Further thoughts on organ practice

Over the last few years I've had leisure to listen to other organists at work.  It's often been edifying, and I seldom come away with some sort of insight that helps me along my stumbling road when next I mount the organ bench.

I'd like to broach a topic that I am convinced few people consider.  It's the issue of where and how one listens while playing the organ.

For many organists, the primary challenge is to get fingers and feet in the right place at the right time.  So many people have basic technical problems that much of their performance energy is burnt up keeping the piece going that external issues, such as how the performance actually sounds, go by the board.

When I was preparing for a competition several years ago, my teacher rounded on me in frustration and exhorted me to listen to the room -- to put my ears on the back wall of the large cathedral where I was practicing -- and stop obsessing on console management.  He was right.  As soon as my concentration shifted out to the space, all the console management issues and technical problems resolved themselves.

I won yet another of my second prizes in that competition, and with my prize money I went out and bought a minidisk recorder.  This has proved to be one of my best investments over the long term, and has allowed me to focus on the details of performance goals while not loosing sight of the whole.  Another of my teachers announced herself as virtually redundant when she saw how I generated useful score markings resulting from a probing listening session of a practice tape.

I use three steps when listening to practice tapes.

First, I look for what happens when problems arise.  This step must be taken away from the instrument, preferably sitting at a table with the score and a pencil.  A mistake is usually prepared about a bar or two before it occurs, so careful listening can reveal the roots of the problem.  These problems are often technical rather than accidental.  These sorts of issues can then be isolated in practice and dealt with.

Secondly, listening to practice tapes allows me to assess registration schemes.  Sometimes it is necessary to make subtle changes to stops in order to keep the whole effect sounding consistent, for example, where regulation across the whole compass of a group of stops is variable, leading to a lack of cohesion in the bass while the treble blends effectively.  Sometimes combinations that sound good at the console just don't work in the building, and the recording device provides an audience-ear perspective.

Finally, articulation and phrasing.  In a large, resonant building more articulation may be needed in order project a clear legato line, or non-legato lines may need to be joined up to sound effective.  Equally, in a small room with no resonance there may need to be some compromise to achieve a good musical effect.  A practice tape will tell you all you need to know.

The last two steps can have implications for one's understanding of the structure of a piece.  Registration can be used to amplify phrasing, or to help delineate structural markers in a piece.  For example, much of the music by French symphonic organ composers uses registration directions to mark transitions between sections.  Equally, understanding the large-scale musical periods of a piece can inform detailed phrasing decisions by highlighting thematic material passed over in the process of note-learning.  These steps ought to be the tools by which one increases analytical awareness of musical structure.

There are a number of organists around the world who post their weekly postludes on parish or personal websites.  I think this is a useful exercise, as it can provide an overview of one's larger program, but often wonder if they are using these tapes to critique their own work.  For example, I can think of one Melbourne-based organist who tapes his weekly performance without seeming to give much thought to the fact that most of his postludes sound the same.  Every recording in the website archive uses the same sort of full organ, and I wonder if there are any softer registers in the instrument at all.  After listening to three or four pieces, I have to admit that the sound began to pall on my ear.  For my own taste, there's nothing more thrilling than a rapid passage played on 8' and 4' flutes, or something with a stateley swing using the foundation stops, or contrasting effects that play off reeds against flues.  I have no doubt his congregation appreciates him, but wonder if anyone wishes he'd play the occasional non-loud postlude.  Using this sound record would help him to vary the texture, thereby enriching the experience of his listeners.

Listening objectively to one's own playing is a vital step in the practice routine, and too few organists do it.  If you're wondering what do to improve your own performance, my advice is simple.  Buy a decent recording device, learn how to adjust it, and listen to the results.  Learn to be your own most demanding critic.