Are you listening?

Are you listening?

"I saw triple-sharps in the third movement of Alkan's Concerto for Solo Piano.
Neat huh?"

Listening! Don't be embarrassed--we all do it. I don't mean to write a comprehensive entry on the science behind it or the many ways it applies to music making, but I would like to make a couple of observations that have come to mind recently.

Again we return to Charles Proctor F.R.A.M., F.R.C.O., A.R.C.M., F.T.C.L.

The second step in Proctor's book on Harmonization is to improvise (he never uses this word, by the way) a consequent phrase to a given four-bar phrase, using the same rhythm as the first but modulating to the dominant (i.e. If the first phrase is in the key of C, then the second phrase ends in the key of G, a fifth higher than C), then repeat the first phrase, and finally improvise a fourth phrase using the same rhythm but ending in the original key--called the 'tonic'. Thus, we have four phrases - A | B (dominant) | A | C (tonic). Some authors would call this an 'exposition'.

Then, for practice, transpose your solution into all keys.

This is a pretty easy task, one that would be extremely easy on paper, though tedious with all the transposing, and almost as simple at the keyboard as you have to memorize the original and your solution.

However, Proctor's aims with this exercise are not only to fill in what's missing in a theme, or to transpose into any key, though those are definitely worthwhile subjects to practice, whether your goal is to accompany by ear, or improvise on your own. No, Proctor is trying to draw our attention to the process by which we 'continue' this given melody.

1. First we memorize the given melody, so that we can sing it or hear it in our mind without having to play it at the keyboard. We remove the music from the page a make it a part of us, small and insubstantial as it is.
2. Then we sing or mentally compose the continuation. What we do NOT do is try to find the continuation at the keyboard; that is, we do not doodle to find a solution.

So we lift the music off the page and internalize it. Then we find a solution from inside ourselves which we then translate to the keyboard. Much like we take in food and use that energy to accomplish all of our daily activities (could've gone a far different direction with that analogy...).

Anyway, bad analogies notwithstanding, one of Proctor's main goals in his book is to instill this process into students who have not grown up instinctively doing it already. It's pretty much luck of the draw combined with ones environment whether you are accustomed to this way of learning and listening. Much like perfect pitch; some people grow up listening to the differences between pitches, whereas others listen to how they are higher or lower than each other. These different avenues are not mutually exclusive, and these musical skills can be learned if one is willing to put in the time, and set about doing it the right way.

Since we love categorizing and giving names to things, let's call this 'musical precognition'.

Why should I care about movical procernation?

I get a lot of angry yawns when I talk about organ.

Well, I happen to believe that this concept is at work as the basis of all of the best in music-making. It's also probably a concept that most musicians already know on some unconscious level but perhaps haven't considered consciously, much like pianists that keep pushing into the keyboard after striking a loud chord; they know that pressing into the keys after the hammers have struck the strings isn't going to give you any more sound but they often do it anyway until they learn to relax. Or like frantically shaking the controller hoping that Mario will jump a little higher and avoid that bottomless pit...

Hmm... failure mixed with a stink of fear and impending doom, this reminds me of piano lessons.

When improvising, musical precognition, hearing what you're going to play before you play it, is totally necessary and the driving force behind a good improvisation (perhaps even more necessary than structure). How can you expect to make music if you have no idea how it will sound? Now, this doesn't mean there can't be surprises. In improvisation, a mistake (something that you did not intend) that is embraced can lead one down a musical path that was not intended but ended up being quite worthwhile anyway.

On the other end, this sense of the musical future is necessary to play well the music from the repertoire. When playing that Chopin Scherzo that every single pianist has played, you know every note and where it fits, and how to shape the notes intelligently into a coherent whole. The only thing missing from the repertoire is that it is not very creative. Actually, it takes great creativity and intelligence to interpret these works but it's far removed from the process that created those works in the first place. The closer one can get to that original process, the better they will be able to perform those works. That is, if they have good instrumental technique as a prerequisite.

Smetana and Zombies

Bedrich Smetana was a Czech composer who went completely deaf at age 50. For his remaining ten years he continued composing, and even wrote some of his best known works during this period. He even said at one point that becoming deaf did wonders for his work ethic because he was no longer distracted by all of the outside noise. There was a german composer who went through a similar situation, going deaf and continuing composing, but his name escapes me for the moment. Starts with a B. Boot-hosin? Beet-hoover? Something like that.

The crucial ingredient in cultivating this inner sense of music, at least in the early stages, is quiet. One can't learn to swim in a tsunami, though one would be well motivated to try. If a man in the 19th century had issues with finding a quiet spot, how much harder do we have it in the 21st century?

We are daily bombarded with music of all kinds, so much so that we don't even hear it on a conscious level most of the time. On television, radio, and in places public and private, it's a constant assault of tunes, most of them accompanying words or images. Just as it's always been a concern that television will 'rot your brain' and cause one's creative faculties to fester and atrophy, does the constant inundation of music create a culture of musical passiveness? Instead of creating, we just watch? Added to that the simple fact that it's so hard to find a quiet place, is this proliferation of noise-making technology stifling our musical artists of today? Braaains?

Of course there will always be those to succeed in the face of adversity, but at what cost? I know many musicians that compose using the keyboard to doodle out ideas, or use the computer to work them out, instead of using their own ear. Perhaps their ear creates the music to some degree, but is it possible that they are only dealing well with their handicap rather than throwing off their shackles and realizing their full potential?

Imagine a pianist who doesn't learn to use their thumbs when playing and plays well anyways. He would likely say that a pianist doesn't really need to use their thumbs to play, and argue that he does fine with his playing style. It's important to realize that he plays well despite his improper technique. He doesn't realize how much better he could play with correct technique.

