blog.sinden.org

This week saw the 225th anniversary of the death of German composer and organist Johann Sebastian Bach. Bach died on July 28, 1750.

As the day unfolded, I found myself reading Uncommon Measure a remarkable memoir by Natalie Hodges. Hodges reflects in one of the last chapters on one of the great pinnacles of violin playing, the Chaconne from the Partita in D minor, BWV 1004.

Hodges points out the discrepancy between this single movement, and the rest of the Partita. The other movements are dance movements; the Chaconne is not. Furthermore, the Chaconne is longer than all of the other movements of the Partita combined. This has led to some theories about the reason for this movement's composition, and what it might mean. Perhaps it is a memorial to Bach's first wife, Maria Barbara Bach, but there does not seem to be much concensus about this theory. If Bach conceived of the six solo violin pieces as having some hidden liturgical or theological meaning, the Chaconne could represent the crucifixion.

Without deciding on the memorial theory, Hodges offers an exploration of this music in the context of grief. The opening and ending phrases of this enormous solo work are identical. The substance of the sections within could be understood variously as different "stages" of grief (perhaps even approaching acceptance when the music turns to major?), but Hodges points out the reality of the nature of grief: it never leaves. The opening theme comes back unchanged at the very end to drive this point home.

In searching for a recording to listen to, I came across this album by Ingrid Matthews of the complete Sonatas and Partitas for solo violin.

I was privileged to have Ingrid Matthews as a chamber music coach earlier this summer at the Baroque Performance Institute at Oberlin, but I didn't realize at the time that she had made this recording twenty-five years ago (the same year I matriculated as an undergraduate at Oberlin in fact).

Oberlin and Bach, in fact, go hand in hand for me. I still vividly remember my audition, which included a major Bach work. And I studied many Bach organ works over my four years there, many of them on the 1974 Flentrop organ which suits this music beautifully.

But whether it's a complex organ in a concert hall, or a beautifully made violin in a practice room, Bach in particular is a master at creating a sound world. The preludes and fugues for organ are impressive. But no less wonderful and miraculous are the universes that Bach unfolds with a single melody instrument: a violin, or a cello.

Here is a composer who was able to bring his tremendous craftsmanship to the instrument at hand, and create works that reach out through the centuries and continue to challenge, inform, and inspire generations of musicians on nearly every instrument imaginable. And with an endlessly inventive combination of a stylized set of materials, Bach finds an emotional expressivity that feels clear and authentic to those of us who perform and listen 225 years after his death.

Is it right that we bestow such a composer with "sainthood"? I can think of no more deserving composer for this honor, so perhaps it is right, in a sense. Bach was given his own feast day in 2022 when he was added the calendar for July 28, the day of his death, and he is included in the current Lesser Feasts and Fasts 2024. In the calendar revisions of 2009, Bach was previously honored alongside George Frideric Handel and Henry Purcell (the latter two riding Bach's coattails: Handel died on April 14; Purcell, November 21). Handel and Purcell do not appear on the current sanctoral calendar.

Particularly because Bach paid such close attention to every textual detail in crafting his soundworlds, I was struck with the unpleasant incongruity of the mistake in his Rite II (contemporary language) collect: the word "thy" appears just as it does in the Rite I (traditional language) collect.

I also note that the Rite II collects for Iranaeus of Lyon (June 28), Edith Stein (August 9), and Frances Joseph Gaudet (December 31) have the same error.

Sound out your majesty, O God, and call us to your work; that, like thy [sic] servant Johann Sebastian Bach, we might present our lives and our works to your glory alone; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The collect is a strong one. Bach signed all of his sacred compositions with the Latin "Soli Deo Gloria," ("To God alone be the glory"). It's so good, in fact, it's worth a correction.

Sound out your majesty, O God, and call us to your work; that, like your servant Johann Sebastian Bach, we might present our lives and our works to your glory alone; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Labels: Bach, Ingrid Matthews, Lesser Feasts and Fasts

It occurs to me to ascribe a Christmas narrative to the Pastorale in F, BWV 590 (PDF score) by Johann Sebastian Bach.

As far as we know, Bach did not have an overt Christmas narrative in mind when writing this piece. But for modern audiences, hearing this piece at Christmastime, it is not too much of a stretch to lay out a narrative approach to listening to (and perhaps performing this piece).

Assigning extra-musical content to a non-programmatic piece of music is something organists like to do when they think too much about a single piece of music. I remember Harold Vogel doing this to Sweelinck once. Now it's my turn.

As a starting point, the Pastorale itself, as a musical genre, connects to an idealized lifestyle of shepherds. Even for J. S. Bach, the Pastorale had this connection: the Sinfonia to Part II of Bach's Christmas Oratorio is a Pastorale that "sets the stage" for the tenor recitative of Luke 2:8-9 that follows.

And so, we can safely begin our narrative for Bach Pastorale, BWV 590, with the shepherds here also.

Bach’s Pastorale in F has four movements, none with tempo markings. Bach may have even conceived of the first movement as a standalone work (or simply written it significantly before the successive movements), but the final cadence, in A minor, makes the idea of a single-movement Pastorale difficult. For a short work of only 37 bars, a cadence in an unrelated key strongly suggests one or more additional movements that feed off of this unresolved tension.

