A New Start: Choir, Church, Guild

In recent years, I have come to depend on Mike as (in effect) assistant director and head proctor of the youth choir; now he is gone to college. He was, in a sense, the last of a “generation” in the choir, a group that began with Jennifer and Meredith, and included Mark and Edgar as well as Mike. They all sang in the choir right through high school, and all of them were strong choristers who led by example.

The mantle of leadership falls now to Tom, Ken, and Max among the boys; Lucy, Caleigh, and Elise among the girls, with Ted and Michael as the leaders for a large group of new treble boys. Of this group, Tom is the only one in high school; the others are all younger.
We do have new singers, eleven of them at Wednesday’s rehearsal: six girls and five boys. They were enthusiastic, and the overall sound was good. It will be a young choir this year, very different from last year’s group.

I can see that these new choristers, along with an excellent group of second and third year choristers, are the foundation for the future. In a few years, I hope that they will be wearing the red ribbons, going to the RSCM courses, leading by example in the choir and in life. It may be that I can see them through; I will be seventy when these first-year choristers graduate from high school. I hope I can make it that far.


Our parish is entering a new generation, too. On Candlemas this past winter, we received a new Rector. Nora joined us a few weeks ago as director of Christian Formation. Carol and Ellyn are retiring from the office staff. Of the “old-timers,” only three of us remain: John, Raisin, and me. I have learned that Nora is just as good at her work as Meg (who preceded Nora in her position). I love working with most of these people. With the rector, time will tell.


Yesterday, as the new secretary of the local chapter of the American Guild of Organists, I recorded the minutes of the executive board. The dean, sub-dean, treasurer, and secretary are new to their positions. I commented to the dean at the end of the meeting: “I have no idea what I am supposed to do.” “Neither do I,” she said. She had just conducted a well-organized and productive meeting, which seems to me a good start. All of us will need to figure it out as we go.

There was a time when I was active in the AGO; I served as chapter dean for three or four terms back in the 1980’s and 90’s; I was on this chapter’s executive board for one term about ten years ago. But since then, I have shied away from Guild work; I have hardly attended any meetings, after they moved them to Sunday evenings some years ago. I agreed to be secretary largely out of regard for the past-dean, Melanie, who has done much to hold things together these recent years.

I saw yesterday that I have been wrong to stay on the sidelines. There is much to do, and it will be good to work again with my fellow organists. As we discussed at the meeting, many organists look at the Guild and ask “What’s in it for me?” The AGO does offer help at all levels of training and ability, for those who seek it. But the proper question would be “What can I do to help?” The Guild is probably the only group that stands up for the organ and its music. It is the only place I know where I have found consistent support in my work, through good times and bad -- friends who have listened to me, advised me, helped me. And there is more...

When I was getting started, there was a man, Ralph M., dean of the local chapter there in West Virginia, whose license plate was for many years “MrAGO.” If anyone ever deserved such a term, Ralph was the guy. His cordial welcome to me as a scruffy twenty-something from out in the sticks (I had driven about two hours to get to a meeting) was part of what made me an organist. He helped steer me toward the Guild’s certification exams, and I was able to complete the Associate’s Exam before applying for graduate school. That was part of what got me in, because my credentials were lacking. I remember meeting with the dean of graduate studies during my interview and audition: “So... who have you studied with on organ?” “No one. I have taught myself.” [I did have a bachelor's degree in piano, as he could see from my papers.] Long silence ensued as he frowned at me. “Now, you know that Westminster Choir College is an important school. We accept only the most qualified applicants. And you think you can get in without any prior study?” I shrugged my shoulders and gave no answer; what could I say?

The AGO had given direction to my organ study by means of the certification exams. Because of that, I was able to go into my audition, the dean’s words still in my ears, knowing that I had already passed an examination generally considered equivalent to a master’s degree in organ. The organ faculty certainly knew what that “A.A.G.O.” meant on my application. They were willing to overlook my serious deficiencies in pedal technique, listen to my playing with an open mind, and accept me into their school.

“What can I do to help?” I can carve out time in my schedule -- even as I attempt to cut back on other things -- to try and be “Mr. AGO” for someone else. I can do my small part to keep this chapter going.

“The harvest is plenteous, but the laborers are few.”

what next?

I am this day sixty years old.

This past Thursday, my Sabbath, I went to the nearby County Park as is my custom in good weather. I had brought along a book to read after Matins, but it seemed better to make it a day to consider my path, so I laid it aside. Some years ago, I attended a “Credo” conference sponsored by the Episcopal Church for its employees, and the week culminated in a quiet half-day to write a “Credo Plan,” a statement of one's identity, discernment of the next steps, and how one intended to take those steps.