So it is too with composers and performers who don't cultivate their inner hearing. Perhaps they compose or perform well without this skill, but how much better could they be performing and writing if they did?

The final question:

Is our cultures technological saturation of music stifling this necessary skill and thereby depressing the quality of music being created?

 Maybe those who listen for the future instinctively will always do so. Maybe those that have to learn to listen will find it harder to do so, or may never do so because of their environment. I don't really have an answer.

Maybe just asking the question will help.

Buxtehude - Round 1

Here's the first draft playthrough for my prelude selection for the Service Playing Test:

Komm, heiliger Geist, Herre Gott - BuxWV 199

The next step? Let's get more informed on historical practice and how the piece was made.

What is Improvisation?

Improvisation

In the beginning, there was improvisation. Music wouldn't be written down for thousands of years. Composition as we know it today didn't exist. All that existed was the voice and some rudimentary instruments. The only music that could exist was that which could be held in the mind and expressed from within. The only way to pass that music on was from voice to voice. When music started being written down about a thousand years ago, things rapidly changed and music became capable of being preserved forever, and also grew to where it could do things beyond the capabilities of a single human mind.

~ ~ ~

Perhaps the most important thing you can do with improvisation is to try to define just what it is. It's a problematic endeavor because the concept changes depending who you ask, and that goes for professionals, amateurs, and lay people equally.

The most concise definition I can think of is:  Improvisation is composition at the keyboard (or fret-board, or whatever instrument or voice is used). It seems that improvisation for most everyone implies a certain degree of 'unpreparedness', or conversely, spontaneity.  Music is spontaneously created, not from memory, nor from an existing page. What differs in the definition is the degree of 'unpreparedness' or just how much preparation is really involved.

Dupre would take musical themes submitted from the audience and spontaneously create organ symphonies based on them, after a few short seconds of pondering the theme. He improvised hundreds of symphonies over his long touring career, and most of them were almost totally spur-of-the-moment creations. The long preparation of these improvisations were not notes jotted on paper, but years of practice in improvising. Like the oft used image of the iceberg, the shining point visible above the murky waters is dwarfed by the massive bulk submerged below the surface. It remains hidden from view, but it is the foundation of all that we see.

When he came across the idea of improvised musical commentary on Le Chemin de la Croix (The Way of the Cross) by Paul Claudel, he actually spent some time considering the 14 stations of the cross. Then he carefully selected his themes that would symbolize everything from weariness and compassion, to the ropes that lowered Jesus' body from the cross. He knew the plan of what he would play before the occasion, just not all of the notes. As he said on later occasions, improvisation is like driving home. You know the general route you are going to take before you start and have no problems changing your plan to avoid other cars, accidents, or detours. He prepared not just generally by practicing improvisation, but specifically for this piece.

Improvisation is on the same plane as composition. It is the meeting point between composition and performance. One must be proficient enough in their playing as well as their theory to present a cohesive improvisation.

While in Rochester, I was surprised by how much the organ students would practice one improvisation for a week, or even several weeks. This seemed like an oxymoron to me, practicing a spontaneous piece over and over again. After enough practice, some of them would play the same notes every time, having effectively composed a piece at the keyboard, which is technically speaking not an improvisation; these same students would have difficulty if asked to change a passage or try a different technique. Other students remained flexible keeping the 'improvisatory spirit'. Here students learned to give their improvisations form and found they could fit that form with any theme, supplied or created.

Making the connection between composition and improvisation was quite a cathartic moment for me, and I've been dealing the the ramifications ever since then.

Improvisation is by its nature a creative act, one that can permit differing degrees of preparation. Just as importantly, it is a living act, not one set down on paper over time. It lives on the keyboard and only exists during its performance. Each one is unique, never heard before, never to be heard again. From this perspective, even a bad improvisation is something of a privilege. A great improvisation, on the other hand, can really be a miracle.

When Bach was getting on in years, he was becoming, according to contemporary composers, increasingly out-of-date and old-fashioned; boring, you might say. He had occasion to visit Frederick the Second at his residence in Potsdam, as Bach's son C.P.E. Bach was employed there. The king showed Old Bach his collection of fortepianos, a newly invented instrument and had him improvise on them. Then the king asked that Bach improvise a 3 voice fugue on a given subject, a particularly difficult one:

Old Bach did so. Then the king asked him to improvise a fugue with 6 voices. Bach answered he would have to write it in score and send it to him. Two months later he published what we know today as The Musical Offering, a set of two fugues, a trio sonata, and riddle canons all based on the Royal Theme. Included was the 6 voice Ricercare fugue that the king requested, and also was included the 3 voice fugue that Bach had improvised, remembered, and written down. It might have sounded something like this:

Pat your head, rub your tummy, improvise a fugue...

This is my third attempt at explaining this concept as I keep getting sidetracked with other ideas in the field of improvisation. Therefore, I won't try to define Improvisation yet, not talk about differing approaches, but just stick to the topic:

Can one 'reverse engineer' an existing (recorded) improvisation by assigning the different elements of the improvisation to either automatic or thought-out processes, and use this information for one's own improvisations?

It's a simple question! Yes or no?!

What does it all mean?

I should define some terms; it's really easier than it sounds. 

1. I refer to 'reverse engineering' as the process that seeks to discover how something works by taking the completed object, taking it apart, and figuring out how it works and how it was made. Think of a crashed space-ship. What you do with your standard Earth-side crashed spaceship from outer space is to take it apart and fiddle with it and try to see if you can see how it works, so you can make your own. It's kind of the opposite of designing a spaceship from scratch. You know that this one already works (or did work) so if you can figure out how it was made, you're set!

