Organically Anachronistic

The magnificent sanctuary pipe organ at Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth.
Mom and I were attending a mid-day recital during Holy Week, 2022 (I left her cane in the photo to lend visual scope).
Broadway's instrument was donated by the internationally-renowned concert pianist Van Cliburn. With over 10,000 pipes, it's the largest organ in Texas, and the world's largest organ of French aesthetics.

  

Sometimes, music is about more than the music.

Perhaps that's one reason I like pipe organs.

"... pipe organs..?" you may ask...  

"Seriously?"  

A lot of folks may be surprised that those are even still around.  Hasn't post-modern society already deemed those instruments to be obsolete religious contraptions?  They're anachronistic and totally antithetical to our contemporary Western aesthetic, right?

Well, no; they're not obsolete.  But yes, they could be considered anachronistic.  And for those of us who still enjoy them today, maybe that's part of their appeal.  Pipe organs are special precisely because they're not ordinary or conventional.

Indeed, they literally celebrate the extraordinary.  The way they sound, the way they look, and the way they make you feel - not just emotionally, but physically - can run the gamut, from soothing to thrilling.

Granted, many different types of musical instruments can also do those things, to varying degrees.  And often with much less investment in effort, skill, and money.  But pipe organs do it all, all the time, every time.

They still don't impress everybody, of course.  Some people simply don't like the way pipe organs sound.  And personal preference goes a long way when it comes to any kind of music and musical instrument.  I'd suggest it's possible that folks who don't like pipe organs might not have ever heard a really good one played really well.  But I'm willing to concede that even among those who have, that doesn't guarantee they'll like it.  So for them, I say y'all are entitled to your opinion.

Even I will admit I've heard mediocre instruments played by mediocre organists, and that's no fun.  However, I'd still invite anybody to at least give some credit to everything else that goes into the pipe organ experience.  Because unlike some other instruments, pipe organs represent a lot more than their visual and aural aesthetics.

For example, simply consider how they're played - when they're played expertly, at least!  An organist doesn't just deploy both of their hands and all ten fingers on a keyboard, but they do so across multiple keyboards.  Plus their two feet, across 32 pedal keys underneath those keyboards.  The sheer intensity of physical coordination required of an organist is compelling.  They keep all four of their limbs going - and half of their digits - in perfect synchronization throughout an entire piece of music.

I've seen the skits and sketches attempting to humorously - or derisively - depict a mad scientist wildly churning away while performing some terrifying organ piece on an intimidating Gothic console.  And yes, I've seen eminent organists whose physical exertions come close to mirroring those exaggerated spoofs of their craft.  Just a couple of weeks ago, I was watching a highly-respected, youngish organist literally skootching himself back and forth along a console's bench seat with his buttocks.  His legs flew up and down across the pedals; his arms simultaneously stretched to and fro over multiple keyboards.  That alone was a spectacle!  But such virtuosity isn't so much a madness as it is proof of what's required to play grand music on a grand organ properly.

And then there are those pipes.  Obviously, they're the defining characteristics of any pipe organ.  Most instruments feature some tall metal ones, displayed prominently in artistically-arranged patterns across an instrument's facade.  But are you aware that the pipes you see, no matter how impressively they appear, represent only a fraction of the total number of pipes comprising that instrument?  Behind those visible ones exist hundreds - even thousands - more pipes of varying height and fabrication, from wood to various metals, each providing a specific sound or effect.

Considering all this complexity, would it surprise you to learn that the origins of today's pipe organs represent a mixture of ancient technologies that began evolving approximately three hundred years before the birth of Christ?  First in northern Africa, and then in Greece.  

While all the historical facts remain unclear, researchers credit ancient Egyptians with using water to discover principles of creating and manipulating forced air.  Those principles serve as the basis for today's pipe organ.  Not that early Egyptians were aiming to invent a musical instrument, but they discovered an interesting dividend to their original experiments creating and regulating wind:  the development of rudimentary bellows, which yielded sounds like those made when blowing a hand-held pipe.

Various types of acoustic pipes can be traced to almost every known culture, making forced-air musical instruments virtually universal in their provenance.  Precursors to today's pipe organ are known to have existed in Greece, Persia, and then northern Europe.  So while today, the pipe organ may be most commonly associated with Western cultures generally, and Judeo-Christian worship especially, its roots come from across diverse people groups from millennia ago.

And yes, for better or worse, most people today equate pipe organs with religion.  That's because throughout the instrument's history, most of them have indeed been housed in and built for religious communities, particularly those from Christian traditions.  Some Reformed Jewish synagogues have them also.

Not that pipe organs don't have a secular legacy as prized fixtures in town halls, concert halls, and other non-sectarian buildings.  In fact, the world's largest organs, as measured by number of pipes, are currently in civic buildings, such as Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey.  

