Some thoughts on organ practice

When you play an instrument, you spend infinitely more time practicing than you will ever spend in front of an audience.  For organists, there are some special conditions -- the weekly 'gig,' for those who work in a worship setting, for example.

I've spent a lot of time recently listening to other organists.  There's a lot that could be said at this point, but it strikes me that there's a lot of people out there with practice habits that fall short of optimal.  I know my practice habits have been variable over time, and most of my practice these days is given over to pressing matters with minimal attention to technique.  When I have more time on my hands, a practice session follows this sort of pattern:

1. Trio playing, aiming at clarity of the parts and a clean touch.
2. Work on a new item of repertoire.
3. Work on a new trio piece.
4. Something more familiar -- either revisiting existing repertoire or playing something nearly completely learnt.
5. Sight reading of further new repertoire, consideration of possibilities as learning projects.
6. Realise the time, and escape quickly.

When I was a music student, I used to think trio playing was a tremendous drag, although I like most of the tunes in the Bach trio sonatas.  It's only been in the last seven or eight years that my technique and capacity for concentration has matured to the point where contemplating this music became a more realistic possibility.  This repertoire does wonders for playing with a clean touch, and precision timing.

The only thing I don't do any more is a ten-minute bracket of scales and arpeggios.  I also tend to ignore transposition exercises these days.  Doing crosswords is a far more useful way of keeping one's brain going.

One habit that has carried across from my student practice patterns is using a metronome.  There is a vast difference between a finely-judged rubato and playing un-rhythmically.  A metronome is that difference.

One of my proudest moments was finally buying an electronic metronome in about 2002, small enough to fit in a pocket.  It also gave me one of my more memorable moments on a packed tram.  I had put the metronome in the front pocket of my bag, which was pressed up against a safety rail.  The whole carriage fell silent when everyone noticed a faint electronic beeping sound.  Nonplussed, I reached into my bag and switched the metronome off -- only to realize I had narrowly avoided being tackled to the floor.  One of those commuter moments...