Ghmus7,

I understand your quandary.

Your answer -- that this is the one time when the organist is offering praise unrestrainedly -- was the most appropriate under the circumstances. You might refer next time to the famous story of Le Jongleur de Notre Dame. In all the other situations you play, you're supporting someone else's work of glorifying God, but here is yours, in isolation.

I have explained that the purpose of the postlude is to get them out the door and empty the church for the next crowd. Also, to cover the excessive noise they make while leaving. My postludes tend to be short, so they wouldn't have much of a wait for it to be over. I also suggested coming early and praying, since it is quieter then.

One old gentleman once said that I played too loudly. l said, "what's wrong, did I disturb your nap?"

I have also noted that I work for the pastor, not them, and the pastor wants those postludes.

I can see where the comments are coming from. *I'm not an organist,* but having grown up in the EF, I do stay after Mass to pray. When the organ is too loud, it makes it almost impossible for me to get through my Hail, Holy Queen. Similarly, if the organist's ad lib post-communion music is too loud, I have great trouble getting through my Anima Christi.
Perhaps not everyone has this issue, but it does disrupt the thought process of prayerfully reciting longer prayers.
It isn't that there is music at all, it's that the organ is louder than my own thoughts.

Regarding postludes:

We go from the blessing and dismissal to the seasonal Marian hymn. After the Marian hymn, there are the Leonine prayers (St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle...etc.). After the Leonine prayers, I play an organ postlude as the sacred ministers process from the sanctuary to the narthex.

I very rarely play for more than 2:30-3:00 (those are minutes, not hours!), and I intentionally steer clear of more "harmonically adventurous" repertoire because I know a decent fraction of (almost) any congregation doesn't like it.

This morning, I played a piece by Lani Smith (under a nom de plume). Last week, I improvised on the theme of the recessional hymn. The week before that was a Pachelbel fugue. Nothing long, and nothing "out there," melodically or harmonically.

Regarding Communion and Post-Communion:

We start with the proper chant from Bartlett's Simple English Propers with a small men's schola. While we are chanting, a vested EMHC is bringing the Eucharist up to the choir loft for the singers.

I receive the Blessed Sacrament first and immediately go to the organ, where I either play a piece in the key of our choir anthem/motet or improvise in the appropriate key or mode. After the choir sings, I improvise an interlude and transition into the key of the post-Communion hymn of thanksgiving, and we sing the hymn congregationally. That usually covers the purifying of the vessels, and I wrap things up.

I agree that any post-Communion ad libbing from the organist should be on the gentler side of things, so as to aid in contemplation, rather than to draw attention to the organist's playing.

It's not. Some folks will bitch about anything and everything.

We actually have two side chapels where the sound drops off significantly. How hard is it to get up and move rather than complain? Many tell us they enjoy those postludes and the pastor says, "turn it up. I love it."

In case there is some misunderstanding, nobody plays loudly "trying" to clear the church. Organists play postludes *while* people clear the church.

Perhaps it's time to add some scary French organ music to the repertoire. :-)

Loud is fine. There is such a thing as 'so loud that the volume becomes the point'. I would call it unmusical at that point, regardless of one's judgment about suitability for prayer.

A couple of thoughts re: postlude:

1) The postlude is not an option exercised by the organist, but rather should exist as a result of agreement by clergy and musicians that this is the appropriate way to end services. If it is agreed that the 'default' is to be a failry upbeat, fairly full-volume piece, worshipers have nothing to complain to the organists about.

2) Every organist should make sure they have a very accurate idea of how the organ sounds with different registrations throughout the building. I have recorded services and practice sessions (different acoustic, of course, with an empty nave) from all areas of the church to make sure I know what all of the folks are hearing (ditto for accompanying hymns). How it sounds from the organ bench is rarely how it sounds to the PIPs. Last year I befriended, and am mentoring, a rather talented young organist (who this year is studying with at Juilliard with Paul Jacobs) who does constantly register things too heavily (and in historically inappropriate ways, but that's another matter) out of ignorance of the effect he is having on the congregation—to him it is a grand, exciting, inspiring sound!

3) 'Clearing the church'— my mother (my non-Catholic parent) used to call the postlude the 'Go thou and do likewise!' music. (My father only wishes that postludes were part of his regular worship experience!) However, as (I like to think!) the result of 3-plus years of thoughtfully chosen postludes at my current church, the number of folks that don't move at all from their pews has gradually increased to the point that most of the congregation is still seated by the end.

4)

it also discourages talking and congregational noise

Actually, it is my experience that for those who choose not to listen to the postlude, it seems that greater volume is actually a cue for louder talking! I remember my first Easter at my current church—I played the Widor Toccata, and when I reached the pedal octaves at the climax, I was distinctly aware of a women's voice, holding forth over all the reeds. From the organ loft I could clearly hear every word she said. If I really want to keep folks from making a lot of noise after the service, I play something that starts quietly!

