Knowing the Tune: an Example

As an example of what I wrote a fortnight ago, my procedure for tomorrow's prelude improvisation was this:

It is our Parish Meeting Sunday, with our three usual services combined into one, most often sparsely attended – many people skip church and show up for the annual meeting that follows. Seeking to honor the traditions of our contemporary service, I am playing most of the service at the piano, and about half of the songs are from their repertoire.

One of them, “You have come down to the lakeshore” (number 758 in the supplement “Wonder, Love and Praise”) will be unfamiliar to the congregation from the two traditional services, so I began with this. By using it as the basis for the prelude, I hope to plant the tune in people's ears. It is beautiful, and I want them to hear that it is so. Then, when they sing it in the liturgy, they will hopefully recognize it, and be glad to sing it.

I began playing the tune, in thirds and sixths because it very naturally falls into that pattern. I sang along on the sol-fas. I played it in various keys, and began adding accompaniment – just simple chords, arpeggios. The tune is so lovely in itself that I do not want to do any more than that to it.

I played around with fragments of the tune, again in various keys, and now in various registers – the tenor, with the right hand doing figuration above it; the high treble, very quietly; all voices in the tenor register, the tune on top.

I turned to another tune from the service: “St. Andrew,” the David Hurd tune for “Jesus calls us” (The Hymnal 1982, number 549). This is the opening hymn, and will be unfamiliar to the contemporary congregation. I worked with it in similar fashion for a while, and tried combining the two tunes, with the idea of an A-B-A form. It was not working, because the tunes are too similar – though that in itself was a useful insight. I played around with various combinations of fragments from the two tunes, and some of this might show up in tomorrow's improvisation.

I turned to a third tune: “St. Dunstan's,” the American tune for “He who would valiant be” (The Hymnal 1982, number 564). This is the closing hymn, part of the traditional congregation's repertoire – though not sung for many years; the previous rector banned the hymn because of his notions about inclusive and militaristic language. Tomorrow's service ends with a big organ postlude on “St. Dunstan's” by Leo Sowerby, but it deserves mention in the prelude as well.

This was what I needed. “You have come down to the lakeshore” is delicate, gentle, beautiful. “St. Dunstan's” is bold, vigorous. Perfect!

After playing around with the tune as I did with the others, I developed a Plan.
The prelude will be an A-B-A form as I had intended, with “You have come down to the lakeshore” as the foundation of the A section, in F major. “St. Dunstan's” will be the second theme, beginning in D flat major, which quickly turns into C sharp minor, and (if it goes the way it did today) becomes rather dark. The main part of this B section will hopefully be the tune in the left hand, octaves, in the middle register, with toccata-like figuration in the right hand above it, much of it bitonal against the tune for added dissonance.

This comes to an end, and the A section returns like a spring morning (I hope). If there is time (it is, after all, the prelude, and I must aim for it to end at the stroke of 9:30 am), “St. Andrew” will be a little coda, laying the ground for the opening hymn, which is in F major – thus the choice of overall key center for the prelude.

The point of “knowing the tune” is to be able to do all of this without the tunes written out in front of me, and in keys that I would not have considered before working on this project. F major is fine (though “You have come down” is in D major in the hymnal supplement), but C sharp minor? That is why one should at least sometimes play the tunes in the more obscure keys.

I will add that it was a delight to do this work today, playing our beloved Steinway in the quiet church, the sunlight streaming through the windows. I stayed with this work longer than I should have, for I was having such a good time.

on Fast-Days: Richard Hooker

From Book V of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, section 72:

The very purpose of the church of God, both in the number and in the order of her fasts, hath been not only to preserve thereby, throughout all ages, the remembrance of miseries heretofore sustained, and of the causes in ourselves out of which they have risen, that men considering the one might fear the other the more, but farther also to temper the mind, lest contrary affections coming in place, should make it too profuse and dissolute; in which respect it seemeth that fasts have been set as ushers of festival-days, for preventing of those disorders as much as might be; wherein notwithstanding, the world always will deserve, as it hath done, blame; because such evils being not possible to be rooted out, the most we can do, is in keeping them low, and (which is chiefly the fruit we look for) to create in the minds of them a love toward a frugal and severe life, to undermine the palaces of wantonness; to plant parsimony as nature, where riotousness hath been studied; to harden whom pleasure would melt; and to help the tumours which always fulness breedeth; that children as it were in the wool of their infancy, died with hardness, may never afterward change colours; that the poor, whose perpetual fasts are necessity, may with better contentment endure the hunger which virtue causeth others so often to choose; and by advice of religion itself so far to esteem above the contrary, that they which for the most part do lead sensual and easy lives; they which, as the prophet David describeth them, “are not plagued like other men,” may, by the public spectacle of all, be still put in mind what themselves are; finally, that every man may be every man's daily guide and example, as well by fasting to declare humility, as by praise to express joy in the sight of God, although it have herein befallen the church, as sometimes David, so that the speech of the one may be truly the voice of the other, “My soul fasted, and even that was also turned to my reproof.”

