A new light on authenticity: a special performance of Messiaen's "Livre du Saint Sacrement", with original movements and improvisations

I posted the following text on "Some Thoughts on Playing the Organ" and "Willem Tanke's Blog on New Music". The reason to post it also on this blog is that it may be related to my research "Combining the avant-garde...", if ever I would decide to take that up again. I sent the text to Richard Taruskin, who responded with good humour that he didn't mind a little inauthenticity among friends and would do his best to listen to the recording before the meeting in Amsterdam on 17 December.

On 22 March, 2012 I gave a rather special performance of Messiaen's Livre du Saint Sacrement in the Domkerk in Utrecht. The concert was organized by Rumor Festival of Adventurous Music and the audience would mainly consist of avant-garde pop/rock/jazz/cross-over fans, who would otherwise hardly attend to organ recitals. The reason to write about it now is an interesting upcoming event at the Orgelpark in Amsterdam on 17 December 2014, 15.00 hour, organized by Orgelpark Research, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, Universiteit Amsterdam, Universiteit Utrecht en Conservatorium van Amsterdam, when Richard Taruskin, one of the foremost music historians of our time, will give a lecture on different aspects of authenticity. In addition, Ralph van Raat will demonstrate at the piano how notes from the score of Ives' Concord Sonata evolve into an interpretation and I shall do the same at the organ with a fragment from Messiaen's La Nativité du Seigneur, which I shall perform two days later at the Orgelpark (for more information on both events see www.orgelpark.nl ).

Rumor asked me to make a selection of the (I quote) "heaviest" pieces with a total duration of about one hour. It was not difficult to understand the request; Livre du Saint Sacrement lasts over two hours and contains many (passages from) movements that might be either too romantic or atonal for non-classical audiences. Messiaen's music is many-sided and it is a fact that his use of the organ's tutti often has a tremendous impact on those who do not primarily listen to classical music. However, I was confronted with an artistic dilemma: one can simply not play tutti pieces for one hour, as any audience would find that too much and fatiguing. In the complete version of the work, Messiaen very efficiently uses the "heavy" movements to support the overall construction, like the walls, pillars and buttresses of a cathedral. I felt that I could not just leave out the non wanted movements and for some weeks I thought of a refined solution, one that would satisfy the need for heavy, powerful music while at the same time providing enough variety, but with other means than Messiaen uses in his score. Finally, it occurred to me that I should make use of my own music at carefully selected points. From past experience, I knew that some of my pieces appeal to the audience concerned, because of a certain light touch and attractive groove that cannot be found in the music of Messiaen (or composers like Berio, Xenakis and Ligeti, for that matter). In particular, I might use material from my organ pieces Birds, drums and signals and Listening to the fairies, which due to their improvisatory character might adapt themselves to the circumstances. If this would work, I could in addition play Messiaen's La joie de la grâce which was on my list to be omitted, because it contained only atonal bird songs and would be too abstract for the audience. My two pieces could on the one hand compensate for this atonality and on the other hand create a triptyque of light pieces within the overall framework of heavy movements! It was a sudden, unexpected discovery and I felt that from an artistic point of view this might solve the problem. Still, I hesitated a few days before taking a decision, as I felt restrained by the weight of convention, that this would be an act of injustice against Messiaen and even Western classical music in general.  Finally, however, I decided to do it, as I was too eager to carry out the experiment and know the result. 

My plan was as follows. To begin with, I would play the first, second and fourth movement of Livre du Saint Sacrement "as usual", i.e. as if the audience would be classical. Then I would insert an improvisation on my composition Birds, drums and signals. After that, Messiaen's seventh movement as usual, but immediately followed by an improvisation on Listening to the fairies, in stead of the habitual long pause. This improvisation would lead to the closing section of the ninth movement, leaving out not only the eighth but a also the larger part of the ninth.This would be the critical moment: I felt that I could not just insert my improvisation and pick up Messiaen' score again as if nothing had happened. There had to be a moment of magic there, the result of a subtle crossfade between the score and my improvisation. The recital would continue with a "regular" tenth and twelfth movement (the latter ending with the only "romantic" passage of the recital, so soft and sweet that the audience would surrender to that). The thirteenth movement also as usual, a terrific representation of the story of the walls of water in the Old Testament, with an archaic power that would be recognized. On the other hand, the fifteenth movement with the transparent bird songs mentioned above should be complete open; I might change Messiaen's notes or order of phrases or even invent something new on the spot, if the circumstances would require that kind of flexibility. The performance should end with Messiaen's formidable eighteenth movement, again as usual, with a force that can hardly be rivaled. 

I did not inform Rumor about my plan and on purpose also not practised the switches between Messiaen and my own music on beforehand; I wanted the improvisations to be as spontaneous as possible. Before the concert, from above near the organ, I watched the audience coming in and got an idea of what kind of music they might prefer; indeed very different from the usual audience in churches. In situations like that, I like to think of magnetic fields of communication, with senders and receivers to transmit. To complete this picture: it was clear that my antenna should remain active during the concert, receive valuable information from the audience and let that affect the performance. Fortunately, a recording was made by Jos van der Linden, the devoted organ fan who also recorded my performance of Messiaen's complete organ works in Haarlem in 1994, issued on CD in 1998 and 2007 respectively. This recording (audio only) can be listened to on YouTube:

The following program with a timetable of the recording may help the reader to understand the above.