Movement 1: Meet the Shepherds

The new key of A Major is the kind of shimmering in the air, or perhaps “disturbance in the Force”, if you will, that the shepherds sense that herald the angel's arrival.

This movement does not return to its starting key; it ends with an A minor chord, the vi chord in our starting key of F Major.

And so it begins. The shepherds we just met are now in the presence of an angel, and they are "sore afraid”.

Movement 2: Fear Not

The second movement focuses on two words from the tenth verse of Luke Chapter 2: “Fear not”.

This gentle, bucolic writing is meant to calm the shepherds’ anxiety at the end of movement one. The A minor finale of the previous movement has its answer in its relative, C Major.

The intimate quality of this movement is best conveyed through performance on a single stop. A solo four-foot stop is not out of place here.

Movement 3: Angel Aria

We then duck into a parallel minor for an aria. Where the previous movement serves to calm the shepherds down, this movement serves to inform them and ultimately spur them to action.

The texture here lends itself to playing on two manuals: a solo voice in the right hand and a softer accompanimental texture in the left.

This aria texture allows the angel to announce, explain, and invite. The content could be that which is found in Luke 2:10-12. The angel’s explanation of the sign that the shepherds will find implies an invitation for them to get up and see for themselves.

Movement 4: Dance Party

After the monologue, this solitary angel is joined by their compatriots, and the music that they employ is a dance that the shepherds understand: a gigue. It is the dance of “Glory to God in the highest” told angelically (a fugue) and in the vernacular of their audience (a gigue). It is a moment when heaven and earth mingle, and the angels’ song takes on particular sonic flesh for the shepherds.

Labels: Bach, Christmas

Sinden.org published its traditional preview of the music list for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge late last month.

For the days leading up to the service, we have been offering a Kalendar of Carols: a more in-depth look at each piece of music to be sung.

So far, we've covered the opening hymn, Bidding Prayer, In the bleak mid-winter – Harold Darke, Adam's Fall – Richard Elfyn Jones, Love came down at Christmas – arr. Stephen Cleobury, How shall I fitly meet thee – Bach, I saw three ships – arr. Ledger, Illuminare Jerusalem – Judith Weir, and the hymn "O little town of Bethlehem", A spotless rose – Herbert Howells, The Lamb – John Tavener, The Angel Gabriel – Pettman, The Linden Tree Carol – arr. Cleobury, this year's commissioned carol by Huw Watkins, Away in a manger – Willcocks. Can I not sing but hoy – Francis Jackson, the hymn "God rest ye merry, gentlemen", We three kings – arr. Neary, The Magi's Dream – Whitbourn, the hymn "O come, all ye faithful", and the hymn "Hark! the herald angels sing".

There's not much more to say about that. It would be hard to imagine the service concluding any other way.

This is not to say that there couldn't have been some variability with this over the last 100 years, but this would require a close examination of all the services. At least from 1982, this voluntary has been a fixed element.

Note what has happened in this service toward the end. Since the Ninth Lesson all the elements have been "ordinary" and unchanging. The lesson, the two hymns, the collect and blessing, and now the first voluntary.

This is a clear signal, year after year that the service is ended. It is at the second organ voluntary that the organists again have some input into the music. And we address that tomorrow.

Labels: Bach, Christmas, King's College (Cambridge), Lessons and Carols

Sinden.org published its traditional preview of the music list for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge on November 24.

Now, for the days leading up to the service, we'll offer a Kalendar of Carols: a more in-depth look at each piece of music to be sung.

So far, we've covered the opening hymn, Bidding Prayer, In the bleak mid-winter – Harold Darke, Adam's Fall – Richard Elfyn Jones, and Love came down at Christmas – arr. Stephen Cleobury.

In regards to this service, movements from the Christmas Oratorio have been employed from time to time. In particular, the recitative "And there were shepherds" followed by the chorale "Break forth, O beauteous heavenly light" were fixtures of the service under the tenure of David Willcocks. They were sung after the Bidding Prayer as the Invitatory.

I don't clearly recall hearing the Bach the last time it was sung at this service in 2000.

This chorale is sung to the tune most churchgoers know as "O sacred head now wounded" or "O sacred head sore wounded" which is most often sung in Holy Week. This means that people who don't know any better will complain about this chorale.

Labels: Bach, Christmas, King's College (Cambridge), Lessons and Carols

For the last several years I've always sat up a little straighter when I hear the opening hymn at the annual Meditation on the Passion of Christ from St. John's, Cambridge. (link to 2016 service webcast).

The organ is blaring, the voices are full, the sound is thrilling. And no small part of it is the harmonization from the English Hymnal which is by J. S. Bach.

The hymn is "All glory, laud, and honor", which we all know well. Probably too well, even though we only get around to it once a year. Probably part of my reaction to this sound from St. John's is that the character is somewhat different from the Teschner/Monk harmonization in the Hymnal 1982.

The harmony is, well... it's more Bach, of course. There's more drama in the bass line; there are more leading tones. It's more visceral. There's more soul. Or something.

