Veni Emmanuel

As mentioned in the previous essay, I have been working on some of the concepts in the Mike Garson masterclass, and giving it higher priority – not so much more time from the week, but better time, first thing in the day when I am fresh. I had been feeling a little “stuck” in my improvisatory work, and I think that this work has gotten me out of the ditch.

Here is this morning’s improvisation. It is based on the three songs from the service, mostly the first:

- O come, O come, Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel)
- Mary, when the angel’s word (Tempus adest floridum)
- Creator of the stars of night (Conditor Alme)

Garson talks about his “now” music, where he has no preconception before he starts playing. I am trying to move a little in that direction, and to be less concerned about formal structure. But not entirely unconcerned, and neither is Garson; I think that he is trusting his subconscious to keep the unity of the piece. I am not there yet.

For one thing, I think it important to begin and end in the home key, in this case B minor/major. In between, I planned to go to the relative major (D) for “Tempus adest floridum” (best known as the tune for “Good King Wenceslaus,” but here with a modern text), and did so, having played around some during the week on a transition into it from the plainsong, and out of it.

I did not preconceive a key for “Conditor Alme.” As it happened, it was mostly in G major, moving to C major (about as far from the home key of B as possible). Nor did I plan what to do after that, beyond getting back to tonic.

And I think it turned out pretty well. I can hear many things that showed up during the week’s practice, but I had no idea which of them would show up today, or in what context, and none of it is exactly like anything I did through the week. For those who might be interested, there is a Serious Mistake at 4:16 – having moved in a direction that was a bit unexpected, I tripped over a note and lost the rhythmic “groove” for a moment. Yuck. “You can play any notes, but stay with the groove.”

But one must get past the fear of such things. To paraphrase another master (William Porter, organist) – we miss notes in our repertoire; what’s the difference when we miss them in an improvisation?

The whole thing is rather spacious – lots of long notes, lots of quiet. That comes partly from the two plainsongs, but partly from the day – clear and very cold, the sunshine streaming in the south window, just a handful of people at the service – four, when I started. It felt like the music needed to be gentle, reflective, so I sought to go in that direction.

From 8:45 onward feels like a coda. I did not find the photographs for the YouTube clip until this afternoon, but the coda fits them well. Both photos (from the Hubble Space Telescope) are of the “Creator of the stars of night” in his workshop – they are areas where new stars are being made.

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Some of this work with improvisation filters into my hymn accompaniment. Certainly, when it is the same tune (like the three in this one, all played later in the service), I have much more freedom with the accompaniment than I would had I not spent the time to “know the tune.” But it carries over into my organ playing, too. I do not think that I improvise well at the organ (I hope to, someday), but I am getting better at playing the hymns.

These are from last week’s choral service: Five Advent Hymns. Numbers are from the Episcopal Hymnal 1982.

- 65: Prepare the way, O Zion
- “People, look East” (from the supplement Wonder, Love and Praise)
- 72: Hark, the glad sound, the Savior comes
- 60: Creator of the stars of night
- 444: Blest be the God of Israel

They are from the organist’s point of view – that is, the microphone is close to the instrument and one hears much more organ sound than the congregation would hear out in the room. I post them as an example of what I aim to do with the hymns.

I could not have played this way five years ago, perhaps not even one year ago; I would have been tied much closer to the page. And I emphasize that such progress as I am making is not coming from explicit work with the hymn accompaniments; it is carry-over from that half-hour or so at the piano every morning. I do of course practice the hymns, but no more than I have for years, and perhaps a bit less these days.

The final hymn, however, is an important caution to the improviser. It is a “big” English tune, with a fully-written out accompaniment by its composer, Basil Harwood. When presented with such a hymn, the organist should play exactly what is on the page, and that is what I do, perhaps filling in a chord here and there.

There are times when improvisation is not a good idea. Just play the notes.

The photos are of our beloved little Pilcher, taken on a sunny winter day much like today.