1. Messiaen movement one: Adoro te    0'00" - 3'55"

2. Messiaen movement two: La Source de Vie    4'01" - 6'54"

3. Messiaen movement three: Le Dieu caché    7'00'' - 9'26"

4. Tanke improvisation on Birds, drums and signals    9'35" - 11'04"

5. Messiaen movement seven: Les ressuscités et la lumière de vie    11'17" - 15'39"

6. Tanke improvisation on Listening to the fairies    15'48" - 18'13"

7.CROSSFADE MESSIAEN END OF NINTH MOVEMENT (LES TENÈBRES) AND TANKE (IMPROVISATION ON LISTENING TO THE FAIRIES):    18'14" - 20'14"

8. Messiaen movement ten: La Résurrection du Christ    20'22" - 26'03"

9. Messiaen movement twelve: La Transsubstantiation    26'21" - 33'40"

10. Messiaen movement thirteen: Les deux murailles d'eau    33'48" - 41'28"

11. Messiaen movement fifteen: La joie de la grâce    41'35" - 46'52"

12. Messiaen movement eighteen: Offrande et Alleluia final    47'00" - 55'10"

Relistening to the recording, two and a half years after the performance, I think the experiment succeeded for, let's say, eighty percent. The improvisation on Birds, drums and signals comes at the right moment and lightens the atmosphere whereas in the original score Messiaen begins a new chapter of seriousness that might just be too much in the context concerned. The critical crossfade at number 7 is well-done (therefore I wrote it in capitals). Messiaen's use of the reed with tremolo in the lowest register evokes the darkness after the crucifixion of Jesus, which the larger part of the audience may not have felt in a Christian context at all, but more in terms of a gothic horror. It meets the innocent, even joyful sounds of my fairies, which then calm down, to end with Messiaen's low cluster, as a voice from the earth, which I intensified to the maximum to deepen the effect. However, I am not quite satisfied about number 11: a next time I would probably interpolate Messiaen's bird songs with material from my former improvisations or even something completely new. As a result the switches/cross-fades between Messiaen's and my own music might be better balanced regarding the construction of the concert as a whole. To judge my criticism, the reader would have to listen to the recording from beginning till end and without interruption. 

A few days after the concert, which was very well received, I had to smile while reading  a review which referred to "Messiaen's pop beats". Evidently, the author had mistaken my music as a part of the score!

A better starting-point

If ever I would pick up the research again, the following would provide a better starting-point:

From when I was a student, I based my ideal of playing the organ on observations on Bach's organ playing made by contemporaries of his. These observations all point in the same direction: that Bach was able to achieve a maximum of expression with a minimum of movements of hands and feet. Achieving more by doing less became a guideline for my daily practice and I recorded Messiaen's complete organ works and Reger's monumental Variationen und Fuge über ein Originalthema op. 72 in this spirit. 

Between 2003 and 2006, as a professor at Rotterdam Conservatoire, I carried out a research based on this approach and called it The Art of Doing Nothing. Soon, associations with Taoism and Buddhism made me consider the idea also on a spiritual level, as a way of submitting the ego and transmitting music from a supernatural source to audiences. Looking back and staying at the level of craftsmanship, I nowadays prefer to speak of The art of playing with relaxed precision. 

Any ideal based on Bach is likely to require profound studies and in my case it concerns evidently a life project. Moreover, when I started to play the piano seriously, at the end of the '90s, I decided not to take lessons, but to become my own teacher and use my expertise as an organist. From the very start, it was clear that I should not play pieces from the repertoire, whether classical or jazz, but create my own exercises. Almost invariably, these exercises concentrate on a certain musical idea (an invention) which is generated by improvisation. An exercise may evolve into a composition, which in its turn may be a starting-point for new improvisations etc. Consequently, improvisation, interpretation and composition are parts of a cycle which is constantly repeated, as the heart beat of my daily practice. 

Stylistically, my exercises soon left the field of Western classical music and moved towards avant-garde jazz and music from the East and Africa. However, as an improvising and composing pianist I remained faithful to my ideal of organ playing, to achieve a powerful expression with small movements only. In addition, the independence of left and right hand obtained through intense studies of organ works by Bach now greatly benefits my skill to play rhythmic melodic patterns with one hand, while improvising with the other. 

Besides J.S. Bach, my musical language is largely influenced by Olivier Messiaen. Memorizing his organ works in the past more than thirty years now allows me to transform his rhythms, melodies and harmonies and use them in new contexts, such as avant-garde jazz.

Stopping the PhD research

In April 2014, I stopped my doctoral artistic research, as I could no longer combine it with my activities at Codarts.

Overview

Na de laatste bijeenkomst bleef mij de vraag van Frans in de oren klinken: "wat is de prangende noodzaak van dit alles?". Daarop zal ik nu proberen een antwoord te geven; tevens is dit een poging de verschillende hoofdstukken/eilanden van de archipel in samenhang te zien.


In de laatste decennia heeft een behoorlijk aantal auteurs willen duidelijk maken dat improvisatie, interpretatie en compositie verwante processen zijn, ofwel verschillende punten van een continuüm, zoals Nettl het noemt. Dit heeft vooral in theoretische zin bijgedragen tot een veranderende beeldvorming over deze kanten van het musiceren. Er is nu echter behoefte aan praktijksituaties waarin op originele en vernieuwende wijze verbanden worden gelegd die deze beeldvorming bevestigen. De combinatie van theorie en praktijk kan dan daadwerkelijk van invloed zijn op het muziekleven. Mijn artistiek onderzoek, met het "osmose"-model waarover ik regelmatig spreek, is hiervan een voorbeeld. Er worden verbanden in gelegd die een frisse kijk geven op interpretatie, improvisatie en compositie en met name door de kwaliteit van het artistieke werk (het niveau van het geschrevene zal vrees ik niet navenant zijn) een stimulerende werking kunnen hebben op bijvoorbeeld een jonge generatie van musici. Veel jonge musici willen een verandering, maar hebben geen idee hoe dit te bewerkstelligen en conformeren zich uit onmacht. Ze hebben een voorbeeld nodig dat hun aanspreekt en wegen voor hen opent. Als het onderzoek er toe kan bijdragen dat zij vrij van conventies kunnen improviseren, interpreteren en componeren, in een omgeving waarin deze aspecten van het musiceren minder gescheiden zijn dan voorheen, is het denk ik zinvol geweest. 

Ik voel het als volgt, maar weet nog niet of ik het in een wetenschappelijk aanvaardbare contekst kan duidelijk maken: 
aan de bron is er alleen maar sprake van muziek; improvisatie, interpretatie en compositie zijn daar zodanig met elkaar verbonden zijn, dat die woorden op zich ontoereikend zijn, omdat ze verondersteld worden begrippen te omlijnen en daardoor te scheiden. Die bron is volgens mij van spirituele aard. Nettl zinspeelt hierop als hij beschrijft hoe Pima indianen muziek beschouwen als iets bovennatuurlijks dat ontrafeld dient te worden; hij werkt dit echter niet uit. Mijn onderzoek gaat er wel dieper op in; de spirituele oorsprong ligt ergens onder de eilanden en verbindt deze met elkaar.