The idea of the above question is if you can take apart an existing improvisation and figure out how it works and just maybe make one of your own using those blueprints. 

2. There's also the automatic processes. When you are playing parallel fourths, or random notes, or a repeating ostinato, these are all techniques that, if you practice them enough, you can do without thought. At least, that is the goal. If you can do these things without thought, just running on autopilot, then you can spend your valuable and finite brain power on things that deserve it. 

"This autopilot is great! Now I can concentrate on this delicious fish!"

As William Porter, one of the heads of the organ department at the Eastman School of Music, said, "One of the goals as we practice here is that you don't think. One of the things that can get in the way of improvising well is when you think too much about things that don't really require your thought."

"We can only think about a few things at once. I discover this every morning that I try to make breakfast. Something gets burned."

"But if you arrange this so that you can do it as automatically as you can, then you can think about something else."

3. Finally, there are the thought-out processes. Obviously, these ideas do require your thoughts. In this realm are the techniques of finer melodies, figuring out how to modulate to where you want to go, how the stretto will appear in your fugue, etc. These techniques, with some training can take less and less thought to accomplish but will probably never become entirely automatic.

The rest of your brain-power can then be devoted to the most important goal of music: expression, natural unimpeded expression.

The percentage of how much brain power is being used by automatic process, and thought-out processes, and natural expression, is impossible to tell, and can only be ascertained by experience. However, there is a natural question to be asked...

How much can we handle?

There are limits to human body as well as the mind. No matter how much drive, ambition, and positive thinking you have, flapping your arms isn't going to get you off the ground (not without some assistance). It would be great to have an idea of how much can be handled in an improvisation, but it's difficult to ascertain.

Have a listen to Marcel Dupre improvising a 5 voice double fugue on the Orbis Factor chant:

It was a fairly common occurrence to hear Dupre improvise such a fugue after mass each sunday; it was something he had much experience doing. This practice actually makes the whole process more automatic than if it was his first time, but that doesn't mean it doesn't require a lot of thought. Is he considering and shaping 5 independent musical lines the whole time? Not really. (For one thing, a five voice fugue often doesn't have 5 voices playing at the same time.)

You see, a carefully conceived musical line is one that you can hear before you play it. There are no surprises in it; it sounds just as you imagined it (mostly, anyway); every note matters. With some of the automatic processes, you don't know precisely how it will sound, but only have a general idea; the individual notes don't matter, but the texture and the effect do.

As Dupre introduces the first subject in the fugue, he knows exactly how it will sound. When he introduces the second voice with subject in the dominant, he has attention spent on what kind of line can accompany the subject, using contrary motion and independence of rhythm as a guide. Because of the stepwise nature of the second half of the subject, he opts for a string of suspensions. He uses those suspensions often in the course of the fugue. The third voice comes in, then the fourth, and fifth finally in the pedals. When listening, I don't hear any clear instances of more than two or three active voices at a time. The other voices merely walk from harmony to harmony.

Later when the two fugal expositions and developments are complete and he combines the two subjects, you can hear the other voices holding long note values while the feat of combining the two themes is accomplished. You can almost hear the brain power being diverted to where it is needed more.

Then we hear the stretti, where the subject is tossed from voice to voice, overlapping itself, which is a feat of mental gymnastics because each voice in turn gets the brain's full attention and is then shifted into the background.

One can see that with some knowledge and listening we can take Dupre's feat from the realm of superhuman divinely inspired magic, to the realm of a mature experienced and well practiced master with great clarity and organization of thought. Master though he was, there was nothing outside the range of 'ordinary' human ability; he was merely extremely well trained and experienced. (We should also keep in mind that Dupre was getting along in years when this recording was made; in his mid 70's and suffering from a form of arthritis that had warped his fingers making it necessary for him to adapt his technique to continue playing.)

Another drop in the bucket is in his treatise on improvisation. He gives attention to and prescribes exercises for completing melodies and harmonizing them in the soprano, pedals, and left hand tenor but nowhere does he have any mention or exercises for improvising simultaneous melodies. The closest thing is canon, but that is not two melodies, it is rather two of the same melody, at different times.

So What?

So where do we stand with our original question?

Can one 'reverse engineer' an existing (recorded) improvisation by assigning the different elements of the improvisation to either automatic or thought-out processes, and use this information for one's own improvisations?

Based on the discussed information, I believe the answer is yes. Assuming that this is true (because assuming never gets one into trouble, does it?), we can observe and see new avenues for practicing. 

One of the most helpful results of answering this question is that we can tell if the improvisation we are trying to perform is actually impossible to conceive! 

As an improvisation, that is. Anything is possible on paper.

(A quick aside: One shouldn't be too hasty in calling something impossible. I recall that Art Tatum grew up listening to three handed piano arrangements of popular tunes. Not knowing that they were for more than one pianist, he thought that was what music was supposed to sound like and that's the way he learned to play, in a style that wasn't supposed to be possible for a single pianist. )

When listening to an improvisation, we should try to identify where the organist's attention is centered at any given moment. Of what's being played, what is the foreground and what is the background? Remember that the foreground should be thought-out material that is conceived before being played, while the background is less carefully thought-out and more of an automatic character; it's a texture, an effect.

Not all improvisations being equal, you may see that an improvisation is sometimes more background than foreground!

Or:

Give it a try!

Exam update : Week of 7/21/2013

Exam update: Week of 7/21/2013

Part of my reason for doing this blog is to document my experiences on the way to taking the AGO Professional Certification Exams, so I'm going to be keeping track of my progress through weekly updates. Due to the nature of my position, I have other duties besides practicing the organ, so some weeks I get a lot of practice, and other weeks I get little to none. For this reason, weekly updates will probably be quite variable.

