Friday, November 27, 2015

Wedding Day

Today was the wedding of two young parishioners, Will and Stacy. It was simple, beautiful, and elegant. I am happy for them; I enjoyed working with them on the musical aspects, and I wish them well this day, and all the days of their life together.

When I contemplate retirement, one of the thoughts uppermost in my mind is “No more weddings!” I may be willing to play a few Sunday services as a substitute, and I have entertained the thought of becoming a Funeral Home Organist, if such positions still exist (they are being replaced by canned music, for the most part) -- but No Weddings. Not for any amount of money.

In the planning process, I have been screamed at and cursed by mothers, once by a father (who was an ordained minister; that one was over the question as to whether his other daughter, the vocal soloist, could use a microphone and a portable sound system. I said “No,” and stood my ground). I have mediated between the family and the trumpet player who would not open his case without $200 cash money in hand – all this some thirty minutes before the wedding, for which I was being paid $50. I have had to preludize for ten extra minutes, twenty, thirty… I have started a five-minute piece to fill the extra time and within the first four bars been told “They are ready to roll; cut it short.” I have wondered whether the two-year old flower girl would make it down the aisle or sit down in the middle and start counting flower petals (as I vamped on Pachelbel’s Canon, playing the last page three times).

Any organist has stories. Clergy doubtless have stories to match, some of them about their organists. Some of the worst days of my professional life have been Wedding Days. And yet… some of the best days of my professional life have been Wedding Days.

I was in high school when I played my first wedding, and it was the first time I played an organ – a little electric thing with one octave of stubby pedals, in an Assembly of God church. The groom had been my neighbor and best friend when we were quite small, preschool and the early grades. Our paths diverged as I gravitated to music and he to sports (he is now well respected as a small-college basketball coach); the bride was likewise a close friend. She alone of the friends of my childhood and youth attended my mother’s funeral; she told me that day of something I had not known – through the early years while they were in town and I was off at college, my mother was the only adult who believed in them, that they would make it as a married couple (they have: forty-plus years so far).

And there was a day when the young woman who was probably my best friend in college – and is the only friend I still have from those days – was married in the living room of her home. She and I had gone to the music store and selected a rental piano for the event, a spinet. I played Mozart and Bach and Chopin and Beethoven and it was a Good Day, one that remains in my heart as a landmark.

I was at the Presbyterian church in Tennessee long enough for a generation of choristers to grow into adults, and played quite a few weddings for them. There was the one where the girl whom I had known since she was a toddler married a farmer, and the reception was out in the country, complete with bluegrass band and old-style flatfoot dancing. There was another where the bride decided that the place she wanted to wait before the wedding was upstairs in the organ/choir gallery because that was the place in the church where she felt most at home after all her years in choir – she sat on a stool beside the organ console, her bridesmaids around her – all of them former choirgirls – as I played the preservice music. I felt as if I were playing for the Bride of Christ, the holy Marriage Supper of the Lamb for which we long.

Every wedding, every marriage, is a glimpse of that eternal Day, when sorrow and pain shall be no more.

But in this life, there is plenty of sorrow and pain, and marriage is one of the places where it is most acute, for the pain comes to those whom we love the most, and the path is often very hard. One of the women I have described is now a widow; another cares for her husband who is disabled, while working a demanding full-time job and parenting teenagers.

Marriage is one of the Seven Sacraments, and like the others, much about it is a mystery. It is in the providence of God that He has set us in families, with the union of man and woman as the foundation. One finds that it is in the times of sickness, of pain and bereavement and anguish, when God is most present, and that Presence is manifested very often in the patient daily care of husband and wife for one another through the darkest of times. Or parent for child, or child for parent.

One ought not to think too much on these things on Wedding Days – but it is right there in the marriage vows, and a good thing it is; I have needed the remembrance of these vows many times over the years:
In the Name of God, I, N. take you, N. to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.
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Some might be interested in what I play for weddings. It depends, of course, on what the Bride and Groom desire, within the limits of what is acceptable for Christian worship. Here is today’s music list, with some commentary:

Two short movements by Felix Mendelssohn: Adagio from the First Organ Sonata, and the Andante tranquillo from the Third Sonata. This latter Sonata he wrote for the marriage of his beloved sister Fanny – and then he was unable to play it, being injured in a carriage accident shortly before the day. I have used the majestic opening to the first movement, the Con moto maestoso, as a bridal procession, but the fugue that makes up the rest of the movement, based on the chorale Aus tiefer Not, is a bit much.