De werking van spiritualiteit berust naar men veronderstelt op fluïdum dat zich in de ether voortbeweegt van zender naar ontvanger. Ether is de quintessens, het overstijgt de vier elementen aarde, vuur, water en lucht. Het fluïdum gaat overal doorheen, trekt zich niets aan van afscheidingen. Men stelt het zich voor in termen als tijdloos en universeel, iets dat door menselijke conventies opgestelde grenzen op grond van bijvoorbeeld, religie, ras, geslacht en culturele achtergrond overstijgt. Zo gaat het volgens mij ook met muziek: als het fluïdum door een zender in beweging is gezet gaat het op zoek naar een ontvanger, ongeacht veronderstelde scheidingen tussen tradities, genres, stijlen of kunstmuziek en volksmuziek. Wel dient de ontvanger juist afgestemd te zijn, anders komt het fluïdum niet of slechts in beperkte mate over. Dit afstemmen stel ik mij, zoals uit het hoofdstuk over Bach blijkt, sinds kort behoorlijk plastisch voor: als een knop die moet worden omgedraaid. Als dat gebeurd is wordt de verbeeldingskracht aan het werk gezet en kunnen wonderlijke verbindingen worden gemaakt, die vervolgens met behulp van ratio en emotie gematerialiseerd worden in de vorm van muziek. Dit verklaart waarom ik mij bezig houd met ogenschijnlijk volledig uiteenlopende zaken als, bijvoorbeeld, de interpretatie van Bach en het, om het zo maar eens te zeggen, 21e- eeuwse antwoord op Zappa/Van der Graaf Generator (N. B. oppassen met deze namen, specialisten/fundamentalisten kunnen weer zeggen dat het daar niet veel mee te maken heeft).

Het bovenstaande is een veronderstelling, in feite gaat het mijn bevattingsvermogen te boven om er stellige uitspraken over te doen. Velen zijn mij in andere bewoordingen voorgegaan en op zich is het wellicht niet zo interessant. Het wordt pas boeiend als deze veronderstelling resulteert in muziek die iets teweeg brengt. In mijn geval zal de artistieke uitwerking van een zodanige kwaliteit dienen te zijn dat argumenten als "wie het in de breedte zoekt, zal de diepgang verliezen" niet aan de orde zijn. Integendeel, ik zal moeten aantonen dat het zoeken van de breedte juist de diepgang kan bevorderen. Bij voorkeur op een heel concrete manier, zoals het feit dat meer dan 35 jaar studie van Bachs triosonates de coördinatie voor het improviseren van de ene hand op een door de andere hand gespeelde groove, zoals in mijn muziek vaak voorkomt, heeft bevorderd en vice versa. In het algemeen zal het vertalen van het spirituele naar het ambachtelijke belangrijk zijn om ongewenste associaties, zoals met New Age, te voorkomen. Van de andere kant moet een al te nadrukkelijk vermijden van deze associaties de fantasie niet belemmeren; dan zouden we het kind met het badwater weggooien. Daarom probeer ik op een ambachtelijke manier, met inachtname van verbeeldingskracht, de veronderstelde werking van het fluïdum uit te werken: via oefening wordt dit omgezet in vloeiende bewegingen van het lichaam, met name de vingerkootjes, de vingers als geheel en het polsgewricht, die na verloop van tijd deel uit gaan maken van embodied knowledge, dat ik in het kort omschrijf als "at the same time knowing how and being able to do". In het afsluitende Bach-hoofdstuk streef ik er naar na om embodied knowledge van mijn eigen muziek over te hevelen naar het uitvoeren van Bach, om blokkades die daar nog aanwezig zijn zoveel mogelijk op te heffen.

Over de hoofdstukken/eilanden zelf worden mijn ideeën steeds duidelijker. Een mogelijke lineaire volgorde op basis van chronologie is:


1. The Art of Receptivity

Gerelateerd aan een eerder onderzoek genaamd The Art of Doing Nothing. Presentatie van Stillness en My friend the Indian: langzame, contemplatieve stukken voor orgel solo, gecomponeerd in 1996, later in het kader van het onderzoek uitgewerkt in versies met musici van uiteenlopende achtergronden. De stukken zijn bij uitstek geschikt om klassiek, wereldmuziek, jazz en pop op één lijn te krijgen, zodanig dat ze deze categorieën overstijgen. Het woord "Receptivity" staat in verband met het zender/ontvanger-principe, als boven omschreven.

2. Lost Sounds Rediscovered

Gebaseerd op ritmisch-melodische patronen die ik ging ontwikkelen naar aanleiding van het spelen met Afrikaanse musici tussen 1996 en 1998. In het kader van het onderzoek werden deze patronen omgevormd tot grooves die dienen als uitgangspunt voor mijn eigen improvisaties en, later, die van andere musici. Refererend aan een uitspraak van Claudio Arrau en een citaat uit een roman van Graham Greene, heeft in dit hoofdstuk de verbeeldingskracht vrij spel: hoe zou de muziek van de Guanches, de oorspronkelijke bewoners van de Canarische Eilanden, afkomstig uit Noord-Afrika en eind 15e eeuw verslagen door de Spanjaarden, kunnen klinken als haar fluïdum ons tijdsgewricht zou kruisen? Als tegenhanger voor dit extravagante idee een nauwgezette, ambachtelijke uitwerking van de merkwaardige overeenkomsten tussen mijn ritmisch-melodische patronen en Noord-Afrikaanse cycli, met inbegrip van modale tooncentra. Voor dit project ben ik op zoek naar geestverwante musici van hoog kaliber, om samen onder meer het binaire denken in termen van Eurologisch en Afrologisch op te heffen. Mike Garson heeft zich al vol enthousiasme gemeld. N. B. verbeeldingskracht is van cruciaal belang voor iedere artiest, met name ook in de Rutte-maatschappij, waarin artiesten zich vaak slaafs onderwerpen aan criteria van politici en zich krampachtig voordoen als zakelijk, nuchter denkend en economisch rendabel. Het is ook van groot belang voor de identiteit van artistiek onderzoek. Ik heb de indruk dat wij ons soms te veel spiegelen aan de harde wetenschappen, om te eenzijdig de goedkeuring van deze grote broer nastreven. Daardoor dreigen wij te vergeten hoe wij zelf het beste tot ons recht komen in het grotere geheel van wetenschappen, op een manier ook die juist voor harde wetenschappers een meerwaarde heeft.

