(Hey, where ya been? I've been deluged with the stuff that puts bread on the table, and don't get me wrong...let it rain, let it rain, I say, but thanks for your patience during the extended break.)
Overture Hall was sold out the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving for a solo organ recital by Thomas Trotter. Somehow, I managed to get a seat four rows from the stage. I'd been in Overture Hall before, up in the mezzanine, but this was my first (and probably only) chance to get a full view of the new hall from the main floor, looking up, back and around. I gawked; it's gorgeous. It's distinctly modern (clean lines, blond wood, metallic highlights) without being chilly or austere, and the well-padded seats generously accommodate...well-padded seats.
The recital was the culmination of a series of performances highlighting the crown jewel of the new hall, the Pleasant Rowland Concert Organ. It's quite a sight too. The pipes (4,040 of 'em) occupy the entire width of the concert stage, arrayed in sound-wave sine curves that form their own work of art even without emitting a single sound. The organ's received a lot of well-deserved publicity and soberly intonated accolades, but I love that it was borne of the fruits of a business started by an enterpreneur when she was forty-five years old.
The recital program covered a wide range of styles and sounds. (And it's left me with a yearning to hear the John Lanius "Switched-On Buxtehude" performed in Overture Hall someday.) Thomas Trotter has a commanding presence while performing, but was utterly personable and charming as he gave introductions to each of the pieces during the performance. (Also impressively athletic, swinging himself onto the organ bench, lithe and spry as a gymnast, before the start of each piece.)
The music from the organ is almost indescribable when, yes, all the stops are pulled out. The sound floods the senses, shuts down the left brain, and levitates you into another world. (Think Robert De Niro in the opium den in the final scene of Once Upon a Time in America, director's cut.) I think I need another fix...soon.
The concert ended with two crowd-pleasing encores. The first was an arrangement of Flight of the Bumblebee with the melody performed on footpedal. When Trotter came out to perform the second encore, he told the audience that, unlike the other pieces in the program, he would not be announcing the title of the final piece but would leave it to us to recognize. Yes, it was familiar to me; it was the Widor Toccata. The last time I'd heard it performed live was almost fourteen years ago, when Thomas Weisflog played it as the recessional for my wedding...O happy day.
Forget the "switched on" version. I would love to take a crack at the actual Buxtehude on that organ. An interesting (and attractively-modern) facade. Thanks for the link, and welcome back!
Posted by: JohnL | December 05, 2004 at 08:38 PM
Wow. That sounds absolutely wonderful. And any organist who has the nerve to "trot out" (sorry -- the words were on the keyboard before I realized!) BWV 565 as the first thing is serving notice that 1) this is a wonderful instrument and 2) he knows EXACTLY how to put it through its paces. It takes real guts to believe in one's ability to reclaim the familiar from the banal, imho.
Widor's the best recessional, IMHO :-)
Posted by: Patricia Tryon | December 05, 2004 at 08:44 PM
John, I would love to hear it either way. (And I see that I've misspelled Buxtehude...I'll go and fix that up right quick!) Cheers.
Posted by: Chan S. | December 05, 2004 at 08:49 PM
Patricia, you are spot on re: the BWV 565. I've heard it many a time (as we all have), but this was the first time it brought on an out-of-body experience. It was transcendent. And, of course, I agree with you about the Widor!
Posted by: Chan S. | December 06, 2004 at 09:19 AM