As it happens, I have been reading my old essays here at the Music Box and its predecessor on LiveJournal, alongside my personal journal which I started fifteen years ago. I had almost completed this review, and it seemed to be a thread that came together with my birthday's transition into a new decade and the day that was before me, unstructured and free. I felt that I had been led to this day as a little Spiritual Retreat, a Quiet Day for discernment.

In one sense, I got nowhere. I wrote many things in my notebook, but they amounted to little. In another sense, it was a reaffirmation of what I had written for myself at the conference in 2008:

I must do what is in my power to take the liturgy and music at hand, and make them better than they would be without me. This task is not about me. It is not only about my choristers, or the parish congregation. Disciplined music is for the benefit of the whole Church; it is part of that living sacrifice which is holy, acceptable unto God, and our reasonable service (Rom. 12:1).

I am still on that track, and still seeking what the Benedictines would call Conversion of Life. I want to make myself small so that the Music may be large. I see that I must chop away at the underbrush and weeds – too much stuff, too many commitments, too many tasks – so that the fruit that I am to bear may come to maturity. I need to attempt less so that I can do more.

To my surprise, I have come to see that this Music Box is part of what I am to do, at least for now. The writing of these essays has often clarified my thoughts, and I hope that they have sometimes been beneficial to others.

So, what next?

A new year of choral music, for one thing. This weekend has been mostly devoted to preparations for Youth Choir, which begins on Wednesday. After doing only a minimal amount of work at the organ for almost a month, this fortnight has put me back on the bench, back into my practice routines.

As the years pile on, the horizon shortens. I cannot say how long I shall be granted life and strength to continue with these things, and that is fine; I need only take the next step, and the next one after that.

RSCM Report: Final Thoughts

Evensong, and a technical note on Psalmody

From last year:

I told [Debra] how I came undone when I heard Kyle's voice, looked across and saw her singing [the solo on the final pages of “Like as the hart.”] "You think it gets you," she said, agreeing with me. "Think what I felt like: that was my kid singing it."

This year, it was my kids at the Saturday Evensong: Mark and Mike, along with Saul, singing the opening stanza of “Promised Land” and again as part of the quartet from the Walmisley Magnificat. I came entirely undone, thinking of all the years we have had together in choir, a time that has now ended.


Last year, we had no setting of the Preces and Responses, and the Psalm was done in plainsong by a semichorus of teens and adults. The choir directors had some offseason e-mail discussion about this. Some thought that it is impractical to achieve a high level of performance in psalmody with a large group, especially with trebles who may or may not watch the director. I expressed the importance of the psalmody, precisely in order to teach them to watch and listen. The discipline of psalmody is essential to the development of good choral singing, to say nothing of its spiritual benefits. The attention demanded by a choral setting of the Responses is equally important, and brings an intensity to Choral Evensong that carries over into the other music. Whether my words had any influence I do not know, but we did this year have a fine set of Responses by Stephen Carletti, written for Mr. Ashby's former choir in Capetown and based on South African models. And we sang a Psalm to Anglican Chant, all of us.

I was granted an insight during our rehearsal at the Presbyterian Church and in the subsequent liturgy: Ensemble in Psalmody, especially in a large choir, depends on watching the director, but depends much more on watching and listening to each other. We had some difficulty in synchronizing a verse sung by tenor and bass in unison, with the two sections spread widely across the chancel. I found that if I watched Mike at the far end of the row, I could synchronize my syllables with his better than I could by simply watching Mr. Ashby; when the full choir was singing, I could watch both Mike and Bryn, likewise at the far end of the choir from me.

In the other music as well as the Psalm, I found that I could anchor my pitch by tuning to Kyle (two seats to my right, singing treble) and Meara (behind us, singing alto) – fifths, thirds, octaves, unification of vowels. Their absolutely reliable singing did much to make us the fine choir that we were this year; it certainly made me a better singer.


The Chaplain and the Director

The weekday Evensongs at Todd Hall are as important to me as the final Evensong out in the community. Evensong gives a focus to the day's rehearsals; it gives the new choristers experience in the service before the weekend; most of all, it is an opportunity to sing and worship together. When I sing Evensong back home, usually by myself, I always feel its connection to the RSCM Evensongs and the First Sunday Evensongs in our parish.

This year, Michael K. was our Chaplain, a role filled in the past by Br. Vincent. By living in the Big House, I was able to watch Michael and Mr. Ashby plan the services and work together. Michael's sermons were excellent, including one on a part of the Passion account that was appointed in this week's Lectionary. One might think that these bloody and painful passages should be skipped over for children; that would be entirely wrong. We adults would like to think that the life of children is all sunshine and roses. No, they experience all the pain, fear, grief, and darkness that are known all too well by adults. The only way to understand these things as a child or an adult involves people mocking Jesus, spitting on him, crowning him with thorns, and finally nailing him to a cross, as we heard in the lesson and as Michael unpacked in his sermon.