3. Recontextualizing Messiaen

In 2007 ontdekte ik dat Messiaen's atonale melodieën, dikwijls gebaseerd op vogelgezangen, een rijkdom aan archetypische roep-, vraag- en antwoordmotieven bevatten die op vernieuwende wijze kunnen worden gebruikt, in dienst van een grensoverschrijvend idioom en in samenwerking met musici afkomstig uit verschillende tradities. Door systematische uitwerking hiervan is mijn muzikale taal van modale ritmisch-melodische patronen, omschreven in het voorafgaande hoofdstuk, in melodisch en harmonisch opzicht veelzijdiger en boeiender geworden. Dit hoofdstuk beschrijft hoe deze systematische uitwerking heeft plaatsgevonden, eerst individueel en later met andere musici. Binnen de archipel is dit eiland een archipel op zich, vanwege de verschillende onderdelen.

4. A new approach to playing Bach

Een beschrijving van het experiment om embodied knowledge van mijn eigen muziek over te hevelen naar de interpretatie van Bach. Ook hier weer nadruk op het ambachtelijke, hoe het fluïdum overgaat in subtiele, vloeiende lichaamsbewegingen en een fijnzinnig toucher. Peer review als een wezenlijk onderdeel.

5. Conclusie

De conclusie zal bevestigen en nader uitwerken dat improvisatie, interpretatie en compositie, als beschreven in de afzonderlijke hoofdstukken, in mijn praktijk naadloos met elkaar verbonden zijn, overeenkomstig de naam van het onderzoek en mijn visie op de spirituele oorsprong van muziek. Op de vraag waardoor de spirituele bron zelf wordt aangedreven zal ik niet ingaan. Ik heb er wel gedachten over, maar kan die alleen op een gebrekkige manier omschrijven, als vage speculaties die afbreuk zouden doen aan het onderzoek.

Chapter four - A new approach to playing Bach

This text serves my doctoral artistic research Combining the avant-garde and the historical in improvisation, composition and interpretation, carried out at Leiden University and supervised by Frans de Ruiter, Joep Bor and Marcel Cobussen.


A new approach to playing Bach

In spite of a daily practice of over thirty years, my interpretation of organ works by Bach never communicated to audiences as convincingly as my performances of organ works by Messiaen and Reger or, for those who like it, my own music. More in general, I think that organists do not yet approach the level of excellent Bach interpreters like, for instance, oboist Marcel Ponseele. A main reason for this has been acknowledged by many: the organ is a huge contraption which makes a fluent, natural way of playing particularly difficult. The voice and the organ are often considered as extremes, being respectively completely integrated and separated from the human body. Still, the ideal of almost every organist — and also me— is to let the instrument sound like the voice, with all its expressive qualities, in particular also while playing Bach. At one moment, I wondered if I could achieve this in a very unusual way.

Backgrounds

Ever since I was a student, I followed the advancement of the early music movement with keen interest, however, without identifying with it. As a professor of organ at the Utrecht Conservatory, I participated in a continuous debate on authenticity, but always more as an outsider than one who is truly involved. I practised Bach every day, read many books and articles and listened to acclaimed Bach interpreters, but it always seemed to me that I should follow a different path, a direction that I was not yet aware of.

In my doctoral artistic research, I investigate a new approach to performing organ works by Bach. In stead of taking the early music movement as a point of reference, I aim at improving my Bach interpretation through my own music, which I present as an improviser and a performing composer, solo and with other musicians. In particular, I am working on transferring the embodied knowledge which apparently allows my music to sound natural, like story-telling, to the performance of Bach. In this, the term "embodied knowledge" implies knowing how to do and at the same time being able to do. The difference with my earlier approach is that —like many other organists and in line with the early music movement— I used to study sources on, for instance, rhetorica to enhance the quality of story-telling in my playing. With me, however, this always remained on a rational level and only had a small impact on the performance. Using the embodied knowledge of my own music allows me to enter an emotional level; this may have a much larger impact on Bach interpretation.

Comparing the embodied knowledge of organ, piano and clavichord playing

The embodied knowledge which I refer to relates to story-telling as subtle movements of fingers and joints parallel inclinations of the voice. Fingers and joints then become a counter-part of the voice, providing an intimate contact with the keys of the organ and the sound that is produced. One might say that fingers and joints replace the voice in telling the story. In organ-playing, subtlety of touch is essential in opening the organ-pipes, let the air go through and produce sound. If a lack of control makes the touch undifferentiated, the pipes will all open more or less at the same moment or in monotonous intervals; the result is rigid, unlike a suitable voice for singing or story-telling. However, if the organist can control touch into detail, there will be numerous differences in opening the pipes, resulting in a constantly moving sound which makes the music lively and interesting (foot note: this can easily be simulated on a midi-keyboard. If all notes of a chord are played exactly at the same moment by, for instance, a computer, the attack will be harsh and aggressive. But if one "humanizes' the touch by slightly shifting the position of some notes with mid-software, the sound already becomes more agreeable). At the same time, subtle movements necessary for a refined touch also are essential for a richly varied articulation, phrasing, rubato, agogic accents etc., in short everything which contributes to expressive playing, similar to story-telling.

Among pianists, this kind of embodied knowledge, applied to the action of a piano, is quite common. It may be a sore point, but we organists have to admit that in this respect pianists are much more sophisticated. Generally speaking, pianists do not think highly of the organist's refinement of touch and movements of fingers and joints. Quite some pianists even believe that the organ does not allow any differentiation of touch, that pressing a key is just a matter of "in or out", without gradations. For that reason, it still happens that piano students are advised or even forbidden to play the organ, because it might make their piano playing less refined. However, no pianist would ever venture to doubt the qualities of Bach himself as an organist; the expressive qualities of his playing have been exaltedly commented upon by contemporaries. Evidently, there is a huge discrepancy here between the level of refinement that is accredited among pianists to the master himself and contemporary organists. In my opinion, an explanation for this discrepancy —besides the unrivaled genius of Bach— can be found in the almost lost tradition of clavichord playing. In Bach's days, the clavichord, possibly extended with a pedal,was the instrument par excellence to replace the church organ and practise organ works at home. Because of its delicate action, it only sounds agreeable if the clavichordist can play with the kind of refinement which I refer to in the above. There is nothing to hide, the player's calibre appears immediately. Compared to the clavichord, the organ is capable of producing huge effects, like a thundering fortissimo or a celestial pianissimo, which are relatively easy to be realized and for the general public can hide the organist's true capacities. For that reason, one may become a successful organist without even remotely having the refinement of first class pianists or (most likely) eighteenth century clavichordists.

