I am preparing a recital to be played on the new organ at Holy Trinity Seminary in the Dallas suburb of Irving just two weeks from yesterday, Sunday, the 26th at 4 pm. I would love to meet any of you who live near there or happen to be in the area. Our forum member Dr Gregory Hamilton is the seminary's music director and composer in residence. The program, which includes a complete alternatim Gloria by Couperin, the Bach kyries, and a set of Trinitarian pieces by Gregory written just for the occasion, is attached below.

Now, to the oddities which came to mind this evening while I was practicing and to which some of you may make additions.

Odd stuff during recitals:
1. Loose page blows away and floats over the gallery rail. Too late to be of any use, someone rushes back upstairs with it - fortunately, I had it memorised.

2, It never fails that at some critical moment in the most challenging piece one's nose will begin to itch. I always xerox my music in such manner that I don't need page turners (who make me nervous), but many have been the times when I could have used a nose scratcher.

3. Suddenly, the eyes begin to water so that one can hardly read the music (another reason to have it memorised).

4. Magically, one's clothes don't seem to fit right, or one becomes acutely aware of bothersome wrinkles on the shirtsleeves inside the coat sleeves.

4b. Suddenly, the shoes which seemed fine while practicing, just don't seem to fit right, causing pointless wriggling of the toes - which just makes it worse by suddenly causing an uncomfortable wrinkle in a sock.

5. While playing a rapid passage a finger jabs a piston, requiring ingenious improvisation and giving rise to unseemly thoughts.

6. Forgetting to punch the 'cancel' piston after the finale and standing up on the pedals.

7. Discovering half-way through a piece that the pages which I have so carefully xeroxed are not arranged in the order in which they should be. This causes wild eye movements untill the right page is spotted, and may require some improvisation.

8. The recital is being recorded and someone has the cheek to sneeze at some really beautiful moment.

8b. An ill-bred motorcyclist decides to treat the neighbourhood to the varieties of noise he or she can make while speeding by.

8c. A police car (or an ambulance) suddenly has need to be in 'hot pursuit' right in the middle of that excruciatingly lovely Clerambault recit or your favourite cerebral Clavier-Ubung offering.

9. (This was a nice one): The chapel tower bells just happen to ring at just the moment in the de Grigny alternatim mass at which the elevation would have taken place!

10. Some recitals, though, really leave one thrilled. When all goes miraculously well it is like being on the Mount of Transfiguration. Most fall short of that (some, far short!), but enough rise to that to make them near mystical experiences which one can never forget. Experience in and out of liturgy leaves one with the certitude that a well crafted music is like an icon written in sound: of realms invisible it offers a glimpse, while those visible it casts in light more profound.


Here is the program for my Holy Trinity recital for any who happen to be in the area -
(You will notice that the recital's theme is the Most Holy Trinity.)