The Date: The Service Playing Exam can be taken any time between October and March of 2013-14, and I'm setting an arbitrary test time of somewhere in November.

Materials:

I've selected my repertoire for Prelude, Offertory, and Postlude. Buxtehude, Schroeder, and Mendelssohn. I will be trying to find some information on authentic performance practice.

I've selected my hymn that I will transpose (selected from the Revised Examination Hymn Booklet 2011) and have gone with Germany because I suppose I'm sentimental about my times with Sinfonia back in college. It's in the key of A-flat Major, so I've been practicing transposing it to B-flat, A, G, and G-flat. I'm more familiar with transposing up because I've had some time practicing substituting alto and mezzo-soprano clefs in that configuration. The toughest for me was the G-flat transposition but they're all feeling pretty comfortable now. It must be practiced to a state, however, where it can be done with complete ease.

There are two additional hymns yet to be selected.

I still require another Anthem selection.

I need to pick two Psalms.


I'm pretty sure that with my repertoire and transpositions practiced, I could walk in with little preparation and achieve a passing grade on the exam with my current know-how. However, with the goal of mastery, I want to know if there's anything I might be missing. The guild offers a package of preparatory materials for this particular test and I plan to see if there's anything to be picked up there. Unfortunately, since we've been working on our bathrooms, I'm pretty low on cash at the moment, so I don't know how soon I'll be able to get these materials. We'll see what happens.

...And Transcription

Who doesn't love transcribing?

Well, it can be rewarding, and it can be tedious. It can also be frustrating and conflicting. When you take a piece of music from the instrument it was written for and assign it to a different instrument that might not be as well suited to the music, you are going to run into problems.

In the olden days, transcription had a more noble purpose, that of giving people a chance to hear music they might not otherwise ever hear. Liszt went to the trouble of transcribing Beethoven's symphonies for solo piano not just because he was a Beethoven fanatic (which he surely was, by the way), but so that people in more rural areas that had no access to symphony orchestras would get a chance to hear this great man's music. Sometimes orchestral music was transcribed for two pianos making an expensive symphonic work into an inexpensive salon piece.

Sometimes a literal transcription would be a failure because of something being lost in translation. For example, the 24 Caprices Op. 1 of Paganini were a landmark in technique for the violin,

but transcribed directly to the piano, they lose all the expression and technique that make them remarkable. Stunning leaps on the violin become charmingly simple for a pianist with two hands. Liszt decided to transcribe 5 of them (and one theme from a violin concerto) for the piano and went about it an interesting way. He tried to directly transcribe the difficulties from the violin to the keyboard, making them at first terribly awkward to play. He then modified them and we now have the versions loved by pianists today. Difficult but expressive works for piano, embodying the spirit of the originals while still being separate entities.

Sometimes a piece for one instrument can serve as an inspiration for another. Rather than a direct quotation of the original, it might be a paraphrase of favorite moments of an opera. Liszt wrote many operatic paraphrases and 'reminiscences' which would give you the flavor of the opera, almost like a highlights reel, while being very pianistic in composition.

If you go far enough, then it become inspiration rather than transcription, such as when you have a set of variations on a theme.

Inspiration can go far enough that you don't even use any of the material of the piece but only respond to the very idea. Ravel, when he wrote Scarbo, wanted to surpass the difficulty of Islamey by Balakirev.

Islamey - M. Balakirev

Scarbo - M. Ravel

This is not really transcription, but it embodies the same central idea, being affected by something and writing something in response to it. You can copy it, you can paraphrase it, you can be inspired by it, you can respond to it with something completely different. One way or another, that music is having an effect on you so profound that you have to respond in some tangible way; appreciation isn't enough.

~  ~  ~

So the other day I was completing the music planners for future services, as is part of my duties as Assistant Director of Music, and I noticed that in one of the upcoming services, the old German tune Wachet Auf Ruft Uns Die Stimme would go perfectly with the readings that Sunday. Sadly, our assembly has no familiarity with the tune, so it wouldn't do to have it as a hymn without some preparation. As you may or may not know, Bach wrote a cantata (Number 140 to be precise) on the tune from which he transcribed the fourth movement for organ alone. You might recognize it:

The hymn comes in the tenor played by the left hand. We lose some of the expressive harmonies is Bach's transcription because the original was for Continuo, not just a single bass line. We miss the harmonies that would be filled in by the accompanist. Still, it's a good tune. Bach transcribed several movements from cantatas for organ and they are known collectively as the Schubler Chorales. 

For some reason or another, I've become snared by the first movement of the cantata (which I have to admit, I heard for the first time in the movie: The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou) and thought it might just make an effective postlude. I searched and could not find any reference to an organ transcription, so started checking the score. After a few minutes I believed I could transcribe it for organ duet. 

A few hours of arranging notes into something possible to play, and it was done. The next few hours were spent trying to find some kind of registration that would be appropriate. Trying to imitate the original strings, reeds, and chorus too much would give the effect of a MIDI orchestra, it was a problem of balance between fidelity to the original and making it organistic.

Eventually I settled on two registrations, one quiet and distinctive, the other loud so as to compete with the chatting crowds after mass. I recorded a quick and dirty run-through and superimposed the videos to see both organ parts at the same time. I feel satisfied that it will serve its purpose of giving music to people that they may never be able to hear live anywhere else, and it is great fun to play. Most everything a transcription should be. 

On Transposition...

Doesn't everyone love transposition?

