni, was a most important sequel.⁴ Marcel Pérès, responsible for the Royaumont Theophilus organ, also played in Basel during August 2011. The 2012 events were significant vantage points in an ongoing search for the Holy Grail of understanding medieval organs and performance practices. They continued to push back through the 15th, 14th, 13th centuries, even to the 3rd in Rhede.

 

The Phenomenon

The observant phenomenologist might well note something in the air: research into and performance of early music has now spread both forwards and backwards in time—from a “Bach-fulcrum” that began with Mendelssohn,
S.S. Wesley, et al. in the early 19th century. By the late 20th century it had reached fortepiano, early Steinway, the “real” Wagner orchestra, and even Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps, where authenticity of instruments used was a measure of performance excellence. Concurrently, moving back to ever earlier eras, the music of Buxtehude, Frescobaldi, Couperin, Correa de Arauxo, and Sweelinck—among many others—has been vigorously regenerated through performance on historic organs, careful emulation of their temperaments, key proportions, wind quality, specifications, tonal and mechanical attributes, all of which illuminate performance practices.

Other 19th- and 20th-century contributions to this historical consciousness included the continuum of English choral music, the rediscovery of Palestrina, and parallel developments in Gregorian chant. In the educational arena it seeped into musical institutions such as Eugène Gigout’s 19th-century Organ School in Paris or the early 20th-century Schola Cantorum Basiliensis, not to forget the work of Solesmes and similar centers. High-profile specialist performers such as Gustav Leonhardt then came on the scene, increasingly promoting serious research, publications, recordings, and concerts. Discrete organ cultures began to be brought back to life by dedicated builders, researchers, performers, and luminaries. A veritable explosion of knowledge and activity erupted around the turn of the 21st century.

The phenomenon is now neither confined to the organ nor the 16th–19th centuries, but takes in viola da gamba, cornetto, medieval fiddle, lute, harpsichord, hurdy-gurdy, harp, bells, whole families of antique instruments, and virtually all music of any period. The ongoing challenge in the medieval arena for instrumentalists is that of surviving originals. Certainly extant and truly original 16th-century organs are scarce. Precious little material dating from before the 15th century is known—and then essentially only fragments. Iconography, contemporary descriptions, the few comprehensible early organbuilding tracts, and much circumstantial evidence taken from extant contemporary repertoire are about all that there is to go on. At the Rhede conference, Winold van der Putten, who was responsible for building many of the instruments present, added another significant factor: the experience of specialist organbuilders who have now regularly interpreted these old sources and learned how to put theories or confusing historic descriptions into practice. This is a cutting edge where artistic fringe-dwellers live dangerously by constantly expanding boundaries. It is a little like “walking the plank,” just that the board gets narrower as it seemingly extends back forever, engaging the enquirer in an ever more precarious balancing act. But the rewards are tangible, and in the past few years fully successful medieval constant-scaled ranks have been constructed and voiced. They were commonplace enough for much of medieval instrument-building history and essential to its performance.

Walter Chinaglia, from Como (Italy)⁵ was another of those present in both Basel and Rhede with several of his own positives and portatives built from extending what is “seen through a glass darkly” into convincing practical realities, another fruit from the experiences of these increasingly skilled specialist builders. There are others—Marcus Stahl of Dresden⁶ and Stefan Keppler of Kötz,⁷ to name but two from Germany.

 

2012—European Medieval 

Organ Summer

On Saturday afternoon, September 8, 2012, the Rhede symposium was nearing its conclusion and running rather late, since so many people had had so much to offer. The interest was exceptionally keen; most sessions had extended well beyond their scheduled times. About 15 different organs had been assembled in a kind of “grand general meeting of gothic organs.” They emulated everything from a hydraulis to 13th, 14th, and 15th-century portatives and positives. There were also some renaissance instruments, including an original 16th-century Italian organ, the most modern of the assembly, a permanent fixture in the Old Church at Rhede, nodal point of this symposium. Other venues around this East-Friesland region included Weener and Rysum. Attendees came from Germany, Netherlands, Scotland, Switzerland, Australia, Czech Republic, USA, and Scandinavia. 

At the outset Harald Vogel made the poignant observation that this unusual gathering of medieval organs was an exceptionally important event in the history of the instrument, a hitherto virtually unthinkable assembly. It was organized by the Weener Organeum, Winfried Dahlke in charge, supported by a squadron of organists, organbuilders, and others whose burning curiosity clearly motivated them strongly. 

Dr. Vogel inaugurated the “Rims” instrument, made for a German organist by Orgelmakerij van der Putten after mid-14th-century practices: constant-scaling, two 8′s in parallel (effectively 8′ II-ranks, always playing, no stop control) and a 6′ (on a separate register, slider above the windchest). The resemblance to an organ described in the 10–12th-century Sélestat Manuscript gives its 8′+8′+6′ specification full credibility.⁸

The prototypical culture that inspired the Rims instrument used lead as pipe material, constant scaling after the 11th-century Berne Anonymous MS,⁹ and keys as described by Praetorius for Halberstadt.¹⁰ Its Gamba-Quintadena-like bass tones with Principally-Flutey trebles were an experience all of their own. They came into good use during the symposium in Gregorian alternatims, borduns supporting chanters, and works such as medieval Redeuntes with long-held bass notes under more agile trebles. This instrument presented a left-hand cantus firmus of an early Felix namque¹¹ with remarkable ease and complete conviction; its scaling allowing the “slow-note cantus firmus” to stand out against right-hand elaborations as if two manuals were being used. Yet no normal two-manual organ could ever achieve the effect so convincingly. An understanding of the 13th-century Notre Dame school of Léonin and Pérotin—also tried out at the conference—was clarified through performance on this instrument. All present knew instinctively that they were in the presence of a special musical integrity and masterly instrument building.¹²

Another organ, of an altogether different, rather later style, was the largest of several provided by Walter Chinaglia. This remarkable organo di legno brought to mind a passage in Benvenuto Cellini’s autobiography: 

 

My father began teaching me to play upon the flute and sing by note; but notwithstanding I was of that tender age when little children like to take pastime in whistles and such toys, I had an inexpressible dislike for it, and played and sang only to obey him. At this time my father fashioned wonderful organs with pipes made of wood, spinets the fairest and most excellent which could then be seen, viols and lutes and harps of the most beautiful and perfect construction.¹³

What could be called Chinaglia’s Cellini Principals are exceptionally fine ranks, made from a beautiful red-yellow cypress, which even contributes scent to the total experience of this organ. They run through the entire range of its keyboard at both 8′ and 4′ pitches. The third register, an exquisite Krummhorn-Regal with a beautifully full and rich quality in spite of its pencil-thin resonators, adds a strong and spicy finish to the tonal resources.¹⁴ He also brought along several positives and portatives, one very fine positive emulating that in the van der Goes painting in Scotland.¹⁵

Of particular interest to everybody at the symposium was a new interpretation of the ancient Roman organ finds from Aquincum (Hungary). It was built by
A. Schuke Potsdam-Orgelbau GmbH (Germany) for the Römisch-Germanisches Zentralmuseum Mainz (Germany); research, design, and concept were by Susanne Rühling M.A. and Michael Zierenberg.¹⁶ Extra time had to be allocated, taken from later sessions, allowing a second round of discussion about this amazing but potent little replica. It stood there, like a proud Roman sentinel, on its brown hexagonal pedestal, a living and working monument, mostly in copper or bronze, to the organ belonging to Aquincum’s 3rd-century fire brigade. Its prototype ironically survived a fire by falling into the cellar. Were they all out that night? Perhaps the seemingly unanswerable question—“Was it a hydraulis or a bellows organ?”—might be given a nudge towards hydraulis, since its survival could have been the result of having water poured over it as it fell? It is doubtful that burning floors falling into cellars with highly flammable organ bellows would do anything more than increase the conflagration. Such speculations aside, this instrument looked more like something from the age of steam and polished brass. Indeed, its amazing sounds were quite reminiscent of steam whistles. Justus Willberg also tours Europe with a hydraulis,¹⁷ complete with air-pumps, water cistern, pnigeus, and Greek repertoire, but following the older, Walcker-Mayer interpretation. He was in Basel not so long before the June event, another manifestation of this fascinating phenomenon. The sounds of these Roman organs seem not unrelated to the new Rims organ when first heard from a modern perspective, although they are in reality tonally, musically, and mechanically universes apart.

Another star of both events was the two-stop, one-manual and pedal positive made for the author in 2010 by van der Putten. This instrument was also partly influenced by the van der Goes painting. The organ and I had been invited to make the trip from Basel specifically to talk, play, and be played at this conference. Much of the woodwork is Lebanese cedar, again contributing scent to the total experience. It was used in every concert and demonstration and featured twice on the cover of the flyer. (Rysum was the third.) The two Rhede flyer photos were taken at the Basel event by Jos van der Giessen where the Peterskirche appropriately provided a neatly framed, truly “Gothic” background.¹⁸ The positive was moved from Laufen (Switzerland, near Basel) to Rhede (Germany), then Huizinge (Netherlands), Rysum (Germany), Rhede (Germany), Groningen (Netherlands), Finsterwolde (Netherlands), and back to Laufen (Switzerland) during this northern sojourn—about 12 days.

The rest of the Rhede Symposium consisted of demonstrations, concerts, lectures, a church service, socializing, and networking. The invitees included Harald Vogel, Winold van der Putten, Koos van de Linde, Cor Edskes (paper read in absentia), Susanne Rühling, Winfried Dahlke, Jankees Braaksma, Tomas Flegr, and myself. Themes ranged around gothic pipe-making, wind pressures, voicing, repertoire, performance practice, the problems and advantages in the anachronous use of tuning slides in modern copies of early organs, the towering figure of Arnaut de Zwolle, medieval organ design (cases, windchests, specifications, keys), the Blockwerk, surviving literature, touch sensitivity on portatives, the use of bells with medieval organs, Pythagorean tempering, and much more.

