Tag: organ

Classical concert “crowding-out” on Sunday afternoons

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Bach: Prelude and Fugue in E minor BWV 533

Partita divers sopra Ach, was soll ich Sünder machen BWV 770

Douglas Mews senior: Partita on the Ascension Hymn Salutis Humanae Sator

Bach: Chorale Prelude Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr BWV 662

Fantasia and Fugue in G minor BWV 542

Douglas Mews (organ)

St Mary of the Angels Church

30 September 2012, 2.30pm

Back when the Wellington Chamber Music Society proposed having a series of concerts on Sunday afternoons, nearly thirty years ago, a senior person within the Music Federation (as Chamber Music New Zealand was named then) predicted it wouldn’t work; Sunday concerts had been tried and weren’t well supported.  Now, not only is the WCMS series still going, but Sunday afternoons have become almost de rigeur for classical concerts.  Sunday 30 September boasted no fewer than six of them in Wellington and the Hutt Valley.

It is impossible for Middle-C to review all of these, but worse is the fact that to some extent they rely on the same audience.  Not only will audience numbers, and therefore income, be affected by this duplication (or sextuplication?), but would-be audience members are unable to derive enjoyment and pleasure from hearing all the music they would like to hear.   Some kind of collaboration needs to take place to ensure that such doubling up (I hesitate to put a six-related noun to that!) is kept to a minimum, and more use is made of week-nights – maybe early evening concerts.

It was great to hear the organ at St. Mary of the Angels, originally designed and played by the late Maxwell Fernie, my much-esteemed organ teacher.  Especially it was good to hear the great J.S. Bach, who was not only loved so well by Fernie, but the love of whose music he imparted to me and many others.  Douglas Mews is another master of the organ, and he gave the playing of Bach spirit and life.

The opening work featured a pedal part with coupling from the manuals, and a grand fugue.  The Partita that followed comprised ten variations on a choral melody.  As the programme note stated, this showed ‘a great variety in their treatment of the chorale melody’.  The simple chorale in Bach’s hands gave rise to extraordinary contrasts within as well as between variations.

The first was in two parts with some decoration, a positive mood and delicate treatment; it dealt with God’s compassion and mercy (the translated words of four chorale verses were printed in the programme, but it was not clear exactly which words related to which of the ten variations).  The second variation introduce mixture stops, giving a piquancy to the music. The third was a gorgeous piece, with a fairly fast tempo, a running rhythm and flute registration.

Number four introduced reed stops.  It gave a firm statement of the chorale, with a running lower part.  Five was another flute-dominated variation; six was in more of a grand organ style, somewhat portentous.    No. 7 featured flutes again, all in the treble, with little runs.  The next variation was in a different mood, beginning with a low flute introduction, and then a solemn diapason sound in the treble response.  There were some complex figures, including trills and mordents.

It was back to 8, 4 and 2 foot pipes for the penultimate variation, contrasted with sections on flutes; the tenth had flutes trilling on both manuals, perhaps illustrating the final words of the chorale “My salvation is assured for eternity.’  There were arpeggios and runs, with contrasts back and forth.  This was the longest of the variations and showed the greatest variety, appropriately for the ending one.

The performance was full of interest, and gave a marvellous demonstration of the abilities of the composer – and of the organist, and the instrument.

Douglas Mews’s father was an organist, composer, and Associate Professor of Music at the University of Auckland.  I well remember his radio broadcasts on matters musical, in which he spoke in his lovely Newfoundland accent on topics which he demonstrated at the piano, in a lively yet intimate style, almost as if he were sitting in one’s own room.

His Partita, written in 1987, takes a plainsong tune and varies and decorates it for the four separate verses of the hymn; the title translates ‘O Thou who man’s Redeemer art’.  The music began with high notes and chords, while subterranean pedals grumbled intermittently below.  Then there was a statement of the hymn on one manual, unaccompanied.   This was followed by a statement using reed stops, embellished with a simple, low accompaniment that featured interesting chords and again, a single line providing the decorated melody.  Unusual harmonies were created.

The second verse had an unexpectedly high treble variation, and delicious broken chords, followed by passages using reed stops.  Number three started with the melody at the octave, followed by strong chords using several ranks of pipes.  There were fast passages for both manuals and pedals, fading away to distant high notes.  The music for the fourth voice was played on diapasons, starting with a single unaccompanied line, then the melody was accompanied by dark, mysterious chords.  The work ended with a very high note together with a very low one.  The work featured very dramatic alternations between soft and loud passages.

Back to Bach, and one of his several settings of the chorale ‘Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr’.  Though not the longest of the composer’s chorale preludes on this theme, BWV 662 is perhaps the most complex.  The treatment of the melody, and its ornamentation, proved to be quite beautiful.  There was considerable use of coupled ranks in the melody line.  However, I felt that the registration employed did not allow the melody quite sufficient space of its own, i.e. the accompaniment was a little heavy, although there are important passages to be heard in the accompanying parts.

The final work was a real classic showpiece of Bach’s oevre.  It is grand and satisfying.  Douglas Mews produced a greater range of dynamic contrasts than some organists do in this Fantasia and Fugue.  The fast passages were really fast, and there were thundering pedals in the Fantasia, a movement whose counterpoint is worked out in quite an astonishing way.  Then the bright, fast fugue. Its theme, repeated in all parts, has been known to students as ‘O Ebenezer Prout [an English music scholar, analyst and theoretician of the nineteenth century] you are a funny man’.  Among the fugue’s many complications is the trilling in the right hand while the left hand and feet carry on with other material.  This made a sensational ending to the fugue, and to the recital.

Organists and Festival Singers bring Vierne to the fore

Posted on by Peter Mechen

The Festival Singers and Wellington Organists Association present:

FRENCH DELIGHTS

Festival Singers / Rosemary Russell (director)

Paul Rosoman (organ) / Jonathan Berkahn (organ/piano)

James Adams (tenor) / Linden Loader (contralto)

VIERNE – Messe Solennelle / Suite Bourguignonne (exerpts) for solo piano

Organ works by Vierne, Becker, and Guilmant

Songs by Hahn, Massenet and Faure

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Hill St., Wellington

Sunday 9th September 2012

A glance at the programme and the list of performers at the head of this review will give the reader an idea of the range and scope of this undertaking – a fascinating, and, as it turned out, extremely rewarding concert.