It is for the likes of this that Samuel Johnson named Hooker among the authors whose language represented “a well of English undefiled.”

One sentence it is, as it should be, for it is one continuous idea, with not a word of it extraneous. They don't make sentences like that any more. Anyone who would attempt such in this degraded age would be derided, and worse, ignored.

I have spent a lot of time with Hooker over the past few years, first with Books I through IV of the Ecclesiastical Polity, and now this winter with Book V. I will stop after this, for the matters addressed in books VI, VII, and VIII are of less interest to me, but Book V is of very great interest. In it, Hooker defends the liturgy and customs of the Anglican Church, a matter close to my heart.

Some books are read in a day; some in a week; some require much more time, either from their size or their content. Hooker is in the third of these categories. For the most part, I have read him in thirty-minute bites, while riding the transit bus. That is about right; more than that would be more than I could comprehend in one sitting.

It is a delight to befriend someone like Hooker. I will be sorry when the time comes to lay him aside.

But one must not so much admire his style as take to heart the content. The above 352-word sentence could provide substance for much meditation, as well as encouragement in this discipline, and I plan to revisit it as we approach the first of the Church's great fast-days: Ash Wednesday. I have posted it here in part to remind myself of that intention.

Know the tune

There are many good books available for the student of improvisation. Most of them neglect what I consider the most important first step: Know the Tune.

Little can be done until the Tune becomes a part of you, not just something you read from the page. As a beginning, write it down. Yes, it is there in the hymnal, but write it out anyway with pencil and staff paper; just the melody, so that you will not be distracted by a printed harmonization. I like to put it at the top of a blank sheet of staff paper to allow space for further notes as my ideas for the improvisation develop.

Then, sing the tune. The best method, I think, is to use tonic solfege. That gets the tune in the head more effectively than just singing it on the text or on a neutral syllable, and prepares for playing it in other keys. Write in the sol-fa syllables as needed.

Now, play the tune. Start with one hand. Then the other. And in the pedals. Maybe start with one phrase in the right hand, the next phrase in the feet, the next in the left hand. Sing along on the sol-fas. Then try it in a different key - go slowly here, especially if transposition is not your strong point; this is where the solfege is a significant aid. Then, another key. And another after that. The ideal is to be able to play the tune in any register, any key. This may take many days, a little bit at a time. There is no hurry; take your time, and stay with just the unison tune until you can comfortably play it at least in several keys.

Experiment with different modes: if the tune is major, what does it sound like in minor? Or one of the church modes? It might be very interesting, or it might not work at all. Play around with the rhythm and meter; if it is in a duple meter, what does it sound like adapted into triple meter? Or the other way around? Maybe ornament the tune a little -- or a lot.

At some point, you will find yourself adding little comments with the other hand or the pedals. Maybe a pedal point, or maybe a little imitative counterpoint, or some descanting above the tune. Or maybe a chord or two (though at this point in learning the tune, I shy away from any full-scale harmonization. Stick with simpler ideas.) This is the next step, so go for it! By this time, your subconscious is generating ideas, and it is time to start bringing them to the surface. “Play” with the tune in this manner to your heart’s content. Out of this will come the material for your improvisation, or a written composition should you choose to take it in that direction.

I have written of this as a first step, and it is. But there is another level of Knowing the Tune which informs the work of even the greatest masters -- people like Paul Manz, or John Ferguson -- or Helmut Walcha, or Maurice Duruflé, or Charles Tournemeire -- or most of all, J. S. Bach. These composers immersed themselves so deeply in the Tunes of their musical and faith traditions that their music continues to communicate the spiritual essence of the chant, or the chorale, or the hymn tune in ways that could never before have been imagined.

(footnote: I wrote this for the local AGO newsletter, and thought it worth posting here as well.)

Another footnote: I describe an example of this work in the January 25 essay.

more on the Puritans

I was too harsh on the Puritans in yesterday's essay, and must say at least a few words in their defense. Or rather, I point to one person, who is an example of what was best about them: John Milton.