Transposing in this case is taking an existing piece of music and moving it into a different key, e.g. taking the first prelude of Bach's Well Tempered Clavier (which is in the key of C major) and moving it into a different key, such as D major. For those that have some pitch discrimination and know the sweet aromas of the different pitches, transposing into a different key will produce a striking change in the flavor of the piece.

But this isn't the reason we transpose. Usually we do so for practical reasons:

• We transpose a piece down to assist singers that have trouble with the range...
• We transpose a piece up to give it added intensity.
• We transpose themes during improvising.
• We transpose subjects when improvising fugues.

I heard Cameron Carpenter perform Bach's Toccata in F major BWV 540 in the key of F# Major and then tried it myself. It was a totally different tactile experience; it seemed to breathe new life and challenges into that piece that I had heard so many times before. If you'd like to hear the Pipedreams program, click this link: http://pipedreams.publicradio.org/listings/2012/1238/ 

The awkward part of transposing is that when you travel to a different key on the keyboard, you change to a completely different pattern of black and white keys, so you can't just move your hands over a couple of spaces. There actually is an instrument where this is possible:

Since those of us in the conventional world don't have it so easy, we have to come up with other methods, and there are a few. One can do it by ear, or one can do it by manipulation of their sight-reading skills.

1. The most direct and honest way to do it is by ear. If all the melodies, chords, and relationships are known well enough, and these relationships are understood in other keys as well, it's just a matter of reproducing those melodies, chords, and relationships in a new key. If you have unlimited time to learn the piece through and through, this is one way to go. But if you have less time and can't pick it up by ear instantly, you have to resort to paper.
2. The first way one is likely to try is by trying to imagine the notes on the page being a step or a skip higher than they appear, as well as mentally changing the key signature. This is more of a 'brute force' approach since it's a lot to hold onto in your mind. Also, it becomes more difficult the farther one transposes from the original key. There is a better way, but you're not going to like it...
3. Substitution of clefs. Instead of being satisfied with the two main clefs in use these days (Treble and Bass), the elder composers used a different clef for each voice type so as to minimize the use of ledger lines. Instead of two, we have seven: Treble, Soprano, Mezzo-Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Baritone, and Bass. They have middle C on the line above the staff, the 5th line, the 4th line, the 3rd line, the 2nd line, the 1st line, and the line below the staff, respectively. For example, if you want to transpose everything up a step, then substitute an alto and mezzo-soprano clef for the treble and bass and add a couple of sharps. Or if you wanted to step down, substitute a tenor and alto for the treble and bass. Of course, this means learning to read all clefs fluently.

Different methods are used for different situations, as can be seen by the Transposition question on the AGO exams. 

On the Service Playing exam, the candidate is required to play two stanzas of a hymn (chosen in advance by the candidate)  in two different keys (chosen by the one administering the test that moment) no more than a Major Second away from the original key.  This means that the candidate can practice the four possible transpositions for as long as they want, using any method they wish. Any way that gets it done will work.

On the Collegiate exam, the candidate is required to transpose a passage of music no more than a Major Second in either direction. The candidate doesn't know the passage of music until he gets into the room, but he has 20 minutes to sort it out, along with the Harmonization and Improvisation questions. Maybe enough time to learn by ear, but maybe not. It's plenty of time to double check the accidentals and try it out a few times transposing at sight. If you want to just imagine the notes higher or lower on the page, that could work since you have a little time to woodshed. 

On the Associate exam, the candidate must transpose a passage of music not more than a Major Second in either direction. We start getting serious here, since there is no preparation time. You are allowed, however, to play the passage through once in the original key. This can help verify that what you 'heard with your eyes' is actually correct. Clef substitutions would be great for this, but note movement could also get you by. 

On the Fellowship exam, the candidate must transpose a passage of music not more than a Major Third in either direction. The candidate must transpose at first sight. At this level, probably all of the clefs are familiar to the organist, and the eyes probably already know how the passage should sound, so the ear can guide as well. Even if it's an atonal mess, the paper methods of transposition should be quite adequate to the task. 

As we can see, knowledge and proficiency of all of these methods prove their usefulness when they are combined, ear training and typographical manipulation. Transposition is used for practical live music-making situations, so the desk composer has little need for these keyboard skills. However, a great organist would be hampered by not being able to adapt in this fashion. After all, that is one of the hallmarks of a great musician, adaptability. A real musician makes music actively and intelligently, not by rote. 

(Sanctus, from Bach's B minor Mass - 2 soprano clefs, 2 alto clefs, a tenor clef, and a bass clef)

The Hindemith Riddle

Paul Hindemith was a prolific composer, a virtuoso violist, and could play and wrote for most every instrument. He even wrote a few organ sonatas. However, there is a question that has come to pester me lately that I just don't have an answer for. It deals with his theoretical contributions.

In my college days I heard reference to Hindemith Craft from time to time. I never looked into it until recently when I decided to start collecting just a few alternative theory books. Actually, I think I put it on my Amazon wish list and got it as a Christmas gift... Anyway, it happens to be a multi-volume work. He wrote it in the 1930's and published it in three parts. Three.

The books consist of a Theoretical part outlining his new system for analysis and making sense of music. The second part contained exercises and theory around two-part writing. The third book naturally had exercises and theory around three-part writing. The first two books were published in the late '30s, and were translated into English the first couple of years in the '40s. The third book was published in 1970, seven years after his death, and has never been translated.

Why?

I have no explanation. It makes it difficult for those of us that actually know there exists a third volume and have been caught up in the cliffhanger at the end of part 2, and don't know German. With some typing and some Google translating, it's a slow process, and time that is better spent elsewhere.

So what's the big deal? Did the publishers nerve run out after the first two volumes, when they saw they weren't selling very well, and later decided to publish the last volume because it would sell better now that he was dead and appeared to remain somewhat popular? Is the Hindemith Craft so neglected that people in the States don't care what's in the third and final volume?

