Two Organs are Better than One

November 20, 2016 at 3:59 pm

How do you fill a massive cathedral with sound? A really loud organ. But, if the organ is too loud, how do you accompany the choir? Easy – build another organ.

Believe it or not, it is not uncommon for large churches to have more than one organ. Even so, there’s not exactly a wealth of music written for two organs. First of all, these organs tend to be placed far apart (there’d be no point in putting two organs next to each other); this means that they two organists would struggle to stay together, musically. Second, these organs tend to be designed with very different things in mind (there’d be no point in building two identical organs in the same building); one will often be the “main” organ for solo repertoire, while the other will be a “choir” organ for accompanying. Or, one will be designed for Baroque repertoire and the other for Romantic, and so the two instruments would sound like oil and water.

There is, however, a unique piece for two organs and choir which makes a strong argument for this instrumentation – the Messe Solemnelle of Louis Vierne, longtime organist of Notre Dame. The choir sings with the softer organ in the chancel, and the loud organ gets the play the fun parts, a football field away, in the west gallery.

French organs are known for their fiery, dark, thunderous sound (they are also known for never, ever being in tune). I often wonder what it was like for a 19th century French farmer to come to the Paris and hear the organ at one of the cathedrals. I imagine they may have needed new underpants after the experience.

Things I love about this video: 1) this is a REAL MASS, not a concert performance; 2) The French mispronunciation of Latin; 3) you can hear the two organs get out of sync with each other if you listen carefully; 4) the last chord is held so long that you can see the singers taking extra breaths to get through it.

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All Saints’ Memories

November 6, 2016 at 1:26 pm

Two important Christian celebrations happen at the beginning of November, and are linked with Halloween. All Saints’ Day is November 1st, All Souls’ Day (AKA the Day of the Dead) is the 2nd. Most churches today celebrate these two days together on the first Sunday in November; the resulting combination includes elements of both holidays – the work of the saints are celebrated, and the dead are remembered.

For me, the beginning of November and these celebrations remind me of a young boy I knew who died of a brain tumor before his third birthday. My first child was roughly the same age as the boy, so the events of that year hit me. He became ill around the beginning of November, and his funeral (for which I played the organ) was in June. It was by far the most difficult service I’ve ever had to play.

Ever since then, I’ve played this piece by Louis Vierne on All Saints’ Sunday. “Stele pour un enfant defunt” (memorial for a dead child) tries to emotionally capture the peace that parents seek when they lose a child. Vierne dedicated the piece “to the memory of my little friend”. The sweet, high melody searches for resolution, but the twisted harmony keeps wrenching it away. At the end, the harmony tries to break the melody’s resolution, but fails; peace is attained at last.

Vierne was a marvelous composer who kept late romanticism alive long after it had gone out of style. This was the final piece he played, before he himself died, sitting on the organ bench.

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when you didn’t actually write your most famous composition

October 18, 2016 at 1:20 pm

Misleading title – the jury is still out on who wrote Dracula‘s favorite Halloween piece, the Toccata and Fugue in d minor by Johann Sebastian Bach. An amazing amount of research has been done trying to solve the great mystery of its composer.

To sum up the debate:

  • The work’s style is … strange. The toccata is very free-form, similar to the earliest immature works of the young master, and nothing at all like his mature works. The fugue is in four voices, but most of the time, only three sound (uncharacteristic of Bach.) It plays more like a violin piece than an organ work.
  • The earliest copy of this piece was written around 1740, by an unimportant organist named Ringk. (Most music at this time was copied by hand, so it’s not so strange that a work by Bach would have been hand-copied by another musician.) People have deeply studied Ringk’s handwriting in order to pin down the approximate date of this single copy.
  • It would be possible that Bach wrote the piece as a young man, and Ringk copied it when Bach was old, but then the question is, why did he choose this piece to copy? Why not something else, something better?
  • Could Bach have copied this piece into his own library, only to have Ringk later copy it from him, falsely attributing the work to the great master?

Whatever the history, and whoever wrote it, this work has become Halloween staple. A gothic organ sound playing its twisted, dark harmony can chill your soul; the opening motif catches your attention immediately. No wonder hearing this piece brings up images of Dracula, or maybe the Phantom of the Opera. Its appeal has helped it overcome its compositional flaws; it has been arranged for all sorts of solo instruments (most famously for piano, but also violin and guitar) and ensembles (most famously for orchestra, but also saxophone choir (because, why not)).

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