We begin this evening with a flourish combining Mexican-Iberian flavor with the tune Easter Hymn (often sung to the text "Christ the Lord is Ris'n Today"). Depicted is a Spanish-language festival, with mariachi-style fanfares from the brass and chattering castanets. In the midst of all this hubbub, the hymn melody is propelled to the forefront by the organ's powerful Trompette en Chamade. The musical germs that eventually grew into The Iberian Feast of the Resurrection came to mind during a concert tour to the Mexican Yucatan Peninsula in January, 1997. Originally conceived for full orchestra, Iberian Feast was first published as a solo organ work some 9 years later, in 2006, as an organ postlude for Easter Day. In this organ and orchestra version, the organ role, although still important, is greatly reduced, and only punctuates the proceedings. The organ solo version of Iberian Feast of the Resurrection was the lead track on the Compact Disc entitled "Unseen Servants," also launched during the 2006 ChicAGO national convention of the American Guild of Organists. On both the score and the CD, the composer is identified only as Carlos Xavier Santiago. Since then, this mysterious Mr. Santiago has been a curiosity. Santiago is actually my nom de plume (pen name), yes, none other than "yours truly," the featured soloist this evening. This fact has been withheld from the public until disclosure here in these program notes.
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Belgian born François-Joseph Fetis (1784-1871) was a trained violinist and pianist and, in addition to being an organist from the tender age of 7, he was schooled in Paris and Vienna and eventually presided over the renown conservatory at Bruxelles. He was chiefly a historian and music theorist who wrote many volumes about music, and he just happened also to compose volumes of original music, including this boisterous Fantasie-Symphonique for Organ and Orchestra. Most who have encountered Fétis's original music tend to agree than his music - although adequately crafted - shows a distinct lack of musical genius. But perhaps these Fétis critics fail to see that his music simply exhibits a classic case of indecisiveness. Simply put, Fétis can't decide whether he is in the 18th-century world of classicism or the 19th-century realm of romanticism. Actually, he is in both worlds at the same time, and it is the arbitrary shifting of this mindset in the composer that causes his music to be so poorly received. Classical and romantic elements abound at different moments in his Fantasie-Symphonique. If this work were to be analyzed by a music psychoanalyst, it would likely be diagnosed as having a split-personality. Special care and insight is required to interpret his music in a way that follows the many subtle - and at times arbitrary - shifts in style.
The organ in France from the 1790s through the 1860s saw a monumental evolution during which the organ was elevated from an instrument of cheap spectacle and novelty to one of technical refinement and artful quality. Fétis's life span saw both extremes of this evolution. It is just at the blossoming of this golden age, in 1866, that Mr. Fétis composed his Fantasie-Symphonique. Consider that this work celebrates the pipe organ as an equal partner to a Beethoven-sized orchestra - something previously impossible - and that this very pairing of forces marked the arrival of this new golden age for the organ, and then one can see that this is one piece of music that documents the musical pride of its time.
Let's take a closer look at Mr. Fétis stylistic leaps. The opening Allegro non troppo is as rough-edged and extroverted as any forte passage from a mature Beethoven symphony, yet, when we hear the gently-crafted dolce phrases at opening of the Andante con variazioni, one might believe that the musical clock was turned back by at least 30 years, to the age of a young Mozart. Then again, near the end of the Andante, the Voix humaine stop on the organ and tremolando strings moves us forward to the 1840s and operatic drama of Gioacchino Rossini. And again, at the opening of the concluding Allegro (La chasse), we are spun around once more on the timetable of musical style, where we have passages that could have been written by Johann Stamitz (famous for rapid dynamic changes known as the "Mannheim Steamroller"). It is as if Mr. Fétis is sharing with us his musical photo album, compiled over a very long life (more than 80 years - Fétis lived a long time!). Each "photo" in his "album" recounts some salient musical trait of its time. So let Mr. Fétis show off his album! We'll get a glimpse of diverse times and locales. And while we're at it, we'll also hear a sonic spectacle - organ with orchestra. A novelty? Perhaps, and typically French, but an enjoyable thrill? For sure!
