Last night, after returning (somewhat after midnight) from a 14-hour shift helping to videotape the Southwest Pacific Figure Skating Championships at Disney ICE, in Anaheim (followed by about an hour and a half of "unwinding" at Disneyland; annual passes are nice!), I finally found a phone message from Maestro York, suggesting that this morning, after the second service, would be a good time for my lesson. I had originally planned on attending the service at St. Luke's anyway, since I hadn't attended a service there since my vacation, but my labors of the weekend had left me so drained that I was more inclined to go to University United Methodist, for the sake of convenience.
Actually, I was somewhat inclined to skip the lesson entirely, and go to University United Methodist anyway, since I'd had little opportunity to practice anything (except during the break in last Monday evening's music theory class, when I sat down at a woefully out-of-tune practice room piano for a few minutes) until I woke up this morning, fairly early, with more energy than I'd expected. I found time to check my email, and practice a few things, just enough to where I felt that a lesson wouldn't be a waste of time.
I think my hands are finally getting accustomed to spanning overlapping sixths (on both 1-4 and 2-5 in each hand), and so now the only tough spot in that particular exercise (Peeters, Page 2, Exercise 3), and now, the only tough part is moving both hands up a second between the first section of the exercise and the second! (and, in fact, the transition from the first section to the second is also the real sticking point in the "legato and staccato" exercise (Peeters, Page 2, Exercise 4)
We went on to Now, my Tongue . . . (Peeters, Page 8). We still haven't ventured past measure 15, but maybe by my next lesson . . . . At any rate, we concentrated on the somewhat troublesome second 7 1/2 measures, and Maestro York had me try something different: playing the piece with first the right hand, then the left, on a manual with NO stops drawn (i.e. dead silence), to isolate each of the two lines while still playing both. Hmm. What a mind-bender THAT was! Playing one line at a time isn't difficult; playing both together isn't much more so; playing both parts without being able to hear the right hand is a bit of a challenge, but playing both parts without being able to hear the left hand is remarkably difficult!
We also worked on the right-hand-and-pedal exercise (Peeters, page 50, Exercise 1) a bit more, and while I was far from flawless (and my "beginner's luck" with the piece seems to have deserted me), I am making progress, and the sticking point in measure 7 seems to be about taken care of.
After this, we went on to start adapting another piece from my piano text for the organ, "The Cuckoo" (Alfred's Adult All-in-One, Page 59), which I'd already figured out would work with only terraced dynamics (indeed, there aren't any dynamic markings in the score), and would sound best if registered in bird immitations, with the right hand jumping from one manual to the other for the repeat of the first four measures, and back to where it started for the remainder of the piece. We haven't yet added a pedal part, but since there are only two chords (G and D7), that should be rather trivial. We did the piece with the left hand on Great, and the right on Swell and Choir; next time, I think I'll try and put the left hand on either swell or choir, so that the right doesn't have to jump quite as far.
As I write this report, I'm listening to Pipedreams. This week, Mr. Barone is featuring the Curtis organ at the University of Pennsylvania's Irvine Auditorium; I found that instrument a bit Romantic and Symphonic for my taste, almost Theatrical, but not bad, although I rather prefer the The St. Jakobi Schnitger in Hamburg, Germany, also featured in tonight's broadcast. One note on the performance (on the Curtis Austin) of the Mendelssohn Overture to A Midsummer Night's Dream: the first few bars, I couldn't tell that I was listening to an organ transcription of an orchestral work: the thing evidently has at least one rank of flutes voiced to sound exactly like an actual orchestral model transverse flute. Interesting. I think, though, that I could have done without the Wagner Ride of the Valkyries; but then, I've never heard anything by Wagner that I really liked, and have never felt any need to cultivate a taste for that particular composer (whom I regard as having been somewhat of a human slime mold). At any rate, though Ride of the Valkyries does give me a certain urge to "Kill the Wabbit" with my "spear and magic helmet." (Magic helmet? Yes, magic helmet! and I'll give you a sample! Awise storms! Northwinds bwow! Southwinds bwow! Fwoods! Huwwicanes! Earthquakes! SMOG!) (from "What's Opera, Doc," directed by Chuck Jones) Hmm. KUSC broadcasts Hearts of Space right after Pipedreams, and tonight's broadcast featured 8 different performances of the Barber Adagio, including orchestral versions, The Canadian Brass, and everything else from organ solo, to the composer's own choral version, to a version for assorted clarinets, all played back-to-back. They should have titled tonight's broadcast "Eight Barbers, No Waiting!"