So, this year we're trying the English Hymnal harmony. I finally buckled down to edit the Hymnal 1982 words and melody (note that it is slightly different than the way the tune appears in the English Hymnal) to utilize utilise the English Hymnal harmonies.

And, as a small offering to the Church, it's available to you just in time for Wednesday or Thursday night choir rehearsal to try it out. Enjoy.

Hymn 154: "All glory, laud, and honor" with English Hymnal harmony (PDF)

Labels: Bach, English Hymnal, Holy Week, Hymn 154, Hymnal 1982, Palm Sunday

Classical-music institutions rely far too much on anniversary-driven programming: they may as well put up a neon sign saying, “We have no ideas.” Sometimes, though, there are benefits. The centenary of the Argentinean modernist Alberto Ginastera, which falls on April 11, is prompting reconsideration of a composer who, in recent years, seemed ready to fade into the ranks of history’s also-rans.

Ross, Alex. "Modern Microcosm". The New Yorker. 11 April 2016.

It's true. I do always look at the anniversaries, but in the field of church music, where I think it's so easy to get stuck in a rut, sometimes these dates are the incentive I need to try new things.

Or in this case, to reach into my file drawer and pull out the score for the Ginastera's Toccata, Villancico y Fuga, Op. 18, which I have never really learned. It's a great piece, and when I've heard it played it has always stopped me in my tracks. So this is the year.

The opening of the Toccata is a nod to Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565 in terms of its rhetorical rhythm. The Fugue subject is BACH. The form of Ginastera's piece is probably a tribute to the Toccata, Adagio and Fugue of Bach, BWV 564.

Here's a recording Judith Hancock made as part of the "Popular Organ Music" series (the name of which always makes me chuckle).

Ginastera wrote another piece for organ, the Variazioni e Toccata sopra "Aurora lucis rutilat", Op. 52. This piece was premiered at the National Convention of the American Guild of Organists in Minneapolis by Marilyn Mason in 1980.

Labels: Bach, Ginastera, organ music

Today I'm going to say something that no one seems to have the courage to say: there is nothing wrong with "The Doxology" in the liturgy of the Episcopal Church. Let me be clear on this point. I'm talking about the words "Praise God from whom all blessings flow" by Thomas Ken sung to the tune of OLD 100^TH at the Presentation.

The much-maligned Thomas Ken
(1637-1711), born in the same
year as Buxtehude

Here's the problem: the anger that many objectors feel is actually misplaced frustration at an element of Anglican liturgy that Americans have hopelessly corrupted.

Here's the story.

Once upon a time there was the Western Liturgy what with its Mass and its Divine Office and its Liber Usualis and all that. At the time of the Offertory of the Mass, a chant was sung: the Offertorium. During this time the bread and the wine were presented to the celebrant by the people and prepared for the eucharistic celebration. At the conclusion of this chant, the Eucharistic Prayer was begun.

Zacchaeus stood forth, and said unto the Lord, Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have done any wrong to any man, I restore four-fold.
St. Luke 19.
Offertory sentence from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer

Eventually Anglicans got a hold of this liturgy and adapted it for their own devices. The traditional Offertory chants were not subsumed into Anglican worship, but rather new sentences, largely from the New Testament, were prescribed to be read aloud (note, not sung) by the celebrant. The 1662 rubric for the celebrant reads

Then shall the Priest return to the Lord's Table, and begin the Offertory, saying one or more of these Sentences following, as he thinketh most convenient in his discretion.

The rubrics direct that the alms are taken up while these Offertory Sentences are read aloud and then be brought to the celebrant.

Meanwhile, Anglicans adapted the offices of Vespers and Compline into Evensong with its famous Church-Musick rubric after the third collect, "In Quires and Places where they sing here followeth the Anthem."

What's an Anthem? Well, it's an elaboration of the Antiphon, like we have in that old Offertory chant. Some of these historic antiphons were developed by composers into polyphonic settings (much to the benefit of humankind) and they served to embellish the Roman Catholic liturgy.

The antiphon and therefore their polyphonic treatments were not translated into the Anglican liturgy wholesale (though the torch for them burned rather brightly at the Chapel Royal). And yet many Anglicans had already developed a choral tradition. So what to do? The "Anthem" at Evensong was a solution. Note, however, that this mention of an Anthem does not appear in the Eucharist.

But at the instigation of ever-ambitious musicians, Anglicans soon looked for ways to infest the new Prayer Book liturgy with music. Furthermore, there was serious uneasiness with church music in Latin, so in most places new English language music was desired. These two forces combined to see the writing of "Anthems" based on the Offertory Sentences and other comparable pieces of scripture. With this music, the drab spoken part of the celebrant could be handled rather deftly by the choir.

So, to review, here's how things stood around the time of the 1662 Prayer Book.

• Anthems permitted at Evensong, not explicitly permitted at Eucharist
• Offertory Sentences to be read by celebrant could be sung by choir

But if we jump ahead quite a bit to, say, this coming Sunday and check in on two branches of the Anglican Church, the one in England and the one in the United States, we see that practices have generally diverged.