Time simply ran out. The richness of thematic material, available expertise, the many discussion by-products, and the ravenous cultural, intellectual, and musical hunger of all gathered together for this event turned out to be quite overwhelming for the organizers. Some speakers and players had to seriously curtail their offerings. Frustrating though this was, it should be no enduring problem as long as the need for more is acknowledged.

Thus it was that, on Saturday afternoon, September 8, 2012, momentarily lacking a program, I turned to Jos van der Giessen and asked, “When does this finish?” Even the fascinating unscheduled double session by Koos van de Linde (Netherlands/Germany) ranging from Arnaut de Zwolle to the much-discussed Utrecht Nicolaïkerk organ restoration¹⁹ was not fully done. Three more speakers were impossibly scheduled in the 30 minutes before the close at 4:30 pm. My question was intended to be “When does this (session) finish”—but the response fittingly, amusingly, and intentionally misinterpreted it, summing up the spirit which had been engendered by all the 2012 events: “Never, I hope!”

For the phenomenologists, at least four medieval organ events in around four months—Basel, Netherlands, Rhede, Sion—must be something of a landmark for 2012.

•

Immediately following the Rhede Symposium, on Sunday, September 9, after the closing church service in Rysum, a further concert was held in Groningen’s De Oosterpoort Concert Hall. Arrangements had been made that my instrument would remain in the Netherlands for a few days before being returned to Switzerland. Jankees Braaksma (Netherlands) and Tomas Flegr (Czech Republic) played it with the group Vox Resonans, the ensemble adding that sparkle and transformed sound that has been frequently noted with this organ: those who had attended both events were still commenting on Tobie Miller’s hurdy-gurdy playing in Basel and the amazing soundscapes created when organistrum and organum are played in ensemble. The dance group, RenaiDanse,²⁰ led by Veronique Daniels (Switzerland), and instrumentalists also featured in two of the Rhede Symposium concerts as well as this Groningen event. They all earned a double standing ovation in Groningen—one after the concert, another after the encore. The calcant (the organ’s builder), physically exhausted and suffering from a serious workshop injury incurred just before the symposium, was fittingly included with the performers in these accolades.

 

Quo vadis?

The many themes raised by these conferences can only be dealt with through an enduring continuum of instrument building, research, discussion, publication, and many more such events. This arena is a collection of musical swords that still need much more rattling in their scabbards. Basel and Rhede together were able to pose important questions, and even answer some, at least in the short term. But long-term answers are needed, since both the practice and the research is relatively recent, tends to be revelatory, and is ongoing—very much an essential part of the phenomenon.

There were questions posed about the nicknaming of the Rutland Psalter copy as a “Theophilus” organ. Of course, with hindsight we can now view this as two ends of a historical progression and clearly distinguish between them as organ types. Simple, well-intended glossing can grow into habits that become less correct as time progresses. Such expressions tend to stick, even when more recent knowledge overtakes them. Another habit of this kind began to be formed at these conferences when—rightly enough as a new venture in recreating pipe-making history—the so-called “pigeon’s egg” registers (three on the Rims organ, one on the Rumsey organ) were referred to just so: “pigeon’s egg ranks.” The term comes from the 11th-century Codex Bern (see endnote 9), where the measure of pipe diameters is explained as “the width of a pigeon’s egg.” Yet the eggs chosen were different and correctly discriminated between the eras the two instruments represented. Thus the ranks were not scaled to the same widths. The terminology really should have been “constant-scaled.” After that we might talk ancient treatises and ornithology.²¹ Likewise, in discussing the “wolf” in Pythagorean tempering, the interval really should have been referred to as “b to g♭” rather than “b to f♯”. And what were referred to as “pure thirds” are in fact just ever so slightly impure acoustically, since they are really Pythagorean diminished fourths, e.g., d–g♭, which are 384.36 cents, whereas a truly pure major third is 386.31 cents. True, normal human perception cannot distinguish between them.²² Again, strictly speaking, the hydraulis presented was closer to a bellows organ. 

These matters need little further comment here; the intention is clear in every case once the context is clarified and human nature to gloss, nickname, and abbreviate is acknowledged. Exact terminology usually sorts itself out eventually as needs arise and awareness increases—although a general tendency to slow progress is lamentable.

What needs probing now includes the following:

Medieval Tuning and Tempering: A frequent modern assumption that earlier Pythagorean temperaments mostly had the “wolf” at G♯–E♭²³ seems only rarely to be hinted at in ancient sources. It has sometimes been recommended or assumed by exponents of this culture, including Mark Lindley, although often with serious reservations or caveats.²⁴ Others, such as Adam B. Rahbee, are known to be investigating this.²⁵ Further results are eagerly awaited from him and others. However, the most likely outcome, endemic to this medieval discipline it would seem, is that there was no single standard. One particularly fascinating development of this was how, in the half-century or so before Schlick (the work of Arnaut de Zwolle, Pietro Aaron, et al), the pure thirds/diminished fourths were shifted and came into line with four of what became mean-tone temperament’s normal eight.²⁶

Fingering: The use only of 2nd, 3rd, and 4th fingers when playing medieval keyboard music was strongly promoted in the Rhede masterclasses. There was a claim that it was impossible to use thumb and 5th finger anyway, especially when playing portatives. Yet this was proven wrong by at least one participant, who repeatedly and comfortably used all fingers. When an octave span is required in, e.g., a 3-part Buxheim²⁷ piece, and it can only be played by one hand because the other is too far removed to help out, then how can the thumb not be used, especially if the keys are substantially wider than modern keys and there is no pedal? (Horror of horrors: was the rule of exclusively 2nd, 3rd, and 4th fingers partly formulated by people playing relatively narrow modern keyboards?) Aside from Tobie Miller’s hurdy-gurdy playing in Basel, the finely fingered performances by Brett Leighton—who takes Buchner’s Fundamentum organisandi of c. 1520 and his Quem terra pontus as a point of departure—also linger very well in collective memory.²⁸

Music and its structures: Much of the medieval repertoire could have been intended for constant-scaled ranks. The music of Robertsbridge²⁹ and Faenza³⁰ seem often to rely on the development of tension through tessitura variation and the relation of this to changing tonal qualities induced by scaling practices. Redeuntes, for example, sound wonderful on constant-scaled ranks as the figuration rises and falls. This music thrives on “intensity climaxes” that higher-pitched, fuller and flutier constant-scaled ranks produce. No modern scaling can possibly achieve this. The first Estampie from Robertsbridge has one “punctus” after another, each getting successively higher than the preceding, until the final one just blooms with the highest and most intensely flutey notes of all. It is not just constant-scaled ranks but also other scaling practices from this era—e.g., Arnaut’s “halving on the octave with addition constant”—that can produce this effect. Essentially all early scaling practices do to varying degrees, but the more scaling practice approaches modern schemes, such as Töpfer’s norms,³¹ the less marked this effect becomes, and the music ends up sounding relatively flat and lifeless.

Metallurgy—copper, lead, tin, and alloys—plays a most critical role. The use of wood for pipes is another question, particularly the issue of its first clearly recorded use—Italy, late 15th century?³² The Sion (Switzerland) Valeria organ has a “Copel” made from wood, now dendrochronologically dated from around early 15th century.³³ Of course, wood was introduced at some stage between the hydraulis and Arnaut de Zwolle as a material replacing the earlier copper/bronze variants used in making windchests.³⁴ Similarly, early conical metal pipe-forms and the potential confusion they cause in the iconography with wood needs investigation.³⁵ The relics at Hamar, Norway, may eventually provide a key.

The apparently sudden change from copper/bronze to lead at the turn of the 13th century is an interesting phenomenon: that lead was far more malleable than copper may have been a driving motivation clinching change. But the tonal effect was so strikingly softer and sweeter that this was expressly noted in many contemporary tracts.³⁶ It must have come as a profoundly exciting development, part of the Ars Nova/Ars Antiqua watershed. Notated organ music first consistently appeared just after the change—some of it might suit the sound of tin or copper but most of it plays remarkably well on lead pipework. Did the notion of accompanied voices rather than alternatim also receive some kind of stimulus here? And the desire to separate a single 8′ out from a Blockwerk: was this also part of the switch to lead? Later register names, such as Doof, hint at this, for the softer tones of lead must have seemed “deaf” compared either to copper pipes or the presence of upperwork of any kind. It was mainly in the centuries after this change that the typical, relatively small, medieval organ began to share the stage with some increasingly multi-ranked Blockwerks. The facility of the larger Blockwerks to be reduced to a single, sweet foundation rank must have been very alluring, whether for accompaniment or contrast.

Blockwerk registrations were sometimes recommended for pieces played by participants in Rhede—but how many organs pre-15th century had more than about one, two, or three ranks? Two of these ranks were often enough simply a doubled unison. The most spectacular Blockwerks were reported by Wulstan at Winchester in the 10th century or Praetorius at Halberstadt in the 14th or 15th century. Were some of these chroniclers, like us, more impressed with size—or hooked on hyperbole—than with making sober inventories of what was really there? Certainly, the three-rank Rims organ was closer to many Blockwerks of that era than the concept of a “Lokaz of at least 50 ranks,” to cite Schlick at the end of the era around 1511. And the Winchester organ: did this have copper pipes? Presumably. Was that—apart from its apparently anachronistically large mixture—another reason why it was reported as being so loud? Prima facie, sources and iconography prior to the 15th century indicate the existence of relatively few large Blockwerks compared to the many Positives and Portatives.