Centred firmly around the music of Louis Vierne (1870-1937) the presentation included also organ pieces and songs written by other French composers. To begin with, organist Paul Rosoman seemed to put the foundation-stones of the building to the test with a resounding Praeludium Festivum by Rene Becker (1882-1956), from the composer’s First Organ Sonata, music that in any language would make a truly splendid noise.

It occurred to me that this was the first time I had heard the main organ in Sacred Heart Cathedral played at what sounded pretty much like “full throttle” – it was definitely attention-grabbing stuff, stirring and resplendent. I loved the particularly “grunty” figurations in thirds during the fugue, just before the reprise of the opening of the Prelude – all very physical and engaging.

Vierne’s music then made its first appearance of the afternoon with two works for choir and organ – an Ave Maria and a Tantum Ergo. Both stand-alone works, the first, a prayer to the Virgin Mary, had a beautifully seraphic opening, sensitively handled by organ and sopranos, and then featured the full choir bursting in for the second part of the prayer, the “Sancta Maria”. Then, the Tantum Ergo, a prayer accompanying the veneration of the Blessed Sacrament, inspired some finely-crafted singing from all parts of the choir, with the sopranos rising to the occasion at the words “Sensuum defectui” halfway through, and again at “Compar sit laudatio” at the end.

Paul Rosoman again took his turn at the organ, playing this time two of Vierne’s own compositions, both from a set Op.31 containing twenty-four pieces “en style Libre” – I found the first piece “Epitaphe” exuded a strongly Catholic atmosphere, meditative tones, reedy timbres, and harmonies exploring “inner” realms. This was followed by a Berceuse, curiously unrestful –  rather “beefy” for a Lullaby, I thought, to begin with, but then sounding troubled, even angst-ridden, though it seemed as if, again in the best Catholic tradition, rest was eventually achieved at the end of tribulation.

Tenor James Adams was one of two singers who chimed in with heart-warming contributions to this concert, the other being contralto Linden Loader. Songs by Reynaldo Hahn and Jules Massenet were chosen by the tenor, and performed in reverse order to the program listing – so we first got Des Grieux’s heartfelt plea to Manon from Massenet’s eponymous opera, winningly and meltingly floated by the singer, and accompanied sensitively by Jonathan Berkahn’s piano playing. After this we heard the remarkable Si mes vers avaient des ailes (If my verses had wings), written by the thirteen year-old  Reynaldo Hahn. James Adams’ performance of this seemed somewhat inert in effect to begin with, after the radiance the tenor gave the Massenet aria, but the words then seemed to focus more sharply as the song ran its brief but beautiful course. The afternoon’s second singer, contralto Linden Loader, appearing during the second half, brought a rich, velvety voice to two wonderful songs by Gabriel Fauré, the well-known Après un rêve, here lightly and sensitively vocalized and accompanied, and the other, Fleur jetée (Discarded flower), a more dramatic outpouring, singer and pianist relishing the amplitude of Fauré’s writing and putting it across splendidly.

However, for the moment – and keeping a firm focus on the music of Louis Vierne – Jonathan Berkahn returned to the piano to give us two attractive moments from a Suite Bourguignonne, the whole consisting of seven pieces. The “Légende Bourguignonne” owes something to Fauré’s similarly elusive harmonic evocations, not unlike a Barcarolle in effect, with a kind of “rowing” rhythm, here beautifully played, the rather sweet shift into the major suggesting perhaps a journey’s end? Afterwards, a bright and energetic “Aubade” conjured up rolls of pealing bells awakening the new day – we heard a few clangers amid the clamour, but all to great effect, as well as enjoying the piece’s coda, rumbling upwards from the bass and bursting into festive mode once again at the conclusion. Exhilarating!

Rather akin to a musical version of “tag wrestling”, Paul Roseman then took back the reins at the organ console, for a performance of a “Scherzo” from Alexandre Guilmant’s Fifth Organ Sonata (the composer’s dates, 1837-1911). Again the piece immediately caught the ear, an atmospherically “serpentine” kind of opening suggesting some sort of “dans reptilian”, filled with slithering chromaticisms, the creepiness relieved by a charming Trio into which the listener could relax, away from thoughts of “something nasty in the basement”. But a reprise of the opening also brought out a remarkable fugue whose different voicings combined with the Cathedral’s ambient acoustic to suggest the idea of antiphonal forces at play.

An interval allowed us to take stock of all these strands of musical impulse before bringing us still more delights – firstly, two exerpts from a work Pieces de fantasie by Vierne himself, played by Jonathan Berkahn (both organists certainly earned their keep throughout this concert!). To begin with came a graceful, if quirkily-harmonised Sicilienne, its modulations flavorsome, and with lovely chromatic meltdowns in the trio section. Then a lively Intermezzo brought out the composer’s awareness of what sounded like jazz elements, the piece becoming almost circus-act oriented at some points, with frequent pauses for theatrical effect! Incidentally, by way of introducing the item, music director Rosemary Russell had already made the timely point about organ improvisation being akin to what jazz musicians do.

After Linden Loader had given us her two Faure songs, mentioned above, Rosemary Russell brought her choir to the platform for the concert’s “signature item”, Vierne’s Messe Solenelle . Two organists were brought into play, Paul Rosoman upon the Grand Orgue in the choir loft, and Jonathan Berkahn playing the Petit Orgue, the latter placed next to the choir. Throughout the Mass’s unfolding the contrasting effect of these two instruments added colour, resonance and drama. A case in point was the opening “Kyrie Eleison” begun by the men,  with dramatic interpolations from the “Grand Orgue” – and most creditably, the Singers were able to match the organ’s voluminous tones with some full-blooded singing of their own. “Christe eleison” made a sweet-toned, nicely harmonized contrast, throwing the creepily-returning Gothic-like Kyrie into bold relief, the sopranos bravely arching their high notes towards the  Grand Orgue to do battle with its massive tones – spontaneous applause!

The Gloria’s jolly, bouncing opening led to some theatrical exchanges between choir and full organ throughout the “Laudamus te….Benedictus te…..”  sequences, with only a lack of numbers hampering the ability of the men in the choir to float their lines comfortably, though the tenors in particular held on steadfastedly. Full-blooded, committed work by choir and conductor brought out grandeur at “Qui sedes ad dextram Patris” from a plaintive plea at “Qui tolls peccata mundi”, and nicely colored the energy at “Quoniam” with well-registered key-changes with each “Tu solus”, before delivering the “Amens” with much joy and plenty of vigor.