Each place is different. Trying to generate these overall "rules" can never work.

True! Just offering my experience.

I would like that rule, since some definitely deserved to be beaned. Being serious for a moment - bad habit. I try to not do it - see St. Paul for good intentions gone astray. I appreciate issues some run into with their own congregations. All the rest of us have different congregations where we:

1. May not encounter the problem
2. Are accustomed to functioning in different ways
3. Are operating under a different set of instructions.

Consequently, anything we could propose would not fit the original issue nor resolve the problem. From any practical standpoint, no rules exist.

Love Tournemire, but he doesn't go over well with some audiences. A good friend tells me that organ concerts draw crowds in Paris, but those same folks would not consider attending mass. Interesting.

And, there are those who get bent out of shape if actual praise during mass disturbs the private and internal prayer which they prefer to participating in the ritual with everyone else. They are, whenever they stage their protests, out of tune. If they were truly of a prayerful bent they would appreciate the music that they hear and kindly wait until it is over - at which point they would give thanks for having heard something so majestic in honour of their God.

I'm afraid that whether organist or vocalist or instrumentalist, it is very easy for us indvidually as performers to be caught up in the accidental rather than the essential.

I'm not an organist - so I suspect that rules out my opinion for those who are. :) However, I frequently notice the phenomena where the organist passes from being an accompaniment for singing or background to support reflection to focusing on what the instrument can do or the skill one can exhibit. Although this observation mainly applies to when accompanying the singing, it can also be when the organ is the solo instrument.

Vocalists certainly have the same issue. An undue focus on solos, particularly ones that showcase talent. Over-singing. Choosing repertoire that is striking, rather than elevating.

This isn't an endorsment one way or the other. I think there is a time and place for glorying in the majesty of the instrument, just as (for the vocalists) there is a time and place for choosing something that is vocally compelling.

I don't think we have to cater to the least common denominator in either direction, whether pro or con. As is frequently the case where judgment is involved, I don't know that there is a single answer that is correct. We each have the responsibility to form our knowledge of proper musical standards; each of us must make the best decision we can given our own set of circumstances. What might be suitable in a cathedral or large church is not likely as suitable in a smaller church, and vice versa.

Father, I don't think the choice is necessarily all or nothing - of rousing prelude or silence. I think there is a happy medium whereby we, as musicians, recognize that what we do is not for ourselves, nor simply for "the people", nor even simply for the pastor... but for a blend of worship and what suits best for drawing souls to Christ.

For the record, in the Masses I direct, there is a postlude. Occasionally it is glorious but without being (I think) unduly loud.

I am very thankful for the postlude my son plays after Mass because it helps me in my prayer both in the appropriateness of the music he plays and that it covers the raucous noise of people talking enough to allow me focus on Christ. Normally, by the time he is done, the loudmouths are, thankfully, out the door and I can continue praying in quiet. It is the noise the people make that distracts me from prayer, not the organ.

I thought our choir was old with a median age of 60 or more! I couldn't use an average, because we have a wonderfully musical middle school boy who would throw the statistic way off!

One way to look at this is the hope that those of us who are in our 60's can hope to continue to be able to sing for many years to come. My mother is almost 91 and she stopped singing a few years ago. Breath control became a problem and also my brother made the mistake of recording her and when she heard how she sounded, she was horrified at the sound of her voice and "gave up" singing, except at Mass in the pew.

They are quite a bunch, eh ghmus? I see two sides here, and it is hard to pick one!

...wouldn't necessarily assume...

The person's demeanor is a pretty good guage.
Does this really seem like a prayerful person?
Anger and disrespect, or contempt for valid music making in God's house would seem to belie genuine prayerfulness.
A truly prayerful person would not be disturbed and would simply await the silence following the mass' musical peroration to make his or her private prayers.
Such a person would understand that the organ's music is also an act of prayer and adoration - of thanksgiving - and would appreciate it as such.

I rather think that, most of the time, 'loud' means 'I can hear it and I don't want to hear it'.
And 'it' very often isn't 'loud' at all.

Then, too - at times like this how often do we fail to take account of ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO DIDN'T COMPLAIN.

I've been told numerous times by both priest and lay, after a postlude or during practice hours, that the organ AIDED their prayers - even when it was loud.

It's best to show respect, not get upset, and go on about one's day.

Reminds me of this passage from the end of Chapter VI of Buddenbrooks by Thomas Mann (1901), set in Lübeck, as translated by Helen Tracy Lowe-Porter:

On his eighth birthday, April 15th, 1869, Hanno played before the assembled family a fantasy of his own composition. It was a simple affair, a motif entirely of his own invention, which he had slightly developed. When he showed it to Herr Pfühl, the organist, of course, had some criticism to make.