Now, Michael is capable of being as goofy as Br. Vincent; he displayed this in our final time together as a choir in a dance with Eddie that might be on YouTube by now. But he also proved himself of being as serious in his devotion to Our Lord as Br. Vincent. And that is saying much. He is a postulant, and will be a terrific priest someday.

Our musical director, Garmon Ashby, was at his second St. Louis Course. I loved his manner of work with the choir: well-planned, fast-paced, focused on the places that needed work, with plenty of questions for the choristers, and a better understanding of vocal production and care for the voice than we have sometimes seen. Our rehearsals were calm, in spite of the fast pace, and I do not think that any of us were anxious about any of the music at any point. He certainly did not seem to be, and that carried over to the choir. By the weekend, we were fully prepared and sang the services with confidence.

I did not want to intrude on him in our shared quarters, for he used much of his free time in planning the next rehearsals. But I nonetheless consider it a privilege to have gotten to know him a bit better. I hope he will be back at Todd Hall at a future Course.


That they may be one...

… that they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee... (St. John 17:21)

It came even to pass, as the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the LORD... that then the house was filled with a cloud, even the house of the LORD... (II Chronicles 5:13)

It is always hard to leave the Course. In our week of singing together, we became as one. At our midweek Eucharist at Todd Hall, the priest expressed his wish that we could all stay and be part of his parish. Many of us would love to do that, to sing together all the time. But we cannot: all of us have responsibilities elsewhere, and people who are dear to us.

This desire, this longing to keep singing together, is part of something larger; it is a desire that is shared by Our Lord, and which shall find its fulfillment in him. The day will come when we are parted no more, but are one, even as he is one with the Father and the Holy Ghost:

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
and cast a wishful eye
to Canaan's fair and happy land
where my possessions lie.

Oh, who will come and go with me?
I am bound for the promised land,

RSCM Report: Advice to Young Musicians

Some of the young men and women of the Course intend to carry on the work of Musician as professionals. Mike will be starting a degree program in choral conducting and voice, Meara is studying voice with an eye toward music therapy, Kyle was the organ scholar this week and (I gather) now sings with a cathedral choir, one of the finest in the country. Many others who sang this week have the talent to walk this path: I think of Saul with his violin and fine tenor voice; Jacques with his obvious love of the piano that he exhibited with a talent show performance of a Beethoven sonata movement. There are others, and I do not mean to slight them. And there are still more in our parish choir at home, people like Paul and Yuhka and Claire and Caleigh and Greta and Issay.

I have done this work as best I can for close to forty years. What would I say to these young musicians?


Learn from the best – that begins with the course directors we have had. You will not find choral musicians any better than these men and women anywhere. Learn from the good musicians in every genre.

Learn from the bad musicians, too – When encountering Bad Music in a rehearsal or performance, figure out why it is not working. It can be most instructive.

You have many Teachers, including the Old Masters. Learn from them. If you are a music teacher or conductor, learn from your students, from your ensemble. Be grateful for good teachers; they are rare. You have one Teacher above all who will never give up on you.

Someone is always better; don't let that bother you. But:

Be the best that you can be. Music is hard work, and will remain so for the rest of your life. There is no way around it, and you owe it to yourself, to God, to the community to do the work, and be a shining light. Practice. Be prepared for rehearsals, for lessons, for performances, for church services. Be the musician on whom others in the choir or ensemble can rely.

The old books are best

Sometimes it will get ugly – You may have teachers who belittle you and tell you that you are worthless scum. Or conductors, or theatrical directors, or critics. And whenever you get in front of people to perform, the possibility is always there for epic failure. It will happen to you, probably more than once. Maybe a lot more than once. When it does, get up, dust yourself off, and move on. Most of all, forgive yourself. As for the teachers, conductors, and critics: learn from them if possible, but sometimes you must ignore them and press on. You will be stronger as a result.

You will have moments of surpassing splendor – you probably have already, in these Courses and elsewhere. Cherish these times, remember them. Be thankful for them; when it goes right, it is always a Gift and not entirely our doing.

Be kind. To yourself, to your fellow musicians, to your family and friends.

There is more to life than music. Live a full life. Spend time with friends, with family. Get outside: Beethoven would walk for hours in all kinds of weather.