Vaughan Williams: “Wedding Tune for Ann,” from “A Vaughan Williams Organ Album” (Oxford Univ. Press) – a fine three-minute piece which is thoroughly suitable to the occasion. It is hard to find music by Real Composers that they intended for weddings and that still work in current practice. The only other that I can think of offhand is the Siciliano for a High Ceremony (Herbert Howells), a fine eight-minute piece composed for a 1953 wedding – but it is not for everyone; it has to be someone that would appreciate Howells’ musical style.

Chorale setting: Schmücke dich, O liebe Seele (J. S. Bach, from the Leipzig Chorales) – this was a favorite of Mendelssohn’s, and of many other organists since. It is a communion text, but the spirit befits a wedding – “deck thyself, my soul, with gladness.”

Canon in D (J. Pachelbel, arranged for organ by S. Drummond Wolff, Concordia Publishing House). For today’s service, the couple wanted “Pachelbel’s Canon,” but not as the processional, a purpose for which I have played it scores of times. Many serious musicians turn up their nose at this – there was a time when we had three excellent violinists in our parish, and I tried to get them to play the Canon for church – they looked at me as if I had committed an Unpardonable Sin and absolutely would not do it. But it is a terrific piece of music, and the mood of it is exactly right. Further, it can be cut short or stretched out to fit a procession – my poor copy is marked with so many cuts that I can hardly make out what I am doing. And today, I played the whole thing for the first time in quite a few years – I had to work on the middle parts, which I most often have cut.

More Bach: Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, from the Schübler Chorales. This is the one piece that I always play, because of the connection of the chorale text with the Bridegroom. And for a wedding two days before Advent, it is essential.

At this point, the procession begins:

Bach: “Jesu, joy of man’s desiring,” from “The Biggs Book of Organ Music” (ed. E. Power Biggs, H. W. Gray Publications). This is a useful volume for the church organist, not least for this arrangement of “Jesu, joy.” Like the Canon in D, it is a wedding staple, and very practical – it can be cut or extended to some degree, though not so readily as the Pachelbel.

On this day, the brother of the bride played a piano piece of his own composition for the brides’ procession. I worried about this, especially after he launched into the Darth Vader theme from Star Wars as the people gathered for the wedding rehearsal. But he was just poking fun at his sister; in the event, the piece was thoroughly appropriate, and far more meaningful than anything I could have done.

When it is up to me to play the procession, one of my staples is the Jeremiah Clarke Trumpet Voluntary (The Prince of Denmark). I play this from "Incidental Music for Weddings and Other Occasions, As played at the Royal Wedding at St. Paul's Cathedral, 29 July 1981," edited by Christopher Dearnley (the organist for that Occasion)- Basil Ramsey, publisher. It is a lovely little volume, complete with the stoplist for the very large instrument in that Place, and photos of various parts of the instrument.

And I am not above "Here comes the bride," or more properly, the Wedding March from Lohengrin (R. Wagner). Like the Pachelbel, it is a piece that can be trimmed or expanded to fit the time needed. I always include it in my suggestions to the couple; some laugh at me, for others it is precisely what is suitable. There are some clergy (and some organists) who forbid this piece; I am not one of them.

The recessional:
Trumpet Tune (Henry Purcell) – another wedding standard. At this point, I very often play the Wedding March from Midsummer Night’s Dream (Mendelssohn) which is my favorite. Or the piece that on this day followed the Purcell:

Overture and The Rejoicing, from “Firework Music” (G. F. Handel) – this is from the Biggs Book, which contains many other arrangements from Bach and Handel.

I used to play the Widor Toccata (Final, from the Fifth Organ Symphony), but that was on an instrument with electric action. On our mechanical-action Pilcher, my hand starts to fall off after about three pages, so I refuse to play it. But it is very effective if the instrument and organist are up to it. The Final from the First Symphony of Louis Vierne is another good choice if the circumstances are fitting.