I may never know. Because I may never read a Hindemith biography.

(Which one of these doesn't belong...)

Proctor and the Art of Harmonization

Improvisation is a subject that has grown near and dear to my heart; I've been collecting books on the subject for a couple of years and trying to synthesize what I've read into a single conception of the subject. It is a many-faceted subject that alternates between simple and complex, rigid and free, ancient and modern, and there are different schools of thought on the right way to do it and how to teach it.

I attended the Eastman-Rochester Organ Initiative a couple of years ago which was devoted to the subject of Improvisation and some Pedagogical approaches. It was fascinating trip that changed everything I thought I knew about improvising. Far from the doodling I had always avoided growing up, it was actually a disciplined art with a long history--a history as old as music, in fact. Improvisation is the bridge between composition and repertoire; improvisation is composition and repertoire, as we will see. Improvisation is the ultimate synthesis of all the musical knowledge and wisdom that we accumulate, from the distant realms of music on paper and music in performance, music at the desk and music at the keyboard.

I plan to discuss many topics that relate to successful improvising but since there are so many, I had to find a place to start. I've decided to start with the humble practice of Keyboard Harmonization.


Many improvisation books begin with taking a given theme and toying with it, exploring a little bit with what can be done to develop it. Then quickly one is harmonizing that theme, giving it a musical background. If you want to work your way from total freedom, any notes at all would be appropriate. However, if your theme is Mary Had a Little Lamb, you may find that your random wandering accompaniment has nothing in common with the theme, and therefore, lacks coherence and intelligibility.

It's a paradox of the practice that shows us quickly that having too much freedom can in fact be stifling, since the sheer volume of ways to harmonize a theme leaves us unable to choose one intelligently. What you can do to solve this problem is to create your own rules that will rule out many if not most of the possibilities.

For instance: Rule #1: Accompany the theme in the same hand with parallel fourths. (And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go...)

Now we have a rigid rule that allows only one possible solution. Hooray! Maybe we're a little too rigid... We can add to this.

Rule #2: Accompany the theme in fourths with the left hand playing thirds in half notes, moving chromatically.

Now the left hand has the limited freedom to choose which direction to move, though the method of motion is rigidly defined. Now let's give the pedals something to do.

Rule #3: The pedals shall play parallel fifths in whole notes, moving in minor thirds.

And there you have a complete harmonization with some little amount of freedom, based entirely on casually invented rules, which are in turn based around certain intervals (3rds, 4ths, and 5ths). This formula or procedure, or technique can be used with any theme you could ever find.

But that would get boring after a while--probably immediately, in fact. The point is that with a few relatively simple rules, one can find a way to produce a musical background for any piece. One will soon realize that while it produces a sound which is 'not bad', it's certainly not good, nor great. A lesson can be learned here that sticking too rigidly to a rule, even one of your own invention, is not always the best option.

Two Paths

This leads us to what appears to be a fork in the road towards skill in improvisation. On one side, there is the accumulation of these techniques that can be used in different and varied combinations to produce varied harmonizations and accompaniments to themes. One creates many moods through the exploitation of different scales, modes, colorful chords, etc. Jeffrey Brillhart's book Breaking Free is effectively a catalog of these sorts of techniques employed most often by French improvisors. When corralled into a form, effective music can be created using these techniques. Even without a clear form, the movement between different soundscapes can be enthralling, even moving. 

This method of music making often cares less about the careful treatment of dissonance found in the style commonly called Common Practice. Common Practice music refers here to what would be learned in your Harmony and Counterpoint textbooks. There are rules about motion between the voices to preserve independence of line, the careful treatment of dissonance, and the ideal harmonic background chords that we associate with Bach and those who followed him. Common Practice techniques produce great balance between all the musical elements and create a wonderful fundament on which to build. The individual rules can then be stretched and broken to suit your purposes. 

Common Practice style is rather more difficult than coming from the opposite end of complete freedom tempered only by your own rules. One has to come to terms with the problems of proper voice leading and then use counterpoint to inform on the preparation and resolution of dissonance. Using this knowledge, though, one can improvise fugues and passacaglias just like Dupre.

So which is the right path?

If you seek some moderate proficiency, then either path is permissable, though both would be the best. There are shortcuts to take in either path that will make things easier but won't lead to mastery. If mastery is what you're after, you must explore and you must study. And you must practice.

Since the Common Practice realm is the more difficult, I've chosen to study that first. There are several avenues to proceed, some better than others:

• First, you could study your harmony and counterpoint textbooks. This may be difficult because most texts are concerned with learning a typographical type of harmony. One learns to associate symbols on a page with the aural concepts one should be absorbing. A true musician '...must be able to see with his ears, and hear with his eyes,' said a certain someone that may or may not be in the title of this post... If you feel confident that you can translate this paperwork to the keyboard, then have at it.
• On the other hand, you could go with Dupre's treatise on Improvisation and start by harmonizing the scale in four part harmony, using a certain disposition of the notes that he doesn't name. This leaves open some questions of proper voice leading that can only be filled with textbook experience.
• Another fun way would be to study Continuo playing from a figured bass. This is the most direct way to produce harmony at the keyboard. The question of proper voice leading is still very much present, but the text tells you specifically which harmony needs to go over each note. It then leaves room for a real artist to produce an attractive accompaniment out of only a bass line and some numbers.

But since none of these deal with the subject of harmonizing at the keyboard directly, maybe there's a better source...

