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(continued from Part II)
Because so many of Bach's masterpieces of organ writing were composed during his Weimar years (1708-1717) many authors have concluded that Toccata & Fugue in d minor for organ BWV 565 must have been composed after 1708. Since its multi-sectional construction and other features point to it being the work of an organist whose independent mastery is evident but still under the influence of north German models, and the young Bach was personally mentored by Buxtehude during the winter of 1705-1706, it seems almost certain that this bold work was written during Bach's Arnstadt years when he was around 21 years of age (c. 1706), if not a little earlier. Being occupied with his regular duties there only 3 days a week (and provided he could round up a couple of boys to tread the bellows) he had plenty of time to practice on the Wender organ [see Touch, Part III] at that time and to grow as a composer. He also had the habit during organ inspections to check first to see if the bellows could maintain sufficient and steady wind. The held rolled chords in the Toccata happen to test this splendidly. He would also test the action for responsiveness, and the rapid passages in octaves also put this to the test. This is the bold work of a young genius; nothing like it had appeared in the organ literature prior to this time. Thus, from internal evidence, the argument that this music was created to test the action and wind supply of the instrument at hand is a very strong one, even though where and when it was written cannot be known.
This piece is a multi-sectional Praeludium in the prevailing north German "stylus phantasticus" of the time, meaning that free, improvisory sections alternated with fugal imitative sections; typically, such a piece had as many as 7 separate sections: Free -- Strict (4/4) -- Free -- Strict (3/2) -- Free -- Strict (6/8) -- Free. Sometimes one or more of these sections were either omitted or consolidated, leading to pieces with only 6 or maybe as few as 3 sections altogether (single Strict section framed on each side by 2 Free sections). Bach worked the form for his "great" Toccata and Fugue in d minor by condensing the music down to 3 parts, viz., Free -- Strict (4/4) -- Free [See blog, Getting Started With Writing, Part XXII], which he would have known simply as a "Praeludium."
If this work ever existed on paper before it was premiered it's very likely that the Fugue was written first, since the elements of the Toccata spring from material in the Fugue. If you've ever written a free work (prelude, toccata, introduction, fantasia, choral, etc.) paired with a related fugue yourself, you've discovered that it's easier to develop the free work from the fugue rather than the other way around. Although it's sheer speculation, it's very possible that this work existed merely as a sketch which Bach developed into an improvisation and later committed to paper for its practical use, to which a later copyist (family member or other pupil) penned a title. The title "Toccata con Fuga" which the oldest copy of this work bears was not original with the composer.
Should this music (or, for that matter, should ANY other organ work of Bach) be interpreted? Of course. When musicians all over this world are interpreting all of the other great music in the world with its great interpretations and its great feeling, to exclude Bach from the equation and say that he should not be interpreted would be absurd. We just need to stay within some general guidelines and be prepared to sacrifice anything that could rob his music with its multiple moving contrapuntal lines of its clarity [see Heel or Toe Part I]. With stop choice it's better with Bach to minimize duplication of pitches with the idea that less is more. We can and should add a few stops along the way to build up a bigger sound when the emotional intensity of the music seems to call for it, but not in the huge clumps possible with modern combination actions. Subtle layering of sounds is what's needed with Bach.
The kind of breathtaking artistry found in this Toccata & Fugue is singular and nowhere to be found in the music of Bach's contemporaries. While the Toccata seems to spring from elements in the Fugue, and the Fugue is seamlessly integrated with the Toccata, the entire work is improvisatory in nature. This is not surprising, for Bach was a superb improvisor. Still, for as many people as can be lined up, there will be a different way of playing this piece -- everyone sees it, hears it, thinks of it differently. It has structure within parameters, but there is free forum within it, and, along with this free forum comes a vast interpretative canvas. There is no one single way to interpret this music, to get it "perfect." Some of the very finest recordings ever made of this work have had their drawbacks (and they were not mistakes, just what the interpreter felt at the time).
At first glance it might appear that there are several thousand ways, at least, to play this piece, but that would fall far short of the mark. The number of ways the free opening can be played, figuring only 2 different possibilities for each of its 30 measures, calculates to well over a billion [see Calculating Stop Combinations, Part II]. This is part of the sense of the music. This free forum provides a playground which beckons every performer to take their own personal walk through it. If that walk happens to morph into an unpredictable rampage the listener tagging along will have trouble keeping up, and herein lies the danger. Probably no other piece of organ music has been subjected to such extremes in interpretation and, as a consequence, so systematically mishandled.
