When you think about it, it’s a very odd thing for a musician to be spatially separated from his instrument. For virtually all instrumentalists, the instrument itself has to be in hand for it to play at all. I suppose conductor’s have the dilemma of spatial separation, especially when large orchestral and choral works are being performed. But only an organist can have the unique disadvantage of playing an instrument that is spatially separated by a city block (e.g. Radio City Music Hall) or two city blocks (e.g. the Cathedral of St. John the Divine’s antiphonal trumpets). But in Davies Symphony Hall, I’m more often than not performing on a console backstage, watching the conductor through a monitor and listening through headphones. There is a soundproof wall between me and the organ pipes, and between me and all the other musicians. I’m backstage where the stagecrew is working to keep everything running smoothly and all the musicians happy. While the stagecrew (and others walking through) are attentive to my need for relative silence and an absence of distractions, such is not generally the case; so I’m forced to block out the movements and conversations around me while, at the same time, providing a potentially enormous amount of sound in the concert hall which could, if misplaced, ruin a concert for several thousand patrons. On top of this unusual situation, my headphones are picking up sound from microphones that hang down near the string players – under the acoustical “clouds” that reflect the sound around the stage. The organ, however, is above those sound clouds, speaking ably into the concert hall from above the stage. Therefore, the sound which comes into my headphones is nowhere near the sound entering the hall. The organ is almost assuredly louder than I can tell by listening in the headphones. And to add to the confusion, the headphones have a condenser effect which takes loud sounds and automatically softens them so that the ear is not blasted. The end result is that I am completely dependent on the advice of the maestro to tell me about my balance. No other musician has to resort, consistently, to having someone else tell them how loud they are.
My sense about this is that it relegates the organist to a backseat in the orchestra, even though the instrument itself is very prominent when it is used. This situation also underscores, for many instrumentalists, the inherent unmusical aspect of organs that so many of us organists work to combat.
I’ve spent the last two weeks working with Maestro Charles Dutoit. SFS, under Dutoit’s direction, performed the Elgar Enigma Variations two weeks ago, and the Berlioz Te Deum last week. One reviewer commented that it was a pity that the SFS did not use the organ as it has such a significant role at the climax of the piece! Of course, I was playing, but offstage. Thank God for this reviewer! For the next performance, they figured a way to get the console onstage so that I could feel myself an integral part of the orchestral sound. Such a difference that makes to the ensemble! I play differently when I’m onstage and can hear, directly, what is going on. I believe that the musical result is also far more satisfying.
The second week of concerts with Dutoit contained a piece that must surely be the largest organ part in the entire symphonic repertoire. Premiered in the large church of St. Eustache, Paris, with the composer conducting nearly 1000 singers, this piece is a showcase for the organ. Three of the movements begin with extensive organ solos! The stagecrew at Davies was a little taken aback when I told them that the maestro had insisted that the organ be onstage; but in the end, they also agreed that it would have been nearly impossible to do the piece otherwise. The three reviews which I found each mentioned me in glowing terms – even though my name was nowhere to be found in the program.
I guess I never realized, when entering this profession of being a concert organist, that part of my role would be to advocate visibility of the organist in the concert hall!