Second thoughts on Listening to Organ Music

Some might say that the solution to the relative unpopularity of the organ in the US includes 1) more advertising and 2) just keep listening longer (from GABISOMA, the Grin and Bear It School of Organ Music Appreciation). Even if you don't like it at first, you'll learn to appreciate it later. The first idea is to lure unsuspecting people in, the latter, to allow one's own tastes to broaden. Which is all well and good in what it affirms. I have often wished I had heard about a concert before it happened rather than after. But to paraphrase a college professor, these solutions are wrong in what they deny, which is that there is anything out of line in the organ world.

A recent thread on a pipe organ list even questioned whether it was unacceptable to walk out on an unenjoyed organ concert. For the record, I think this is more than perfectly acceptable, it is desirable and a healthy way to promote more enjoyable concerts in the future provided it does not interfere with the pleasure of those remaining. But I have never done it for fear I might miss something really great coming up afterwards. That said, subsequent list posts completely missed the point regarding one key reason to leave a concert. Most of the comments obsessed on the technical skills and perfection of the performance, rather than the emotional content of the music (or lack thereof). Were Bach's improvisations all note perfect of something written 200 years previous to his performance? Was he thinking about phrasing and articulation to the exclusion of emotional content? Did he mature and develop his style to fit the current trends and needs of his church or endlessly try to perfect his Vivaldi and Telemann performance?

Incidentally, this reminds me of the time I happened to mention that I refuse to learn any piece of music I don't like. Period. Full stop. End of story. What would be the point of learning to play something you dislike or are even lukewarm about? It would only create distaste for the instrument and the music. This apparently remarkably independent thought came across as quite a novel concept indeed, and one organist reader even volunteered that he had never once been asked what music he would like to learn! The rationale supposedly is that learning to play music you don't care for will accustom you to it to such a degree that, as with a poor quality pop tune played incessantly on the radio, you will eventually develop some kind of fondness for it. But is it this self-denial, this kind of alienation of one's one thoughts, emotions, and desires, that has helped to create a repertoire seemingly of marginal interest or attractiveness to the general public? It is simply inexcusable in this modern age of digital recordings not to allow the student to listen to and learn music that appeals to him or her.

I refuse to wear a hair shirt or enjoy self-crucifixion to enjoy music! I'm not talking about dumbing music down or playing show tunes on the organ (no offense to my theater organist friends, if any should incorrectly suspect that I was specifically referring to that genre). No, I'm talking about focusing less on the liturgy and religious trappings of the classic concert organ and more on the sensual beauty, peace, voluptuous rapture that can come from great art.

By way of example of what I consider a reasonably good combination of good taste and accessibility (apparently that's the term for what I'm promoting), I just recently received an organ CD not-coincidentally by the same organist who recorded the Durufle of my previous blog post. In my mind this second CD goes a long ways towards mitigating the effects of certain more alienating types of organ music. It's called "In A Quiet Cathedral" and I highly recommend it, not for the recording quality (it seems to have a slight very low rumble on my system) but for the pure listening pleasure it gives. Pity the concept for the album had to come from a pianist.