Because not everything in this music has to be played in strict rhythm too many performers think of it as a musical free-for-all, an excuse to tamper, to make it as undisciplined and bizarre as rhythmically possible to attract attention or maybe even to scare people as so many Hollywood movie producers have tried to employ it ... as background music for every kind of vampire-led, zombie Apocalypse scene from which they think they can work into a motion picture to turn a profit for the studio. This ridiculous association -- between this work and a few scenes from a retarded Dracula film -- is something they never fail to make. It's both childish and revealing of a perfect blindness, a lack of grasping anything meaningful of Bach's musical universe, one of tremendous richness, subtlety, and sophistication. Somewhere on the shore of this musical ocean we know as Sebastian Bach lies the American movie producer, proud that he or she took a measurement of this ocean's depth with their index finger. Bach would have been angrily provoked -- he would have torn his French full bottom wig from his head (photo) and thrown it at these people when it was never ever, repeat never his intention to frighten anyone with his music, connect it with the macabre, or employ it for pagan, irreligious, hedonistic purposes. The very idea would have been abhorrent to him.
A WORD OF CAUTION: Not every talented liturgical church musician or theatre organist one meets these days subscribes to Judao-Christian philosophy. Some organists happen to embrace the system of belief promoted by the worship centers where they meet and work, and some do not. Some involved in the music ministry have joined in good faith a Christian congregation where they perform, one which perhaps has a familiar denominational name, without realizing that this action alone does not automatically ensure that its congregants are exposed to and taught from unadultered biblical truth. Some professing Christians, including organists and others in the ministry, do not look upon the Bible as being fully authoritative -- they accept from it what they want, and they reject from it what they want. Some organists are atheists who just do not believe in Deity -- in their thinking they replace revealed biblical truth with a philosophy which emphasizes the need for "intellectual maturity" which does not need what they call "a religious crutch." Those who look no further than their paychecks fail to recognize the pastoral dimensions inherent in their work; they serve in a house of worship merely for wages [and perhaps to use an important instrument].
Not everyone reading these lines therefore can be expected to find them meaningful or written from what they perceive to be an "educated" point of view ... but, the fact remains ...
with the authority to play a great instrument like the Organ
comes great responsibility.
At times the organ can be made to sound mysterious to suit the nature of the music, and herein lies much of its charm. When the instrument is of sufficient size it's capable of playing with a full symphony orchestra and carrying the entire orchestral score on its shoulders, if need be. The fact that Hollywood has been quick to seize upon the mystery, charm, and sheer, thrilling power of the instrument and exploit it merely to turn a profit for the studio has had the public laboring under some serious misconceptions for well over a century.
MISCONCEPTION No. 1: The organ is the scariest instrument ever made. FACT: The organ creates the most ground shaking force of any instrument, but there's nothing about its awesome power to fear. Any apprehension people connect with it is thanks to Hollywood.
MISCONCEPTION No. 2: The music written for the organ is scariest of all. FACT: There is nothing unsettling in the entire organ repertoire. There are plenty of instances where people can listen to organ music where it creates only a sense of allurement and majesty.
This Toccata has been recorded in costume, masterfully in fact, and posted on YouTube under the Hollywood-styled heading "Halloween Music," but the major focus of today's entertainment industry in general, and the motion picture industry in particular, is to win the attention of a paying public -- at times for its shock-value -- to maximize studio profits, not to be the moral compass of a nation. And yet we know that this piece is NOT, and was never intended to be, a vehicle to incite angst or dread for haunted-house horror scenes in motion pictures. It's one thing to love the Art we organists practice. The stirring of the spirit is all part of the wonder of music, but fear is not harmless fun.
Fear robs the mind of peace.
The apostle Paul admonished the Ephesians of his day NOT to have fellowship with the "unfruitful" works of darkness (Eph. 5:11), referring here to the "fruits of the [Holy] Spirit," nine in number (peace being one of them) listed in his letter to the Galatians (Gal. 5:22-23). His instructions about this, being part of the Word of God, are no less pertinent to the people of today than to the ancient peoples of Ephesus and Galatia.