As with scaling, pitch, keyboard design, metallurgy, and everything else about medieval organs, there were no DIN specifications. Any investigative path is flawed if standards like this are sought. A variety of options needs to be tried within known tolerances, then optimums and limits found. Assessments can then follow, which might be region-, collection- or even specific work-oriented. It would be wonderful if some day money could be found to build an entire series of constant-scaled ranks from very thin to quite wide scaling, note the true ranges available, and try out repertoire on them, for instance that spanning the era between the Robertsbridge Codex and Buxheimer Orgelbuch. If further funding were available, then some copper pipes might also be tried, not for keyboard repertoire before this, since it virtually does not exist, but for ensembles (especially those commonly iconographically represented) and alternatim.

Did some or all the music in Faenza assume copper pipes, lead pipes, tin pipes, alloys? Constant or variable scaling? Pitches equivalent to A440, A466, A520 or something else? And where to place the “wolf”? A520, lead pipes, early Pythagorean tempering, and constant scaling certainly seem to work very well. But are our criteria correct? The experience of beautifully pure major thirds from Renaissance mean-tone tempering, or major thirds ranging from pure to mistuned in the circular temperings of the Baroque era, is very enticing to impressionable musicians travelling back from an accustomed equal tempering. Yet the sober reality is that pure thirds were sometimes expressly avoided, e.g., by Bach using remote keys with dissonant thirds to represent crucifixion, or even just sheer doggedness as with Thomas Roseingrave’s self-proclaimed love of F–G♯ rather than F–A♭ in his deliberate choice of a “nasty” F-minor tonality. Was the Pythagorean “wolf” sought out in like manner, or studiously avoided by these earlier musicians? Probably it was avoided if the evidence of modal transpositions is taken at face value—but even here there are questions that need working through.³⁷ In any case, there is no significant evidence in medieval music for an Affektenlehre and Figurenlehre: that was the culture of Bach, Handel, and Roseingrave.

To a degree, medieval voicing seems somewhat weather-prone: what barely works one day, might work well or not at all in the next cold snap or heat wave. And the organs of those days were only marginally protected from weather change compared to ours in air-conditioned buildings today. Thus: were their tolerances of pitch and tuning, including in ensemble, and with bells, more flexible than ours are today? Within limits, slight differences actually make these organs more interesting, as do historical voicing techniques—particularly the lack of total control with wide-open footholes. The lowest generally workable pitch from 27mm constant-scaled lead pipes is about modern (A440) tenor E♭. With 33mm it extends down to B♭, a fourth lower. Thus, pitches of organs produce differing manual compasses, or a few low pipes with ears needed to make them speak. As Winold van der Putten pointed out in Basel, “Medieval organ builders were no fools: it only takes cupping a hand around a pipe mouth to make it speak.” Iconography showing ears is, however, extremely elusive—jury out, experimentation and investigation still in. If, as seems likely, constant scaling was perpetuated well after the 11th century, whence these “pigeon’s egg” figures derive, then diameters could well have increased in time, allowing lower bass ranges and even more blooming trebles. The iconography, inter alia, suggests that this tendency could have persisted until early 15th century as diameters apparently became wider.³⁸ A targeted study of this is overdue.

If we retain all the parameters noted above, then reduce the size of the pigeon’s egg taken to 27mm, as with the Rims organ, little of Robertsbridge and Faenza at its notated pitch can be played satisfactorily unless the instrument is higher than A440. The very low notes cannot be voiced reliably using known medieval tools and techniques. Yet Léonin, Pérotin, or the Felix Namque of the Oxford MS sound totally convincing here with their more agile trebles—everything just bringing this music to a radiant vitality. The same applies for other parameters with Buxheimer, Ileborgh,³⁹ or various regional- or even specifically single-work instances.

Even so, did Léonin and Pérotin ever know lead pipes?

Research and experimentation not possible hitherto has now shown that constant scaling with pigeons’ egg dimensions around 33mm, and a pitch of at least A465 makes the first Estampie from Robertsbridge sound simply magnificent when transposed up a tone. That equates to A520—which should make some players of medieval instruments happy, since many project that pitch for some of their repertoire. All this, or an even higher pitch, brings “43” from Faenza truly to life in 33mm constant scaling. Lower that pitch and the bass notes of the Estampie are poor or missing, while the overall effect of “43” is relatively dull from trebles that simply do not bloom so well.

Of necessity, these assessments will always have a component of subjectivity in them. But not entirely: low pitches and constant scaling yield bass notes that do not repeat promptly, and others that will not speak properly, if at all—indicators that either pitch is too low, scaling too narrow, or later scaling practices could be appropriate. The physical limits of medieval organ compasses and pitch now need probing and defining. Any temptation to a general conformity of anything—pitch, scaling, metal alloy, tempering, fingering—must be addressed as a range or tolerance, given a specific set of parameters. This expressly includes repertoire and ensemble playing.

Standardization was a new concept that had to wait for Arnolt Schlick and later centuries. Interestingly, Schlick, relatively modern by comparison to the main thrust of these conferences, barely made it into the discussions.

 

A sequel? 

Thus, there was a consensus that intellectual and musical exchange should not simply vanish after this flush of medieval organ symposia during the European summer of 2012. Several events are already known to be foreshadowed. Of considerable interest will be a major symposium planned for the Amsterdam Orgelpark, June 6–8, 2013.⁴⁰ Wherever future events are held, it would be most welcome if they were not primarily talk-fests, but also included strong performance components. One small criticism of the Rhede Symposium was its predominance of talk over music. A four-way balance will always be needed with medieval organ cultures: talk, solo organ, alternatim, and in ensemble. In a way, these instruments were born to work in alternation with speech, chanting, silence, and possibly bells. It is particularly in ensemble that the iconography, literature, and extant music seems to be signposting the way ahead. Both Basel and Rhede showed that all four are needed for a completely balanced presentation of this highly fascinating culture. Basel strongly promoted alternatim and ensemble, and so did Rhede, the latter chiefly in concerts where dance was also represented. Would the miracle or mystery plays of the era be a good suggestion for some future events?

The Mainzer Hoftag of 1184 is usually reckoned as the greatest medieval festival in history. It was here that Friedrich Barbarossa knighted his sons, Heinrich VI and Friedrich V. A contemporary description of it included these lines:⁴¹

 

Dâ was spil end gesanc

End behurt ende dranc,

Pîpen ende singen

Vedelen ende springen,

Orgeln ende seitspelen,

Meneger slachten frouden vele.

 

There was playing and song,

And pushing and shoving,

Piping and singing,

Fiddles and dancing,

Organs and strings playing,

Many joyful things mingling.

 

Epilogue

The standing ovations in Groningen mentioned above had something of a cathartic feel to them, reflecting the exegesis in medieval organbuilding and musical performance that has taken place over the past several decades, especially in the events described above. Winold van der Putten’s organs were not at all alone in this, but he and his work were at the center of two of these conferences.⁴² His 1999 realization of the copy of the Rutland Psalter organ was an important trailblazer. This instrument was featured at the Rhede conference, along with some portatives for Jankees Braaksma and his group, Super Librum.⁴³ These were prototypes for most of what has followed as van der Putten and others investigated, experimented, and cracked the codes of medieval organbuilding and voicing. His recent constant-scaled ranks for myself and the Rims instrument were essayed only after much investigation and experimentation. In their own way, they alone deserved their rightful share of those standing ovations. Medieval organ scaling of this kind now seems set to be one of the next “revelations” in the performance of this music—not least in portatives where, oddly enough, it remains relatively untried.

 

David Rumsey⁴⁴ was born and educated in Sydney, Australia. He studied with Anton Heiller and Marie-Claire Alain in Europe 1963–66, then returned to a position at the University of Adelaide. Moving back to Sydney in 1969 he established a Department of Organ and Church Music, which survives the recent Australian educational and research funding cuts. For over 25 years, until 1998, he was the regular organist with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and as such frequently presided over the Grand Organs of Sydney Opera House and Sydney Town Hall. Associations with multimedia events have included performances of the Saint-Saëns “Organ Symphony” to 100,000 people with the orchestra in the Sydney Domain, the organ via microwave link from Sydney Town Hall. In 1998, he wrote, produced, acted, and performed in a highly successful 14-hour musical and dramatic spectacle on the life of J.S. Bach, with actors in period costume from the National Institute of Dramatic Art (AUS), and musicians playing period instruments. He resigned his post in Sydney in 1998 and moved to Basel, Switzerland, where he continues working as an organist and consultant, and as a Senior Researcher at the University of Bern. Since 2007 he has been responsible for the editing and CD-production of historic organ recordings released under the OehmsClassics label using the historic Welte organ and its player-rolls at Seewen (SO-CH) and is regarded as an authority on aspects of medieval organ culture. He is organist at Herz Jesu Kirche in Laufen (BL-CH) and in-house consultant and organist to the Museum der Musikautomaten, Seewen (SO-CH).⁴⁵

 

Acknowledgements

(*) Seemingly the only images currently available, taken here from Stein Johannes Kolnes, Norsk orgelkultur—Instrument og miljø frå mellomalderen til I dag, Det Norske Samlaget, Oslo, 1987.

Thanks to John Liddy, Jos van der Giessen, Marc Lewon, and Elizabeth Rumsey for their help with this article, and to all who contributed photos and good advice. My apologies to Walter Chinaglia for not writing more about his organo di legno—space allocation just became too acute and this instrument really belongs to a slightly later epoch than the one mainly under discussion here. A fuller report on it can be seen at http://www.davidrumsey.ch/Chinaglia.htm.