The Sanctus grew nicely from its men-only beginnings, the women’s voices properly ritualizing the “Pleni sunt caeli” and adding joyous energies to the ‘Hosannas”. A plaintive note was struck by the Benedictus, with the organ accompaniments distant and magical, before the Hosannas brought back the festive splendor of it all, the men contributing a ringing “In excelsis” at the end. Finally,the “Agnus Dei” was beautifully realized, sopranos really “owning” their utterances of “Miserere nobis”, and making something enduring out of the composer’s celestial harmonies at “Dona nobis pacem”.

Very great credit to Rosemary Russell, her Festival Singers and her organists, for bringing us closer in spirit to the music and times of a remarkable composer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Janet Gibbs delightful organ recital at Old St Paul’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

J.S. Bach: Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565
Chorale Prelude ‘Nun Komm, der Heiden Heiland’, BWV 659
Chorale and two variations ‘Sei Gegrüsset, Jesu Gütig’, BWV 768
Fantasia in G, BWV 572
Mendelssohn: Sonata no.6 – Chorale, Fugue, Finale
Christopher Tambling: Trumpet Tune
Ceremonial March

Janet Gibbs, organ

Old St. Paul’s

Tuesday, 7 August 2012, 12.15pm

Janet Gibbs chose a delightful programme that was a mix of the well-known, the lesser-known and the unknown.

Sitting quite close to the organ, I was aware of its quite strident sound, facing directly out to the auditorium as it does, rather than into the choir, or from a gallery, or from a side alcove as in most churches.  However, I soon became accustomed to this.  The great advantage in Old St. Paul’s is that one can see the organist at work, albeit necessarily a back view, whereas in so many cathedrals, Town Halls etc. the audience is remote from the performer and can see little or nothing.

Wellington City Council’s free winter Sunday afternoon recitals, begun for the hundredth birthday of the organ and continued for a number of years, sadly are no more.  There, they had the great idea of removing the rear panel from behind the organist, and relaying onto two large screens live video of the movements of hands and feet, interspersed with views of the inside of the organ.

The famous Bach Toccata and Fugue in D minor (shown as G minor in the printed programme) was taken at quite a fast pace compared with that of most renditions of this familiar work that I have heard.  However, this did not prove to be a problem either to the organist or to the hearers.  The fact that Janet Gibbs turned her own pages of music and changed her registrations herself made her performance even more impressive than it already was from the fine playing.

I thoroughly enjoyed hearing so much of Bach’s organ music.  The next piece ‘Nun Komm der Heiden Heiland’ was quite gorgeous in the way it developed from a quiet beginning, and opened out.  I found myself transported by the music in a manner different from that effected by any other composer.  I thought the lines of the chorale could do with just a little more phrasing to separate them from each other.  The registrations used was very appealing.

‘Sei Gegrüsset, Jesu Gütig’ is part of a much larger work, with 11 variations in total.

Janet Gibbs had a most pleasing choice of stops for the first variation; she showed this organ off well.  The second variation was much more full-bodied, with registration being closer to full organ, including more reed stops.  The varying moods were conveyed tellingly.

The wonderful Fantasia in G is in three distinct parts.  The lively opening section’s arpeggios could sound like a five-finger exercise, but with the right tempo and registration, as here, it is more like a spirited dance.  The second section I found a little too fast (it is marked ‘Grave’ in my Novello edition), but was very satisfying nonetheless.  The third section is difficult, but was brilliantly executed.

Mendelssohn wrote a number of fairly large-scale organ works, not all of which I find appealing.  But this Sonata, in the hands of Janet Gibbs, and on this organ, was different, and enjoyable.  She introduced it by saying that ‘You can’t get better than Bach’.  No-one knew that better than Mendelssohn, Bach’s great nineteenth-century rediscoverer.

Bach would surely have approved of his treatment of the Chorale.  Here, the separated notes in the pedal part were very skilfully managed.  The brilliant fugue was totally controlled, and enthralling, with the melody in the pedals while the hands performed scintillating arpeggios on the manuals.  The quiet final section sounded rather like the worst of nineteenth-century sentimentality by comparison with what had gone before.  A few pipes slightly out of tune did not help.  The change in tonality and ambience was not the fault of the registration; I’m sure Mendelssohn would have approved of that.

Christopher Tambling is an Englishman, Director of Music at Downside College in England.  Trumpet Tune was a delightful little piece, reminiscent of Jeremiah Clarke, and of the well-known Tuba Tune by New Zealand-born C.S. Lang who spent his career in England.  The second piece was a robust march in a traditional style.  The use of a 2-foot stop added piquancy, as did reeds, to a very effective piece of music, appropriate for finishing the recital.

Throughout the recital, Janet Gibbs’s foot-work was impeccable, and the use of the swell pedal was always judicious, never showy.  A few fluffs elsewhere did not spoil the enjoyment of a memorable recital. This was organ-playing of a very high standard indeed, and there was a good-sized audience to hear it, which is often not the case at organ recitals.

 

Lunchtime organ recital of Bach and his north German predecessors from Richard Apperley

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Great Music 2012, at the Cathedral of St Paul

Richard Apperley, Assistant Director of Music (organ)

Praeludium in E minor, No 2 (Nicolaus Bruhns); Chorale Prelude – ‘Freu dich sehr o meine Seele’ (Georg Böhm); Canzona in E minor, BuxWV 169 (Buxtehude); Toccata, Adagio and Fugue in C, BWV 564 (Bach)

Cathedral of Saint Paul, Wellington

Friday 6 July, 12.45pm

Apperley is a Buxtehude specialist, having recently recorded a CD of his organ music, and this recital took examples of music that was written by Buxtehude and composers of the generation following him: that included J S Bach (well, two generations in Bach’s case).

He began with a Paeludium by the short-lived Nicolaus Bruhns (in the IMSLP website two are listed: I assume this is the one entitled “Grosses”; Wikipedia writes that it is ‘cited as one of the greatest works of the North German organ tradition’). Seated as we were in the choir stalls, directly beneath the organ, with Apperley playing the movable console on the floor of the choir, offered a more than usually vivid experience of the contrasts between the different manuals and registrations. It fell into several parts: after the rather arresting introduction came more lively sections which seemed about to develop as fugues, but simply remained delightful, allegro, dance-inspired pieces. Apperley’s playing gave it substance.

Georg Böhm was Bruhns’s close contemporary and about ten choral partitas are recorded by him. This one began with the statement of a sunny melody and proceeded to a series of variations that more or less echoed the original chorale which moved from one manual to another, and widely from treble to bass. The variety of tempos and rhythms as well as the attractive combinations of stops ensured that interest didn’t flag.