This Toccata can be dramatized by the performer in many ways -- it almost begs to be performed dramatically as pure music, which is all well and good -- but do we organists realize that doing so within earshot of others, especially little children, merely to inject a spirit of fear and uneasiness in their minds is nothing about which to be indifferent or to pass off lightly. Man doesn't see it this way, but God does (Isa. 55:9). We are not referring here to using the organ if it has a part in the written score of legitimate opera and is essential to the dramatic mood of the plot OR the personality of any of its cast of characters -- OR even for any motion picture forerunner or facsimile of the same. We are referring here to the disturbing, eerie, grotesque garbage being forged in ghoulish shorthand these days by certain wayward pseudo-musicians who are passing it off as Dark Gothic organ "music" as if it were some sort of genuine artistic pursuit. Worthless counterfeit refuse of this sort is just one of many ways that adults as well as children in this present evil world can be introduced to the occult (See blog, An Anointed Ministry, Part VI). Personal involvement with occultism leaves man vulnerable to demonic influence by putting the mind in a heightened state of suggestibility. It is a personal request to be hounded by unclean spirits when man is given direct commands in God's Word to give no place to the devil (Eph. 4:27) and to resist him in the faith (Jas. 4:7, 1Pet. 5:8). With this resisting in mind, that man is to put away deeds of darkness (Rom. 13:12), if anyone asks or expects a liturgical organist either to improvise or to perform a score such as this Toccata in deliberately creepy manner to enhance some spooky fright fest scheduled in advance, that performer would do well to keep separate their skills in improvisation and any authentic and artistically wrought repertoire like Bach's from the playlist. Even among some of the churches Halloween observance has been renamed as a "carnival" or "harvest party" complete with games for children, disguised of what it started out being and always has been -- a celebration of darkness that focuses on magic, sorcery, spells, divination, conjuring of familiar spirits, and other abominable practices detestable to God (Deut. 18:10-13) -- what amounts to a "sacred" high holiday for Wiccans [Wiccan being the official religion of witchcraft].
During His earthly ministry Christ taught His followers to love and forgive, not to convict or judge; it is the Holy Spirit's business to convict and God the Father's business either to judge or to delegate that rendering, at His discretion, to His Son. It's nevertheless true that those involved in the ministry at any level who condone appearing in public costume to mock or joke over the evil traits of darkness and masquerade it as guiltless, nontoxic amusement, by whatsoever name the event might be called, would do well to reexamine whether they themselves are walking in the light of Christ (2Cor. 6:14). As for those who fabricate, record, engineer, and post on social media ephemeral Dark Gothic musical rubbish, these perverse souls have hardened their hearts over time to where they're out of reach and can no longer hear the voice of God. Such people, like all who dabble in the occult whether they know it or not, have turned their backs on God, are drinking the cup of devils, are partaking at the table of devils, and are manufacturing nothing but their own destruction (1Cor. 10:21).
There is nothing a musician can do at the organ to enhance any worldly matters regarding the action or influence of supernatural or supernormal powers, or some secret knowledge of them, and still be in line with God and His Word. Anyone conformed to this world in terms of being attuned to or accommodating such things does not have the love of God in them (Rom. 12:2, 1John 2:15).
This is quite the statement to make, but it's nevertheless biblically true. There's no question that "unit orchestra" theatre organ playing is an Art form worthy of the highest respect and appreciation. It takes a peculiar and rare combination of improvisational skill, executive ability, and imagination, not to mention raw courage, a quick mind, knowledge and control of the instrument at hand, much creative arranging, and the ability to think orchestrally for those studying theatre organ to advance to a stage where they feel comfortable accompanying silent motion pictures before live audiences and doing these films the kind of justice they deserve. That image on the screen and the audience's reaction to it are sort of tied together by the music, and the unit orchestra theatre organ adds this dimension which would be sorely missed without it. It's natural therefore that a few experienced theatre organists reading these lines to be thinking ...
"WHAT?! ... Are you saying that all the effort and sacrifice I've made to get where I am as a theatre organist, when I'm being paid to be seated at my work station to generate background music for movie-goers for its shock value who pay to experience such things ... not to mention any number of colleagues of mine who are some of the finest musicians and human beings I've ever known who have done the very same thing for years as part of their jobs ... YOU'RE telling US that there's something about plying our Art this way that has us crossways with Him Who grants us these abilities in the first place? ... What are you, nuts?!"
NO, that isn't what this writer is saying ...
It's what the Word of God is saying (Prov. 14:12, Matt. 10:28, 2Tim. 1:7, 1John. 4:18).