 

Notes

1. Some details are available at www.david rumsey.ch/Medieval.php.

2. www.ostfriesischelandschaft.de/1097.html

3. Kimberly Marshall, Iconographical Evidence for the Late-Medieval Organ in French, Flemish, and English Manuscripts (New York: Garland Publishing, 1989), ISBN 0-8240-2047-2.

4. A description of the background to this, including mention of an earlier instrument by Yves Cabourdin, is available in Marcel Pérès, editor, Les orgues gothiques: Actes du Colloque de Royaument, 1995 (Paris, Editions Créaphis, 2000).

5. www.organa.it

6. www.marcus-stahl-orgelbauer.com

7. Wolkenstayn Orgelbau—also represented at the Basel event—www.wolkenstayn.de. He is arranging a course March 8–10, 2013, the “13. Etappe zur Frühen Musik,” dealing with Organetto/Portative playing, to be held at Burg Fuersteneck. Details on his website.

8. www.davidrumsey.ch/Bibliography.htm (see under 11th century)

9. Anonymous of Bern(e) or Codex Bern, Anonymus Bernensis etc., excerpt De fistulis organis/De organis.

10. In Michael Praetorius, Syntagma Musicum, Volume II, Wolfenbüttel 1618 (1619/20), section V, and Volume III 1619, section 7: “Das I. und II. Diskant-klavier.”

11. Oxford Douce MS 381

12. An alternatim (Veni creator spiritus) from an ad hoc Rhede performance can be heard at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgtszdCw91o&feature=youtu.be.

13. John Addington Symonds (1840–1893), trans., The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, Chapter V. It is now available online as part of the “Gutenberg” project (see www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4028).

14. Further details at: www.organa.it/page1/page14/page41/page41.html.

15. Hugo van der Goes, Ange jouant de l’orgue (Angel playing the organ), Flemish ca. 1480, Sir Edward Bonkil, Holyrood Castle, Edinburgh collection. For a sample (second from left) see https://d30dcznuokq8w8.cloudfront.net/works/r/bal/6/8/0/399086_full_102….

16. www.schuke.com/pages/de/projects#reconstructions

17. www.hydraulis.de

18. Remains of a hydraulis were excavated in Dion, Greece, in August 1992. A reconstruction has since been toured. See Peter Williams and Jean-Paul Montagnier, eds., The Organ Yearbook #33 (Laaber: Laaber-Verlag, 2004), p. 163; Michael Markovits, Die Orgel in Altertum (Leiden: Brill, 2003); and websites: www.culture.gr/2/23/232/epked/en/00_standard_menu/00a_ydraulis/00a.htm and www.mlahanas.de/Greece/Cities/Dion.html.

19. See Peter Williams, ed., The Organ Yearbook #41 (Laaber: Laaber-Verlag, 2012), pp. 7–35. Program at www.david rumsey.ch/index.pdf, images at www.david rumsey.ch/2012/album/index.html.

20. www.renaidanse.org/page/de/act.html

21. The sizes of pigeons’ eggs are discussed in a footnote to Part II, Section 1, of Christhard Mahrenholz, Die Berechnung der Orgelpfeifenmensuren vom Mittelalter bis zur Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Bärenreiter, 1968); also in English translation (Oxford: Positif Press, 1975). 

22. See also www.davidrumsey.ch/
tempering.pdf.

23. Really not a quint at all, but a diminished sixth, which has to function as a quint on the vast majority of keyboards where no split keys provide any better-tuned alternatives. This also applies to diminished fourths, which, in the Pythagorean temperings under discussion here, more accommodatingly or even fortuitously provide a near-pure major third.

24. An important essay on this subject by Mark Lindley can be found online at http://independent.academia.edu/MarkLindley/Papers/242254/Pythagorean_i…. See particularly Table 2, page 27, and the general discussion involving Odington, Spechtshart, et al. Certainly he presents much evidence for the B–G♭ wolf having more than a century’s demonstrable currency from 1413 to 1513 and correctly reminds us that the organ’s tuning cultures were often at variance with those of other instruments. The only significant assertion he makes for a G♯–E♭ wolf is for Robertsbridge (p. 33). Another essay, by Margo Schulter, can be viewed at www.medieval.org/emfaq/harmony/pyth4.html#1. See especially around “4.5 Pythagorean tuning modified: a transition around 1400,” where she assumes a G♯–E♭ wolf. In the final analysis, these do not argue very convincingly for a wolf at G♯–E♭ on purely statistical grounds. Of course, this only became a pressing issue when keyboards came to be divided into 12 or more discrete notes.

25. E.g., in a series of e-mail exchanges between Rahbee and the author dating June 28 to July 22, 2012. He is particularly interested in 15th- and 16th-century tempering practices and takes such relatively new material as the Cambrai MS into account (see Patrizio Barbieri, “An Unknown 15th-century French Manuscript on Organ Building and Tuning,” in Peter Williams, ed., The Organ Yearbook #20 [Laaber: Laaber-Verlag, 1989]). Rahbee is also exploring a hypothesis that meantone tempering may have come into widespread use somewhat later than is commonly believed. The apparently dual-tempered instruments of late 15th century, e.g., the Lorenzo da Pavia style of organ, may yet have much to offer on this topic. See http://www.david rumsey.ch/Iconography.pdf, pp. 7 and 8, and Marco Tiella, “The Positive Organ of Lorenzo da Pavia (1494),” in Peter Williams, ed., The Organ Yearbook #7 (Laaber: Laaber-Verlag 1976), pp. 4–15.

26. With a B–G♭ wolf giving near-pure major thirds (really diminished fourths) on A, D, E and B as opposed to the four (from a G♯–E♭ wolf tuning) quasi-pure major thirds on B, G♯, F♯, C♯ (see also endnote 22). This awakens interest in the potential adaptation of Pythagorean/B–G♭ tempering—seen as part of a transition to meantone—bearing, e.g., on the E-major/e-minor tuning dilemma in some Bruhns and early Bach organ works.

27. Das Buxheimer Orgelbuch, MS 3725, Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek, München.

28. Leighton’s point of departure is that Buch-ner was a Hofhaimer pupil, barely outlived his master, and most likely merely codified what he had been taught. The “good” fingers are 2 and 4, with scales played on lower keys executed, r.h. ascending and l.h. descending, as 2-3-2-3 (starting on strong beats), r.h. descending and l.h. ascending as 4-3-2-3-2-3, turn figures r.h. high-middle-low-middle and l.h. low-middle-high-middle as 4-3-2-3. The hand can be turned in the direction of travel when using paired fingerings (turning the hand in the direction of movement and keeping the fingers parallel to the keys were techniques used in the outgoing 16th century, their relative employment before that is a matter of speculation; Santa Maria and Diruta were in disagreement about this). Thumbs and fifth fingers are used in both hands (especially the left) when larger intervals require them. The iconography indicates use of left thumb when that hand played longer note values in three parts. Impractical passages sometimes need rule-breaking exceptions. Prohibition of using the same finger twice in succession is not endorsed in Quem terra pontus (which seems to have been fingered by a scribe rather than Buchner) and in polyphony, finger repetition is often the best musical and technical solution. (E-mail correspondence of 12.11.2012-3.12.2012).

29. Robertsbridge Codex/Robertsbridge fragment, London, British Library Add.
MS 28850. 

30. Faenza Codex, Faenza, Biblioteca Comunale, ms. 117.

31. See J.G. Töpfer, Lehrbuch der Orgelbaukunst, in 4 volumes (Weimar, 1855, and Mainz: Rheingold-Verlag, 1955–60).

32. See www.davidrumsey.ch/Technology.htm.

33. See Friedrich Jakob et al. in Die Valeria-Orgel. Ein gotisches Werk in der Burgkirche zu Sitten/Sion (Zurich, Verlag der Fachvereine, 1991), ISBN 3-7281-1666-1 and the updates in La Tribune de L’orgue, ed. Guy Bovet (Geneva), in numbers 56/3 and 61/2. A subsidiary issue here is that many of the older metal pipes at Sion appear not to have been hammered, but retain a thick, rough—even slightly porous?—post-casting appearance.

34. As noted, e.g., by Markovits in Die Orgel in Altertum. See, e.g., pp. 342, 418, and especially p. 444, where metal scarcities in the middle ages are said to have driven the change to wood, etc. (cf. pp. 198). Note also the tin- or copper/bronze-veneered wooden plates of windchests. This book is also available for viewing online at http://books.google.ca/books?id=p7amFlH7Bg0C&pg=PA401&source=gbs_toc_r&….

35. A need to be cautious here is underscored by an illusion in some representations, such as that of the Dame à la Licorne tapestry (http://www.davidrumsey.ch/Iconography.pdf, p. 5), where the pipe tops appear cylindrical, but lower down, under the bar, seem square.

36. E.g., see www.davidrumsey.ch/index.pdf—the Jerome de Moravia quote. In that connection a question (cf. Markovits endnote 33 above) that needs raising may well be: If metal was scarce, then what drove the change to lead so strongly (and e.g., not to wood)?