Of course, the early music movement recognized the importance of clavichord playing and nowadays some organists who also intensely studied the clavichord have obtained very promising results in performing Bach's organ works, like Bernard Klapprott, who is actually involved in a long term project of recording Bach's complete organ works. I would definitely recommend the majority of organ students to listen to these recordings and try to achieve the level of refinement with which Klapprott both as an organist and a clavichordist plays. On the other hand, I would like to show a very different path, which may appeal to those who, like me, do not completely feel at ease with the early music movement, in spite of acknowledging the great benefits it had and still has for the performance of ancient music. This path implies using the digitalized "Hauptwerk" sound of historical organs (including the Silbermann organ in Arlesheim which Klapprott uses for his Bach project) in combination with the highly sensitive and precise action of modern midi-keyboards. The sound of these organs is used for both the performance of organ works by Bach and my own music. It is there where I make the connection, as described in the following.


Relating inspiration to embodied knowledge

The embodied knowledge which I intend to transfer from performing my own music to Bach interpretation may be regarded as a state of permanent vibration; the joints and fingers are never static, there is always something moving. I like to make a comparison with physics: Newton's mechanics then for me represent a static kind of playing which I do not prefer, while quantum mechanics with its ever moving particles give me a picture of the ideal way of playing (this is of course only a metaphor, as I am a layman in the field of physics). In fact, this state of permanent vibration is the bodily answer to inspiration, which I imagine as something of a spiritual nature that constantly vibrates. I used to play Bach according to the "Newton" model; it is now in the process of being updated with the "quantum mechanics" model of playing my own music. My view on this has been much influenced by Fritjof Capra's book The Tao of Physics - An Exploration of the Parallels Between Modern Physics and Eastern Mysticism (1975) and Bruno Nettl's article Thoughts on Improvisation (1974). The latter refers to the Pima, native American Indians from Arizona, who regard music as something which already exists in a supernatural world, to be unraveled by the musically gifted among them. This appeals to me very much, far more than, for instance, the notion of the artist expressing his or her own feelings, which came into existence in the nineteenth century and flourished throughout the twentieth up to the present. It adds a spiritual dimension to musicianship: receiving the information from the supernatural world corresponds with being inspired, while decoding this information relates to craftsmanship. This perspective equally suits improvising, composition and interpretation; hence the title of my research. It is the reason why —in line with modern authors like Benson and Cobussen, although based on different arguments— I consider these often separated manifestations of music making as in fact closely related. In addition, I think that the Pima Indians' view not only fits the extremely gifted, like J.S. Bach, Olivier Messiaen, Ustad Bismillah Khan and John Coltrane, but also more modestly talented musicians, on all levels (foot note one: in discussions with students the Pima Indians' view on music is generally very positively received, as a vital alternative for exaggerated emphasis on individuality and personal expression in our days. Foot note two: some artists, like Keith Jarrett, tend to see themselves more or less as high priests who transmit messages, possibly of a divine origin, to the common public. I consider this as a corruption of the idea that I intend to promote).

The above theory on performing may be summarized as follows: the musician materializes the vibrations of inspiration through craftsmanship into embodied knowledge, which is then manifested by fluently playing the instrument (or singing, for that matter), similar to story-telling. Applying this theory to both performing my own music and Bach, I deliberately cross the line between Western art music, as represented by Bach, and other traditions, as my music is highly influenced by world music and jazz (foot note: the fact that Bach himself was so eager to learn about music from other countries supports this approach. I like to think that had he lived in modern times his curiosity would undoubtedly have driven him to study other traditions all over the world).

Exemplary artists from several traditions 

Among first class pianists whom I admire, Claudio Arrau stands out; the embodied knowledge he demonstrates is a great source of inspiration for how to deal with a keyboard. 

Video: L. van Beethoven - Sonata No 21 C major "Waldstein", played by Claudio Arrau

It appeals to me that Arrau was known to be a deeply reflective interpreter. A contemporary of his made the intriguing remark that he "plowed" his "paws" into the "flexible" keyboard.

As to ideal ways of letting air go through tubes and produce sound, oboist Marcel Ponseele, shehnai player Ustad Bismillah Khan and saxophonist John Coltrane, representing the early music movement, Indian classical music and jazz respectively, particularly appeal to me. 

Video: J. S. Bach - Concerto for Violin and Oboe BWV 1060, with Marcel Ponseele

Video: Ustad Bismillah Khan - Raag Malkauns

Video: John Coltrane - A Love Supreme


 Relating musicianship to spiritual grandeur

Three quotes give an extra dimension to the spiritual aspect that I mentioned. The first one is by Claudio Arrau:

"Since in music we deal with notes, not words, with chords, with transitions, with color and expression, the musical meaning always —based on those notes as written and nothing else— has to be divined. Therefore any musician, no matter how great an instrumentalist, who is not also an interpreter of a divinatory order, the way Furtwängler was, or Fischer-Dieskau is, is somehow one-sided, somehow without spiritual grandeur."

The second one, very similar, is by Ustad Bismillah Khan:

"Music, sur, namaaz...It is the same thing. We reach Allah in different ways. A musician can learn. He can play beautifully. But unless he strives to meet God, he will only have kalaa (art) but no assar (mystical union). He will always stand at the ocean and never reach the heights of purity."

Finally, John Coltrane in the notes to A Love Supreme:

"During the year 1957, I experience, by the grace of God, a spiritual awakening which was to lead me to a richer, fuller, more productive life."