Unfortunately, about thirty percent of its 33,000 pipes are currently non-functional.  But those that still work have generated some of the loudest sounds ever recorded.

Meanwhile, an hour's drive from the Jersey Shore takes us to the world's largest fully-functional organ, all 28,750 pipes of it.  And it's not in a church, either, but - surprise! - a department store, of all places.  The downtown Philadelphia Macy's used to be called Wanamaker's, but although its ownership has changed, the retailer still offers its shoppers a unique alternative to benign background music, with concerts twice a day, six days a week.  

Australia, Hungary, Canada, England, and Taiwan also boast impressively-sized civic organs.  And the largest concert hall organ in the Western Hemisphere is located not in New York or Toronto, but Mexico City, Mexico.

¡Olé!

Nevertheless, the pipe organ's widest frame of reference today is religion generally, and Christianity specifically.  And frankly, that makes sense, at least in terms of form following function.  While I can't speak for all organ aficionados, one of the characteristics that intrigues me most regarding pipe organs is how successfully they paint images of the Divine.  They have an innate ability to depict a type of transcendence that finds even its superlatives corroborated when relating to God, Christianity's deity. 

Divinity within Christianity exists as distinctly separate, yet paradoxically intimate; elevated, yet humble; sometimes obscure, and for the devout, often visceral and complex.  We are encouraged to marvel in awe at His splendor as Father, Son, and Spirit.  And music is an obvious way of doing that.  As history evolved, much of this instrument's venerable repertoire has been crafted to illustrate Judeo-Christian interpretations of God's tripartite characteristics.

It's not that the organ is intrinsically religious, or Hebraic, Roman Catholic, or Protestant.  It does seem, however, that divinities in other religions and traditions possess different characteristics that aren't as obviously demonstrated by the organ - or at least by the organ's generally-accessible repertoire.  Perhaps in coming generations, artists from other religions will craft pieces for the organ that have an intentionality relative to a deity other than the God of the Bible or the Tanakh.

Meanwhile, if all this is true, perhaps now you're wondering by so many churches today not only don't have a pipe organ, but they don't even want one.  

For many of them, their reasons for not having one start with the practical.  Despite new technologies, pipe organs remain labor-intensive to build, with intensely specialized labor at that.  In terms of price and cost, depending on project scope, expect to talk dollar amounts approaching and often surpassing a million, which right there poses a major deterrent.  

Each one is designed for the room in which they'll be played; there is no such thing as a standard-issue, off-the-shelf pipe organ.  They're neither portable nor small, meaning once they're installed, they're installed.  After they're constructed, they continue to represent a significant financial commitment.  For a charity-driven, non-profit religious group to get their money's worth out of one, they need to employ a well-trained organist, ensure rigid temperature and humidity controls 24/7/365, perpetuate a robust schedule of maintenance, and use it regularly, since its complex components actually benefit from getting exercised.  

But even if they could afford to buy and maintain one, most churches still don't want to use pipe organs.  And I suspect that's due to society's changing perceptions and preferences, much of which, as I've already acknowledged, relates to the anachronism with which many people both inside and outside religion currently view the organ.

So, what's up with this anachronism?  I doubt anyone knows for sure, but I'll risk broaching one possibility:  As our world has become more complex and immediate, with innovation and technology and diversity, all now fueled by incessant social media, most of us have become tired with and even intimidated by enormity.  Size does matter, however negatively, and the more dissonance we perceive from the world around us, the less we feel able to control it the way we think it should be controlled.  Meanwhile, the pipe organ's most prominent traits involve grandeur and enormity.  Maybe those characteristics have come to work against the instrument's broader acceptance among fatigued humans.

Speaking of fatigue, I have to admit that even my own infatuation with the pipe organ has been strained by excess.

Pipe organs generate the type of sound that can be visceral - almost as if it's permeating your flesh and bones, while acoustically it shakes the floor underneath your feet or even makes your tummy feel funny.  Again, other instruments do that also, but not necessarily to the degree a powerful organ can.

I once attended a prestigious pipe organ event at the Meyerson Symphony Center in downtown Dallas that I literally felt forced to leave.  It wasn't a concert, but a juried competition among international finalists.  For the last part of it, we paying audience members sat through multiple contestants playing the same piece of music.  Ostensibly, along with a panel of judges, we were supposed to compare nuances each performer brought to that same work.

This particular music, however, proved to be an unusually elite and sophisticated affair featuring edgy, contemporary sounds.  It was intentionally discordant and shrill.  I quickly came to profoundly dislike the piece, especially having to endure it more than once in the same sitting!  But I tried to at least appreciate the overall experience anyway.