“What sort of theatrical ending is that, Johann? It doesn’t go with the rest of it. In the beginning it is all pretty good; but why do you suddenly fall from B major into the six-four chord on the fourth note with a minor third? These are tricks; and you tremolo here, too — where did you pick that up? I know, of course: you have been listening when I played certain things for your mother. Change the end, child: then it will be quite a clean little piece of work.”

But it appeared that Hanno laid the greatest stress precisely on this minor chord and this finale; and his mother was so very pleased with it that it remained as it was. She took her violin and played the upper part, and varied it with runs in demi-semi-quavers. That sounded gorgeous: Hanno kissed her out of sheer happiness, and they played it together to the family on the 15th of April.

The Frau Consul, Frau Permaneder. Christian, Clothilde, Herr and Frau Consul Kroger, Herr and Frau Director Weinschenk, the Broad Street Buddenbrooks, and Therese Weichbrodt were all bidden to dinner at four o’clock, with the Senator and his wife, in honor of Hanno’s birthday; and now they sat in the salon and looked at the child, perched on the music-stool in his sailor suit, and at the elegant, foreign appearance his mother made as she played a wonderful cantilena on the G string, and then, with profound virtuosity, developed a stream of purling, foaming cadences. The silver on the end of her bow gleamed in the gas-light.

Hanno was pale with excitement, and had hardly eaten any dinner. But now he forgot all else in his absorbed devotion to his task, which would, alas, be all over in ten minutes! The little melody he had invented was more harmonic than rhythmic in its structure; there was an extraordinary contrast between the simple primitive material which the child had at his command, and the impressive, impassioned, almost over- refined method with which that material was employed. He brought out each leading note with a forward inclination of the little head; he sat far forward on the music-stool, and strove by the use of both pedals to give each new harmony an emotional value. In truth, when Hanno concentrated upon an effect, the result was likely to be emotional rather than merely sentimental. He gave every simple harmonic device a special and mysterious significance b> means of retardation and accentuation; his surprising skill in effects was displayed in each chord, each new harmony, by a suddenly introduced pianissimo. And he sat with lifted eye- brows, swaying back and forth with the whole upper part of his body. Then came the finale, Hanno’s beloved finale, which crowned the elevated simplicity of the whole piece. Soft and clear as a bell sounded the E minor chord, tremolo pianissimo, amid the purling, flowing notes of the violin. It swelled, it broadened, it slowly, slowly rose: suddenly, in the forte, he introduced the discord C sharp, which led back to the original key, and the Stradivarius ornamented it with its welling and singing. He dwelt on the dissonance until it became fortissimo. But he denied himself and his audience the resolution; he kept it back. What would it be, this resolution, this enchanting, satisfying absorption into the B major chord? A joy beyond compare, a gratification of overpowering sweetness! Peace! Bliss! The kingdom of Heaven: only not yet — not yet! A moment more of striving, hesitation, suspense, that must become well-nigh intolerable in order to heighten the ultimate moment of joy. — Once more — a last, a final tasting of this striving and yearning, this craving of the entire being, this last forcing of the will to deny oneself the fulfilment and the conclusion, in the knowledge that joy, when it comes, lasts only for the moment. The whole upper part of Hanno’s little body straightened, his eyes grew larger, his closed lips trembled, he breathed short, spasmodic breaths through his nose. At last, at last, joy would no longer be denied. It came, it poured over him; he resisted no more. His muscles relaxed, his head sank weakly on his shoulder, his eyes closed, and a pathetic, almost ail anguished smile of speechless rapture hovered about his mouth; while his tremolo, among the rippling and rustling runs from the violin, to which he now added runs in the bass, glided over into B major, swelled up suddenly into forte, and after one brief, resounding burst, broke off.

It was impossible that all the effect which this had upon Hanno should pass over into his audience. Frau Pennaneder, for instance, had not the slightest idea what it was all about. But she had seen the child's smile, the rhythm of his body, the beloved little head swaying enraptured from side to side — and the sight had penetrated to the depths of her easily moved nature.

“How the child can play! Oh, how he can play!” she cried, hurrying to him half-weeping and folding him in her arms. “Gerda, Tom, he will be a Meyerbeer, a Mozart, a — ” As no third name of equal significance occurred to her, she confined herself to showering kisses on her nephew, w r ho sat there, still quite exhausted, with an absent look in his eyes.

“That’s enough, Tony,” the Senator said softly. “Please don’t put such ideas into the child’s head.”

You may laugh if you like, or consider me a bad example of Christianity. But working in church music has taught me that at times, you have to be louder, meaner, and nastier than some others. If it is apparent you can beat them up at will, so much the better. Save the good behavior for the folks who deserve it.