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By contrast with the Fétis work, Sospiri of Sir Edward Elgar gives us a single cohesive musical style, formed from few notes, and a piece of considerable substance. The role of the organ in this Adagio movement is minimal, though effective. The composer originally called this work his Soupir d'Amour, and intended it as a companion to his very popular crowd-pleaser Salut d'Amour. It was first performed in London in August, 1914 under the baton of Sir Henry Wood. The months, even the many years, leading up to the outbreak of World War I, saw the appearance of voluminous amounts of music from England, from such figures as Sir Charles Hubert Hastings Parry and Sir Charles Villiers Stanford. In general, this music was filled with optimism and the expression of exuberant peace. After World War I, the mood of serious music in England changed abruptly, and it was never the same again. In contrast to the general optimism of the age, Elgar's Sospiri stands out as a work signifying great foreboding and pre-emptive compassion. It was as if the composer had advance knowledge of the grief that would soon thereafter grip the world.
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Leading up to our intermission we'll have a Congregational Sing with a medley of three hymns. Consider this your "seventh-inning stretch" taken a bit early! Some may not recognize these by their "tune names" alone, but the hymns are familiar. This Hymn Sing arrangement originated in 1990, written to fulfill a request from a concert sponsor who wanted the hymns sung during an organ dedication concert to have "The Treatment." The sponsor wanted was something other than the ordinary, plain rendering of hymns as found in the hymnal, that is, this sponsor desired hymns with creative introductions, interludes between the hymns, modulations between certain stanzas, and, when prudent, a technique known as "text painting."
Text painting occurs in this hymn medley primarily in the hymn Eventide. Text painting makes demands upon the organist, who in essence becomes the "interpreter" of the hymn text by the way the accompaniment is arranged. In text painting, an organist uses variations in organ registration to highlight and illustrate changes in mood or point of view in the hymn text. A more subtle element of text painting is to substitute alternate harmonies for those found in the original hymnal version. Sensitive applications of alternate harmonies can translate into a powerful faith experience. Hymn texts often follow a logical progression of thought - from the point of view of the hymn writer - which eventually conclude with a statement of resolve, or renewed conviction of faith. Using text painting, and alternate harmonies drawn from the realm of 19th-century tonality, the organist can follow these texts with similar logic. When the text logic and embellished harmony coincide, the hymn gains a new dimension. The orchestra joins the organ in portions of the Hymn Sing, but allows the organ to have "center stage" for the majority of the stanzas.
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The post-intermission opener shows the "real" Frederick Hohman. Movements of this new Concerto of Organ and String Orchestra substitute traditional names based on Tempi (Allegro, Adagio, etc) with terms that describe different playing techniques. Pizzicato, the only movement heard tonight, refers to the plucking rather than bowing of the strings. Pizzicato depicts a struggle for liberation. After a brief declamatory introduction, the string players' ability to be expressive is greatly compromised by the imposition of pizzicato-only string writing. Likewise, the organ part is compromised by writing that is limited chiefly to one hand and the pedals. Although the key theme of the movement is "conflict and struggle," it is still a joyful scene, with much happiness and positive energy, as both the strings and the organist work within the limitations of their "musical confinement."
At a point which occurs roughly 61 percent of the way through the movement (this corresponds to the ancient Greek ratio known to music theorists as the "Golden Section" or "Golden Mean") both the string players and organist achieve liberation. At this point, the hymn tune "I'll Overcome Some Day" gets its first clear statement. Tiny fragments of this very hymn are worked into the fabric of the piece prior to reaching the point of the "Golden Mean." "I'll Overcome Some Day," a hymn by Rev. Charles A. Tindley, dates from 1901. Rev. Tindley's hymn is considered obscure and seldom sung, but its inclusion here is not its first use as a source of musical inspiration. In the 1960s, this very hymn also inspired the writing of what became the very well-known 1960s civil rights anthem "We Shall Overcome" (made familiar in 1963 by Joan Baez when she recorded it and performed it in numerous Civil Rights marches). Whether Rev. Tindley's hymn leads us to express ourselves in creating new hymns, or in writing wordless music, the core of the message - that of life's struggles overcome by hard work and faith - is universal.