I relate these quotes —and also Messiaen's music which is the subject of another part of my research— to Bach's writing about a thousand times the words "Soli Deo Gloria" in his manuscripts. Again, I do not take the early music movement as a point of reference, which might require, for instance, a study of the influence of Pietism on Bach. On the contrary, I avoid relating the quotes to religion, as the rivalry between religions contradicts terms like "spiritual grandeur". (foot note: I regret the fact that Messiaen often emphasized the importance of catholicism for his music and ignore it while performing his music in order to fully experience the spiritual grandeur of his music and share this with the audience). Generally, terms like "spiritual grandeur" are rarely used by ancient music specialists, probably because they consider it as a manifestation of exalted romanticism, on which they react by emphasizing a more down-to-earth craftsmanship. But in my opinion, the days of reacting against romanticism are over, the early music movement has achieved too much in the past decades to look back in anger, it is time now to look around and be inspired by contemporary music, both Western and not-Western, and also accept the universal value of terms like spiritual grandeur.


Transferring the embodied knowledge of playing my own music to Bach interpretation in practice

In the first of the following videos I improvise on two Indian rhythmic cycles. This shows the embodied knowledge which I intend to put at the service of my Bach interpretation. The experiment is then carried out in the other videos, with performances of organ works by Bach (foot note: the profit is not on one side; coordinative skills enhanced by practicing Bach for over thirty years greatly benefit, for instance, improvising on an ostinato). All recordings of separate pieces or movements have been made in one take; this is a matter of fair-play and credibility, to show the flow of performance as it is, without edits. This also reacts against CD productions of Bach's music, in which many takes are combined and edited, a practice which I find about as un-authentic as can be. I also play the pieces by heart, as the process of memorizing deepens the interpretation. However, I would not dare to play Bach from memory during a public performance. I truly admire this skill among pianists and have to admit that I haven't got the nerves to do the same.


Video: Indian rhythms in organ improvisation


Peer review

First round: recordings commented on by Jan Welmers

In March 2014, I asked Jan Welmers, who was my organ teacher from 1977 until 1985, to comment on recordings of three famous choral preludes and the fourth trio sonata, made by me a few weeks before. As a concert organist, Jan Welmers intensely participated with the early music movement from the late '50s. At the same time, he was fully committed to the avant-garde, both as an improviser and a composer. In the early '80s, he stopped his activities as an interpreter, to dedicate himself completely to composing. In spite of not training the fingers any more for a long time, he is still an excellent improviser. After my studies, we became colleagues at the Utrecht Conservatory and continued to discuss interpretation, improvisation and composition and did not cease to do so after his retirement up to the present. As no other musician, he critically followed my artistic development step by step in each of the fields of interpretation, improvisation and composition. Therefore, he may be considered as the ideal peer to judge the experiment of transferring the embodied knowledge from my own music to Bach.

When I started my doctoral artistic research, Jan Welmers had serious doubts about Bach interpretation being a part of this. He suggested that I should focus on my own music, in particular as he had not seen enough positive developments in my Bach interpretation for many years and considered this more or less like a dead-end street. Like me, he is very critical on the performing level of organists in general and considers this as considerably below the standard of piano playing. One particular circumstance serves as a rather vague point of reference to him; in the early '80s, during a study trip to France, I supposedly played the first movement of Bach's second sonata more fluently than ever before or after. This happened in the St Gall church in Niedermorschwihr, where a beautiful Silbermann organ, built in 1726, is situated. Unfortunately, no recording was made. We often discussed it, but I do not have any particular recollection of this performance or special circumstances which may have played a role, other than being in a relaxed, holiday-like mood.

After listening to the recent recordings, Jan Welmers had no doubts on Bach interpretation in my research any more. He found the experiment and the preliminary results interesting and agreed that this might be a way to "liberate" my Bach interpretation and contribute to raising the level of organ playing in general, in line with the advance of the early music movement regarding other instruments. This implies that the performance is more fluent and the sound warmer and rounder than before. In addition, he noticed an underlying quietude and stability which suits the performance. This in my opinion relates to the spiritual aspect mentioned in the above, not to express one self but surpass the ego and submit to what —according to the Pima Indians— already exists in the supernatural world.

For each piece individually, Jan Welmers made some suggestions for further improvement, as commented upon in the following (with a link to the recording to which he listened).

Audio: J.S. Bach - Wer nun den lieben Gott lässt walten BWV 647

In my quest for fluency I exaggerated: the bass and the cantus firmus are played almost legato and do not match the variety of articulation and phrasing of the upper voices.

Audio: J.S. Bach - Von Gott will ich nicht lassen BWV 658

The bass and the cantus firmus show too much legato, cf. Wer nun den lieben Gott lässt walten, but to a lesser extent, as this legato in a way suits the melancholy key of f minor.

Audio: J. S. Bach - Nun komm' der Heiden Heiland BWV 659

Jan Welmers made several comments on this recording:

• the bass is played almost completely legato, from the beginning till the end. This could be more varied, in line with the other voices.

• the grace notes at the beginning of the first cantus firmus phrase are too objective, not expressive enough. The ornaments consisting of a slur followed by a mordent may be played otherwise: prolonging the slurred note over the beat and then playing the mordent. N. B. This type of ornament, also in other pieces, is played in very different ways by specialists in the field of ancient music. Evidently, there is no consensus. I agree with Jan Welmers' remark; it seems to be the most natural way to play it.

• the rallentando in the third cantus firmus phrase is a little too much; this negatively affects the underlying quietude.

• the tremulant is too fast and makes the expression a little nervous, less noble. This, however, can not be changed.

Audio: J.S. Bach - Sonata e minor BWV 528, first movement

 • at the end of the slow introduction, the trill would sound better with the minor third d in stead of the major third d#. This would result in an interesting Querstand, which would spice the harmonic progression, as so often in Bach's music.

• the tempo relation between the Adagio of the slow introduction and the Vivace is not adequate. Besides too quick, the Vivace is also too motoric, unlike story-telling.

Audio: J. S. Bach - Sonata e minor BWV 528, second movement

• the reed used for one of the upper voices does not yet sound fluently enough, in particular at the end of phrases when playing a cadential ornament.

• as reeds tend to have a slow attack, a flute might be added to compensate for being not in time with the other voices. At the same time, this would benefit the reed's carrying-power.