To realize that Hollywood studios have misused this Toccata merely for financial gain, indirectly mischaracterized the greatest man of all for composing it, and made a "party pooper" out of anyone who disapproves of the same, it would seem like calamity enough, but it's been put to worse use -- performers themselves have made this piece into a dog and pony show as if it were some kind of proving ground. We've heard it butchered and cut into pieces for the sake of color. We've heard its powerful opening and moving fugal lines ruined by smug ornamenting. We've heard its central fugal section overlaid with unintended pauses that would have had the composer infuriated. We've heard it played like the manual keys were burning the fingers. We've heard it played like the fingers were playing in a pot of glue. We've heard it demolished with "additions" and "corrections." We've heard it leave the station with a mighty roar, go through a bumpy ride, then chug to a stop, start up again, run out of steam, pour on the coal, then go off the rails. We've heard it circle the drain for pages and then save itself at the end. We've heard it take a nose dive from the opening fanfare only to gain altitude and crash and burn on the 2nd page. We've heard this score raced through at the fastest possible speed that human hands and feet can move on keys, leaving the powerful melodic lines shredded into confetti and the residue left in a pile waiting for the dust pan. We've heard it "executed" all right -- in every conceivable way someone could be sentenced to the other side of the Great Beyond.
Then again, we've also heard and have been very moved by some amazing interpretations of this piece, many of them on period instruments, by some very inspired performers.
We have also seen this work performed with all manner of gyrations on the bench, postural distortions, grimaces, head violently shaking "no" with every beat accompanied by the silent mouthing of words, and swaying movements of the torso which give the impression that the player was either channeling, suffering from vertigo, or having an apoplectic fit. The habit of swaying forwards and backwards, shaking the head, and introducing graceful arm choreography and other mannerisms into organ performance takes no part in the production of sound. This is cultivated merely "for show." The truth is, all unnecessary movement on the bench is a waste of time and energy which can be spent more profitably on matters of technique. How and which mannerisms to cultivate for the sake of individuality is more of a distraction from the work at hand than a help. Organ playing, indeed, requires no physical strain, gyrations, or mannerisms to deliver all the powers at work on the page to the listener's ear [See Mannerisms].
There's a certain type of player -- a concert organist who has won acclaim perhaps for musical acrobatics, astounding technical feats, and outrageous interpretations -- or perhaps a titular at a very large, important instrument, who has made a name in the organ world because of it -- who performs this work under the premise that if Bach were alive today he would be doing all of these things and more, using everything the modern organ has to offer and every means of appealing to the modern ears of a modern audience. This type of player tends to add and retire stops and couplers in huge clumps by means of the combination action with the idea that, by doing so, the music is better served. Chords are doubled an octave higher or lower at climactic points. Suboctave stops (Doubles) or couplers are drawn in the manuals with abandon. Pedal notes are doubled in octaves, all to get a larger sound. The widest possible range of known dynamics and tempos are employed in the opening fanfare from an ear-splitting double fortissimo down to a barely audible double pianissimo, from an insane prestissimo down to a barely moving lento, all performed in mysterioso style. The central fugal section is also performed the same way or perhaps in crescendo style with the echo passages disappearing as faintly as the opening exposition. Extra pedal notes are added to the score, passages in running figuration are sliced and diced and scattered with both hands over every manual there is, and the notes in the final chord are multiplied and morphed into D major, all merely to demonstrate the performer's boldness, cleverness, and executive abilities. A liberal dose of foreign ornaments, foreign trills, and even trills on extra pedal notes, none of which appear in Bach's manuscript, are introduced without any sense of loyalty to the score. The result: the audience is treated to all sorts of technical feats, ear-tickling, and musical trinkets -- all sauce and no beefsteak.
Now there's nothing wrong with wanting our Bach-playing to appeal to a wider audience, to get people to notice the magic in this music by adding a little bit (emphasis on "little bit") of this or that, within limits, to spice up our interpretations in the pursuit of that objective and to make it more original and appealing. We also need to bear firmly in mind, when we're working in the kitchen, that a point can be reached very soon where, if we keep adding salt, pepper, vinegar, and everything else we can think of, to the tried-and-true recipe specified in the score by its original chef and keep messing with it, the dish can be ruined.
Everything in organ playing is balance, and that also applies to what we put into our interpretations, especially with Bach's.