It was Buxtehude, organist at the Marienkirche in Lübeck, that Bach walked from Arnstadt to study with in 1705; of the three organ composers represented at this recital, only Buxtehude seems to have had direct influence on Bach.

The Canzona in E minor was quite short, starting with low register flute and other open stops, and later moving to more sombre registrations, to end, conventionally, in the major key.

Finally he played one of the most familiar and well-loved Bach organ works – the Toccata, Adagio and Fugue in C – which crops up in many Bach organ compilations; it was probably composed during his years at Weimar.  This was a performance that had both integrity in its faithfulness to what we feel to be Bach’s essential music character, and a liveliness, clarity and variety that was deeply impressive in the reverberant acoustic of St Paul’s. Apperley gauged well the pauses between the short, arresting, opening chords; he skilfully decorated later phrases, and dwelt affectionately on the beauties of the Adagio which has an Italianate character.

The Fugue is a very virtuosic affair, from both the composer’s point of view, and the performer’s, time and again piling up sonorities as the fugal textures evolved with increasing complexity. The whole work seems to suggest being written for a rather grand occasion at which Bach hoped to make an impression that was both exciting and learned, and Apperley responded to all his opportunities, and finally made the most of the repeated feints towards a peroration as the end approached.

Olivier Latry and Shin-Young Lee brilliant at Cathedral of St Paul organ

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

New Zealand Organ Conference

Cortège et litanie (Dupré), Petite rhapsodie improvisée (Tournemire – scored by Duruflé), Two parts of L’ascension (Messiaen), Feux follets and Carillon de Westminster (Vierne) and Le sacre du printemps (Stravinsky – arr. four hands)

Olivier Latry and Shin-Young Lee – organists

Cathedral of Saint Paul, Wellington

Sunday 3 June, 3pm

For those, like me, who missed the NZSO concert on Friday where Olivier Latry played Poulenc’s Organ Concerto, this recital was pretty good compensation.

Latry is one of the three organists at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris (the position at French churches is known as a titulaire). Thus he’s one of the very finest organists now alive. Such is his fame that not only was the NZSO concert a full house, but the Anglican Cathedral too was well filled.

One hears occasionally, from those more technically knowledgeable than I am, denigrating remarks about the character of the cathedral organ; perhaps from those for whom music stops more or less with J S Bach.

But for those who have listened to organ music, as music, and not as some sort of rarified and recondite technical practice, organ music runs through the musical experience of virtually every country touched by the traditions of western music, and through every era, though often carried by composers who did not work much in other spheres.

After the great baroque era dominated by Bach, the school of organ composition that seems to me, and some others, to be of great importance and delight is the French school inspired by César Franck.

Latry’s recital celebrated that; and even the evident intrusion of an arrangement of a ballet score by a Russian composer, could be seen as falling in the tradition of organ composition and organ building that was developed in France.

One of the problems of the organ repertoire is that many, most, of the names are not those of the greatest composers of the 19th and 20th centuries. Some rate, like Liszt, Franck himself, Saint-Saëns or Messiaen, as respectable 1st division composers of orchestral, choral or chamber music and some, enjoy a slightly enigmatic place in the pantheon.

Marcel Dupré was more famous as a performer than a composer, though he’d been one of the more brilliant winners of the Prix de Rome. He composed in the tradition set by Franck and Widor rather than in the impressionist or tonally ambiguous character of those who followed Vierne. He succeeded Widor at the great church of Saint-Sulpice.

The Cortège et litanie is one of his most popular pieces, opening prayerfully and building impressively as the Cortège emerges grandly (some hear a Russian influence from his friend Glazunov) with its confident theme that corrects the impression of fluttering mysticism in the Litanie. Its performance lifted it from perhaps second class to music of considerable imagination and emotional honesty.

Charles Tournemire’s improvisation entitled Petite rhapsodie improvisée was recorded as he played it in 1931 on the great Cavaillé-Coll organ at Sainte-Clotilde (Franck’s organ). In 1958 Maurice Duruflé took it down, along with several other pieces by Franck and himself, from that recording and it has now found its way on to You-Tube where you can dial it up.

What we heard on Sunday was a great deal more red-blooded and arresting than the dim and shallow 1931 recording (though it’s enough to vindicate Tournemire’s reputation). It’s a short piece marked by remarkable powers of invention, clearly justifying Tournemire’s fame as an improviser. Played here on an organ capable of great brilliance, Latry’s performance seemed to magnify its musical and colourful inspiration. He found a myriad of fluttering bird-sounds, underpinned by firm pedal notes; if the occasional tremolo didn’t seem very appropriate, the whole performance demonstrated other aspects of this versatile organ and Latry’s way of exploiting it; and it acted as a good link between the Dupré and the two Messiaen pieces that followed.

These were two of the four parts of Messiaen’s L’ascension, first written for orchestra in 1932 and then rewritten for organ a year later, when Messiaen replaced the third part (Alleluia sur la trompette, alleluia sur la cymbale) with Transports de joie d’une âme devant la gloire du Christ qui est la sienne.

The first part played was Section II, Alleluias sereins d’une âme qui désire le ciel, and there is a kind of serenity, but rather strong evidence of a ‘belief’ that is concrete, highly visual and audible, somewhat distant from the feeling inspired by traditional protestant religion.

There are times when I wonder about the immediate recognisability of Messiaen, whether it suggests that he’s merely writing the same stuff over and over, with minor variations.

I was intrigued to know what had led Messiaen to write another Part III and found a recording of the orchestral original. It is quite un-organ-like: exuberant, slightly jazzy, using an orchestra that hints at Ravel, perhaps Roussel or Koechlin.

The organ version of III is also vigorous and assertive, and Latry must have rejoiced in the great trumpet stops that are available on the cathedral organ; certainly, they would have thrilled the audience which could almost see the long horizontal pipes crying out over the left of the Choir.  Here was the blazing show-piece of the first half of the concert: great clusters of riotous runs and multi-coloured Messiaenic chords that created a triumphal peroration.

Two pieces by Vierne led to the Stravnisky ballet score which was to end the concert.

Feux follets, Op 53 No 4 and Carillon de Westminster, Op 54 No 6 are two of the 24 Pièces de fantaisie that Vierne wrote to play during a fund-raising tour of the United States in 1927.

These were well-placed as pieces lying somewhere south of Messiaen, and certainly more modest accomplishments than what followed. Latry adorned Feux follets with rare combinations of stops that created hollow sparklings, lightning flashes, a bit like Ravel’s Jeux d’eau or Debussy’s Ce qu’a vu le vent de l’ouest.