37. Lindley (op. cit., p .5) for example claims that most of Buxheim seems “. . . in certain cases at least, to require some form of meantone temperament for its proper effect” but gives no clear criteria. My own experience is contrary to this, having tried both, and I am mostly very comfortable with a Pythagorean/B–G♭ wolf for Buxheim. Criteria of this kind are difficult to formulate, save to note that resting points in the music, apart from open fifths and octaves, seem often enough to occur with the near-pure thirds of e.g., an A-major or D-major triad (a feature also noted by Lindley, pp. 42–43). We have to face the fact that medieval musicians themselves applied no consistent criteria here—a proposition that Lindley gives credence to with his quotation (p. 4) of the Spataro/Gaffurio and many other bitter contemporary conflicts around such issues. By virtue of its three additional pipes per octave, the medieval organ built by Winold van der Putten for me in 2010 is capable of playing in a variety of early Pythagorean temperings. With options of pipes to play either D♭ or C♯, G♭ or F♯, and A♭ or G♯, this currently allows any of the following tempering configurations:

Wolf G♯–E♭: E♭ B♭ F C G D A E B F♯ C♯ G♯

Wolf C♯–A♭: A♭ E♭ B♭ F  C G D A E B F♯ C♯

Wolf F♯–D♭: D♭ A♭ E♭ B♭ F C G D A E B F♯

Wolf B–G♭: G♭ D♭ A♭ E♭B♭ F C G D A E B

E♭/D♯ and B♭/A♯ choices (not yet built 2012) would further increase these options with:

Wolf D♯–B♭: B♭ F C G D A E B F♯ C♯ G♯ D♯

Wolf A♯–F: F C G D A E B F♯ C♯ G♯ D♯ A♯

So far a lack of available time has allowed only limited exploration of these variants.

38. www.davidrumsey.ch/Iconography.pdf

39. Incipiunt praeludia diversarium notarum secundum modernum modum subitliter et diligentor collecta cum mensuris diversis hic infra annexis by Adam Ileborgh of Stendal, 1448 (Ileborgh: Paris, private collection [‘Ileborgh Tablature’]).

40. www.orgelpark.nl/pages/home

41. Quoted in Jean Perrot, The Organ, from Its Invention in the Hellenistic Period to the End of the Thirteenth Century (London: Oxford University Press, 1971, ISBN 0 19 318418 4), trans. Norma Dean, p. 268. Perrot is sourcing this from Th. Gérold, La Musique au Moyen Age (Paris: Champion, 1932), p. 419.

42. www.orgelmakerij.nl

43. www.superlibrum.nl

44. www.davidrumsey.ch/index.php

45. www.bundesmuseen.ch/musikautomat en/index.html?lang=en

Richard Webb, lauded by the Bristol Herald-Courier as “a musician foremost,” concert organist, recitalist, lecturer, church musician, clinician/adjudicator and administrator, has performed solo concerts and appeared as guest artist with orchestras and ensembles throughout the United States, England, and Spain.  His informative and entertaining workshops and practical master classes in various performance practices have been particularly well received as a complement to his concert appearances. Highly regarded as a facile, sensitive and uniquely synchronous accompanist on all keyboard instruments, he is in significant demand as a collaborative partner for singers and instrumentalists.

 "...elevated the marriage of organ and brass to high art." (San Francisco Chronicle)

Milestone appearances have included the Inaugural Recital for the 50th Anniversary Season of the Central New Jersey AGO Chapter, a joint concert with the Echo Ringers of Japan by invitation of the Secretary-General of the United Nations to celebrate the 40th Anniversary of the Declaration of Human Rights and the Inaugural Series for, at the time, the largest concert hall organ in North America at Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco.  

“Particularly outstanding...Richard Webb's virtuoso bash in Julius Reubke's Wagnerian Sonata, the great organ masterpiece of the 19th century for my ear." (San Francisco Chronicle)

His imaginative programing interests have led him to premiere the works of such noted contemporary composers as Daniel Lentz, Lewis Songer, Meyer Kupfermann, John Haussermann, Jan Hanus, Gertrude Martin Rohrer, Robert Copeland, Alvin Batiste, James Hanna, Dennis Johnson, Dinos Constantinides, Charles Lloyd, and William Grimes.  He has presented thematic recitals and workshops on the organ music of America, Asia, Russia, and Spain (including a New York recital for the Quincentenary of Christopher Columbus at Saint Thomas Church Fifth Avenue), the organ and choral works of Siegfried Reda, the Church Music Renewal Movement and his passion, the life and works of Sigfrid Karg-Elert. Introduced recently at one of his all Karg-Elert recitals in New York as “an Evangelist for the music of  Karg-Elert,” he is a Life Member of the former Karg-Elert Archive in the United Kingdom and was a contributor to its publications.  

"The performance of the music of Karg- Elert by Dr. Richard Webb was inspirational. The lecture was excellent and the master class one of the best I have seen." (Rollins College/Central Florida AGO Inaugural Romantic Organ Music Conference)

"This was a most enterprising all-Karg-Elert program on the 151-rank Aeolian- Skinner organ at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City.   In Dick Webb's skilled hands, this historic instrument demonstrated ideally the wide variety of styles comprising Karg-Elert's compositions, while avoiding the obvious.  A most appreciative audience heard some important later works, such as Legend, Voices of the Night and Preambulo from Music for Organ. (International Newsletter of the Karg-Elert Archive Issue 75 – January 2014)

"In a balanced, well-constructed program, Dr. Webb delighted the audience with technically brilliant, musically satisfying performances of a wide variety of organ works.  A clear aesthetic vision and confident command of both technical and musical demands were evident throughout.  His program was a clear indication of his stature both as an artist and educator.  The recital he offered was beautifully performed and both the instrument and the audience were very well served by this significant American organist." (Piccolo Spoleto Festival L’Organo, website - review by Roy Stewart)

"Master organist Richard Webb ran the gamut, musically speaking, from the Baroque to the present day. The fact that he is a noted and devoted educator comes through clearly in his programing ...featuring high-quality performances vastly different from each other in style and scope." (The Pacific Grove Monarch)

"His programs are a treat for people who wish to hear the gamut of the organ's effects. More important, however, is his ability to interpret so correctly and compellingly the organ literature from many periods of musical history.  Webb's love of music and of performance clearly impress the listener." (Kingsport Times-News)

Dr. Webb is Professor and Dean Emeritus of the College of Arts and Humanities at Southern University in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, having served previously as Dean of the College and Chief Academic Officer at Westminster Choir College in Princeton, New Jersey as well as Professor and Chair of the Departments of Music at San Francisco State University and East Tennessee State University.  He is a past Dean of the San Francisco, Franklin and Baton Rouge Chapters of the American Guild of Organists, a designee of the Louisiana Artist Roster and a recipient of the coveted Louisiana Artist Fellowship for excellence in the arts, Organist Emeritus at First United Methodist Church of Baton Rouge, LA and Organ/Harpsichord Principal of the Baton Rouge Symphony. He performs as a member of the Louisiana Touring Directory, appears as a collaborative artist and chamber musician under the auspices of Bach's Five Productions, is a featured artist on both www.Organiste.net and The Diapason Artist Spotlights and is pleased to be represented as a concert organist by Concert Artist Cooperative, https://www.concertartistcooperative.com/.

See his video with harpist Rebecca Todaro, playing Variations Pastorales by Marcel Samuel Rousseau. 

Mailing Address:  9155 Goodwood Boulevard – Baton Rouge, LA 70815-3140 
E-Mail:  [email protected]  - Cell Phone: (225) 235-6765 
Webb-Site:  www.richardwebb.org

Jeremy David Tarrant, Organist

Jeremy David Tarrant is increasingly recognized for performances hailed as elegant, compelling, warm, communicative, and powerfully artistic. Since 2000, he has served as Organist and Choirmaster of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul (Episcopal) in Detroit, and from 1994–1999 he was Cathedral’s Assistant Organist.  In April of 2007 he was seated as Canon Precentor of the Cathedral in thanksgiving and recognition of his role in the liturgical and musical life of the Cathedral community.  He is the founding director of the Cathedral Choir School of Metropolitan Detroit.

Jeremy David Tarrant is a graduate of the University of Michigan School of Music where he earned the Bachelor and Master of Music degrees in organ performance and church music in the classes of Robert Glasgow and James Kibbie. His other instructors include Betty R. Pursley and Corliss Arnold. He has had additional coaching with Lynne Davis.

Mr. Tarrant is Adjunct Professor of Organ at Oakland University.  He is in frequent demand as a teacher and clinician, and regularly serves on the faculties of the summer courses offered by the Royal School of Church Music in America, as well as the American Guild of Organists summer Pipe Organ Encounters. 

An active concert organist, Jeremy David Tarrant has performed widely in North America and France. He frequently appears with the Detroit Chamber Winds and Strings and has performed in regional conventions of the American Guild of Organists.  In 2008, Mr. Tarrant made his European solo debut with a recital in the Cathédrale de St. Etienne in Meaux, France, and in 2011 he played the closing recital of International Organ Week in Dijon, France. In 2012, he was a featured artist in the Pine Mountain Music Festival, presenting three solo recitals in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  Since 2015 he has been engaged in a series of concerts on important instruments in Detroit. His debut solo recording of Widor’s Symphonie VII, along with music of Litaize and Vierne, was released in early 2018 to enthusiastic critical acclaim. 

In July, 2014 Mr. Tarrant conducted the Cathedral Choir during its residency at Chichester Cathedral in England.  This tour included concerts and services in Canterbury and Southwark Cathedrals.  On the choir’s two CD releases, Nowell Sing We, and Evensong for All Saints, he is featured as organ soloist as well as conductor.