You can do something else. Being a Musician is not an either-or choice. You can be a doctor, a schoolteacher, a mother with children at home, a sales clerk, a day laborer, and do the Music on the side. It is hard, but you will find that Music alone sometimes does not pay the bills. One of the finest of all bluegrass musicians, Lester Flatt, worked as a mill hand in a textile factory. The composer Charles Ives was an insurance executive, and a good one. You may find as much joy in your other work as you do in Music.

Cantare amantis est. This quote from St. Augustine is on my office door. It can be translated various ways; “Singing is born of love” might be one. I think it was Nadia Boulanger who said: “What is without love is nothing.” St. Paul had something to say about that, too (I Corinthians 13:1).


There is nothing that can equal a life in Music. If you choose this path, I expect that you will find it rewarding. And whether or not you walk the path, I wish for you every blessing and grace.

[See also this.]

RSCM Report: Part II

Two Ladies from Memphis (and one from Indianapolis)

One of our two scheduled organists, David O., became seriously ill before the Course and had to stay home. That left Debbie Smith, already the adult housemaster and organist for the Evensong, to learn the Mass music on the fly. The task would have put me in a panic; Debbie took it in stride. She was on the bench in the Todd Hall Chapel every morning at 6 am, besides all-too-brief visits to the churches, with both of the instruments unfamiliar to her. And in the Saturday and Sunday services, she played splendidly.

It fell to me to assist Kristin Lensch, the treble housemaster, as accompanist for two sectional rehearsals. It was an unalloyed delight to begin the day's work at the piano behind Kristin, facing thirty-some energetic trebles, Lucy and Ted from our parish among them. I could write much about Kristin, but will say only that she is one of the finest choral musicians I have encountered. Were I responsible for an RSCM Course, she would be my first choice as musical director. And Debbie would be the organist.

These two have been mutual friends for a long time, and part of the St. Louis Course from its inception. When I think of these Ladies from Memphis, I think as well of Debra Nethercott. Much of Mr. B.'s work fell to her as Executive Director, and I think it was a difficult week for her, most of all because her duties kept her from singing. I could say much about her as well, but it is sufficient to note that her choir has produced young musicians of the highest quality such as Eddie and Spencer, Kyle and her sisters, the Conley brothers, and too many others to name.

Though I see them only this one week of the year, I count these three ladies among my best friends and professional colleagues, and treasure my time with them.

[Footnote: It is not my normal policy to give full names in the Music Box, in order to respect privacy. I have done so here, and in the previous entry where I mentioned the Choir School, because of my respect for the work of these people, in hopes that my high opinion of them may serve in some small way as an endorsement.]

The Big House

Todd Hall, the site of the RSCM Course, was originally a private residence. After the Todd family gave it to the local Episcopal parish (St. George's Belleville) in 1982, other buildings were added, making it into a retreat center. Always, Mr. B. and Br. Vincent have stayed in the House during the Course, along with the musical director, with the rest of us in the other buildings, mostly Wilson and Blackburn.

I was assigned a room in Blackburn as usual. While I unpacked, Weezer came by and asked if I would move; they needed the room for one of the women. He sent me to the Big House, which I was to share for the week with Mr. Ashby and Mr. Kurth.

It is a luxurious place in a 1950's split-level manner, but at times, especially the first night, it reminded me of staying in my Mother's house alone after she had gone to the care center. I found that the Big House was empty without the two men who had always been in it (yes, “always” means “one week a year,” but I never saw the House in any other light). After the first night's Compline, I sat in the fine screened porch on the back of the house, eating a bedtime snack. The night was heavy with the sounds of a hot summer night in the country. It was quiet, beautiful with the last light of evening in the west across the Mississippi. But I missed Mr. B., who would be out here on the porch smoking cigarettes and talking with the other adult participants.

There are other memories in this house. I remember Mr. Todd, who built it for his family. Years ago, when I often sat in the grape arbor on the south end of the house to write, he would trundle up in his golf cart, unlock the padlock on the wooden door to the swimming pool, and go in to swim laps. He was (I think) in his eighties by then, and living in a newer house on the east side of the property. “We can't let people use the pool,” he told me. “The liability insurance is too high.” Since he died, the pool has been empty, drained and used for storage.

Some of Mr. and Mrs. Todd's values remain evident: most people would not build a private Chapel onto their house, with pipe organ and space to rehearse a seventy-voice choir. Nor would they build a labyrinth, nor would they give it all to the Episcopal parish and stay on hand to assist in running the retreat center.

A more subtle memory of them became evident to me as the week progressed: they loved the outdoors. I suspect that they lived as I lived this week, eating my first breakfast at 6 am on the screened porch, spending time out there in the evenings, walking the paths and byways of the property.

Charles and Virginia Todd in their way contributed much to the Course. May they rest in peace, and delight in the music we make in their Chapel.