The Carillon is one of the organ’s famous showpieces, based on the uninteresting Westminster chimes, but transformed by means of harmonic colouring and surprising stop combinations, a great deal of it the contribution of the performer.

Finally came the one of the most extraordinary exhibitions of the arranger’s imagination and the organist’s (organists’) mastery of an instrument.

But how does this piece by a Russian qualify for this concert of French organ music? Stravinsky had worked in Paris from the time of The Firebird in 1910, and lived there periodically from then on, taking French citizenship finally in 1934; much of his most important music was written for French performance, and the influence of the French cultural aesthetic was as important as that of Russia.

Stravinsky had made a piano four hands arrangement of Le sacre du printemps, so the composer had sanctioned that much tampering with the nature of his work. This was the basis of the performance which then became an exercise in restoring as far as possible, the colours that were in the orchestral original, and that, through the inspired and imaginative choice of registrations, was entirely the work of the players – in this case Latry and his partner (in both senses), Korean organist Shin-Young Lee.

It was strikingly clear from the first notes that the work lent itself uncannily well to an organ arrangement. Perhaps it actually captured the essence of The Rite, a degree of violence in the dehumanising of primitive religious ritual, that allows the music to become even more phenomenal and awful in the hands of a machine with reserves of power that exceeded what any orchestra could create.

The task of making a machine produce from this music, beauty, excitement and awfulness was a supreme challenge and the result was utterly astonishing.

The re-creation of the unearthly introductions to both sections were extraordinarily vivid; what a brilliant transformation of the crunching rhythms of the Dances of the Adolescents, and the furious speed of the Dance of the Earth! (It certainly makes sense to employ four hands on an organ – after all most have multiple manuals – this one four: why leave so much of the keyboards unemployed for most of the time?).

Nevertheless, there were times when, for example, the throbbing beat during the Jeux des cités rivales became too cluttered but the final climax was reached with a power and terror, with triple fortissimo, or more, as the most formidable stops were brought to bear.

The large audience had judged well of the likely overwhelming musical experience to be had in St Paul’s this afternoon, and even their prolonged ovation hardly did the event justice.

 

 

Anniversaries the pretext for chamber organ recital for Organists’ Congress

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Wellington Organists’ Association – New Zealand Association of Organists’ Congress
Sweelinck to Stanley

Sweelinck: Ballo del granduce; ‘Flow my tears;’  Onder een linde groen;  Fantasia Chromatica;
Charles Stanley: Voluntary IX in G major Op.VII;  Three Songs from ‘The Muse’s Delight’; Solo III for flute and basso continuo, Op.1;  Voluntary VIII in D minor Op. V;  Song: The Blind Boy
Handel: ‘Sweet Bird’ (from L’Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato)

Douglas Mews (organ, harpsichord, virginal), Rowena Simpson (soprano), Penelope Evison (baroque flute)

Adam Concert Room, Victoria University of Wellington

Saturday, 2 June, 7.30pm

As part of ‘Wellington 2012’, the Organists’ Congress, this concert was offered to participants and the public as something involving the organ, but more intimate than the Friday Symphony Orchestra concert with the Poulenc Organ Concerto, and the recital at Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul the following day, both featuring eminent French organist Olivier Latry.  The composers were chosen because of their anniversaries this year: 450 years since the birth of Sweelinck, and 300 years since the birth of Stanley.

Clarity of instruments and voice was the hallmark in the relatively small, but acoustically alive Adam Concert Room.  The two-manual and pedal Reil Dutch organ is set in the room, not in a special organ chamber.  To my mind, some of the ranks are harsh and even abrasive in this acoustic.  However, the flute stops employed in some of the Sweelinck (1562-16211) variations on an Italian dance tune that Douglas Mews, Artist-in-Residence for the Congress, played first, gave a mellow and liquid sound that was most attractive.

Next, the versatile Mews played virginal for Rowena Simpson’s first song, ‘Flow my teares’ by John Dowland, following which we heard Sweelinck’s keyboard variation  upon the melody, ‘Pavana Lachrymae’.  The dark, sad mood of both was eminently well conveyed.

A song in Sweelinck’s native language, Dutch, was sung by Simpson, before the four variations were played, this time on the organ.  With study in The Hague behind her, Simpson sang the words fluently and clearly – as indeed she did in all her items.

‘Fantasia Chromatica’ on the organ displayed the skill of the composer in intertwining melodies along with a chromatic theme.  It was an interesting example of music of the period conveying changes of mood, as well as demonstrating Douglas Mews’s great skill in playing organ music of this period.

Charles John Stanley (1712-1786) was a prolific English composer for the organ.  The first items, the three songs, were interspersed between movements of the flute piece (really a sonata).  Here, Douglas Mews accompanied on the harpsichord.  Penelope Evison’s expertise on the transverse flute (wooden, of course) was a delight to hear, while the songs, with their commentary on men, maids, and the pros and cons of the two getting together, were interpreted with flair by Rowena Simpson.

The second voluntary was quite a vehement piece compared with the earlier one, and more demanding on the skill of the performer – a demand that was fully met.

Stanley had very restricted vision for most of his life, so the song of the blind boy was quite poignant, though the poem (by Colley Cibber) ends on a more positive note, explaining that the boy can ‘bear a loss I ne’er can know.  Then let not what I cannot have my cheer of mind destroy: Whilst thus I sing I am a king, although a poor blind boy.’  Accompanied on the virginal, the song was sung in an appropriately touching manner.

The recital ended with soprano, flute and organ performing Handel’s ‘Sweet Bird’, to introduce the association between Handel and Stanley, the latter having conducted Handel’s operas and oratorios.  This song from Il Penseroso (words by John Milton) represented sadness, enlivened by the flute imitating the nightingale.

Thus ended an evening’s pleasant entertainment, demonstrating the musical arts of two periods in which the organ was eminent.

 

 

 

Spellbound by NZSO and the organ of Olivier Latry

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Spellbound: magic and mystery

Dukas: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice
Poulenc: Organ Concerto
Rimsky-Korsakov: Scheherazade, Op.35 (1. The sea and Sinbad’s Ship; 2. The Kalender Prince; 3. The young prince and the young princess; 4. Festival at Baghdad – the sea)

New Zealand Symphony Orchestra with Olivier Latry, organ, conducted by Rossen Milanov

Wellington Town Hall

Friday, 1 June 2012, 6.30pm

This was a spectacle of aural colour, the entire concert being made up of works that threatened to bleed the aural palette dry.  To those of us who play the organ, it was a thrill to see the Wellington Town Hall almost full of people who had come to hear our instrument.