In England

• Evensong is sung in many places
• At Eucharist
  • Emphasis on Mass setting
  • At Offertory, hymn sung by all (not anthem)
  • Eucharistic Prayer follows immediately

In the United States

• Very few places sing Evensong
• At Eucharist
  • Mass parts are mixed, omitted, or sometimes replaced by a hymn
  • At Offertory, an anthem
  • After the anthem and before the Eucharistic Prayer, some kind of Presentation Hymn (not mentioned in 1979 Prayer Book)

Rubrical Clarification: I'm reading the rubric on p. 361 at face value: "During the Offertory, a hymn, psalm, or anthem may be sung."
The key points being that during the Offertory:
• One piece of music is permitted, be it a hymn, psalm or anthem. So to sing an Anthem and a hymn or a fragment thereof would be a violation of this rubric.
• Music may be sung, but there may also be no music.
• Incidentally, I don't see permission here for exclusively instrumental (organ) music.

What becomes clear is that English churches have largely retained the historic shape of the Western liturgy, the Offertory Hymn taking the place of the Offertory Chant and serving the same function. American churches, meanwhile, have conflated the anthem of Evensong with the Eucharistic liturgy at the expense of its integral parts, seriously confusing the liturgical shape of the Offertory. (In both places there is ample room for music at Communion, but this is beyond the scope of this article).

To see how confused the present situation is, one need only look at the most ignored rubric in the 1979 American Prayer Book.

Representatives of the congregation bring the people's offerings of bread and wine, and money or other gifts, to the deacon or celebrant. The people stand while the offerings are presented and placed on the Altar.

1979 BCP, p. 361, emphasis mine

In how many places do the People stand while the bread and wine are presented? Note that the rubric seems to assume that the gifts are presented together. I'll address this below.

The presentation of the bread and wine is on behalf of the entire gathered assembly. These gifts, which are offered from the People to God, are then given by God back to his People. It is interesting then that this initial stage of the journey of the Eucharist elements is so ignored.

I would posit that in the vast majority of Episcopal churches the congregation sits while the elements are presented and the choir sings an anthem. Am I wrong?

This poses multiple problems

1. The rubric instructing the People to stand is ignored. If the presentation of the bread and the wine is a liturgical act, done on behalf of all the People, the assembly should be standing to enact this.
2. The Anthem takes on more "concert hall" importance as people sit to hear it. It also probably grows in length.
3. If the money offering is collected during the Anthem then it, too, must be presented to the Celebrant. This is either done
   1. during the singing of the Anthem, which poses a minor logistical challenge in terms of timing
   2. after the conclusion of the Anthem, which then leaves open the question of what musical activity, if any, will cover the action.

   Note that in either case, the money is separated from the bread and the wine, making two presentations of the Offering. You could argue this is good, bad, or ugly, but if modern people are more attached to their own cash than the bread and wine that are provided on their behalf, I would wager that it helps the sensation of Offering if these things are Offered simultaneously as part of a single procession.

So here, at last, we arrive at the liturgical opening for the Doxology (point 3.2 above). As you can see, the merits of running the liturgy this way are questionable at best, but it is the practice in most Episcopal congregations (as best I can tell).

Whatever is sung or played here, it need be short.

Some possibilities

• Have the choir sing the Offertory Chant - in English or in the original Latin - though at this point the People have been silent musically since the announcement of the Gospel. It's probably time to have them sing again.
• Have the People sing a hymn. Really?! You've already got an Entrance Hymn, a Gradual/Sequence Hymn, probably a hymn at the distribution of Communion, and more than likely an extra-rubrical Postcommunion Hymn (again, beyond our scope here). Does the liturgy really gain from multiple stanzas sung by the people here? At some point we need to admit that this radically prolongs the very simple liturgical shape of the Offertory: present the bread, wine, and money.
• Have the People sing one stanza of a hymn. That's a great idea. Why not have the people say one verse of a Psalm instead? Or perhaps say one line of the Athanasius Creed? Hymns are not meant to be mincemeat to be picked apart and spread willy-nilly throughout the Divine Offering. One of the great joys of hymn singing is allowing the tune to become second-nature as the verses move by. To sing only a single stanza makes the endeavor halting, disorienting, and repugnant. And if it changes week to week it's even worse.
  • Wait a minute though, isn't the Doxology just one stanza of a hymn? Okay, you got me there. Yes, it is. So I suppose that I could suggest signing the final Doxological stanza of a hymn. Many hymns have these.
• Have the People sing the final Doxological stanza of a hymn Great. Let's do it. And let's not change it week to week either, please.

And let me ask you, could there be a more genuine text of praise in English verse than this? (Well maybe "Awesome God" by Rich Mullins, but I digress...)

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.

A penultimate point: the bifurcation of the elements of the bread and wine from the money may not be the central issue at all. For better or worse the Anthem at the Eucharist has become part of the Offertory theology of the Episcopal Church. We've made our bed, so let's lie in it, but first let's put on the silk sheets. Having the People join in a regular musical response after a more elaborate choral offering by the choir is highly appropriate (I believe the credit to the phrase "Musical Offering" must largely be given to J. S. Bach). It joins the assembly in worship in the same modality just offered by the choir. The effect of this can be clarified through careful planning of the Doxology—either by transposition or transition, or both. Gerre Hancock was a master of this. It's good Anglican musical theology.

