Scaling Back

(Friday) The sonata-form was definitely not working. The hymn tunes now seemed wrong for it, demanding a much larger time scale than is available in order to be worked out in this form. Nor am I yet capable of controlling a development section. But what I find, to my delight, is that I can indeed play a decent sonata-form exposition, controlling the key centers and presenting two thematic groups in an interesting manner. I am much closer to being able to work in this large and important Form than I had thought. But not yet.

I decided to scale back to an A-B-A form plus coda - simply my "exposition" with a direct return to the A section (the Intercessor tune, in B minor), without any explicit development. This plan worked much better, and I was comfortable with it after two hours or so of practice.


(Saturday) Just a bit of work today on the improvisation; I played through the Form twice (with, of course, differences in detail), and I think that I am ready for tomorrow. If all goes well, the piece will be about ten minutes long, and provide a good setup for the opening hymn as well as (hopefully) the liturgy as a whole.

For that is the purpose: a Prelude sets the context for the day. It should join other artistic work such as the liturgical colors and the architecture to communicate what is at hand as people arrive, and to do so more specifically than those other forms, for the Prelude should to a large degree indicate the ethos of this particular day's Collect, Lessons, and their intersection with this congregation and this time and place in the world. Sermons do that too, and more effectively, but the Prelude can lay the groundwork without people realizing it in a conscious manner.

When the Prelude is hymn-based, as this one is, it also brings the hymn tune to the mind of the congregation so that when the time to sing the tune arrives, people sense that they have heard this before.



It is important to me that these improvisations are ephemeral. They are not recorded, and I throw away any written notes or plan after the service. Music is perhaps the most ephemeral of arts. That applies to written compositions, too; they exist only when someone performs them.

My postlude is a setting of St. Anne (Our God, our help in ages past) by the composer Kenton Coe. I knew Mr. Coe when we once lived in neighboring cities; one of my choristers introduced us, and said to me: "You must know, he is a Real Composer." He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Paul Hindemith, both of them among the finest of teachers, and Kenton Coe is indeed a Real Composer. Some of his music appeared on the programmes of symphony orchestras; he has had at least three operas appear on the stage; he composed a number of soundtracks for PBS documentaries, and a goodly amount of choral music. He may still be writing; I am sure that he is, if he is able.

But most of his organ music is unpublished, as is this setting of St. Anne. As I practiced it this week, I was much in mind that there are not many people playing this, or any of his organ music. I know of one organist, Stephen Hamilton, who has championed Mr. Coe's music, but I suspect that there are not many others of us, and fewer as the years pass. I see that there is no entry for him on Wikipedia; that is not a good sign. He does, however, have his own website. Stephen and I, and others who may have gotten this music from the composer, are no longer young. What will happen to this music in another twenty years? Will it be gone, as ephemeral as tomorrow's improvisation on Intercessor and London New?

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
dies at the opening day.

But, I realized as I worked on his setting of St. Anne, that some of my musical language has come from him, some very directly into this week's improvisation. Whether or not any of his compositions remain in the repertoire, he has contributed to the Tradition, through me and through others who have played and listened to his music and perhaps written music of their own.
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Afterword:

I have written these three essays to illustrate my "compositional" process in the preparation of an improvised organ voluntary. What shows up on Sunday is only a small fraction of what happened during the preparation; most of the ideas have been discarded, including some of the best parts. The ideas that remain are not necessarily the best, but rather the ones that fit the piece as it comes to fruition.

Today finished with a doctoral recital in trombone, played in our church. It is the final recital on the Steinway before it heads to the shop. Afterwards, the pianist agreed with me that the action needs work, but he added that "it is a great-sounding piano." I was pleased to hear that.