Jeremy David Tarrant is represented by Seven Eight Artists.

www.seveneightartists.com

www.jeremydavidtarrant.com

View his performance of "Mattheus-Final" by Charles-Marie Widor: https://www.thediapason.com/videos/jeremy-david-tarrant-plays-mattheus-final-charles-marie-widor

 

Michael Barone

Michael Barone is host and producer of American Public Media’s Pipedreams program, which celebrates its 25th anniversary in 2007. Pipedreams can be heard on radio stations across the country, also on XM Satellite Radio Channel 133 and in Hong Kong on Radio Four. Barone is a native of northeastern Pennsylvania, a music history graduate of the Oberlin Conservatory, and a nearly 39-year employee of Minnesota Public Radio.

John Weaver, one of the America’s finest concert organists, celebrates his 70th birthday on April 27, 2007. The following interview is offered in honor of this milestone.
Dr. Weaver was director of music at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City from 1970–2005, and served as head of the organ department at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia 1971–2003, and also chair of the organ department at the Juilliard School 1987–2004.
His formal musical studies began at the age of six, and at age 15 he began organ study with Richard Ross and George Markey. His undergraduate study was at the Curtis Institute as a student of Alexander McCurdy, and he earned a Master of Sacred Music degree at Union Theological Seminary. In 1989 John Weaver was honored by the Peabody Conservatory with its Distinguished Alumni Award. He has received honorary Doctor of Music degrees from Westminster College, New Wilmington, Pennsylvania, and the Curtis Institute of Music. In 2005 he was named “International Performer of the Year” by the New York City chapter of the American Guild of Organists.
In addition to his work at the Curtis Institute and the Juilliard School, he has taught at Westminster Choir College, Union Theological Seminary, and the Manhattan School of Music. He has written numerous articles for organ and church music magazines and has served as president of the Presbyterian Association of Musicians.
Dr. Weaver has been active as a concert organist since coming under management in 1959. He has played throughout the USA, Canada, Western Europe, the United Kingdom, and Brazil. He has performed on national television and radio network programs in the U.S. and Germany, and has made recordings for Aeolian-Skinner, the Wicks Organ Company, Klais Orgelbau of Germany, a CD on Gothic Records for the Schantz Organ Company, and a recording on the Pro Organo label on the new Reuter organ at University Presbyterian Church in Seattle. His most recent recording, “The Organ and Choral Music of John Weaver,” is available on the JAV label and features his own organ and choral compositions. His published compositions for organ, chorus/organ and flute/organ are widely performed.
He currently lives in Vermont and continues to concertize and lead workshops and masterclasses around the world. The Weavers love to climb the New England mountains, and have a tradition of an annual ascent of Mt. Washington. Marianne is an avid gardener, and John’s hobby is a deep fascination with trains, both model and prototype.
This interview took place July 11, 2005, at the Weaver home in the rolling countryside near West Glover, Vermont.

MICHAEL BARONE: How did John Weaver stumble into the world of the organ?
JOHN WEAVER: We moved away from the little town where I spent the first four and a half years of my life. I have very few recollections of that place, except one of them that’s very strong—the organ at the church where my father was the pastor had a wonderful sound on low E. Something about the 16' stop on that organ resonated in the room in a glorious way, and I fell in love with that. As soon as I learned how to play a few notes on the piano, my favorite thing was to hold down the sustaining pedal and play an arpeggio—slowly at first—and just listen to it ring like an organ. Something in me has always been attracted to that sound.
MB: With whom did you study and how would you characterize those years?
JW: My first organ lessons were with a wonderful organist in Baltimore, Richard Ross. He died at age 39 shortly after having given me a lesson on a Saturday afternoon—just failed to show up the next day at church. Ross was becoming one of the best-known and finest organists in the country. When I first went to him, at the age of 15, instead of auditioning me at the organ, he told me to go up onto the stage of the Peabody concert hall and play for him on the piano. Well, there was a big Steinway up there, but the thing that really interested me was the 4-manual E. M. Skinner. I could hear air escaping from it, and I coveted playing that instrument so badly that I can feel it still today.
Nevertheless, Ross told me that he wanted to hear me play something on the piano. So, I stumbled through my Mozart sonata that was not really very good at that point, and afterward he said to me, “I don’t want you to study organ yet. You need to study at least another year of piano and really work at it very hard.” And then he also said something that I’ve always remembered: “If in the meantime you study organ with anybody else, I will never teach you.”
Well, I took his advice, and I went back to my piano teacher and really did work for a year—then came back the next year and played for Ross again. This time I played the Beethoven “Pathétique,” and I played it pretty well. Ross said, “OK, now you can start studying organ, but you must continue to study piano as well.”
Fortunately I had a very good piano teacher, and I studied with Ross for about a year and a half, until his death. The Peabody Conservatory brought in George Markey as an interim to fill out the rest of that academic year. While I was studying with Markey, at this point as a senior in high school, he said “Where are you going to go to school next year?” I just assumed I would go to Peabody because we lived in Baltimore, and Markey said, “Well, have you considered auditioning for the Curtis Institute of Music?” And I remember asking him, “Where is that?” I was soon to find out a lot about Curtis and also about the great teacher there, Alexander McCurdy. I did audition and was accepted, and had four glorious years in Philadelphia.

MB: McCurdy is something of a legend, and the stories about him are numerous. I expect you have more than a few.
JW: I’ve described him on numerous occasions as an Old Testament figure. He was someone you both loved and feared at the same time—certainly, not one to suffer fools. If you went into a lesson unprepared, you were sure to get a dressing down that would do a drill sergeant credit. But when words of praise came, they were so precious and so rewarding that they could light you up for a whole week. He was a very liberal teacher in that he did not insist on playing any piece of music in any certain way. Within that department at that time we had about six students—there was one student who was very much a disciple of E. Power Biggs, and there were others of us who were much more in the Virgil Fox camp. That was sort of the nature of the department, but McCurdy was as enthusiastic about the fellow who was a Neo-Baroquist as he was about the rest of us. That person, by the way, is Temple Painter, who is one of the leading harpsichordists in the city of Philadelphia and still plays organ as well.

MB: What were McCurdy’s techniques to get the best out of students? What did he create in you that might not have been there before? And then how did you take what you learned from McCurdy and shape that with your own personality?
JW: McCurdy had several ways of getting the best from us. I’ll never forget my first lesson: he assigned a chorale prelude from the Orgelbüchlein, which I had not played, and he said, “Mr. Weaver, I’d like you to play this next week from memory in organ class.” Well, right away it was jump-starting; and seven, eight hours a day of practicing became the norm. At my second lesson, he assigned the Vierne Cantabile, from the second symphony, and said, “I’d like you to play that next week in organ class in front of your peers.” Well, that was really a struggle. And he did that for about three weeks at the beginning of the four years. After that, he never assigned a piece again. But he got me into the habit of learning—I knew he expected that kind of production from week to week.
That’s a Curtis tradition that was started by Lynnwood Farnam, continued by Fernando Germani and by McCurdy, and I believe is still the case—each student comes every week with a new piece memorized to play in class. This could be a little one-page chorale prelude for manuals alone, or it could be a major prelude and fugue, a big romantic work, or a modern work—you could repeat something from previous classes, but you always had to have a new piece also. It got us into the habit of assuming when you started to learn a piece that you were eventually going to play it from memory. There are some pieces that I have never been able to play from memory. I’ve memorized a fair amount of Messiaen, but with more atonal pieces, I find that I am just not comfortable playing without the score.

MB: The challenge for the organist, of course, is that each instrument is different from the next and requires its own learning process. The traveling recitalist comes to a church, gets used to the instrument, gets used to the instrument’s response in the room, and then tries to make music with the repertoire that you’ve brought to town. Perhaps it’s no wonder that fewer organists want to memorize these days, but there’s still something about a performer totally connected to and deeply involved in the music that is missing when a score is being read.
JW: There is always the problem of the page-turner—or, if one turns one’s own pages, that has its risks as well. Page-turners can sometimes pull music down off the rack inadvertently, or pull a page right out of the book, or turn two pages—there are lots of risks. Page-turners also have a tendency sometimes to hum or to tap their foot. I’ve even known some who think it’s safe to step on the pedalboard to reach a page that’s far out of the way—that really does produce a catastrophe.
I guess it doesn’t make a lot of difference if the console is completely hidden. I wouldn’t know if someone was playing from memory or not, but pianists, violinists, singers are expected to walk on stage and play from memory. It’s harder for organists, yes. I like to have 12 to 15 hours at an instrument before I’m ready to play a recital on it. If I had 20 hours it would be better still. If I had 25, I would find a few more things to make that instrument come across in the very best possible way and the music to be the best that I could do. That kind of time is rarely available, but 12 to 15 hours is a norm.

MB: I always get the sense watching you that you really enjoy playing. Now is this actually true or are you just a very good actor?
JW: If it looks like I’m having fun, I’m glad for that because in a way, I am. I also am constantly aware of the pitfalls—how many things might happen that you don’t want to happen and sometimes do. But I do enjoy playing. I love playing recitals, though it scares me, and five minutes before the recital I ask myself “Why did I ever agree to do this?” But once I start playing, why, that departs and I really do settle down and enjoy what I love about the music that I play—hoping that people will catch something of what I’m feeling about that music and my devotion to it.

MB: How did you, a former student at the Curtis Institute, come to be the head of the organ department at Curtis?
JW: One fine day Alexander McCurdy called me up and said, “Mr. Weaver, I’m going to retire from the Curtis Institute, and Rudolph Serkin would like to meet with you and see if you might be an appropriate successor.” (Rudolph Serkin at that point being the director of the Curtis Institute.) Needless to say, I went down to Philadelphia and met with Serkin, and he suggested that I play a recital in Curtis Hall—it was never called an audition recital, but I think they wanted me to clear that hurdle before giving me a green light. Curtis Hall is one of the hardest places to play. It is totally dry acoustically, with a 118-rank Aeolian-Skinner in a room that seats about 200 people—probably more pipes per person than any place else in the world. But it’s an instrument that can, if one works with it, do remarkable things. So I did play the recital and did get the job, and was there very happily for many years. I started in 1971 and retired in 2003—32 years.