Finally, there is nothing wrong with repetition in the liturgy. We repeat the words of the Gloria in Excelsis, the Sanctus, the Benedictus, whatever our parish sings at the Fraction.

I had the experience recently of the Rector of a parish asking me if the RSCM-affiliated Choristers could come into a meeting being held concurrently with our rehearsal to lead the people in the Doxology. Fantastic, I thought. "Yes," I replied. "We would love to do that."

I told the Choristers that we would be singing the Doxology. "The what?", they asked.

No problem. These Choristers were more than capable of singing a hymn. So we opened the hymnal to 380 and took a look at stanza 3.

“Are we really so elitist that we think that we're above the Doxology?”

It was fine. They could sing it. But it didn't resonate yet. It didn't roll off the tongue. Not as it did for me, and not as it did for the Rector. And not as it did for a large gathering in the Diocese who elected a bishop later that year. And not as it does for many gatherings in the Anglican Communion where a short, joyous outburst of praise is desired by all. ("Let's sing the Gloria in Excelsis!" said no one at a meeting, ever.)

I think we overlook the merits of the Doxology as a catechetical tool for young people at our peril. It is easily learned at a young age. It is the connective tissue between Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, the home, and liturgical worship.

More to the point, the Doxology is already known widely, not just by many Anglicans (admit it, you know it by heart), but by Christians around the world.

Are we really so elitist that we think that we're above the Doxology? Is it really "You must give me the Venite sung to my favourite single Anglican Chant and pass the sherry, and then give me Howells Magnificats and pass the single malt, but please, not Thomas Ken!"

No, I don't think so. And I'm rather fed up with people who think that they are above this.

Because the Doxology is not Welch's as so many fear. It is a fine Cabernet, rich and full.

It is one manifestation of the Christian unity that we so sorely need.

And it is available in equally attractive non-alcoholic options for our young people and our Baptist brothers and sisters.

Labels: Bach, BCP, church music, Doxology, Episcopal Church, Gerre Hancock, Hymn 380, liturgy, Offertory, Thomas Ken

Use your full organ rarely and never long at a time; the pedals also should be held in reserve for great effects; do not keep the manuals constantly coupled. Many players couple the Swell organ with reeds to the Great at once, and never allow the diapasons–the glory of the organ–to be heard alone. It must be constantly remembered that organ tone, from its sustained character, is fatiguing to listen to and requires perpetual, but not restless, change and variety. Keep your pedals near your hands, and do not play too much on the lower octave. Use the swell-pedal with discretion, not with jerks, and not too often. Above all remember that rhythm is, perhaps, the most attractive constituent of music, and that it is not at all easy to mark accent and phrasing upon the organ. The old habit of tying all notes common to successive chords is now fast vanishing, to the great benefit organ playing. Do not play your Bach too fast, and remember that the large pipes have columns of air which are not set in motion very quickly. Be sparing in full chords; few organists can resist any chance of playing five notes with each hand if possible.

"Mr. Parratt on the Organ". Musical Herald. 1 February 1892.

Labels: Bach, organ, Parratt

The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at King's College, Cambridge is surely single most listened to regularly occurring church service in the world. Through live and delayed radio and web broadcasts, this service reaches millions of listeners annually.

It has reached that magical point of the year where it comes time to examine what we shall hear at this year's Festival.

We at sinden.org also made some predictions and we need to see how our crystal ball performed.

• The first carol will be "Once in Royal David's city" - Yes, it is. Obviously.
  
  +1 Point; Score: 1
• Rutter's "What sweeter music" seems quite overdue - Well, it still is. We said it would be the Invitatory Carol, but that slot is occupied by "A Babe is Born" by William Mathias. This carol was last sung in 2007. Music by Rutter was last sung in 2012 ("All bells in paradise").
  
  -1 Point; Score: 0
• We haven't heard the Warlock "Adam lay ybounden" in a long while - We hedged our bets in this instance, and said that if it wasn't the Warlock it would be the Ord. But, of course, it's neither. It's the setting by Philip Ledger, director of music at King's 1974-1982, who died in 2012.
  
  -2 Points; Score: -2
• The second carol after the Third Lesson will be "God rest ye merry, gentlemen". - Wrong again! For the third year in a row, the hymn is "Unto us is born a Son". There have not been three consecutive years of the same hymn in this position (this same hymn was sung here in 2012 and 2013). HOWEVER, the hymn is sung later in the service.
  
  -.5 Points; Score: -2.5
• Cleobury will put down his own "Joys Seven" after the Fifth Lesson - Yes, he did. This carol was last sung in 2009.
  
  +7 Points, one for each joy; Score: 4.5
• "While shepherds watched their flocks by night" will be the second carol sung after the Seventh Lesson. It isn't. For the first time in the last six years, the carol has changed to God rest ye merry, Gentlemen.
  
  -1 Point; Score: 3.5

  Final Score: 3.5 not a great showing this year.

A larger number of carols have not been addressed by our predictions. Here they are, in order.

