I’m having a difficult time composing or actually doing anything creative musically.  They say one truly doesn’t appreciate what one has until it’s lost or taken away.  Well, in my case I know all too well what it’s like having had one organ after another essentially yanked from me over the years.  This last time was especially pernicious, having been deceived (again) by clergy.  I suppose it’s my fault for actually putting my faith in a clergyman.  As a church musician (being an organist) I’ve worked with and known a considerable number of clergy of different denominations, liturgical and non-liturgical; and, of all these clergy persons only one turned out to be a truly sincere and trustworthy  person; i. e., some one who is not a hypocrite. I guess because of this one pastor with whom I worked and got to know, whose sincerity and honesty are above reproach,  I allowed myself to be duped into thinking that maybe other church officials — namely clergy, but also church musicians —  can actually be veracious individuals.  Silly me.  

Without going into the litany of the times I thought I had finally found an organ on which I could be able to practise and learn the repertoire I had always wanted to play, only to be thwarted for some reason or another, I should have realised at least forty years ago that being an organist was a very, very lamentable life choice.  Finally this last time, at Christ Church Episcopal in Quincy, MA it happened one last time.  Again my naïveté, my actually thinking that this rector was different for the other clergy (with one major exception) and musicians with whom I had dealt, came back to smack me in the face again.  And to add bitter icing on the cake this clergyman has the same name as my favourite jazz trumpeter.

The parallels between the other aspects of my personal life and my problematic relationship with music are somewhat intriguing if not particularly compelling.  But, more on that some other time. 

Notwithstanding, this last act of my evulsion from an organ (inasmuch as my having become singularly fond of this particular instrument) was particularly demoralising, so much so that I find it harder to concentrate on the one thing that had always been my principle motivating factor in my life — music.  Being able to play an organ had always given me the sense of purpose and energy that spurred my interest in other things —  notably in other art forms.  The organ was my wellspring.  It was my interest in the organ that inspired me to compose, roused my desire toward conducting, and interest toward everything musical.  Now I feel as if  part of my soul has been torn from my being.  As I look at my life, where I am in my sunset years,  the effect on me is immeasurable. It’s become so problematic for me that I can barely stand to listen to classical music anymore  — especially organ music.  It didn’t help that my relationship with the organ and organ music was  — shall we say — iconoclastic.  But, that’s another story.

Although I’ve come to focus more on composing, the inspiration comes harder.  I used to improvise for hours at the console, and would be a source in inspiration and ideas.  I no longer have that.  I have a piano; but, for me it’s not the same or nearly enough. So, to help ease the pain I’ve divorced myself from the organ.  I’ve quit most of my organ groups and pages on Facebook (with the notable exception of the Virgil Fox group); I’ve removed my name from the AGO substitute list, and will let my membership expire.*  I may continue to write for the instrument and may even continue to write sacred music (for some curiously anomalous reason). 

For a pathetic touch of irony, whilst I was still active as an organist I couldn’t get arrested as a substitute; but, since I made the conscious decision that the organ was no longer to be a part of my life, I’ve received more calls than ever to substitute or interim at various churches.  Go figger.

*This is no real great loss since the AGO is still obsessed with the traditional church, which is dying, and has consistently refused to seriously consider the organ as a concert instrument; which to me is it’s only future.

     It seems that every morning lately I awaken with this depressing sensation that no matter what I do only contributes my increasing sense of futility.  Ever since it became apparent that I was no longer an organist — much less a decent one —  I thought that if I devoted my time to composition I might find renewed inspiration and finish a number of works I began at various times which have been sitting around waiting for my brilliant and visionary creative prowess:  that I would find new purpose — new meaning — to these final years to my life.  Well, maybe not so much.  I find it more and more burdensome to find even ounce of creativity.  Maybe it’s the Mass I’ve been trying to write, knowing 1) there isn’t a choir in the world who will sing it (not that it really matters anymore), and 2) my agnosticism seems to have put a bit of a damper on everything: not just music, everything.  It leaves me in even greater of awe of RVW’s ability to write some of the most gorgeous church music whilst as a bonafide agnostic. 

