Well, I guess I have too much time on my hands these days (and it's not for lack of work, or for lack of need to practice either!), but I sometimes find myself pondering those questions that have burdened the great minds of the human race for eons. Such as "why do some digital organs sound good to me and some don't?" (Ok, maybe Socrates never addressed this topic, but if he were alive today he surely would, right?)
A word that came to my mind as I pondered this subject today, thinking about several organs I've played lately, was "transparency." And I'm not entirely sure that I can define it. But it seems as good a word as any to describe the quality I'm thinking of.
You know how, when you're listening to a wondrously voiced pipe organ in a magnificently endowed acoustic space such as an historic cathedral -- and the sound really seems to just BE THERE. In the room, in the air, in the floor, in your chest, in your gut. It's not like you're thinking, "that sound is coming from that spot over there, inside that box, behind that screen." Instead, you're blissfully unaware of just WHERE the source is. You see display pipes, a lovely case, some less adorned pipe sets on a shelf or along the quire aisles. And you know that somewhere there are the very pipes that are lovingly responding to the stream of air passing out the flue and caressing the upper lip, thus eliciting a whisper or a roar that transcends description.
But how often does one experience the same in a typical church or hall listening to a typical digital organ? Not often enough, I'm sure.
Yet, now and then, it actually happens. Sometimes on a grand scale, as when one of the great digital builders produces a masterpiece that also happens to reside in an acoustic space that transforms the plain tones from the speakers into the ghostly spirits of the pipes that were sampled.
And for me, most frequently, it's when I'm listening to a Hauptwerk organ through headphones. I don't have an actual Hauptwerk setup of my own, but I can listen on Contrebombarde.com to the finest of them, played by some excellent folks, and when I do, I nearly always feel that I am truly in the presence of pipes producing TRANSPARENT MUSIC in a lovely space that may be a thousand years old.
I don't get the same sensation when I listen to even a very nice modern digital (such as the one in my home) through headphones. Someone recently asked me what it's like to listen to a digital organ with headphones, and I said "like there's an organ playing in your ear." And that's not where we are wanting to hear organs playing.
But there are certain modern digital installations where I have indeed heard something very close to the transparent sound that one gets in that perfect space where organ and room unite. I won't say that it depends on the builder, because I have heard it from more than one builder. Or that it simply depends on the room, important as the room may be. But there is something that some organs have and some just don't.
And I'm calling that something "transparency." If I can discover how to make an organ transparent, I will change the world.
A word that came to my mind as I pondered this subject today, thinking about several organs I've played lately, was "transparency." And I'm not entirely sure that I can define it. But it seems as good a word as any to describe the quality I'm thinking of.
You know how, when you're listening to a wondrously voiced pipe organ in a magnificently endowed acoustic space such as an historic cathedral -- and the sound really seems to just BE THERE. In the room, in the air, in the floor, in your chest, in your gut. It's not like you're thinking, "that sound is coming from that spot over there, inside that box, behind that screen." Instead, you're blissfully unaware of just WHERE the source is. You see display pipes, a lovely case, some less adorned pipe sets on a shelf or along the quire aisles. And you know that somewhere there are the very pipes that are lovingly responding to the stream of air passing out the flue and caressing the upper lip, thus eliciting a whisper or a roar that transcends description.
But how often does one experience the same in a typical church or hall listening to a typical digital organ? Not often enough, I'm sure.
Yet, now and then, it actually happens. Sometimes on a grand scale, as when one of the great digital builders produces a masterpiece that also happens to reside in an acoustic space that transforms the plain tones from the speakers into the ghostly spirits of the pipes that were sampled.
And for me, most frequently, it's when I'm listening to a Hauptwerk organ through headphones. I don't have an actual Hauptwerk setup of my own, but I can listen on Contrebombarde.com to the finest of them, played by some excellent folks, and when I do, I nearly always feel that I am truly in the presence of pipes producing TRANSPARENT MUSIC in a lovely space that may be a thousand years old.
I don't get the same sensation when I listen to even a very nice modern digital (such as the one in my home) through headphones. Someone recently asked me what it's like to listen to a digital organ with headphones, and I said "like there's an organ playing in your ear." And that's not where we are wanting to hear organs playing.
But there are certain modern digital installations where I have indeed heard something very close to the transparent sound that one gets in that perfect space where organ and room unite. I won't say that it depends on the builder, because I have heard it from more than one builder. Or that it simply depends on the room, important as the room may be. But there is something that some organs have and some just don't.
And I'm calling that something "transparency." If I can discover how to make an organ transparent, I will change the world.
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