Meanwhile, the music was doing something to my body.  But before I realized it, I noticed something else:  Other audience members were getting up and leaving the hall.  Not just one or two over the program's timespan, but one or two at a time, every few moments.  That rarely happens at ticketed events.

At first I thought they were being rude or impatient - we knew this wasn't a typical concert.  But as we heard the same shrill piece of music over and over again, my own gut began to react!  I tried to ignore it, and force myself to endure.  But it got to the point where I had to actually get up and leave the concert hall myself, because I felt as though the music was making me sick to my stomach.  I joined dozens of other audience members making our way to the lobby, past ushers and concert staff actually whispering their apologies to us.  Their sympathy confirmed to me that what I was feeling wasn't all in my imagination.

I can't tell you the physiology of how sound can impact our body, but the chaotic, forceful noises emanating from the Meyerson's otherwise splendid Lay Concert Organ (donated by the Frito-Lay snack food family) began to literally turn my stomach... like greasy snacks sometimes do.

Talk about irony!

If you're not a pipe organ fan, maybe I shouldn't have told you about getting ill from Dallas' competition debacle!  But I can also say it only happened that one time.  I've been to many, many concerts and recitals before and after that one event, in symphony halls and in various churches, and every other program I've attended has been pain-free and worthwhile.

Then again, if you've read this far, your interest in this instrument can probably withstand its risks.

_____

If you're an organ neophyte, consider these tips:

• Many sizable North American cities have religious communities that together offer some sort of unofficial season of organ concerts and recitals.  Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Episcopalian, Anglican, Methodist, Unitarian, United Church of Christ, and maybe Jewish-Reformed, for example.  You may need to check individual church websites for performance information.  They're usually free and unticketed.
• Large cities with grand concert halls can have a civic organ, such as Dallas' Meyerson.  They are often played in conjunction with an orchestra.  Almost all of those performances will be ticketed events, with prices ranging from approximately $20 to $60 or more.
• There is a professional association called the American Guild of Organists with chapters across the country made up of local organists who may organize your region's pipe organ concert season.  Those seasons generally run from September to May or June.
• Any organ's sound depends on much more than loudness, but on tone and texture regardless of volume.  Don't expect to always get blasted out of your seat - although that can happen.  If you need to cover your ears during a performance (because of the volume), that's OK.  If you need to cover your ears because the organist is so bad, well, I'm sorry about that...
• In my experience, most churches do not charge or pass the collection plate during organ recitals or concerts on their property, but don't be surprised (or offended) if they do.  It's your option whether to contribute anything as it passes.
• Classical organ music generally presented in recitals and concerts does not incorporate congregational singing.  If you don't like hymns, you can still like classical organs.  Most of what you'll hear in a good recital or concert is not singable, but thematic and rarely in stanzas.  You'll hear music from various composers such as Johann Sebastian Bach - history's most celebrated organist to date - plus others as varied as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Charles-Marie Vidor, Alexandre Guilmant, and contemporary Dutch composer Ad Wammes.  (Wammes' 1989 piece, "Miroir", is exquisitely ethereal while also unexpectedly perky.)
• It's OK to close your eyes during an organ performance - and if the music is any good, you probably won't fall asleep if you do.  To reduce distractions, I often close my eyes to savor nuances in softly-played music.  On the other hand, I've seen audience members burst into tears during particularly poignant music, and that's OK too.
• Dress code these days is anything goes  Most organists will be thrilled if you simply show up!  Organ audiences are generally rather small.  We're an individualistic - and even odd - bunch, and you'll see all sorts of people wearing all sorts of stuff.
• What's the difference between a "recital" and a "concert"?  The distinctions seem to have evaporated.  When I was a teenaged piano student, a recital was either part of academic performance or a performance by an amateur.  A concert was a performance by a professional.  These days, the terms seem to have become far more interchangeable.
• At the end of a performance (whether recital or concert), no matter the instrument or medium, tradition used to hold that a standing ovation was reserved only for a celebrity artist, or for a particularly virtuosic program.  These days, however, what used to be reserved for "exceptional" is now ordinary, with audiences rising to their feet regardless of a performance's quality (or maybe they're just glad the whole thing is finally over?).  Nevertheless, it's still your call whether you want to join in a "standing-O" or not.  Just don't start clapping immediately after "last notes" are played.  Instead, savor the effect of letting the room absorb any remaining sounds emitted by those pipes, a process which usually only takes several seconds.
• Artists used to also give a perfunctory encore, but that practice has largely fallen by the wayside.  I have to admit, since most organ events I attend are free, there's little reason for audiences to expect anything else from an organist beyond their stated program.  Occasionally, however, an appreciative audience will still be rewarded with some extra music, usually of a light-hearted variety.  Those organists want to ensure they're sending you back out into our frazzled world with a smile on your face!