According to Olivier Latry, in his entertaining, informative and well-attended question and answer session with the conductor prior to the concert, Paul Dukas did not compose more music because he was so heavily involved in teaching at the Paris Conservatoire, where he was eventually followed by the rather similarly-named Jean Roger-Ducasse.  That he had the ability to be a more eminent composer is amply demonstrated by his well-known Sorcerer’s Apprentice.

The pre-concert session focused on the Organ Concerto of Poulenc, and some humorous exchanges took place.  Milanov likened the organ to a large truck – the ‘driver’ could only see him by means of his rear-vision mirror.  He said he dared not overtake such a large vehicle!  Olivier, in answer to a question from the floor, said he thought the nature of the piece was ambiguous: was it religious, secular, or a bit of both?  He related how in Paris a performance of the organ concerto at Notre Dame had rated a higher decibel level than the Concorde!

Before returning to Dukas, I want to air (again!) one of my pet gripes.  Why are we not allowed to read the programme during the concert?  I could just make out the words, but the lady next to me obviously had poor vision, and had brought a magnifying glass with her, but had to give up.  In the United Kingdom, the Arts Council pays for large-font printed programmes at plays, opera and concerts.

A concert that was book-ended by Dukas’s work and Rimsky-Korsakov’s made for a certain symmetry: they were a good match.  The French composer’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice was inspired by a ballad by a German (Goethe), based on a second century story by a Greek.  Certainly it included a huge variety of colours.  The music was perhaps some of the most inventive ever written for orchestra.  There were shades of Stravinsky, whom he influenced, and Messiaen, whom he taught.

The eerie opening was carefully conducted by Bulgarian conductor Milanov, an elegant and precise but poetic conductor to watch.  He conducted both this work and the Rimsky-Korsakov without use of the score.  The bassoons’ announcement of the theme was accompanied by wonderful sorties on the strings and horns.  A spooky rise in the drama follows.  The composer’s cataclysmic orchestrations and development leave one gob-smacked.  Drums and cymbals with full brass precede a quiet introduction to the romantic ending.  This features a viola solo being the apologetic apprentice who has wrought so much havoc, plaintively performed by Julia Joyce with harp interjections, before the closing bar spurts at us, double forte, to despatch the apprentice.

After quotations from  J.S. Bach at the opening of Poulenc’s organ concerto, I fancied I could hear some thematic links with Dukas in the more lyrical passages from the organ.  The orchestra followed at a respectful distance.  When some of the tonal qualities surprised me, I was reminded of Latry’s remark in the pre-concert session, when asked about the Town Hall organ, that ‘This organ speaks English!’.

The seven movements were played without any breaks.  The opening andante proceeded in a very restrained fashion after the initial outburst; gorgeous quiet tone from both strings and organ.  However, a crashing volume from the organ interrupted the reverie: we were into the allegro giocoso, and then the familiar theme of the concerto arrived.  Some of this music seemed to foreshadow minimalism.

The next andante was very beautiful and even languid.  Bird sounds from violins and violas played against solid cello and organ tones.  Its lustrous ending made its mark, mesmerising, but with growing intensity, before the music moved on to the molto agitato fourth movement.  All is suddenly amplified and accelerated.  There is great excitement as the organ rushes through rapid paces, increasingly loud, then the quietude returns with mellow sounds on the organ followed by a solo on a reed stop.  This is the slow fifth movement: “Très calme. Lent.”

The return of the familiar quick theme was there suddenly, on the organ, accompanied by the orchestra in this sixth movement: “Tempo de l’Allegro initial”.  Chords many layers thick are played before Bach returns.  Then all is stilled in silvery tones, followed by another viola solo, accompanied by pizzicato from all except the first violins; the solo is repeated on the principal cello as pizzicato, with slow chords on the organ to herald the final (seventh) movement: “Tempo introduction. Largo.”  A huge unison for organ and orchestra ends the work.

The concerto is not only for organ and string orchestra: there is a large and challenging role for the timpanist.  It is sometimes known as the concerto for organ, timpani, and strings.  Certainly here (and also in the Rimsky-Korsakov work) Laurence Reese had more than enough to do.  When moving down from the organ to take his bow, Latry shook hands with Reese.

Latry played with great accomplishment and immaculate technique and musicianship.  As well as immense appreciative applause from the audience for the soloist and for the modest conductor, Julia Joyce and Andrew Joyce, principal viola and cello were  singled out.  A return curtain call for Olivier Latry was thoroughly deserved; he in turn showed his pleasure at the reception.

After the interval we were treated to a marvellous performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s very virtuosic Scheherazade (or more usually Sheherazade).   Among many outstanding features were the violin solos of Sultana Scheherazade’s theme, played by Vesa-Matti Leppänen and Ingrid Bauer’s wonderful harp accompaniment to that theme: the combination was simply stunning, as indeed were the strings, especially in their pianissimos, throughout the work.

The exotic themes are now familiar to many (and the movements have been played on radio, on separate days recently), but must have been remarkable at the first performance (it was written in 1888).  The  work could be considered a symphony by its length and its four movements, but in no way is it a standard symphony.  In the pre-concert talk, conductor Milanov described it as the first concerto for orchestra; it was easy to see why.

A little ‘fluff’ from the horn early on did little to detract from the fine playing of the entire orchestra throughout the work.  An enchanting oboe solo accompanied by solo cello, another violin solo, and then all the colours were thrown at us, while the timpanist was flat out.  Sinbad certainly struck some storms!  But then things calmed down, and the waves sparkled by, before the next outburst.  There was a magical ending to the first movement, with a return to the music played at the beginning: violin solo and harp.

Bassoon and oboe were splendid in music that evoked the exotic – markets, harems, silken draperies – as we meet the prince in his fabulous setting, in which spices and strange odours abound.  How is it that the oboe seems exotic, yet in another context it seems the epitome of English pastoral landscapes?  Of course, it is all in the writing of skilled composers.

Brass now had the opportunity to come to the fore, followed by thrumming pizzicato with the lone clarinet theme.  Cor anglais, flute and piccolo get their turns at solos against the thrumming – marvellous.  Layer upon layer of sound emerged – or perhaps rather, the intricate woven design of a Persian carpet.  The orchestra was splendid, here declaiming, there speaking sotto voce.