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I was pleased this day to play my first wedding with our current rector. She does a splendidly dignified wedding, by far the best of any clergy with whom I have worked; it was indeed a delight to work with her this day. And she used the long form of the Blessing, which I have not heard since my own wedding, many years ago:
Most gracious God, we give you thanks for your tender love in sending Jesus Christ to come among us, to be born of a human mother, and to make the way of the cross to be the way of life. We thank you, also, for consecrating the union of man and woman in his Name. By the power of your Holy Spirit, pour out the abundance of your blessing upon this man and this woman. Defend them from every enemy. Lead them into all peace. Let their love for each other be a seal upon their hearts, a mantle about their shoulders, and a crown upon their foreheads. Bless them in their work and in their companionship; in their sleeping and in their waking; in their joys and in their sorrows; in their life and in their death. Finally, in your mercy, bring them to that table where your saints feast for ever in your heavenly home; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Rest in peace.

Music by two Parisians:

Tierce en taille, and Cromorne en Taille, from the Messe de Paroisse (François Couperin)

Priere (César Franck)

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This morning, in the process of considering what music I might post here in response to the attacks in Paris last night, it struck me most suddenly that I have a responsibility tomorrow morning, akin to what those who will be preaching and leading prayers will have. Mine is but a small responsibility, but it did not until now occur to me. I am cancelling the postlude that I had planned and will play the Tierce en Taille which is linked above as a memorial prayer.

I would love to play the Franck instead, but it is well beyond anything I could prepare in one day. [Edited to add: I think that I can play it for the next choral evensong, December 6.] I do encourage you to listen to the Franck, or the Couperin. Perhaps light a candle. Certainly, pray for those who have died, and those who are bereaved, and those who are injured. And all of us, around the world, who must live this day and the next and the next after that, trusting only in the mercies and providence of God.

There have been other terrorist killings, some of them worse than this. Upon hearing the news last night, I thought immediately of the 2004 Madrid bombings, and the schoolchildren of Beslan, in the Ossetia region of Russia, also in 2004. And the Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics in 1972.

This one, last night in Paris, feels like 9/11/01. As with that event, I fear that the consequences will be profound, and not for the best.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Open my eyes

Here is a recording of our choir singing the Gilbert Martin arrangement of an old gospel hymn: "Open my eyes that I may see." It is taken from our liturgy on October 25, and I am just now getting around to posting it.

We also sang the Howells Te Deum and Jubilate at that service, and it went pretty well. But I am not going to post the recordings; there are many versions on YouTube that are much better than we could ever hope to do.

But this one, "Open my eyes," has only one other YouTube version, a good rendition in Chinese, so ours is worth posting.

While working with the YouTube video manager, I noticed that several of my Bach organ recordings have had copyright claims placed on them. I suppose that I should be flattered that the computer who does these things for YouTube thinks that my versions are sufficiently close to their Property to warrant a claim. I am not.

But I do not see a good way to dispute the claim. The YouTube dispute form gives several options that could be checked off and none of them apply completely. On the one hand, the video is not entirely of my creation - J. S. Bach wrote the music, and the artwork is from WikiArt, by some of the Masters of old time. These things are in the public domain, but they are most decidedly not my work.

And on the other hand, I am not willing to claim that the YouTube clips are entirely in the public domain; they are not, for I have a performance right in them. That is to say: I am very pleased for anyone to listen to this music. But I am not pleased for some rights organization to come and make money on what is not theirs.

And, most of all, there is the danger that by disputing the claim, the publisher who claims rights can summarily shut down my YouTube channel and this MusicBox. I know of one blog that disappeared in just this fashion, without notice or recourse. Or I could find myself embroiled in litigation.

So I am going to let it go.

[Edited 11/20/15 to add this news story}
YouTube owner Google says it will help fund up to $1m (£650,000) in legal fees for some content creators who have received copyright takedown notices. It will step in if it feels their material is considered to be fair use. However the firm admitted that only a handful of people have been chosen to benefit from this support. Copyright holders are able to make requests to Google - or other sites - to take down content under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA).....

"We are offering legal support to a handful of videos that we believe represent clear fair uses which have been subject to DMCA takedowns," wrote Fred von Lohmann, Google's copyright legal director, in a blog post....

"We're doing this because we recognise that creators can be intimidated by the DMCA's counter-notification process and the potential for litigation that comes with it.

"While we can't offer legal protection to every video creator - or even every video that has a strong fair use defence - we'll continue to resist legally unsupported DMCA takedowns as part of our normal processes."



Wednesday, November 4, 2015

I once was lost but now am found

Here is an improvisation on “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.”

My plan was for an A-B-A form in C Major, with leanings toward C Lydian (F sharps). For the middle section, I strayed as far as possible, to F sharp minor (which is one reason I included the F sharps in the beginning), and tried something new (for me) – a direct quotation from what was to be sung by the choir that day: a fragment of the Te Deum by Howells, from his Collegium Regale setting. I made a continuation in that harmonic style, with a truncated return of the A section.