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Both organ solos in tonight's program are organ transcriptions, that is, adaptations of symphonic works for the pipe organ. First is my adaptation of the Arioso from Bach's Orchestral Suite in D, commonly known as "Air on G String." In my arrangement, I take a "musical detour" from Bach's original, and this embellishment occurs during the repeat of the second half.
There are 360 pizzicato pedal notes in the Arioso, and I liken each one to a step on a large, imaginary staircase, one that floats suspended in mid air, and that sweeps upwards to the heavens. As I play the Arioso, and we ascend, step by step, we come to a point near where we can almost touch the heavens, but there, the staircase ends. At this point it is as if we are could reach out to grasp eternity, but there is an invisible barrier. Being earthbound mortals, we know that no human eye nor human ear can see nor hear what glorious sights and sounds awaits us in the afterlife. We can only come to the brink of heaven and muse over what awaits. This is the essence of my fantasy in the musical detour. Yet I imagine, and with each turn of harmony there is depicted a sight always more beautiful and glorious. And when the moment of fantasy is past, we return home, ever so gently.
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This is followed by an athletic transcription of Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries. This is one of more than 200 symphonic organ transcriptions penned by one of the greatest organist ever to draw breath: Edwin Henry Lemare (1865-1934). Although he was long forgotten by his death in 1934, Edwin Lemare dazzled audiences in England, Australia and the USA from 1890 to 1920. He played to audiences numbering in the thousands in large town halls where large, symphonic pipe organs were installed. In his hey-day, symphony orchestras in America were practically non-existent, so the vehicle by which most common folk heard the great music masterworks of the age was by hearing them in symphonic organ concerts, as transcriptions, just like those from Lemare. Playing these transcriptions was, and still is at times, considered a super-human feat, and Lemare's transcriptions hardly ever omitted even a note of the orchestral originals. Championing the revival of the symphonic style of organ-playing, as made legend by Mr. Lemare, has been an anchor of my career as an organist.
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It is also hard to believe that Horatio Parker, a name barely uttered today, was the most popular and celebrated American composer just 100 years ago. Mr. Parker achieved great acclaim for his operatic works, especially for the operas Hora novissima and Mona. Schooled in America and with Josef Rheinberger (Munich, Germany), he was for more than 20 years a professor at Yale.
Horatio Parker's Concerto for Organ and Orchestra shows influences of Mendelssohn, Brahms, Wagner and Elgar. At the outset of the opening Allegro moderato movement, grand sweeping phrases bring to mind similar gestures in the symphonies and concerti of Johannes Brahms. The lovely solo from the first chair violin in the Andante brings to mind the sentimental lyricism of Felix Mendelssohn. (Had the Andante - which occurs at the end of the first movement - been a bit longer, it may have merited labeling as a separate movement.) In the brief Allegretto, we are reminded of the playfulness and humor of Sir Edward Elgar, and in the concluding Allegro moderato, molto risoluto, we hear shades of melodrama from the operas of Richard Wagner, with a dash of Parker's teacher, Rheinberger, thrown in for good measure!
The chief criticism today about Horatio Parker's music is similar to the complaint made about the music of Fétis: a lack of sufficient individual style. Just as Fétis appears to write music that is a digest of several styles framing his life span, Horatio Parker appears to be reworking musical techniques and styles found largely in the mid and late 19th-century. If we hear Parker's music as the better of the two, the reason may be simply that our ears digest a 19th-century potpourri more easily than an 18th-century potpourri. Either way, the melding of influences, and the crafty balance and form coupled with high drama, serve to make Parker's Concerto for Organ and Orchestra a winner, and a classic one should no longer overlook in the concerto repertoire.
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notes by Frederick Hohman |