In the fourth movement we hear the familiar themes, but now the Scheherazade theme played by Vesa-Matti Leppänen was double-stopped, with oriental-sounding harmonies.  While there was a lot of repetition of themes in the Rimsky-Korsakov work, there was huge variety of treatment.  All comes together in a mammoth explosion of exuberance, followed by the final repetition of Scheherazade’s theme, joined by the deep theme of the Sultan.  As Milanov explained prior to the concert, this is a catharsis – adding significantly ‘We change at the end’.  As the violin solo was played for the last time, the conductor looked at Leppänen with obvious appreciation.  (Indeed, he told us before the concert that this was a world-class orchestra.  Certainly, it excelled itself in this concert.)

The final pizzicato was not together, but this could hardly detract from such a massive and wonderful performance, full of fabulous settings.  Solos from violin, viola, cello, horn, clarinet and other woodwinds, not to mention the prominence of the fabulous harp, enlivened this gorgeous work.

What a thoroughly exotic and colourful evening we had!  French music based on a German poem based on a Greek story, a rare organ concerto from the twentieth century, and now a Russian writing oriental music.  It was a lively and engrossing programme; there was so much going on, visually as well as aurally.  The percussion had a field day.

A feature of the printed programme was the very full and well-written notes.  Each work commanded much more detail than we have become accustomed to.

The nearly full hall, and the very enthusiastic reception to the concert, and to Olivier Latry in particular, perhaps proves what I heard Paul Rosoman say in an interview on radio regarding the Queen’s Birthday Weekend’s Wellington 2012 Organ Congress, that interest in the organ has rekindled recently, compared with the situation over the last couple of decades.  This was demonstrated by 11 entries in the Congress’s performance competition, compared with 3 or 4 in previous years.

Let’s hope that Latry’s sensitive and brilliant performance will have inspired more to take up the ‘King of Instruments’.

 

 

Organist Paul Rosoman opens Old Saint Paul’s lunchtime series

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Froberger: Capriccio III
J.S. Bach: Partite Diverse ‘O Gott du frommer Gott’ BWV 767; Prelude and Fugue in D minor BWV 539; Prelude and Fugue in M minor BWV 544

Paul Rosoman, organ

Old St. Paul’s, Mulgrave Street

Tuesday, 29 May 2012, 12.15pm

Tuesday saw the first of the lunchtime concerts at Old St. Paul’s for 2012; the first of  a series that runs weekly until late September.  It was well-attended, in a rather cold church – though the under-seat heaters were on.

Cold fingers may have been a bit of a problem for Paul Rosoman, especially early in the concert, since a number of ‘fluffs’ occurred in an otherwise well-executed recital.  There were, too, a few out-of-tune pipes in the organ.

A problem with most organ recitals is that the audience cannot see the performer’s face, only their back view.  Therefore, compared with almost any other musical performance, there is less of a feeling of communication between player and listener.  I have been to exceptions: at Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul when the downstairs moveable console was used, and in Calgary, Alberta, when a similar console was played.

This organ is a relatively small two-manual and pedal organ in the baroque style, installed in 1977.  It works by tracker action; that is, a direct mechanical action, not electro-pneumatic, electric or electronic.  It has a strong, clear sound and a surprising array of  tonal qualities can be obtained.

The Froberger piece was a pleasing example of pre-Bach organ music.  It was very well suited to this instrument.  A range of colours was employed; the pedal tone was particularly fine.

Paul Rosoman’s brief spoken introduction to the Bach pieces singled out the Partite Diverse as being ‘Bach at his finest, particularly in the last stanza’.  That is, the last stanza of the hymn on which the parts of the whole were based.  He explained that each variation corresponded with a verse of the hymn, being eight in all.  Some illustrated the texts musically, perhaps illuminating the ‘seven ages of man’, through from joyful childhood to old age and death, finishing with the joy of resurrection and heaven.  It is thought to date from Bach’s late teens; if so, it is remarkable.

The work, written for manuals only, opened with a strong rendering of the chorale (hymn tune).  A splendid reed solo was the feature of the first variation.  The second was not so lively, being calmer and less colourful.  The third employed flute stops, including the 2-foot, to give a bright yet light timbre.

All the variations were abundant in invention and variety.  Number four featured the Principal, and was relatively solemn and steady, while the fifth variation gave us reeds – was this illustrating man’s bombastic stage of life?  A less brightly resplendent, more contemplative sixth variation followed.  The swell pedal was used to introduce a quieter section in this partita.

The seventh variation began very quietly and slowly, probably to illustrate old age.  This was not the vibrant ‘third age’ that many of us today aspire to!  Death cannot have been far off .  The last variation’s brightness on the reeds perhaps spoke of resurrection and heaven, while flutes pictured bliss and peace.  Rosoman achieved considerable contrasts between the manuals; a more sombre and sober section was followed by declaiming reeds again, at the end.  This was a most interesting and attractive work, played in an accomplished and satisfying manner.

The Prelude in D minor was composed separately from the Fugue, and there is a theory that the pair were matched up long after Bach’s death.  The prelude was written for manuals only, and after the delights we had just experienced, it sounded rather dull by comparison; it was a relatively plain work – described in the excellent programme notes as ‘modest’.  There was good phrasing from Rosoman, but I would have liked a little more crispness and separation of notes in both movements; this would have made the fugue, particularly, more engaging.

The fugue had no rumbustious ending, just a few flourishes, unlike many of Bach’s fugues; this prelude and fugue constituted the weakest item in the recital.  Not that I was after mere noise; harmonically and even contrapuntally this work was less than arresting.

The B minor Prelude and Fugue were a complete contrast to the previous work.  Known as ‘grand’, it lived up to its name in breadth and excitement.  The prelude was vintage Bach, with lots of contrapuntal complexity, including surprising harmonies and modulations.  A bold fugue followed, utilising the mixture stops on the instrument.  The pedal version of the fugue melody was very clear; the piece demonstrated the clarity and versatility of this small organ, and the competence of the performer.

This recital was a fine start to the year’s season at Old St. Paul’s.

 

Paul Rosoman at two organs in St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Jesu meine Freude (Krebs); Passacaglia (Kerll); Voluntary IX from Op 7 (John Stanley); Improvisation in A minor, Op 150 No 7 (Saint-Saens); Dir, dir, Jehova, will ich singen (Karg-Elert); Elegy for 7th April 1913 (Parry); Postlude in D, Op 105 No 6 (Stanford)

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 15 February, 12.15pm

Paul Rosoman began his recital, the first for 2012, using the chamber organ located on the right of the sanctuary, an instrument which gives the church something of the character of European churches and cathedrals in which a smaller organ existed to accompany the choir. Few in the audience would have recognised any of the music and many would not have heard of half of the composers; that would have been no bad thing except that few of the pieces would fall into the class of neglected masterpieces.