Harmonization at the Keyboard

by Charles Proctor

I eventually decided that none of the above methods were sufficient for such a rube as myself, so I started looking for this better source. Every book I ran into that seemed to treat the subject of Keyboard Harmony only taught the necessary rudiments to get through a class at college or please the 'Learn to Play the Piano in 5 minutes!' crowd. Then I ran across this old book published in 1961 on Amazon and ordered the most battered copy I could find. The number of letters after Proctor's name were sufficient to fill a bowl of alphabet soup and I only recognized the F.R.C.O. -- Fellow of the Royal College of Organists, the AGO's esteemed elder brother. Apparently the man knew what he was talking about.

The most fascinating thing to me was that the first chapter dealt only with continuing given melodies. 4 bars of a melody were given, and you must supply another 4. First, using the same rhythm, then adding a repetition and another alteration producing 4 phrases, and then further changing of the material. He was leading the student to take a starting point with a melody and shape it freely as he wills it, eventually making up their own tunes on the spot.

What does this have to do with Harmonization at the Keyboard? This sounds more like improvisation.

The second chapter delves into a simplified keyboard Counterpoint. We only reach triads in the third chapter. Why is this?

Trusting that the man knew of what he spoke, I suppose it's because he's trying to teach the students to 'see with their ears, and hear with their eyes.' He holds it as true that a proper musician must from the very start be able to hear what they are going to play before they play it. That is why with these first exercises, he is only dealing with a single musical line. We try to hear what is presented to us on the page; then we hear what we are going to add to that line, and then we play it. We play this spontaneous invention in all keys, by the way.

So from the very start, we are learning to listen in our minds and create mentally, away from paper, and away from the keyboard. I've heard the same advice in counterpoint textbooks, that it is important to work to hear your solution internally before you decide to write it down. In this way, music remains an aural art rather than a manipulation of symbols on paper.

Proctor also describes the piano style of playing chords, that is with three note chords in the right hand and octaves for the bass in the left.

This is much like the opening style of playing recommended in Figured Bass books because if this disposition is maintained, problems of parallel or hidden fifths and octaves seldom if ever occur. Dupre, without expressing so, recommends an organ style of playing in his first volume of Preparatory Exercises in which much the same thing is happening, but with the triad expanded into a two-handed chord.

These harmonization skills will be the foundation of the study of improvisation. It furnishes practical keyboard skills and connections between the mind and the body, connections that were not cultivated in school.

There is more to the subject but I'm going to go practice the first chapter until I have finished the melody exercises.

Specifications

I play on a 2 manual, 25 rank instrument built by the Reuter Organ Company as their Opus 2204 that was installed in a resonant space in the year 2000. The company says this about it on their website:

This organ was designed as a completely new

instrument and was installed during December of 2000. The organ is

located in chambers on either side of the Chancel. Each has two

sound openings, one facing the choir and the other facing the nave, for

effective tonal projection. The Great division is opposite the Swell,

with the Pedal stops divided across both sides. Pedal principal pipes,

fashioned from flamed copper and framed with oak casework, create

an attractive façade that coordinates well with the surrounding

architecture and fixtures. The carefully conceived, 25-rank

specification accommodates a wealth of literature with ease.

The specification is thus:

Great

16' Rohrflöte (Swell)

8' Diapason

8' Bourdon

8' Rohrflöte (Swell)

8' Hohlflöte (Extension)

4' Octave

4' Hohlflöte

2' Fifteenth

IV Fourniture

8' Trumpet

8' Tuba (Preparation)

8' Fagotto (Swell)

8' Cromorne

4' Trumpet (Extension)

Tremolo

Chimes

MIDI 1 and 2

SWELL (enclosed)

16' Rohrflöte (Extension*)

8' Principal

8' Rohrflöte

8' Viole

8' Viole Celeste (TC)

4' Principal

4' Koppelflöte

2 2/3' Nazard

2' Blockflöte (Extension)

1 3/5' Tierce

1 1/3' Larigot (Extension)

III Scharf

16' Fagotto

16' Tuba (Great)

8' Trumpet (Great)

4' Fagotto (Extension)

Tremolo

Chimes

MIDI 3 and 4

PEDAL

32' Resultant

16' Principal

16' Subbass

16' Rohrflöte (Swell)

8' Principal (Extension)

8' Subbass (Extension)

8' Rohrflöte (Swell)

4' Principal (Extension)

4' Subbass (Extension)

16' Trumpet (Extension)

16' Fagotto (Swell)

8' Tuba (Great)

8' Trumpet (Great)

8' Fagotto (Swell)

4' Fagotto (Swell)

Chimes

MIDI 5 and 6

* Electronic (12 notes)

The lowest octave of the 16' Rohrflöte is produced electronically, rather than through pipes. The organ has 10 General pistons, 6 manual pistons on each manual, as well as 10 General toe studs and 6 pedal studs. Pedal couplers are also accessable by the feet, as well as the Full Organ toggle, the 32' Resultant, and a Cymbelstern. There are two rocker pedals, one the Swell shoe, the other the Crescendo. The full crescendo pedal engages the full organ except the reeds and the Swell Mixture. The Full Organ toggle engages the full organ including all reeds and mixtures.

The 32' resultant plays two notes of 16' pitch level a perfect fifth apart which produces the aural illusion of a single note an octave lower. Sitting at the console, the effect is seldom convincing, but sitting in the congregation at some distance, the resonant acoustics of the room allows the sound to mix in a much more convincing manner. The resultant uses the Subbass to produce these tones, so it is redundant to have the Subbass 16' pulled when using the Resultant.

The strings consist of the 8' Viole and 8' Viole Celeste on the Swell. The Celeste is tuned sharp to create the beating ensemble sound. The Celeste stops an octave above low C.