After the first lesson we hear Remember, O thou man by Thomas Ravenscroft. This lovely, simple carol was last sung in 2011.

After the second lesson we hear the Peter Maxwell Davies carol "One Star, at Last". This carol, with words by George Mackay Brown was commissioned for this service in 1984. It was the second in the series of annually commissioned carols in Stephen Cleobury's tenure.

Sung much less often that the Pearsall setting, the older setting by Hieronymus Praetorius of In dulci jubilo follows. This eight part motet was last sung in 2008.

The unbeatable Sussex Carol arranged by David Willcocks follows the third lesson. It last appeared in 2011.

The immaculate A spotless rose of Herbert Howells follows fourth lesson. It is the only Howells carol to appear in the service (at least in recent memory*), and it has not been sung since 2008. As it's superb final cadence fades, the choir will take up the strains of the medieval "There is no rose", a carol that appears frequently in the service of the years, and was last sung in 2009.

The fifth lesson brings the simple Gabriel's Message by Edgar Pettman, last sung just a couple years ago.

Harrison Birtwistle's "Lullaby" comes up after the sixth lesson. Though it hasn't been sung before, Birtwistle's "The Gleam" was the commissioned carol in 2003. The Birtwistle is followed by the familiar Gustav Holst setting of In the bleak midwinter. This carol was last sung in . . . wait a minute. We think the choir has recorded this, but we can't find any indication that it has been sung in this service in recent memory*. The homophonic ease of this carol is probably need as a foil to (we presume) the polyphonic difficulty of the Birtwistle.

Similarly, Hector Berlioz's L'adieu des Bergers (The Shepherd's Farewell), has also been sung by the choir (see below) but never at this service -- note that Carols from Kings, pre-recorded for television broadcast, is not the same as the Christmas Eve service, which is broadcast live on the radio only.

Director Stephen Cleobury has commissioned a new carol every year since 1983. This year the commission goes to Swiss composer Carl Rütti. His setting of "I wonder as I wander" (see below) is familiar to listeners to this service. "I wonder" was last sung in 2011. We will update this paragraph with information about this year's commission De Maria Virgine as that information becomes available.

After the Rutti commission follows the rather saccharine setting of Ding! Dong! merrily on high by Mack Wilberg. Though previously sung in 2007, 2009, and 2010, many of us question whether this carol will really have a long tenure in this service.

The other traditional elements of the service are in place: the final two hymns are "O come, all ye faithful" and "Hark! the herald angels sing". The service concludes, as always with the Bach Organ Prelude on "In dulci jubilo," BWV 729. The final organ voluntary, which changes year to year, is the Final of the Sixth Organ Symphony by Charles-Marie Widor.

Our spreadsheet of all the carols since 1997 has been updated

*We have resorted to the phrase "in recent memory" when necessary because our records only go back to 1997. We very much wish to continue this research, in person, in Cambridge, in 2016/17. Surely a sabbatical is needed.

Labels: Bach, Berlioz, Birtwistle, Cleobury, Holst, Howells, Mackay Brown, Mathias, Maxwell Davies, Ord, Pearsall, Philip Ledger, Praetorius, Ravenscroft, Rutter, Rutti, Warlock, Widor, Wilberg, Willcocks

When's the last time you read about a piece of organ music in the newspaper?

Wait, never? Now's your chance.

Remember that guy who got fired from Westminster Abbey recently for saying disparaging things about John Rutter? He's in the news too.

. . . the music at weddings lives or dies at the hands of the organist (in my youth I wrecked quite a few with my approximation of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March) and here Will took no chances. Edward Tambling, assistant director of music at Spanish Place, has the most impeccable technique and judgment. As an organ scholar at Westminster Abbey, he got into hot water for using ‘colourful language’ on a Facebook page to describe the nauseating clotted harmonies of John Rutter. Good man!

As we took our places, out roared my favourite E-flat major chord — the opening of Bach’s ‘St Anne’ Prelude and Fugue BWV 552. Nothing in Bach’s organ music surpasses the grandeur of this work.

Thompson, Damian. "Wedding music lives or dies at the hands of the organist". The Spectator, London. 20 September 2014.

Labels: Bach, BWV 552, John Rutter, organ music, weddings

5 October 2013, RICHMOND - Nothing ever seems to go quite according to plan when Cameron Carpenter comes to Richmond.

On Friday night he returned to the historic Byrd Theatre to perform on the Wurlitzer organ there for the third consecutive year. Actually, that may not be quite true.

From what I hear about his first performance at the Byrd in 2011 (I did not attend that performance, though I did attend in 2012), he started playing a bit on the Wurlitzer and then moved to his own electronic touring organ. On Friday, however, there was no part of the organ that was left unexplored, and the touring organ was still on the truck.

One thing to know about the Byrd Theatre's organ is that it works, mostly. There are a few sour notes, especially in the upper ranges of certain stops. But the main thing that Carpenter and the Theatre would like to restore is the organ's combination action. These are the little, round, white buttons under the keyboards that summon pre-set combinations of sounds. In Carpenter's hands, a fully functional theater organ becomes the ideal vehicle for his own wildly colorful imagination and impressive technical ability.

