Sparrows and Light

One of the first YouTube clips I posted was my prelude on “God of the sparrow” two years ago on this Sunday, the blessing of animals.

Here is the version from today’s 9:00 service:
Improvisation: God of the Sparrow

This time, for the middle section I quote Royal Oak (All things bright and beautiful), which I think turned out well, and I like the return to the B major tonic that follows, and the coda. In places I am intentionally more free with the tunes than I was in 2014, and the form is more complex.

I cannot say which version is better. I wish I had made more progress in my skill level than what these two improvisations indicate.

Perhaps I have made a little progress; I am considerably more comfortable with “surprise” improvisations than I used to be. There was one in this day’s service at the end of communion when there were several minutes to fill. I returned to “God of the sparrow,” this time in D flat, and I think it was pretty good.

But I still cannot do as well at the organ. I played a prelude on the same tune at the choral service two hours later; it had some moments, but it was not as good as the piano version. There was a sixteen-bar period after the first couple of statements of the tune that I intended as a transition, but it was a boring progression of chords without motivic relation to anything, because I was more concerned for that moment with changing the registrations than I was with the musical content. Anyone who improvises must constantly purge his music of such things.

I take encouragement from C.P.E. Bach: somewhere in his Essay he says that the organ and harpsichord are difficult instruments for improvisation. The pianoforte and the clavichord are better suited for it.

Lord willing, I intend to keep trying.

Here is another clip, from last Sunday’s choral evensong:
O gladsome light (David Ashley White)

It is not without its problems, notably a couple of notes in the soprano. But it has strong connection and I am proud of the choir for the way they sang it. As with much of the choral music I post, I have put this on the Net because there are no other recordings on YouTube.

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I have been reading with considerable benefit the Dialogue of Catherine of Siena, a few pages at a time. Yesterday’s insight: this musical work that I do is for the love of my neighbors, which in turn is love of God and in fact the only way that I can by concrete action express any love for God. I do the best that I can because I want it to bring people closer to God, rather than driving them away as bad church music can do, and that is because by God’s grace I care about these people. Or, as my motto from St. Augustine puts it, Cantare amantis est. The music can only exist when it springs from love for those who will hear it, and those with whom one is rehearsing and performing, and at root, this is love of God.

That is worth spending some time on the bench.

We are bound to Him, and not He to us, because before He was loved, He loved us. There it is, then: we cannot love Him with this first love. Yet I say that God demands of us, that as He has loved us without any second thoughts, so He should be loved by us. In what way can we do this, then? I tell you, through a means which he has established, by which we can love Him freely; that is, we can be useful, not to Him -- which is impossible -- but to our neighbor. To show the love that we have for Him, we ought to serve and love every rational creature and extend our charity to good and bad -- as much to one who does us ill service and criticizes us as to one who serves us.