The mutations on the Swell (Nazard, Tierce, and Larigot) in combination with the 8', 4', and 2' flutes create a very nice Cornet.

I lament the fact that the Tuba is prepared but was not purchased when the organ was built. This would be a high pressure reed that would sing out over the entire organ, probably much like the existing Trumpet except louder and smoother. There are many occasions when the Tuba would come in handy. As it stands now, the Tuba stops on the Great and the Pedal do nothing. On the swell, they engage the Great Trumpets at 4' and 16' levels.

I wish that the Great had some mutations as well as a string stop, or perhaps a salicional.

Most of all, I wish that the organ had a third manual and division. At this point, I'm not sure if this is a blessing or a curse. The necessity of playing music that was written for three manuals has forced me to find creative solutions, often with quick piston changes. On sight reading a piece, I often program Swell 1 for the 'Swell', Swell 2 for the 'Choir', Great 1 for the 'Great', and Great 2 also for the 'Choir'. In this way with a few quick thumbs I can orient the sound wherever it needs to be. With further finessing depending on the individual needs of the piece, I can do a bit better. I performed Dupre's Le Chemin de la Croix on this organ in March of this year and I think it came off just fine.

Another slight problem is that the console is a few scant feet from the Swell division, and a few more feet away from the Great. This means that the sound at the console can be quite loud, and also misleading.

The organ also has a MIDI recording and playback system, where I may record pieces and then play them back at any time. This is useful in listening for good balance, since I can then listen to the organ from the congregation. It is also handy in playing organ duets or duets between organ and piano.

Overall, I like the instrument very much and I do consider it very versatile. It definitely has a french accent to it, but can carry off baroque pretty well as well.

Come and fill our depths

When I started playing organ for church services a bit over a decade ago, I didn't see anything too interesting about the instrument aside from the attractive facade, multiple keyboards, and a keyboard for the feet, so the whole thing stunk of oddity rather than art. I had a single cassette tape of Bach organ music growing up and had recently purchased a CD of E. Power Biggs playing some Bach. My father also had an LP of Biggs playing Buxtehude, so I had all the major media covered.

I was still mystified that Liszt had transcribed Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique for solo piano and I wondered how that piece would fit in my current quest to find the most difficult music in the history of piano repertoire, a journey that started when I was a little lad with Chopin's 'Heroic' Polonaise, and later included Rachmaninoff's second piano concerto which quickly led to his celebrated Third. Marc-Andre Hamelin would lead me to other more relatively obscure pieces and composers such as Rzewski's The People United will Never Be Defeated variations. And how could we omit Kaikhosru Sorabji's Opus Clavicembalisticum? Or Michael Finnissy's charming English Country Tunes? And quickly I ran into the wall of avant-garde attempts at randomness and intensely specific rhythms, techniques that are easily improvised but laboriously learned from the page.

With years of high-wire, knuckle-busting, thimble-rigging interest waning, I actually started to listen to the music and tried to figure out what it was all about.

After finishing school with my new title of Bachelor of Music (a great introduction at parties but misleading now that I'm married), I hit the job market and settled on three jobs: two churches and one music school giving private piano lessons. The arrangement was not my ideal, but I didn't really know what I wanted and I could say I made my whole living from music, high praise for a BM.

There was no moment of catharsis for me, but rather a slow displacement, like a gas filling a vacuum. I decided rather lightly to take the organ more seriously and just maybe get pretty good at it. I resolved to start wearing my organ shoes, a gift from a music fraternity back in college. Now stylish and slightly determined, I started purchasing the Dover publications of the organ works of Bach. I was annoyed that the alto and tenor clefs got in the way of my easy breezy sight-reading skills.

A plan began to form as I started to research the AGO (The American Guild of Organists). My organ teacher in college (the obvious choice of secondary instrument for a piano major was the organ) had made reference to the organization and also to Certification Exams that they administered. There are 4 of ascending difficulty: Service Playing, Colleague, Associateship, and finally Fellowship. I found a pdf of the requirements for the various levels and was shocked by some of the upper level requirements.

Transposition?
Continuo?
Open score C clef sight reading?
Composition?
Improvisation???

None of these subjects had been taught to me in college. Not even keyboard harmonization. No matter! My new spur-of-the-moment plan had me ascending the ladder of the AGO Professional Certification Exams by the sweat of my brow and tips of my fingers and toes. One day I would be able to put the letters FAGO after my name... That's : Fellow of the American Guild of Organists.

I had no idea what I was getting into.

Without a teacher I was on my own, the position I preferred anyway. I started playing the organ more often and practicing outside of services. I accumulated some skill at working the instrument, so that I was no longer afraid of pedal passages, or registrations (the two organs I played had less than 10 stops). I also started collecting more cheap Dover music, reading Wikipedia articles about organ composers, and watching YouTube videos of organists. I became more interested in the subject. Eventually I was offered a position at a larger church a few miles away, with enough pay that I could quit my three jobs and have only one, a full-time position as Organist and Assistant Director of Music. I transitioned into my apprentice period.

That was almost three years ago and I've been filling up on books, music, knowledge, and experience. After much research and wrong approaches I've learned how many different subjects need focused practice, and have plans on how to proceed in each. As I dive deeper into the wide field of the organ, it re-shapes my understanding of music and shows me ways to become a better musician, a more complete musician.

I feel that I've shed my naivete along the way and settled on my focus, so I am going to start taking the exams this year. I plan to take an exam each year allowing me enough time to hone the necessary skills. I'm going to write about the experience gambling that it might prove interesting to some, perhaps even helpful to others, and also as a way to organize my own thoughts. With this introduction finished, I will probably stick to matters directly related to these fields of study.

You have been warned!