I just returned from my twelfth organ lesson, which went rather well. The "sixths" exercise (Peeters, page 2, exercise 3) is no longer a source of pain, although it is still a bit uncomfortable and fatiguing. The transition between the first and second parts (Ec-DB-Ec-DB-EC and Ec-Fd-Ec-Fd-Ec, respectively) still takes several precious seconds, but that's a far cry from the over half-a-minute it to make the transition at my second lesson! The Legato and Staccato exercise (Peeters, page 2, exercise 4) has reached a point where the transition between the first and second parts (legato C-D-E-F-E-D-C under staccato G's, and legato G-F-E-D-E-F-G over staccato C's) is almost smooth. I'm also getting a bit further along on Glissando exercises (Peeters, page 5)
On "Now, My Tongue . . ." (Peeters, page 8), I've almost got the second 7 1/2 measures right, and I'm starting to work on measures 16-24. The piece is starting to actually sound like something!
The first right-hand-and-pedal exercise (Peeters, page 50, exercise 1) is still suffering from a few outright misses on the pedalboard; it would seem that the first two weeks with that exercise WERE "beginners' luck."
By contrast, "The Cuckoo" (Alfred, page 59) is quite presentable as it is now! I've figured out a pretty good registration (4' Rohrflute on Swell, 8' Spitzflute on Great, 8' Gedeckt and 2 2/3' Nasard on Choir, and 16' Gedeckt and 8' Spitzflute on pedal) and manual assignments (left hand on Great, right hand mainly on Choir, jumping to Swell for the repeat of the first four measures, chord roots doubled on pedal), and wouldn't hesitate to play the piece in front of an audience. Of course, it's only about 16 seconds long, and only has two different chords, so there's not much to do!
Before we called it a day, I also did a quick run-through of "Beautiful Brown Eyes" (Alfred, page 65), which looks like it'll present more of a challenge: three chords, alternating two measures blocked and tied with two measures arpeggiated, and a spot in measures 3 and 11 where the right hand has a repeating note, and the left hand is arpegiatting a chord. On a piano, phrasing isn't very significant here, because the damper pedal is down on those measures, but on the organ, especially with a "fluffy" registration in the left hand, my lack of legato in that hand sounds (as Maestro York so eloquently put it) like the St. Louis Calliope! Maybe (1) work on it until the left hand is legato, AND (2) maybe not quite as fluffy in the left hand. Maybe Gedeckt instead of Harmonic Flute.
When I returned home, this afternoon (after the lesson, I spent a few hours riding trolleys into L.A. and back, and photographing Union Station [to "dummy up" a few extra shots for my vacation album]), I called into the registration system at Orange Coast College, and tried (for the third day in a row) to get into second-semester piano; evidently somebody had called in and dropped it, because it was no longer closed, and I am now (pending payment of my fees) officially enrolled in the class for next spring. Look for occasional comments on how this piano class is going, in these reports, starting in late January (by which time I'll probably be somewhere around my 20th organ lesson)
One final note: my MIDI box has been ordered and paid for, for exactly a month now, and it still hasn't arrived. Fortunately, I'm a patient man, and if I remember right, my copy of Peeters Little Organ Book took over a month, too. Still, I don't want to think about how long it would take, though, if the thing had live pipes instead of sampled ones ;-).
It had to happen. They say horseshoes and four-leaf clovers bring good luck whether you're superstitious or not, and there are perfectly logical reasons not to walk under a ladder. So naturally, there was one unlucky incident connected with my thirteenth lesson: poor time management, and an unanticipated errand, made me 20 minutes late (I've never been more than five minutes late before) on a day when Maestro York had to leave on time, for a wedding. Needless to say, we kept the smalltalk to a minimum, and I skipped the exercises I usually start with.
"Now, My Tongue . . ." (Peeters, Page 8) is sounding better and better, and I'm starting to get past measure 15. I'm still getting lost well before the end of the piece, but I'm getting better, and picking it up faster. I noticed that the registration I usually use for working on that piece was sounding a tad muted, but it didn't dawn on me why it sounded muted until Maestro York pointed out to me that the choir shutters were completely closed. Duh! I'd even noticed that, myself, but it had slipped my mind during the minute or so we spent trying to get the lights to work (the pedal lamp initially didn't want to come on, and right about the time we'd given up on it, figuring the bulb had burned out, it came on as if nothing had been wrong with it!).
While my "beginners luck" with the right-hand-and-pedal exercise is long gone, it's starting to sound Ok again.
I did manage, over the past week, to work the "St. Louis Calliope" effect out of "Beautiful Brown Eyes" (Alfred, page 65), although I noted that if I were playing "The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down," that would have been exactly the right registration and phrasing. I'm not quite ready to add a pedal part to it, but maybe my next lesson.
Maestro York had to run off, but suggested that I stick around and practice a bit longer; I did so, for about another half an hour to forty minutes. It truly amazes me that I'm not being charged rent. (And so long as I'm not being charged rent, I'll continue to make contributions to its maintenance!)