• the slur-with-mordent may be played more adequately, cf. Nun komm' der Heiden Heiland.

The first remark is particularly interesting, because one reason to choose for a reed, besides its intriguing sound, was to create an extra exercise for playing fluently. Especially in slow, lyrical movements, a reed is hard to deal with and if the player lacks control, it may sound like a squeaking duck. However, if the control is sufficiently, it adds a lot to the variety and could even cause one to approach the beautiful sound of Marcel Ponseele's oboe (or Bismillah Khan's shehnai, for that matter).

Audio: J.S. Bach - Sonata e minor BWV 527. third movement

Jan Welmers liked this performance. The only issue was, again, how to play a slur followed by a mordent.

Keeping Jan Welmers' comments in mind, I recorded two of the pieces again, now on video and including the score. 

Video: J.S. Bach - Wer nun den lieben Gott lässt walten BWV 647

 I played the bass much less legato now, in order to let it participate with a dialogue of articulations and phrasing of the upper voices. Due to slight articulations, I intended the cantus firmus also to join this dialogue. The result seems to me lighter and more active. At the end of the cantus firmus' final phrase, I articulated the e flat to create an interesting cross-relation with the Picardian cadence.

While preparing for this recording, I did something I had never done before. On purpose and with full awareness, I 'opened up' for the supernatural, like turning a switch to 'on'. At first, I found this a little exaggerated and even slightly ridiculous, but then I took it seriously, as it gave me a feeling of lightness and fluency. It reminded me of writings about how spirituality actually functions, by sending/receiving a fluidum through the ether, and also a thesis written by a former student of mine from China, on the functioning of chi. I decided to record the other pieces in the same way, with the mental switch to the supernatural in the 'on' position, so to speak.

Video: J.S. Bach - Von Gott will ich nicht lassen BWV 647

The bass is just a little less legato now. While recording the piece, I felt that the tempo was good, but listening to it later made me think that it was perhaps too slow, although the desolate character of this f minor, with a feeling of consolation in the A-flat major section, communicates itself.


Second round: recordings commented upon by Kees van Houten

Like Jan Welmers, I have known Bach-specialist Kees van Houten since 1977, first as a student, later as a colleague. On 30 March, 2014, he commented on the above two video recordings of Wer nun den lieben Gott lässt walten and Von Gott will ich nicht lassen respectively. He found the performance in both cases too slow, because of my taking the eighth note as a basis in stead of the quarter note; the result then becomes fatiguing and oppressive in stead of uplifting. According to him, a slight mental adjustment, imagining a conductor who has to keep all the voices together, might do the work and improve the interpretation considerably. 

I agreed with his criticism and on 31 March, 2014 made new recordings of both chorale preludes (audio only). During the performance I imagined myself in the role of Bach-conductors like Ton Koopman, Jordi Savall and Philippe Herreweghe. The result is I think lighter and agreeable than before:

J. S. Bach - Wer nun den lieben Gott lässt walten BWV 547, quick version

J. S. Bach - Von Gott will ich nicht lassen BWV 658, quick version

In addition, I recorded the remaining choral prelude similarly:

J. S. Bach - Nun komm' der Heiden Heiland BWV 659, quick version

Combining the remarks by Jan Welmers and Kees van Houten, I made new recordings of the fourth sonata (audio only):

J.S. Bach - Sonata e minor BWV 528, first movement

In particular, this piece is played less motorically now, in a more relaxed mood. 

J. S. Bach - Sonata e minor BWV 528, second movement, slow version

J. S. Bach- Sonata e minor BWV 528, second movement, quick version

Concerning the second movement, I made two new recordings: a slow and a quick version. The first may have the quality of tranquility, the second may be more in line with Bach's indication Andante. I am not sure about this yet, but have a feeling that the general tendency will be towards playing quicker versions of slow movements than before.

J. S. Bach - Sonata e minor BWV 528, third movement

In this version, I payed special attention to ornaments consisting of a slur with a mordent, partly according to Jan Welmers' remarks, because in the course of the piece I made some variations to add to the variety.


Third round: recordings commented upon by Marcel Ponseele

I intend to ask Marcel Ponseele to participate in the continuation of this peer review.


(N. B. perhaps the following is more appropriate for chapter five/Conclusion)


Connectivity between practising Bach and grooves

My ways of improving co-ordinative skills for trio sonatas by Bach and rhythmic melodic patterns that may serve as a groove are very similar, as shown by the following:

About practising trio sonatas by J. S. Bach

This shows how systematic ways of training in Western classical keyboard music, developed over the centuries, can greatly benefit other music traditions.

Chapter three - Recontextualizing Messiaen

Recontextualizing fragments from organ works by Olivier Messiaen into a contemporary language for improvisation and composition


A number of passages will be played according to Messiaen's scores and then serve as a starting-point for ramifications in various contexts, from organ or piano solo to co-operations with other musicians


1. Livre du Saint Sacrement, pp. 150-151 and 154-155

In 2007, while practising a technically difficult passage for a performance of Messiaen's Livre du Saint Sacrement (1983), I realized that his melodies, in particular those which imitate bird song, often contain archetypal call and response motives which might be transformed and used for improvisation and composition in an entirely different context. This passage is found on page 150 and 151:

It starts at "Un peu vif" and, using the digitalized sound of the Cavaillé-Coll organ in Caen (the type of organ Messiaen had in mind while composing the piece) sounds as follows:

Reconstructing the process of discovery, I marked the separate phrases with A1 - H. While slowly practising phrase C with the left hand only, I stopped at a certain passage for the fourth and fifth finger, which needed special attention because of the heavy mechanical action of the organ on which I had to play the piece. Afterwards, I called this the James Brown motive, for a reason that will become clear in the below text. I separated it from the phrase and repeated it a number of times, paying full attention to the movements of the fingers and raising the level of awareness of the technical issue. While doing so, it occurred to me that this repeated motive for the left hand might suit some improvisatory figures for the right. In its turn, trying to do so almost immediately evoked a second motive for the left hand which, combined with the first, created a short call and response phrase:

As a further exercise, I alternated this call and response phrase with gradual extensions according to the original phrase C:

The next step was to make a short piece with this material, including a short improvised intro and coda:

In this piece, which I named When Olivier Messiaen meets James Brown for obvious reasons, I kept using the digitalized sound of the French romantic Cavaillé-Coll organ in Caen, built in 1883. A next step was to continue transforming the material using the sound of a German/French baroque instrument: the Silbermann-organ in Arlesheim, built in 1761. Specific sonoric qualities of this instrument led to a piece called Trumpets and Elephants, equally based on using the James Brown motive as a riff played on the second manual, but now using the entire phrases A1/A2, B, C, D, E, F, G, H and I of the original passage by Messiaen, separately on the first and third manual. 
Compared to the above version of When Olivier Messiaen meets James Brown there is more room for improvisation. From the beginning till the piece is composed, but from  then a improvisatory cadenza leads to the end. 