MB: How would you characterize yourself as a teacher?
JW: I’ve tried to follow the McCurdy mold. When I was at Curtis we continued the tradition of the organ class—memorization and new pieces each week. I also tried to not impose my own interpretation of any given piece upon the students that I was fortunate enough to teach, both at Curtis and at Juilliard. I do believe that everyone should somehow sound like themselves, that there is some part of themselves and their own musical personality that will affect the way that they perform any piece.
I’ve had students who were extremely flamboyant and almost overdone. I’ve tried to curb that a little bit sometimes, but I certainly don’t want to squelch the enthusiasm and the very strong personal interpretations that a student like that can bring. Sometimes I find a student’s playing to be too conservative, just dull note pushing, and then we talk a lot about the music and about its nature—its liveliness or passiveness or serenity or agitation—trying to have the student project something in the music other than just the notes on the page.

MB: Who were some of your outstanding recent students?
JW: Well, without naming any priority, certainly Paul Jacobs, who succeeded me at Juilliard; Alan Morrison, who succeeded me at the Curtis Institute; Diane Meredith Belcher, who’s on the faculty at Westminster Choir College; Ken Cowan, who is on the faculty of Westminster Choir College and is now the head of the organ department there—and a whole host of others. Those are four that are under management, nationally known, and do a great deal of playing—I’m very proud of them indeed.

MB: How did you come to be at Madison Avenue Presbyterian? What are the different demands, delights, and challenges of being a church musician as opposed to being a fancy-free artist in the world of recitals?
JW: For eleven years, I was at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in New York. While there, my wife and I started the Bach cantata series that continues to this day, and we really made that church known for performances of the music of Bach. In 1970, I knew that the position at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church was vacant. It never occurred to me to apply for it. But one day, a gentleman came into the church office unannounced, no appointment, and asked to see me. When we met he said, “We,” meaning the search committee at Madison Avenue, “were hoping that you would apply.”
Well, having the door opened by him at that point, I decided to follow through with it, and I did so with a great deal of doubt because I had grown up in a Presbyterian church, where the din of the congregational chatter before the service completely drowned out anything that could possibly be done on the organ. And I had the impression that Presbyterians generally did not place a very high value on the quality of the worship, the sermon being the centerpiece of the whole Sunday morning experience. But I met with the committee at Madison Avenue and particularly with their pastor David H.C. Reed, in whom I found a Presbyterian with wonderfully high regard for worship and high expectations for the quality of worship. My fears were allayed. I did go to Madison Avenue in the fall of 1970, and immediately we began changing the nature of the worship service there. The congregation began to sing a great deal more—four hymns every Sunday, plus they began to sing the Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei.
That progressed until the congregation tended to draw people who liked to sing, and so the congregational singing was strong and is to this day. David Reed was followed by Dr. Fred Anderson, who was a musician—his first degree was as a music major—and a great lover of music and of worship. Now one could go to Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church and the worship experience would be very ecumenical. You would not be certain if you were in a Lutheran or a Roman Catholic or an Episcopal church. It’s very much Presbyterian, but at the same time very ecumenical and very rich liturgically.
MB: Have you considered yourself an organist who composes or have you always thought of yourself as a composer who had to make his way as an organist and a teacher?
JW: Very definitely the former: I’m an organist first and foremost, but I’m an organist who loves to compose. Many composers who try to write for the organ don’t understand the instrument and therefore write pieces that get a premiere performance and are never heard again. In fact, the organ literature that does become mainstream is almost always written by people who play the instrument. One great exception is Paul Hindemith, but he of course was able to write for any instrument, and he always did his research and knew what he was doing—he wrote three wonderful organ sonatas and a concerto.
Years ago, when I was in my early teens, I started going to Vermont in the summer to a music camp for theory. No lessons were taught on piano or clarinet or violin or anything like that. There was no applied music—it was all theory. We had counterpoint classes, form and analysis, and harmony and such, and the result of it was that the students of the camp composed because we had been given the tools of the musical language.
So I’ve gone to Vermont every summer of my life to compose, and now that I live here I hope to do a lot more composing. I’ve also composed primarily things that I myself could use. Although everything I’ve composed for the last 15 years has been on commission, I’ve always written something that I could use in my own work, either in recitals or in church services. I’ve written a lot of choral music and a lot of organ solo pieces and also several pieces for organ and flute because my wife is a very good flutist and we like to be able to play those pieces together.

MB: Do you have any favorites among the pieces that you’ve written? JW: My favorites tend to be the ones that have been performed a great deal. The Passacaglia on a Theme of Dunstable—it may not in fact be by Dunstable, but it was thought to be by him, namely the tune Deo gratias—was composed for the 25th anniversary of the state trumpets at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and I played the premiere performance there. It’s a set of variations in passacaglia form, and one variation is designated for that magnificent state trumpet at the west end of that huge cathedral. Nevertheless, the piece works on instruments that don’t have that particular kind of stop available. The piece has been recorded by a number of people and has been played all over the world—that gives me a lot of satisfaction. It’s also one of my favorite pieces.

MB: How many compositions have you’ve written up to this point?
JW: I’ve probably composed about 20 choral pieces, that is, anthem-length pieces. I’ve also composed all four gospel settings of the Passion story, and probably a dozen solo organ pieces.

MB: And other than the commission that you just received on Friday, the future is an open book at this point?
JW: Yes, actually that’s the only commission I have in hand right now, but I am trusting that others will come in. And if they don’t I’ll write anyhow.

MB: Someone wanting to commission you would do what? Do you have a website?
JW: .

MB: Do you enjoy the process of recording? You’ve made some notable recordings. It ends up sounding as though you’re having a good time, even if you might not be.
JW: No, I hate recording. [laughter] There’s something a little bit antiseptic about it. First of all, one does not get that sense of response from a live audience. You simply do the playing, and then there are people sitting around with scores and dials and they’re wanting to do this over again and that over again—or a siren will go off or there’ll be a clap of thunder; things like that can make it very frustrating. When they listen to a recording, people have no idea about how long it takes to make that, because street noises or other interruptions can destroy what otherwise would have been a perfect take. It’s very hard.

MB: You’ve been performing in Portland on the Kotzschmar organ—well, you must have been a boy in knee pants when you started.
JW: It was in 1956—at the end of my first year as a student at the Curtis Institute of Music—when I first played the instrument that had been given to the city of Portland by Cyrus H. K. Curtis, whose daughter was the founder of the Curtis Institute. So there was a wonderful connection there. And I’ve been back every year since. [Editor’s note: Dr. Weaver played his 50th recital on the Kotzschmar in August 2005.]

MB: The organ is a challenge as a musical instrument—it is this device with so many opportunities for color and dynamics, and yet is an incredibly complex machine, which even at its best seems to be intractable. Is this something that organists don’t think about, they just do? Or is making music on the organ as difficult as it might appear to a layman, seeing all of those controls to be manipulated and the separation between the console and the pipework and all of that?
JW: Michael, I believe every instrument has its challenges. For pianists, the way in which the key is struck is so critical, and a pianist’s hands must cover a large key compass, whereas organs have a shorter keyboard, 61 notes as opposed to 88; and organ music tends to stay in the middle register, so, in a way, that’s much easier. Violinists have tiny strings and a fingerboard, and it amazes me that they can play a C major scale. Violin virtuosos are just astonishing. The challenges of the organ are mastering the pedals, mastering console technique that enables you to draw upon the resources of the instrument—and then also to a very great extent, the imagination that you can bring to bear with so many different colors available. Each person will choose sounds to produce the right color, if I might use that word, for the passage that they’re playing in a way that pianists and violinists couldn’t possibly do.

MB: In the 21st century young organists face not only sustaining the presence of their instrument but actually rebuilding an audience for organ music. I see this as a real challenge.
JW: Yes, it is. Every now and then though, one sees very hopeful signs—one of those being the recent installation within the last five to ten years of a great many organs in the concert halls of this country—something that’s fairly standard in Europe; for instance, the renovation of the wonderful Ernest Skinner organ in Severance Hall in Cleveland, a new organ in Orchestra Hall in Chicago, the restoration of the organ in Boston Symphony Hall, the new Disney Hall instrument in Los Angeles. One could go on and on and name any number of places where new instruments have been installed or old instruments have been restored—to me this suggests that the organ will take, again, its place as a concert instrument and not just a liturgical instrument.
On the other hand, it must be said that concert halls are often not the most perfect, acoustically, for organs. Great organ music was written to sound its best in places with fairly substantial reverberation, such as a large stone church. So concert hall organs are wonderful, and I’m glad they’re being built, and they enable us to do organ concerti and sometimes organ solo recitals. But the church, particularly one that has a long reverberation period, is still where the organ seems most at home.

MB: How would you compare the scene for organs and organists in your day? Was this a peak of energy with that marvelous—some would say divisive, some would say energy producing—polarity between the historicists and E. Power Biggs on one side, and the theatricalists and Virgil Fox on the other? We don’t have quite that type of energy today. I daresay the man in the street, if asked to name a concert organist today, might be hard pressed, whereas back in the ’60s and early ’70s, the names of Biggs and Fox were very much in the public ear.
JW: Biggs and Fox, both of them very talented, extraordinary musicians, had a great advantage of working right at the time that the LP recording was becoming common in the American home. RCA Victor and Columbia were the big producers of LP recordings at the beginning of that time in the early ’50s. And there was Biggs and there was Fox, and these two polarities were represented in the recording industry—that did a great deal for the visibility of the organ and the popularity of organ music.

