Before Bach's Birthday Bash

It's been going on for years, though I'd never heard of it—five hours of organ music in celebration of Bach's birthday performed in five neighborhood churches, each of which possesses a distinctive pipe organ. That might sound like a long haul. How much organ music can anyone enjoy? The genius of the event—aside from that of Bach and the performers involved—lies in the fact that each organ has a distinctive sound, and the churches are close enough that you can walk from one to the next through the sun and spring air during the half-hour interval between programs.

It was a brilliant Saturday afternoon, and though the sidewalks were both icy and riddled with puddles, the parade of Bach enthusiasts from one church to the next added a zany touch to the proceedings. To judge from a show of hands inside one of the churches, many had been present since the first program, which started at 9. We had spent the morning running errands, grabbed a sandwich at Broder's Deli, made a brief stop at the Weinstein Gallery on 46th Street to see the new show by local photographer Alec Soth, and then bolted across town—in so far as it's possible to "bolt" from Minneapolis to St. Paul through the construction zone on N 35W—to St. Clement's Episcopal Church for the first afternoon event.

St. Clement's has a dark and highly ornate, almost Pre-Raphaelite interior. (see above) As I listened, my mind wandered, and I also spent some time trying to decipher the saying that stretches across the arch of the nave, without success. The Toccata and Fugue that opened the program was well performed but steeped in that guttural, almost flatulent zone of sound that gives organ music a bad name. The chorale, pastorale, and grand fugue that followed were performed at lighter and more pleasing stops, while the viola piece by Walter Cogswell, midway through the program, of a few dance movements from one of Bach's solo cello sonatas, offered a refreshing tonal contrast. I was also impressed by the skill with which Cogswell kept to the tempo, allowing the emotion to emerge naturally from the melodies and the structure of the sounds.

A parade of Bach-lovers heading to the next church

The next program took place at Unity Unitarian Church, three blocks east on Portland Avenue. Its interior is brighter, more modern, less religious in feel—and the cushions on the pews are thicker. The program included several pieces for piano four-hands and a sonata for cello and piano, but the highlight for me was Bach's Trio Sonata #5, the three movements of which organist Stacie Lightner delivered with perfect punctiliousness and grace from the anonymity of the organ loft in the back of the church.

One of the pleasure of an organ recital is that you seldom see the performer. This gives the music a more abstract and floating quality, and Bach's often rigorous idiom contributes to the same heavenly effect. I found it easy, sitting in my pew, to associate the setting and the beauty and intricacy of the sound with some sort of cosmic spirit, but Bach would have disapproved. Recent critical analysis of the annotations in his personal bible has made it clear that he was a devout, conservative Lutheran who would have taken my frame of mind as idolatry pure and simple.

The final performance took place only half a block away, at House of Hope Presbyterian Church, one of St. Paul's classic urban spaces. I could easily have skipped it, but I'm glad we stuck around. Not only is the church's interior majestic, in a cozy way, but the organ has a deeper and fuller sound than anything we'd heard earlier. We were near the back, sitting under the largest battery of pipes, yet the sound, rich and varied and earthy, seemed to be coming from all directions, filling the nave with an array of overtones and subliminal vibrations that made me think of truffles. It was a revelation.

   

All the same, the most dazzling music of the day came from a piano—a Bach Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue performed by a U of M student named Dong-Suk Michael Min. He tore through the piece flawlessly at break-neck speed--something a pipe organ isn't designed to do, I think--while also fully exploiting its expressive potential. I would say he has a promising future ahead of him, except that he's already won prizes at four or five international competitions.   

Michael Barone, long-time host of the Minnesota Public Radio program Pipedreams, organized the event with the help of colleagues from the local chapter of the American Guild of Organists, the Bach Society of Minnesota, the National Lutheran Choir, the St. Paul Conservatory of Music, and the University of Minnesota School of Music. Barone also introduced each program. No doubt there were many organists in the crowd, which grew larger at each venue. Perhaps some of them got together later for a jam session.

We drove home through the still-sunny afternoon along Summit Avenue and up River Road.

What to listen to while making dinner? How about some solo cello sonatas? Or Angela Hewitt playing Bach's Art of Fuge? On the piano.