But, it’s not just la musique du chœur with which I struggle; it’s pretty much music in general.  For so long music has/had been the central point of my life; even when I wasn’t directly involved in the art form I always managed to keep one foot in the water, as it were, as either a music director or a substitute organist a some church somewhere, notwithstanding the mindlessly simplistic and pharisaical theology of most (not all, but most) clergy and the gratuitous hypocrisy of their congregations.  Now, I can barely stand to listen to music, especially newer music, especially newer church music.  I listen to contemporary composers, people who are considered important, highly respected —prize winners, etc. — and I think what the hell has happened to the craft of composition?  It seems that with orchestral and instrumental music it’s either: 1) the still irritatingly nondirectional, atonal nonsense continually perpetrated by academics preoccupied by their obsession for complexity and peer indulgence, or 2) it’s the mind numbing minimalism by moronic composers who have no sense of melody or line, or worse, are too dame lazy to care.  With choral and vocal music, in lieu of the nonsensical repetitive haze of gurgling and swirling keyboards or various instruments over static harmonies, you have initially pleasing, moderately dissonant harmonies, but ultimately stupefacient stasis which ends up leaving one wanting something more.  

So, as I sit here pondering what to do with myself, I look as Blaze who’s lying in his old bed with his head hanging out onto the floor, and is perfectly happy to hang out, just to be with his Daddy today(other days he’s with Mommy upstairs when she’s working); and, I think of my beloved Rosemary, who for some inscrutable reason, loves me as much as I adore her; and I realise how fortunate I am.  Otherwise I’d either be living on some street in Philadelphia, or dead on some street in Philadelphia.

And yet, I am anything but fulfilled.  As a musician I am, and have been since WCC, obviously an unqualified failure, not having achieved a single musical goal:  not as an organist, not as a conductor, not as a composer, not even as a sheet music store owner.  And the worst part about it is I have no one else to blame but myself and the incalculable number of bad decisions I’ve made, many so as to accommodate others, thinking that eventually it will all pay off. Rationalisation, delusion, through acquiescence is artistic suicide.  Unfortunately it’s too late for me to learn that.

So what do I do?  Well, that’s an easy question:  I just keep composing whilst trying to learn French (another dreadful mistake I made at WCC, for which I will never forgive Frau Silz).  When I finish the Gloria to the mass I’m writing, I’ll put the thing aside and work on something completely new. Hmm maybe I’ll write a communion service for non-liturgical Protestants (Presbyterians, Methodist, Congregationalists, etc.) who once a month do a simplified or modified version the eucharist.  Who knows maybe this will be my ticket to getting published or performed (at the very least).  And so, the rationalising, the delusional thinking goes on.

When I decided to be the interim organist at this Baptist church near where I live, I didn’t think it would take me through December; nevertheless, I came to the decision that Sunday (19/XII/21) would be it.   I really can’t deal with it anymore.  Now this is NOT a Southern Baptist church, which makes it marginally less intolerable; but, intolerable just the same.  My problem is not that it’s a non-liturgical church; it’s that they there is nothing there.  After all, they don’t even have a creed.  At least the Presbyterians, Methodists, Congregationalists, etc. use the Apostle’s Creed (sort of a “cliff notes” version of the Nicene Creed).  Like most other non-liturgical churches they only do “Communion” (the Lord’s Supper, i.e the Eucharist) once a month; and even then it’s pathetically abbreviated, just this simple recitation of I Corinthians XI: 23-26 chowing down this ¼ “ square of stale “bread” and a tiny slurp of grape juice (both of which are contained in this “convenient” little hourglass shaped container:  open up one end, crunch the square, open up the other end, slurp the juice).  It has about as much spirituality, about as much mystery of  faith as a stock car race.  THEN they declare — not the Christian creed (i. e. testament of faith) — but this thing called a Church Covenant.  Now I don’t know if this is strictly a Baptist thing or if it is unique to this church; but, that’s what I have been experiencing once a month for the past 5½ months.  

This is the problem with sermon based, non-liturgical so-called Christian churches; because, even when it comes to the Communion service, it’s not the Lord’s Supper that’s paramount it’s the bloody sermon!  It’s always the sermon.  What happened to the mystery of faith: that mystical union between the alluvial and the transcendental?  This is their communion with God??  Part of my ennui is that the other services are just as prosaic.  MY question is:  What is there to believe?

Anyway, I have two services to play at a UCC church which, at least, has a decent three manual Austin/Czelesniak organ; and, from what I’ve surmised from the past year’s bulletins will at least not be a totally miserable experience. 