My heart is with the cause of the Established Church, because of what the Puritans did to pipe organs, choral libraries, liturgical furnishings and vestments, and the people who were at the heart of liturgical worship - choristers, lay clerks, organists, composers, priests.

But it is complicated. As Mr. Lincoln said about another conflict, "Both sides pray to the same God."

Still, it must be said that even Milton was disappointed in the results:

On the new forcers of conscience under the Long Parliament

Because you have thrown of your Prelate Lord,
And with stiff Vowes renounc't his Liturgie
To seise the widdow'd whore Pluralitie
From them whose sin ye envi'd, not abhor'd

Dare ye for this adjure the Civill Sword
To force our Consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic Hierarchy
Taught ye by meer A. S. and Rotherford?

Men whose Life, Learning, Faith and pure intent
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul
Must now be nam'd and printed Hereticks

By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d' ye call:
But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
Your plots and packing wors then those of Trent,

That so the Parliament
May with their wholsom and preventive Shears
Clip your Phylacteries, though bauk your Ears,

And succour our just Fears
When they shall read this clearly in your charge
New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ Large.

Now it gets serious

Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him... (St. Matthew 3:13)

At Bethlehem, the promise is revealed, but it is still just a promise: just a little child, a polished arrow which was, as yet, hidden in the quiver of God (Isaiah 49:2). We join Mary and Joseph in wondering at the little boy who “must be about his Father's business” (St. Luke 2:49), but in truth, his Hour had not yet come.

At Jordan's stream, the reality begins to take shape: “The Kingdom of God is at hand,” as Jesus would soon preach. The serious work of life in the Kingdom must now begin, for us as well as for the one we follow. It is a path which leads directly to Golgotha. St. Mark's Gospel, especially, makes this clear; it can be read as a straight and unwavering progression from the Baptism to the Cross, and beyond to the Resurrection. For there is a sense in which Jesus of Nazareth embraced death in his Baptism, as we do as well in the spiritual reality of the sacrament. We must, day by day, die with Christ in the waters of baptism, and rise with him to newness of life (Romans 6:4).

This Sunday's organ voluntaries for me are the two settings of Christ unser Herr zum Jordan kam, from the Clavierübung (BWV 684 and 685). Here is a performance of the larger setting (BWV 684) on a Silbermann organ similar to the instruments that Bach would have played.

Bach gets it, as did Martin Luther before him with the underlying chorale text and tune (number 139 in the Hymnal 1982). The counterpoint is intense and unstoppable, depicting (it seems to me) the Savior who “set his face like a flint" toward Jerusalem (Isaiah 50:7, St. Luke 9:51).

It is for music like this that I revere Bach above all other composers. He enters into the spiritual heart of the great chorale tunes, and not just the tunes but the texts, and the Scriptural truths that they interpret. And he writes music that takes the listener and performers into a deeper understanding of the mighty acts of God. The Clavierübung is a companion to the Greater and Lesser Catechisms of Martin Luther, and Bach's music in these chorale settings always has catechism behind it. In this music, Bach is teaching us what the Baptism of Christ means.


I cannot let the day pass without mention of that blessed saint and martyr, William Laud, who went to the scaffold on this day, January 10, in the year 1645. He is one who understood how serious a thing it is to follow Christ. Almost his entire public life as bishop and Archbishop of Canterbury was lived in bitter controversy. The Puritans sought to destroy the true and Catholic faith and practice of the Church. They had stopped their ears to the reasoned arguments of Richard Hooker. They refused all attempts at compromise. Laud, alongside King Charles the Martyr, were among the few who withstood them. The two of them sought to maintain the church's order, vigorously enforcing the laws of the land without respect of persons.

According to James Kiefer's excellent sketch of Laud, the “without respect of persons” part of it was what cost Laud his life. Kiefer writes:

Under English Law, it was part of Laud's office as Archbishop to maintain order and to punish offences against the peace of the Church. He made it his practice to proceed not only against poor and obscure offenders, but also, perhaps especially, against rich and powerful ones. It is well that men should be equal before the law, but his integrity on this point ultimately cost Laud his life.

Laud was also the prosecutor of record in the trials of those who published seditious or violent and abusive attacks on the doctrine and discipline of the Church, and the Puritans produced an abundance of scurrilous attacks on those who disagreed with them, which were duly punished, with Laud taking the responsibility.