The opening piece was by a pupil of J S Bach, Johann Ludwig Krebs who was contemporary with Bach’s oldest sons. Based on the chorale ‘Jesu meine Freude’, on which Bach himself based his great motet, it could hardly have suggested a less likely kinship. It followed a routine pattern which performance on the chamber organ did little to enhance, seeming to draw attention to its slender character.

The Passacaglia by Kerll, of a century earlier, offered evidence of considerable musical imagination, employing a chromatic, downward motif that retained interest through the variety of its contours and ornamentation. Its performance on the baroque organ proved a more satisfactory than had the piece by Krebs.

John Stanley was a contemporary of Krebs; this Voluntary opened on piccolo stops that seemed to need more support, but the following fugal section became more interesting, employing the organ’s resources more fully.

Rosoman now moved upstairs to the main organ for the rest of the programme, of 19th and early 20th century music. Much of Saint-Saëns’s music is chameleon-like as the composer hardly developed a recognisable style, melodically, harmonically, or in instrumental colouring; so he’s often difficult to identify and this was the case with this Improvisation, one of seven written in 1916/17. In this, Rosoman seemed determined to dramatise the contrast with the lightly voiced chamber organ, using registrations that for me were too heavy, too brazen.

Sigfrid Karg-Elert, as the programme notes pointed out, was more popular in his life-time than after his death in 1933, though I have to claim that I encountered him in my teens through the adventurous musical interests of a school friend. In one of his Choral Improvisations (Op 65) Rosoman succeeded with a thoroughly convincing performance that displayed both the composer’s imaginative invention and the organist’s command of the organ’s resources; its character seemed to owe more to the composer’s French contemporaries like Vierne and Tournemire than to Rheinberger or Reger, or the English organists of the time.

Pieces by the two major English composers followed. A calm, unassertive Elegy by Hubert Parry was written for the funeral of a brother-in-law. It used a melody with widely spaced intervals, alternating between open and closed ranks, avoiding any false piety or sentimentality.

The last piece was by Parry’s contemporary (and rival) Charles Villiers Stanford (Parry wound up as professor at Oxford, Stanford at Cambridge). An appropriate Postlude, to conclude the recital: a bold rhythmic piece in stately triple time, sombre and emphatic, that could not possibly dispel Stanford’s reputation as apostle of Victorian grandeur and self-confidence. It was a good choice to conclude, strong structure, interestingly evolving ideas even if unadventurous harmonically. Like so many neglected and denigrated composers, both these Englishmen are seeing their reputations dusted off and found far more worthy of attention than was the opinion 50 years ago.

Though there was nothing familiar in the programme, Rosoman had given us food for thought, and for the musically curious, places to begin fruitful explorations.

 

Messiaen: La Nativité du Seigneur from Thomas Gaynor at St Paul’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul

Friday 16 December 2011, 12.45pm

While writing this review I was listening to the radio: choirs and audience were singing the New Zealand Anthem in the Wellington Town Hall, at the conclusion of this year’s ‘Big Sing’ Secondary Schools Choral Festival.  Accompanying the singing was – Thomas Gaynor, on the organ of the Town Hall.

It is great to see a young man of such talent take up the organ, and win numbers of scholarships, as Thomas Gaynor has.  Approximately 40 people were there to hear his playing, in this last of the year’s “Great Music” series a the Cathedral.

Olivier Messiaen’s work (The Nativity of Our Lord, in English) is quite enchanting, and full of huge contrasts.  It was pleasant to have a whole recital devoted to one composer, and one work, instead of the usual dodging from one style and musical language to another.

In addition to a descriptive phrase in the printed programme after the titles of each of the nine parts of the work, often quoted from the Bible, there was a lengthy quotation from the composer’s own writing about his composition.

The work could be described as an ecstatic utterance, but at the same time, controlled.  Much of the music is very quiet in this 1935 composition.  The composer says “Emotion and sincerity above all else”.  The note goes on to explain that there are three viewpoints: theology, instrumentation and music, and then describes which movements cover the several theological ideas.

This is followed by a description of the instrumentation, i.e. use of registrations of the ranks of pipes, after the statement “…each piece is laid out in large panels.  An economical use of timbre in tuttis of varying colours and densities…”.  Finally, he describes his means of expression, such as “the chord on the dominant”.

The first section is titled “The Virgin and the Child.   It is quietly contemplative, yet with rich harmonies, and some of Messiaen’s beloved bird-song.  Towards the end there is a wonderful ppp sequence.

“The Shepherds” come next.  The music appears simpler, with short, detached treble chords against continuous harmony in the left hand. The effect of hearing the shepherds from a distance, followed by a more vibrant passage which seems closer echoes the words: “…the shepherds returning home, glorifying and praising God.”

The third movement is entitled “Eternal Purposes”, which is appropriately slow and grand, with great clarity.  There was considerable use of the bass, with light treble accompaniment.

“The Word” featured more clustered chords, with strong pedal below, and lots of discords.

“The Children of God” was a very thoughtful section, like a continuous song in the treble, with sparse accompaniment of slow, modulating chords, including use of the pedals, which had mostly not been obvious in the previous movements.

The music became much more extraverted for “The Angels”, with thick chords perhaps conveying the celestial army.  After a brief time of flamboyance, the music died down and became angular, with sharp treble passages floating very fast into the high stratosphere of pipes, shimmering like heavenly beings.

“Jesus Accepts Suffering” featured rough, low chords, and a pedal solo interspersed between chords, leading to a loud ending.

Movement VII, “The Magi” used the pedals as the soprano solo line in a chorale-like melody with a very light treble accompaniment.  Towards the end, the treble line changed to flutes for a most attractive conclusion.

The final movement “God among us” begins with a stark, loud opening, followed by loud notes on the pedals. There is much contrast in registration and rhythms.  The texture thickens towards the end, before a magnificent, double forte concluding passage.

It goes without saying that Messiaen’s music is utterly individual, and his knowledge of and use of the organ is superbly idiosyncratic, hugely varied, and masterly.

It was a tour-de-force and a triumph for a young organist to play this hour-long work. with such sensitivity and accomplishment.  There was always lots going on for both hands and feet, never mind the changes of registration.

Messiaen, I’m sure, would have been pleased, and proud of this performance.