We did not sing the Howells until the later service that morning, so it was a stretch for me to include it in the improvisation. But it was much on my mind. The phrase that I quoted was this: “When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death; thou didst open the kingdom of heaven to all believers.” It seems to me that this is at the foundation of the “amazing grace” of which Newton wrote.

This hymn, “Amazing Grace” is important to me as it is for many. In retrospect, it was one of the first pieces of Real Church Music that I encountered. I could not have articulated it at the time (my infancy in Christ and likewise in music, at about age twelve, newly baptized and in my first year of piano lessons), but I sensed that there was an integrity to this text by John Newton and its shape-note tune, crafted by the folk tradition in the very region where I was living, that was not present in most of the Baptist gospel songs that were the exclusive diet of the congregation. I love those songs too, but they are not at the same level. In fact, there is hardly anything at this level.

For those who might want a deeper look into the hymn, Bill Moyers did a PBS video about it some years ago. One can get a taste of it is from Moyers’ website, where one can read the transcript and hear some excerpts from the video. The full program on DVD might be in your public library.


Sunday, November 1, 2015

We feebly struggle, they in glory shine

We met at 4:45 for an hour of rehearsal before Choral Evensong. On this day, it was the Youth Choir as well as our adult choir and the St. Simeon singers who assist with evensong. We had an ambitious music list, including the Bainton anthem “And I saw a new heaven” and the Gibbons Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis from his Short Service. This rehearsal was the only opportunity to combine the adults and youth choir, it was not nearly enough time, and it was a challenging workout, serious and intense.

During the break afterwards, our youngest chorister (known to those who attended this year’s RSCM Course) spoke with me; she said that it was hard; she did not know whether she could do it all again – that is, sing all the music again for the church service. “That is all right,” I told her; “Choral Evensong requires all that you have.”

I have tried to explain this many times on these pages – why is Choral Evensong so important? Why does it matter so much more to me than the Holy Eucharist?

Why was this service, this night, so important?

Part of the answer is what the chorister had already learned, in her first evensong as a part of this choir; one cannot properly sing Evensong without an absolute commitment that requires all that you have. And that is all right; it is indeed our bounden duty. “Thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength.”

As we heard this summer from Mr. Walker: “One hundred percent, all of the time.”

One chorister who demonstrated this was Lucy. She arrived for the rehearsal and told me that she hardly had any voice, which was obvious as soon as she spoke. But she had nonetheless come. She sang a little, but mostly she led by example. She lined up the younger choristers for the procession, she was as attentive and fully committed to the rehearsal and service – even when she was unable to sing – as she had been at the RSCM course this summer. By so doing, she showed the younger choristers how it is done. And that is a very great gift, one that I cannot give them.

We were far from perfect. There were plenty of wrong notes, and there were places that with more combined rehearsal would have been more confident. But I believe that every chorister, from youngest to oldest, brought their full commitment to the music and the liturgy. I could hear it in their sound, and so could everyone in the congregation.

Afterwards at the choir’s pizza supper, I spoke again with our youngest chorister. She had learned another lesson; the service seemed shorter than the rehearsal. “They always do,” I said. When it comes time to sing, or play, it goes by so quickly. She liked the Evensong very much; she also spoke of RSCM, and said that she wants very much to go back next summer.

So do I.

But we have something special right here in our parish. There are moments, nowadays, when singing or accompanying this choir, especially the combined choir as we had tonight, is every bit as good as being in the Chapel at Todd Hall, or the Basilica.

Thanks be to God.
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We finished the service with the hymn “For all the saints.” I wanted the youth choir to know this hymn, for it is no longer sung in some places, and rarely with all eight stanzas even here in our parish. I assigned the youth trebles to solo out my favorite stanza, which is a good summary for tonight:
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.
Alleluia.

There was some good music today; I have been listening to the recordings while bringing order to the choir room and working on next Sunday’s bulletins. I might post some more YouTube tracks, but for tonight, what I want to share is my piano improvisation from the 9:00 service. Like much else today, it was not adequately prepared, but it turned out all right. It has been a challenging week at the church, and next week will be no easier, not with a funeral on Tuesday. There have been two or three times when I have not seen a way forward, and always, always – too much work, too little time. “We feebly struggle, they in glory shine…”