So hearing Carpenter at the Byrd is like hearing him "unplugged".

The evening began without announcement and with Carpenter taking the helm for Walton's Crown Imperial. He seemed to struggle through this, quickly adjusting stops on the fly. The performance seemed unstable, like an empire on the decline. This quality was exacerbated by quarter-second hesitations while Carpenter repeatedly reached up to change sounds in key moments. Certain chords were "wrong", perhaps harmonically altered to suit Carpenter's whims. But if they were intentionally altered they did not serve the music.

Carpenter is the "shock jock" of the organ world. The program proclaimed that "You'll swear it's Bowie performing Bach", and at the end of the first half we finally did get some Bach. And here's where things really started to come undone.

Carpenter introduced the second movement ("Lento") of Trio Sonata No. 6 in G Major, BWV 530 as having a strange "sinuosity". In Carpenter's hands and feet this was only strange, and it was not helped by a false start due to an inadequate registration; Carpenter had chosen a solo stop with far too many dead notes to hear much of the melody. It may have been convincing on a Wurlitzer in excellent repair, but such an instrument the organ at the Byrd is not. A quickly revised registration proved that this Trio Sonata was simply a bad fit for this organ. The extreme rubato further added to the general uncertainty. The result was "amateurish", as I overheard someone say at intermission.

From the E minor conclusion of the Trio Sonata movement, Carpenter proceeded without interruption to the "Wedge" Fugue in E minor, BWV 548b to close the first half. The result wasn't so much a rock star performance as it was an organist struggling to regain control of his program.

After intermission the recital became nearly completely derailed. After a couple good tunes including "Moon River" Carpenter found his instrument insisting on a high E-flat in a reed stop long after the final chord.

Carpenter, who when he addresses the audience never fully turns off the organ bench, seemed truly at a loss.

"One never knows whether to keep going," he said, before he mused aloud about Percy Grainger's "Movable Do", a piece that Grainger wrote for a ciphering harmonium. Carpenter wisely chose to improvise around the note for a while. Eventually the note wavered and disappeared, so Carpenter created another, higher "cipher" to symmetrically close this short, witty interlude.

There was a collective sigh of relief when the final chord released into the expected silence. "I learned an important lesson tonight:" Carpenter mumbled to the audience, "you always keep going".

As part of what seems to be a quest to re-imagine movements of the Bach Cello Suites, we heard Carpenter's take on the first Bourreé from the Third. This, too, was marred by unfortunately placed dead notes, especially in a climactic pedal statement of the fugue subject. Yes, there was a fugue. Carpenter's lengthy fantasia culminated in an attempt to outdo Bach, and if he didn't quite best the old master, he certainly got his attention.

And this is maybe the heart of the matter. Carpenter is a formidable talent, but much of this music would have been so much better on a functioning pipe organ of any type (be it theater or otherwise). And please note that I am reviewing the performance here, not the fundraising effort for the Byrd Theatre, which is an important, separate issue.

At best, Carpenter appeared to be a good theater organist on Friday night, but in the more adventurous pieces, he and his program were ill-prepared for the Byrd.

But more than this, one gets the sense that Carpenter is starting to chafe at the corner he has painted himself into. The relentless virtuosic pedal work that is (or was) his claim to fame was largely saved for a brief encore. If Cameron learned that he must "always keep going," perhaps a change of direction is in order. It may not be so much a challenge for him to outdo Bach as it is an increasing challenge for him to outdo himself. This challenge might be reflected in the audience at the Byrd, noticeably smaller than last year's.

As it turned out, Carpenter wasn't so much unplugged as he was uninspiring.

This review may be updated through Monday as a I continue to reflect on the recital.

Labels: Bach, Byrd Theatre, Cameron Carpenter, Grainger, organ music, Walton, Wurlitzer

Labels: Bach, Darke

In college I hosted the Organ Pump, a monthly midnight organ recital.

As we approached the famous "Halloween" Organ Pump at Oberlin College in 2002 with a brand new Fisk organ we knew we'd have a full house. Interest in the Organ Pump's homecoming to Finney Chapel, it's home since 1992, was high.

My organ professor, David Boe, was interested in the repertoire for the recital and had an idea about it.

"You know," he said one day, "Jack Kevorkian wrote a piece for the organ".

"Really?" a nerdy, overzealous, undergraduate (myself) replied.

"Yes," he said, "it might be fun to play it on the Organ Pump program, but it's not a very good piece."

As I recall he gave me the score a few days later. It was a fax of a few generations of photocopies, but still perfectly legible. The kind of thing that had been passed around organ academic circles for a while beginning in the days before email, I suppose.

It didn't really matter what it sounded like, did it? It was organ music by Jack Kevorkian! Sadly, I must have thrown this copy out with my music theory assignments later in the year (see?! being a pack rat can come in handy now and then!).

But as luck would have it, another self-professed "nerdy" undergraduate at the time was in the habit of recording these Organ Pumps. So, after nine years, I present to you a recording of the performance.

I can't remember if it really was an organ piece. Could I have been adapting this from a piano score? Kevorkian loved Bach, but this piece doesn't turn up anywhere on Google that I can find. I would be very grateful if anyone could point me to another copy (that I promise to take better care of).

