Tail wagging the dog? Of improvisations and codas

Here is this morning’s piano improvisation, based on two tunes that were to be sung later in the service: Nun komm der Heiden Heiland, and Bereden vag for Herran.

Key of A. I went into it with a vague notion of aiming for rondo form.

It begins with Nun komm, pretty much straight up and then with variations to the 2’43 mark. Then Bereden vag in the dominant (E major), likewise with variations.

At 4’03”, Nun komm returns, in combination with bits of Bereden vag. At this point, I started thinking “Sonata form, maybe?” and allowed it to become a Development section rather than the full-fledged return of Nun komm that would have been more characteristic of a rondo form. This goes on for about two minutes, until it slips into a Recapitulation at 6’02” with Nun komm in the tonic (I was pleased with how this transition turned out). At 6’40”, Bereden vag returns, likewise in the tonic (as it must be if it is to be sonata form).

7’58”: Coda. Time to wrap things up, or it should be in terms of the music. Still a lot of time on the clock.
8’50”: Musically, it should have stopped somewhere around here, but I still have over two minutes to cover. So, a “second coda.” At 9’44” it takes off in a different direction, and by about 10 minutes, I am thinking “big ending” and work in this direction with the last phrase of Bereden vag to the 10’50” mark.

But it wants to be soft, after all, so the texture settles down down to the 11’08” mark, and a “third coda.” Out of balance to have four minutes of coda(s)? Tail [Italian = “Coda”] wagging the dog? Possibly. But I think it ended up making the piece as a whole more interesting. And it was functional music; I am expected to end the prelude precisely at 9:00 am. Not 8:58 or 8:59, not 9:01 or 9:02. I do my best each Sunday to fulfill this functional need while creating a little composition that has a semblance of form to hold it together.

My preparation this week was simply "knowing the tunes" - playing around with them as I described here. I used to go to considerable pains to lay out a structural plan of key centers and thematic material. I rarely do that nowadays. Usually I have a vague notion (as I did today), which may or may not be how it turns out. Most of the time I will have formal ideas in mid-stream (again, as I did today). Sometimes it is no more than a feeling, an urge: “Time for the other tune,” or “It needs to go to the dominant” and it is only in retrospect, listening to the recording, that I can discern a structure.

One other thought: More and more, when I am working with a multisectional form such as sonata or rondo or what I call "overture form" (stringing several tunes together, one after another), I tend to make each of the sections out of variations on a tune rather than just the tune itself. The larger sections are then delineated by change of key center and tune-with-variations.

Advent, hymn-playing, and the AGO exams

Tonight was our Service of Advent Lessons and Carols. I could say much about this, not least that the choir sang with strong connection and beautiful phrase-shaping, but upon review of my reference recording, one comment:

I am playing the hymns better than I used to.

And I did not put a large amount of preparation time into them, not directly; two hours perhaps. But indirectly – yes. I could not have played tonight as I did without my work on improvisation, intensively in recent years, but in other ways for twenty years and more, often with little or no audible progress for years at a time. Improvement in hymn-playing was not my intent with this work; I did not even consider it as a possibility. But that is what happened.

From time to time, the AGO talks about revising their professional examinations to make them more relevant. I gather that such revision may currently be in progress. I do not think this is a good idea.

Many of the musical skills one must develop for the exams seem thoroughly irrelevant on the surface. Why does a modern organist need to sight-read in open score with C clefs? Or transpose? Or write a fugal exposition for string quartet? Or read the “square” plainsong notation and engage in modal analysis of chant, and write a short unaccompanied motet?

It took me a long time after I had completed my exams (AAGO, ChM, FAGO) to understand better how the various skills interweave and bear fruit in unexpected ways. Tonight’s hymn playing – and the singing of the choir, for that matter – are an example. All that time wrestling with plainsong and the modes laid the groundwork for being comfortable with playing in the modes, such as my improvised accompaniments for the three plainsong hymns in the service. Reading C clefs is a gateway to transposition (which I found exceedingly difficult and still do), which in turn is groundwork for improvisation.

In short, any work you do as a musician helps all of the other aspects of your playing, singing, and conducting. Any skill that you take the time to develop will pay dividends, most often when you least expect it. And there is hardly anything in music that comes on a straight, direct path; it all happens indirectly, a little at a time.

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I came into this day, the First of Advent, hating the season, wishing it would go away. A look at my December calendar fills me with dread. And it is not unreasonable; I have lived through many Advents and know well what is involved. I do not want to do it for yet another year.

But tonight’s music, and the choir’s singing of the spiritual “Steal away to Jesus” in this morning’s service, saved me. I hope that the music may have had similar effect on others, for I am not alone in dreading this season, this month of darkness and cold and despair.

Lo, how a Rose e’er blooming
From tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse’s lineage coming
As seers of old have sung.
It came, a blossom bright,
Amid the cold of winter,
When half-spent was the night.
(German hymn, 15th c.. tr. Theodore Baker)