So after 9 January 2022, unless the organ at Christ Church Episcopal in Quincy (or something not dissimilar) is made available to me, I am done with organ and performing period.  I’ll just return to the futility of composition.

We’ll see.

Monday (8/XI/21) I played for a funeral at the Baptist Church for whom I’ve been interim organist. About 30 minutes before the service I began playing various quiet, meditative/reflective pieces to help set a peaceful mood. Among such pieces as Bach: “Ich ruf zu Dir, Herr Jesu Christ,” “Alle Menschen müssen sternben,” Peeters “Monastic Peace,” even Franck’s “Panis Angelicus,” among other similar pieces. A considerably large number of people arrived (compared to the Sundays I’ve been playing) and as a result the noise level had reached such a point I stopped in the middle of the Franck. And stared out from the console in disgust. Of course, nobody noticed because they were so loud.

Is it any wonder why I have decided to dump this gig at the end of November (yes, I know, right at the beginning of Advent — not that they really care about what THAT means)? My only regret is that I’ll be without an organ, again, on which to practise; unless I can work something out with the Episcopal church in which I had been practising up until November of last year. That’s another idiotic story as well.

I have one more gig for the first two Sundays in January at a large Congregational church on 3 manual Austin of recent vintage with two anthems (separate conductor) with communion (1st Sunday of the month). After that I’m done. I just don’t enjoy playing for the church — any church — at this point. Oh, and from what I’ve seen from previous bulletins the hymnal is large and full of “modern” tunes which they seem to like to use. Another reason to break away from this torture. We’ll see.

I’ve been an organist most of my life. I loved the organ (and perhaps I still do, but that’s a matter with which to be discussed later). There was a time in which I could not imagine myself not being an organist. For decades I was at most peace with myself, most focused, yet free when I would be alone for hours in a dark church or auditorium practising or — especially — improvising at the console. Improvising at the organ was often the inspiration for my composing. Not that I would remember much, if any, of the ideas which passed through my hands and feet; rather, I would come away with insights and the confidence to put musical thoughts on paper (and yes, I still compose with a pencil and several handy erasers). It was nice. The only person’s expectations of whom I was concerned were my own.

But, that’s changed now. A number of factors have occurred since I last played the organ, particularly regarding at the church I had been practising up until a year ago when the Diocese instituted a shut down of its churches. Since then (November 2020, apparently there has been some opening up of the church; notwithstanding the my last communication with the rector (July 2021) who informed me that for insurance reasons I still couldn’t come and practise the organ, even though I’ve seen numerous groups and individuals (outside of the rector and the church administrator) come and go.

Now, I’ve been here before, under different circumstances mind you; I’ve gone with “dry” periods of not having an instrument upon which to practise in the past; and it’s very frustrating. Just as I feel I’m regaining my technique, even progressing, some circumstance (too many to numerate here) comes along and I’m sans organ one more time; and the quest to find a decent instrument is renewed. But, this time it’s different. In this case I’ve decided that I’m fed up being at the mercy of duplicitous clergy. Concerning this last situation, since I haven’t received any communication from this clergyman, notwithstanding the obvious change from our last communication (e-mail), as if I’m blind and can’t see the comings and goings at the church, I’ve decided not bother. It’s pretty clear that my presence, no matter how careful, unobtrusive and deferential I’ve been, is simply no longer desired. At least that is my conclusion. I’ve pondered, a lot, as to whether I should ask one more time now. The issue is not that I’m afraid of what he’ll tell me. No, my concern is what I might say.

So, what does this have to do with my attitude to the organ? Well, I simply don’t like playing it much anymore. I’ve had the rug pulled out from beneath me too many times. And at my age I just don’t feel like starting over for ninth or tenth time. It’s a shame; because, I’m currently the interim at a church where the congregation (at least for now) truly appreciate my playing. The organ is much smaller than the one I used to play, and it’s decent for its size; but, at this point I’m totally uninspired and have no desire to learn anything new, much less work on another recital programme.

So, there it is. Unfortunately having had the instrument I have loved to play and has been so much of my inspiration for all the other aspects of my love of music taken away — again, has taken its toll on them and my whole thinking as to who I am.

I guess I should just stick to gardening.