After the lesson, I tried more things than I can remember, including working on "Cockles and Mussels" (Alfred, page 105) a bit, and "The Cuckoo," (Alfred, page 59), a few choruses of "When the Saints Go Marching In," tossing the tune from manual to manual, "Standing in the Need of Prayer," trying the swells, and Joy to the World, handling dynamics entirely with manual changes (all from the arrangements in Alfred). Definitely fun.
Today was my fourteenth organ lesson. Because of inclement weather, and some unfinished business from what made me late to lesson 13, and a last minute plumbing problem, but mostly my poor time management, I was late again. This time, Maestro York didn't have to leave right on time, but unfortunately, there was someone else scheduled to practice right after my lesson. Fortunately, he was about 10 minutes late, so by cutting the chatter, I got almost as much time as usual.
For some reason, about five minutes into working on "Now, my Tongue . . . ," (Peeters, page 8) I started to make really dumb mistakes. Probably the result of not getting nearly enough practice time this past week, and of not working on the piece nearly enough in the time I had.
Conversely, the right-hand-and-pedal exercise (Peeters, page 50, exercise 1) is starting to actually sound like something. Practicing the right-hand part last night, with the pedal line playing back from my portable keyboard's sequencer, I discovered that I was screwing up rather badly: it seems I wasn't holding the tied pair of G half-notes across the barline between measures 3 and 4 long enough, and holding the C half-note in measure 4 for too long. As if measure 4 consisted of a whole-note C I didn't have a whole lot of time to correct that, but I did have enough to recognize the problem, and now, all that seems to stand in my way on that piece is getting the phrase breaks right, and a few wrong notes in the pedal part. (For the purposes of this paragraph, rather than brave the weather and go out to my car to fetch my book, I reconstructed the right-hand part from memory. On a couple of post-it notes.)
We've finally figured out a registration that works for "Beautiful Brown Eyes" (the only piece from my piano text that we worked on): Swell Hautbois 8' in right hand, Great Spitzflute 8' in the left, and unspecified 16' and 8' flutes in pedal. Which is to say that we're adding a pedal part to it. So far, it's sounding OK, and the sustained pedal part, and the choice of the Great Spitzflute for the accompaniment, have exorcised the last remnants of the "St. Louis Calliope" effect that had plagued the piece before (now, if I knew "The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down," that "St. Louis Calliope" effect would be PERFECT!)
Next lesson, I'd like very much to start to try and do something with Joy to the World (the arrangement in Alfred), for Christmas. I already experimented with it briefly after Lesson 13, and I think it sounds kind of promising.
At last report, my MIDI box was in Hemet, and was to be shipped to the Laguna Niguel store. That was Tuesday, and if it made it to Laguna Niguel by yesterday, the only employee on duty didn't know anything about it. (Thus, I wasn't in much of a mood to practice, last night!) When it shows up, I'll broadcast my opinions on it to the entire PIPORG-L list; I've heard people swear by the manufacturer, and I've heard them swear AT them; all I know is what their digital positives sound like (which isn't half-bad).
I think I definitely liked that shop a lot better when Gene Roberson owned it outright, and was very active in its day-to-day operations. Instead of being a mostly-absentee vice president. I even kind of miss having to endure his Thursday lunchtime classes for bored retirees with home-model sampling organs (and the occasional analog toy). Once, his demonstration of the week was actually one I wouldn't mind having on floppy disk myself (the Love Theme from St. Elmo's Fire, played on mostly the General MIDI channels of a Technics FA-1, with the "organ" channel only occasionally coming in, but ALWAYS IN CLASSICAL PIPE MODE[!]) Assuming it could be ported to a format my Macintosh could read, and my cheap, low-end MIDI software could understand.) The only thing I DON't miss is having to endure Maestro Roberson's second-in-command (who's on the list for these reports; are you still there?) sitting down at a Roland AT-90 (custom-finished in white), and playing in the most syrupy, maudlin, tibia-heavy theatrical registrations he could find on the thing.
Today was lesson No. 15. This time, I managed to kind-of sort-of get through all of "Now, my Tongue . . ." (Peeters, Page 8); just not without stoping, breaking rhythm, hitting wrong notes, and getting into spots where I haven't the slightest idea where my fingers belong. At any rate, though, it's really starting to turn into real music, and we spent a good portion of the lesson on it. This was followed by some pedal drills (where I'm still kind of getting lost), and the right-hand-and-pedal exercise (Peeters, Page 50, Exercise 1). We spent so much time on Peeters that we ended up not doing anything from my piano text during the lesson (but I did spend about 20 minutes working on precisely that, immediately after the lesson).
It's now official: I basically cannot get anything but an A in first-semester music theory, as I got A's on every single test, including the final. And actually, it was the evening of that final, on a practice-room piano, that I first reached the final measure of "Now, my Tongue. . .".
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James H. H. Lampert
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Revised Thursday, November 19th, 2015
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