Two pieces had now been generated from the above mentioned passage from Offrande et Alleluia final. In the second, the left hand kept playing the James Brown motive all the time, in the first the ostinato was interrupted with extensions derived from the phrase the motive was taken from. The second made use of other phrases from the same passage, the first did not. As an exercise, I decided to extend the material for the left hand further in a third version, without using the original material from Messiaen's score in the improvisations for the right. I adapted the piece to the sound of another type of organ, built by Van Dam in 1832, since 1955 situated in the Grote Kerk in Tholen. While creating this third version and due to deliberately playing on the edge of losing control, it occurred to me that an appropriate title for this third version would be All Souls' Day, thereby referring to both the type of music James Brown represented and my Roman Catholic background. 

Extending solo exercises to co-operations with other musicians

The above three versions mark the (preliminary) end of one ramification of this fragment by Messiaen, one that remained in the domain of solo organ playing. At the same time, it became a starting-point for working with musicians from other traditions. 

Messiaen's solo was memorized by jazz saxophonist Ruben Verbruggen and played in unison with the piano at the beginning of his piece Mis3 during his final exam Master of Music in Brussel on 11 June, 2013, as follows:

As in the course of the piece the introductory solo remains rather isolated from the straight forward jazz that follows, this may be considered as a first step. 

At the moment of writing these lines (6 April, 2014), the idea of integrating fragments by Messiaen in an avant jazz setting is carried forward in a co-operation with drummer Friso van Wijck and saxophonist Ruben Verbruggen. The three of us will give a seminar/workshop at Codarts on April 16 or 23, 2014, called Integrating rhythmic, melodic and harmonic aspects from Messiaen into cross-overs, with the following content:

Ia.  Odd metres/complex time signatures
 b.  Superposition of rhythmic cycles of unequal duration

IIa. Fitting atonal melodies into a groove with a tonal centre
  b. Creating a Zappa-like texture with an atonal bicinium

III. Complex harmonies in a slow, ballad-like movement

Some examples of our work up to now:

Meditation in Blue

Conclusion (N. B. parts of this texts may better suit the final chapter/Conclusion)

1. The process described above is typical for my daily practice, in which the interpretation of organ pieces from the Western classical repertoire is closely connected to improvisation and composition, solo and with other musicians, possibly coming from other traditions. At the beginning, there was a specific technical issue concerning a piece I was practising for a concert. This led to an improvisatory exercise based on an "invention" (in this case, the James Brown motive) and, step for step, three pieces with my own particular blend of improvisation and composition. These three pieces have a very flexible character and can take a different shape on the spot due to particular qualities of an instrument or, more in general, any needs of the moment. At one moment, mostly when feeling well equipped with the material that I trained, I then transfer the invention to other musicians, giving some hints for possible elaborations, but basically leaving the field open for new developments. In turn, these developments may be fed back to my solo elaborations and alter them in some way. 

2. The integration of interpretation and improvisation/composition even takes place at a deeper level. The archetypal concept of call and response makes the music sound conversational. Keeping this in mind but also -extending the expression- "in body", it also benefits the narrative aspect of my interpretation of, for instance, organ pieces by Bach. It may be argued that there are more traditional sources available to achieve the same, referring to rhetorica for instance, but for me this always remained at a rational level, while the archetypal quality of call and response reaches a deeper, emotional layer. I deliberately relate Bach's and Messiaen's music, considered by many as highlights of "Western art music" (a term which came only in existence in the 19th century), to the supposedly lower art of James Brown. It may also be argued that James Brown never used a 11/8 meter and that his music is in fact very different from my pieces. In reply to this, I would mention that while working with jazz musician Gijs Hendriks on the so-called James Brown motive, he referred to the fact that he started his career as a "time-keeper in rhythm and blues" and that this riff reminded him of those days. Also in working with jazz musician Ruben Verbruggen the term "James Brown piece" evidently communicated well, as he often referred to it in that way. It then becomes clear that the words "James Brown" hint at a certain music which he represents as an Afro-American icon and that the meaning of it goes deeper, suggesting for instance a relation with west African story-tellers (griots). 

3. In When Olivier Messiaen meets James Brown, Trumpets and Elephants and All Souls' Day, I play with a considerable rubato, according to my Western classical background. This functions well in the context of these solo pieces. However, when in the past I occasionally collaborated with tabla players and drummers, it appeared that for that work much more, or maybe it is better to say "another kind" of rhythmical precision was needed. In spite of my reputation for performing Messiaen's complex rhythms, I often felt quite embarrassed by my lack of skills in this respect. To improve these skills and open new possibilities for cross overs, I started to play with drummer Friso van Wijck two years ago. Results of this will be reflected upon in another part of the research. 


2. 2. Les Corps Glorieux, book one pp. 11-12

In itself, this passage is unique in the history of keyboard music. Written in 1939 (!), the texture remains completely original; nothing similar has ever been written by Strawinsky, Bartok, Schönberg or Varèse at the time or, as far as I know, other composers since.

Similar to Bach's trio sonatas and my rhythmic melodic patterns the hands are also learnt by heart separately, as an additional exercise for a profound understanding of the material. The left hand is always practised first; often the order of practising is left-right-left, to give extra time to the left hand which is normally weaker than the right. 

L'Ange aux parfums, first duet, left hand solo

L'Ange aux parfums. first duet, right hand solo

A new context is created by improvising a simple modal melody against these complex, atonal soli: 

Right hand improvisation on left hand solo L'Ange aux parfums

To be followed by a number of improvisations for organ solo and an avant jazz version for piano, saxophone and drums.