MB: It could be argued that now is both the best of times and the worst of times—there are far more organ recordings available, representing a much larger panoply of artistry and instruments both new built and historic, marvelously represented—and yet there is so much that the focus is lost to some degree.
JW: Yes, I think that’s right. When it was Biggs and Fox, you could expect to find their names in the crossword puzzle. No organist today has that kind of visibility. Another name that was right up there at the top was Marcel Dupré because of his extraordinary playing and also the fact that he had been the teacher of so many organists in the U.S. through the Fulbright program. There isn’t anyone who has really achieved that kind of star status in the organ world, which is not to say that there aren’t a great many wonderfully talented and brilliant performers. Maybe there are just too many.

MB: Yes, it could be argued that the performance quality of the 21st century is higher than it’s ever been. Do you think that it’s possible with so much talent around for someone to distinguish themselves or do they have to almost jump beyond mere artistry and do something odd in order to be discovered? JW: Perhaps it would be best to think in terms of naming names. The name of Cameron Carpenter who studied with me at Juilliard comes to mind. Cameron is extraordinarily flamboyant, both in dress and personality and in playing. His playing annoys the purists terribly, but certain people are simply mesmerized by his performances. And he is a genius—there’s no question about that. Another name that gets a great deal of visibility these days is the young German organist, Felix Hell, whom I also had the honor to teach. Felix, at first, was famous because he was so very young when he was playing recitals all over the world, literally, as he still does. But now he is taking his place among the more mature artists of the younger generation and plays very well indeed—and has made numerous recordings. So these two are a little bit like Biggs and Fox—Felix tends to be a fairly conservative player, not extremely so but more middle of the road, whereas Cameron is way out there in show biz land.

MB: Presuming it’s something different from that marvelous, resonate low “E” that had you mesmerized as a child, when you play and hear the organ, what sort of thoughts go through your mind? What is it about the instrument that still captures your heart and soul?
JW: Who could not be seduced by the instrument itself? Just the mechanics of it and this great collection of pipes, some of them enormous, much larger than most people realize, and most of them very much smaller. I think when a layman sees the inside of a pipe organ for the first time, they’re always astonished—even if it’s a small instrument, it looks amazingly big and complex. And the large ones, of course, are simply mind-boggling. So there’s something about the instrument: its bigness, its history. When I’m playing an organ, if I’m playing Bach I’m thinking about instruments I’ve played that Bach may have played—there’s this great history and great repertoire, and frankly the sound of the instrument has always seduced me.

MB: How would you characterize your playing style?
JW: Probably other people should do that. I would say that I am in the middle someplace. I probably am a little bit on the extrovert side of dead center, but I also am not one to completely disregard the knowledge that musicologists have brought to us of performance practice, of historic instruments—but sometimes I will just say “this piece that I’m playing on this particular instrument cannot be played in a good, authentic, 18th-century style.” Something must be done to make the music and the organ come together in a way that is satisfying and gratifying. And sometimes that means just throwing the rulebook out the window.

MB: Did you set out with goals? You probably didn’t begin your study imagining you would go to Curtis, and then after having studied at Curtis, you probably hadn’t thought that you might end up teaching there, or at Juilliard for that matter. You’re like a natural surfer who has swum out into the sea and found a fantastic wave and you’ve been able to ride that wave through your career with skill, with accomplishment, certainly with a sense of pride. How do you look back at your career from this point?
JW: I would have to say that as with many careers, a great deal of it has to do with being at the right place at the right time, but also having ability to do the job that is required. I’ve often thought that if I had been five years younger, the Curtis Institute would not have thought me an appropriate age to head that organ department. If I had been five years older, it’s likely that they would have chosen someone else from among Alexander McCurdy’s students.

MB: You have moved on from three prestigious positions and you’ve now settled in what used to be your summer home in rural Vermont, up in the marvelous rolling countryside in the northeast corner of the state. Somehow, I can’t think of you as retiring. What projects have you set for yourself for the future?
JW: The mail recently brought a new commission for a new organ piece—that’ll be one of the things. I do want to continue to compose. I’m playing a number of recitals this year including two that I’m extraordinarily excited about, because I will be reunited with the instruments that I had my first lessons on. One of them, the Peabody concert hall Skinner, was put in storage for about 40 years, and then set up at a big Roman Catholic Church in Princeton, New Jersey. A week later I will be playing a recital on the wonderful Skinner organ at Brown Memorial Presbyterian Church in Baltimore, where my teacher Richard Ross was the organist, and before him, Virgil Fox—a beautiful, perfectly untouched Ernest Skinner that really is quite a marvelous instrument. And I’m playing some other recitals and some dedications around the country.

MB: So, you keep your organ shoes polished and ready to go?
JW: Indeed so.
[Editor’s note: Dr. Weaver has announced that the 2007–2008 concert season will be his last for regular concert activity.]

MB: Tell me about some of your memories from being “on the road.”
JW: The wonderful occasions that I love to think back upon are two recitals that I played—one in Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, for a national convention of the American Guild of Organists, in which everything went the way I wanted it to. I loved the instrument, the audience was wonderful, the acoustic was great. And the other one was the Mormon Tabernacle—a recital I played when the Tabernacle was having a three-day symposium to celebrate the restoration of the organ there. Everything was fun, and the instrument was to die for, and of course the acoustics are world famous.

MB: Tell me about your railroad fascination. Where did you grow up? Mauch Chunk?
JW: Yes, Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania, is a little town north of Allentown and Bethlehem, about 20 miles up into the Pocono Mountains—it’s in a ravine cut by the Lehigh River, and there was a railroad on both sides of the river that ran through the town. The town is now called Jim Thore, but its historic name of Mauch Chunk has great importance. Anyhow, it was a railroad town, and being in this mountain ravine, day or night you could hear the sound of a steam locomotive. The bells and the whistles and the smell of coal smoke were a constant feature of that place. I can remember standing by the railroad track and holding my father’s hand and counting the number of cars on a freight train as it rolled through. It became a part of my life—a very strong hobby, and we are seated right now in the midst of a model railroad that I’m creating that is 26 by 36 feet and has 390 feet of track in it. This is my last model railroad—if I live to 150 I might actually finish it.

MB: And you had one in your office at Madison Avenue Presbyterian.
JW: Yes, unfortunately when I retired from Madison Avenue that meant the end of that railroad, but all of those trains and the structures and the little people and the automobiles and all that are now a part of the railroad here.

MB: I’m sure the compositions that you created for Madison Avenue Presbyterian remain in the files there for the choirs to sing. It’s too bad that your railroad installation in the office wasn’t kept by your replacement.
JW: In the search for my replacement, a fondness for railroads had nothing whatsoever to do with their choice. So.

MB: What of your siblings and in what directions did they go?
JW: My older brother took piano lessons from the same teacher that I had, and he could see that I was making faster progress, so he switched to violin and became in his high school years a reasonably good violinist—he played second chair, first violin in what was at that time a very good high school orchestra. My younger brother is a wonderful tenor, does a lot of solo work in the western Massachusetts area, teaches mathematics at Mount Holyoke College, has an abiding passion for music and even does some composing—he has been published.

MB: And your parents’ musical backgrounds?
JW: Both of my parents played the piano, my father better than my mother. My father had also studied organ for a year or two, and could get through a hymn—knew how to use the pedals a little bit for hymn playing. My mother was an artist, did a master’s at Carnegie Tech and then studied for a year at the Sorbonne—the walls of our houses are covered with paintings that she did over the years.

MB: With your family’s church affiliation and your being a church organist, it’s maybe not surprising that some of the most lovely works that you’ve created have been fantasies on or settings of hymn tunes. You certainly do respond to the church’s song in your compositions.
JW: Well, I love playing hymns. I especially love hymns when a congregation is stirred to sing really well—that’s a wonderful experience. Very often the reason for writing pieces based on hymns has to do with the nature of a commission that I have received. In fact, almost always when I have composed a piece based upon a hymn tune, it’s been requested by the person who commissioned the composition.

MB: Did your parents live to see the honor accorded their son who went on to great things?
JW: My father was very gratified to live to see my appointment to Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church. It was one year later that I was appointed to Curtis. By that time, my mother had died, and my father was not at all well. My father did not particularly encourage my desire to be a professional organist. He, as a minister of a medium-size church, saw that as being at best a part-time job, which would mean having to do something else on the side, and that’s always a difficult life. I think he was very happy to see that I had the security of a full-time church position that was also in a church of great prominence within the denomination.

Michael Barone adds: When I first heard John Weaver play, at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco for the AGO convention in 1984, I was charmed by his physical presence (Mr. Clean in a dinner jacket!), awed by his control of the instrument (and himself), and beguiled by his musicianship. Subsequent convergences have confirmed my first impressions. John is a modest man of major accomplishments, a patrician artist and persuasive virtuoso who has fostered and encouraged the talents and individuality of an inspiring array of youngsters. He is a musician whose own playing leaves a lasting memory, and whose compositions touch the soul. He’s a guy I’ve been both honored and delighted to know. Happy birthday, John!

John Weaver will be the featured guest/topic of a Pipedreams broadcast (#0717) during the week of April 23, 2007, which will remain available 24/7 in an online audio “programs” archive at www.pipedreams.org.

Michael Barone's John Weaver interview

See the interview here.

 

Other items of interest:

John Weaver honored by Juilliard

John Weaver honored by Union Theological Seminary

Honoring John Weaver's 80th birthday

John Weaver dies at age 83

John Weaver honored by long time representative