Adding too much of a good thing, adding it in the wrong place, or worse -- working without a recipe at all, throwing any and all kinds of stuff into a blender and serving it up as we go along is never a good idea -- especially when all we could be doing is trying to demonstrate to audiences that we're our own individual who's brave and audacious enough to serve up old wine in a new bottle unlike anyone else's.
This is not rocket science. The author of these lines can testify from personal experience that the last time a recipe for a banana cake called for just two bananas and a dozen bananas were baked into it, that same cake cut like sausage and would have made a better boat anchor than a dessert. Still, some performers are doing something of the same thing in altering the recipe this music demands. Some players heavily influenced by Leopold Stokowski's orchestral transcription like to solo the Fugue subject and end up coloring it like mad. In Karl Tausig's transcription for piano solo the ornamented first note of the Toccata is even written upside down using an upper auxiliary note instead of the lower auxiliary.
NOTHING ABOUT THIS MUSIC SEEMS TO HAVE ESCAPED THE WRECKING BALL.
A curious and loosely structured fantasia "a la Messaien" beginning in d minor was posted recently on YouTube which lifted the Toccata's first few opening notes liberally sprinkled with ornaments as thematic material, after which the improvisation rambled through several keys with the full organ and mercifully ended in a crushing major chord in an unrelated key. The central fugal section of this composition has even been reincarnated as a French Romantic Toccata and recorded at a ridiculously fast tempo, turning it into a torrent of notes. The coda also has been rearranged with the addition of trills on held pedal notes and the final chord expanded, changing it from the tonic key of d minor as indicated in the score to the parallel major which is then reiterated under an inverted pedal point. These kinds of changes do more than multiply notes, insert massive crescendos, or employ color stops unknown to the composer -- they introduce unintended dissonances and change the composer's harmony. This kind of tampering with the score may impress the senses, help to sell a prize-winning performer's next CD, win them applause from an uninitiated audience, or elicit a chuckle or two from an orchestral player, but it would have the composer outraged. If we're going to play Bach, then we should play Bach, not our own commentary upon it. Bach's music with its multiple moving lines weaving in and out such astounding mastery of the techniques of counterpoint demands a certain ministering clarity of performance, and anything that sacrifices clarity in translating all the majestic powers at work on the pages of his scores should be avoided like the plague.
A retrograde version of the free opening, or Toccata portion (J.S. Bach/Enjott Schneider, Attacot), was even published having every one of its 30 measures written backwards, note for note in reverse, to show that it can be done. Its purpose, obviously, is to entertain and make a parody out of a familiar work of art. In this case this poor music simply got caught in the squeeze of yet another fatal experiment, and the next experiment may be worse, but the real proof of knowing this piece forwards and backwards is how well the powers at work on the page can be communicated to the listener and deliver what went through the composer's mind AS BACH ENVISIONED IT IN HIS IMAGINATION.
As with so much of Bach's other major organ music, no autograph of this piece survives. The oldest copy surviving to this day traces to German organist Johann Ringk who studied organ with Bach pupils Johann Peter Kellner and Johann Christian Kittel, made many copies of early music, and played an important role in the dissemination of Bach's works. While it's possible that Kellner may have been the source for Ringk's copy, more surviving copies of this work are traceable to Kittel who was one of Bach's last surviving pupils. Ringk's copy therefore was very likely made from an earlier copy, now lost, once in the possession of Kittel, as it agrees with all the others. The Italian tempo marks, fermatas, and staccato dots in Ringk's copy, all of which are very unusual in pre-1740 German organ music, probably did not originate with the composer and were additions by Ringk or a later copyist. The title "Toccata con fuga" appearing in Ringk's copy is probably also a later addition, as most German organ compositions written in this style during this period were usually given the simple title "Praeludium."
The notation itself also has to be watched. Bach had the habit of including an extra bar among the stems of a consecutive run of short notes to indicate when he wanted an extra note of equal value to be squeezed into that run. This extra bar does not mean that the extra note moves suddenly faster. It simply means that between the bottom note and top note all the notes come out evenly, but with one more. This is how it was notated in early times, and an example can be found in measure 19 of this work. The run is performed in one swoop where the bottom note and top note come out on the beat. All the notes of this run written for the right hand are of equal duration. The first section of Bach's G Major Fantasia is loaded with these.
(continued in Part IV)
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Sep. 19, 2015