And writing organ music on the theme BACH (the pitches B-flat, A, C, B-natural) has been a popular form of homage since the great composer left this earth.

It was a great homecoming Organ Pump that year. As I recall we had an audience of (estimating conservatively) 800 college students and one very kind, very mischievous organ professor.

Passacaglia on BACH
Jack Kevorkian (1928-2011)
David Sinden, organ
Finney Chapel, Oberlin College, Oberlin, Ohio
C. B. Fisk organ, Opus 116
recorded live 1 November 2002

mp3

Many thanks, Jonathan! Never expected to hear this again!

Labels: Bach, David Boe, Kevorkian

The latest "Lenten Music Notes" podcast is up, finally. These audio guides are designed to provide context and commentary on the organ pieces performed as voluntaries for the Preaching Services.

In this week's podcast, David Sinden discusses music by Bach, Buxtehude, Purcell & Alain.

Have you heard about how Purcell tried to make some extra money from his "position" at Westminster Abbey? I mention it in the podcast . . .

Download MP3

Subscribe with iTunes

Labels: Alain, Bach, Buxtehude, Lent, Purcell, St Paul's (Richmond)

Stop, collaborate and listen - Episode 2: Dolce Principal

Here's the second installment in a new, potluck effort to record interesting organ stops.

Here's the same stop that I first mentioned in this post, but in a different context, and with a more representative recording (no key noise).

Featured stop: Dolce Principal 8'
Organ: Taylor and Boody, Op. 7 (1983), Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Richmond, Va.

MP3

"Adagio" from Trio Sonata No. 3 in E-Flat Major, BWV 525
J. S. Bach

Registration
Right hand: Dolce Principal 8' (Great)
Left hand: Rohrflöte 4' (Rückpositiv)
Pedal: Subbass 16' (Great coupled to pedal)
Tremulant

Recorded live from the south transept, 6 March 2011

I also heard an interesting story about this stop. Apparently Taylor & Boody had a good deal of trouble with it at first, and elected to use an existing salicional from the outgoing chancel organ of the church on a temporary basis. The story that I hear is that the stop was re-done at a later time resulting in the delightful timbre I've attempted to capture here.

If you have an idea for a stop you'd like the world to know about, or if you already have an audio sample ready to go, send me an email at dsinden@gmail.com

Labels: Bach, organ stops - recordings of, Taylor and Boody

O Lamm Gottes, unschuldig, BWV 656

O Lamb of God, unspotted

The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,

Isaiah 11:6

And some of those lions, it seems, are sea lions.

Labels: Bach, BWV 656, science and nature

I am totally fascinated by Anthony Tommasini's search for the top 10 composers.

I don't know why.

This begs the question, what is compositional "greatness"? In Strauss's mind it was something more than skill. That doesn't really make it fair, does it?

We understand that composers are born with a certain amount of God-given (or St.-Cecilia-given, take your pick) talent, but are they also imbued with "greatness"? And, if so, does this skill have any bearing on "greatness"?

And if composers are able to study music and hone their craft, are they also able to increase their "greatness" quotient?

Bach was tremendously skilled, and also "great". His music conveys more than technical mastery. There is a depth of feeling, a certain rhetorical pathos in much of Bach's music. How did he achieve both of these feats?

This is all speculative and theoretical, and that's what makes it fun, I guess.

But I do know one thing: if Strauss ranks higher than Sibelius on your list, you had better try again.

Labels: Bach, Jean Sibelius, NYT

If you view this blog in a newsreader, or find yourself coming to directly blog.sinden.org you may miss the Halloween-themed video that now graces our professional front page (Sinden.org proper).

A short organ-centered film called "What comes next on Level 13". Be sure to click through for the full HD experience.

Enjoy, if you dare.

Labels: Bach, organ music, Rosales

Rumors of this weblog's death have been greatly exaggerated.

That said, I have been thoroughly enmeshed in the music of J. S. Bach as I prepare for an adequate musical celebration of his 325^th birthday.

One of the pieces I've enlisted in this process is the "Little" Fugue in G minor, BWV 578.

"Little"? Are the quotes appropriate here? The Wikipedia article has none -- and ever since I've left graduate school I've found Wikipedia and YouTube to be my primary sources of musicological research (not having access to Grove's, JSTOR, etc.)

It occurs to me that the Fugue is rather nice at 4' pitch, and I am planning to register the piece this way to provide some much needed sonic levity on my recital program.

Labels: Bach, BWV 578, organ

For a long time now I've been toying with the idea of recording all eight of the "Little Preludes and Fugues" formerly attributed to J. S. Bach (1685-1750), currently attributed to no one in particular.

They're fun little pieces and a good way to show off an organ, I think. Recording all eight would allow the performer to try contrasting registrational possibilities within the whole project and within each work.

Anyway, I'm done toying with the idea. I've got new organ shoes, a digital recorder, and I've even glanced at some of the Preludes and Fugues I didn't play before.

I think I'm ready to stop toying with this idea and actually follow through on it.

Here's an early test run of the first Prelude and Fugue in C Major (BWV 553).

Labels: Bach, organ music