On Saturday 18 May, I enjoyed the rare privilege of playing the organ at the Royal Albert Hall.
The visit to the RAH had been organised by Mrs Wendy Gosling – a Mathematics teacher at Bearwood College – who exchanged many emails with the RAH administrators. We were offered a choice of dates and set off armed to the gunnels with organ music, cameras and recording equipment.
Having seen and heard it on television and radio, and live in concert, the organ is an integral part of the hall and possesses both legendary and iconic status. Built in 1871 by ‘Father’ Henry Willis, and not quite complete when Queen Victoria opened the hall in that year, the organ is the second largest in the United Kingdom with 9,999 pipes, rivalled only by Liverpool Anglican Cathedral in first place! Since 1871, it has been played by every leading organist on earth, from
Victorian virtuoso W T Best, the French composer Camille
Saint Saens to our present day players such as Simon Preston, Gillian Weir,
Carlo Curley and Thomas Trotter.
When a pipe organ is built on such a scale as this, it does not fail to inspire awe
and wonder in anyone who stands nearby, gazing up at the towering 32 foot front
display pipes framing the three huge golden arches of the organ case, which echo
the architecture of the Hall itself.
In 2002/04 the organ received an urgently needed restoration - part of the Hall’s
general refurbishment - and £1.7 million was promptly found to carry out the
task. Prior to this, its condition was so bad that
any public performance had needed the organ repair team
- Harrisons – at hand in the Hall just in case of a breakdown.
At the stage door, my parents, Wendy and I met the jolly porter at his desk. This
gentleman had clearly missed his calling ‘Live at the Apollo’ as he regaled us
with his merry banter and excessive references to Welsh rugby victories. We were
then greeted by the Hall manager, Mo, who, in her brisk but friendly manner told
me in no uncertain terms that I was not to break the organ during the next two
hours. She was then happy to hand over the key to the console and left us to our
own devices. This is when we ran into the first unforeseen, major difficulty.
Having switched on the organ, I soon discovered something which made me feel I
would rather have stayed in bed. Not one of the 36 pedal stops would produce a
single note! This is catastrophic for an organist, as most of the repertoire
becomes unplayable! What to do?! The clock was ticking and the pedals were silent. Mo had disappeared into the bowels of the Hall to prepare the stage for
Eric Clapton, and had seemingly abandoned Mr and Mrs Enston senior, Wendy and I
to a ship with no life boat! This switch, that switch, pulling stops in, pushing stops out. Nothing worked. Nil desperandum, I could hear my father say
in such situations. Wendy thought quietly to herself, while I babbled
incoherently, and then she calmly switched off the organ, waited a few seconds
then switched it on again. This worked! Pedal notes thundered forth, announcing
their unmistakable presence. With a look of triumph on Wendy’s face, we
continued on our mission.
I sat myself on the organ bench facing the four manuals (keyboards) and a
seemingly bewildering array of beautiful ivory stops to my right and left, which
reach high up above my head on both sides. Each manual has ten pre-set pistons
under the keys to enable swift stop changes, and a further bank of twelve
pistons, called ‘Generals’ - very
useful indeed – located above the fourth manual. More pistons again surround the
foot well and pedals. The ivory stops number nearly 200 in all and are
categorised according to tone quality - Reeds or Flues - and which division they
operated of the four manuals – Choir, Great, Swell and Solo and finally the
Pedals. Each of these has its own Reed or Flue section clearly labelled. Non
speaking stops – those with a connective function, or to couple higher and
lower octaves together are engraved in red.
To settle myself, I began by playing some straightforward Welsh hymns in order to
reach a comfort zone as quickly as possible, ‘Rachie’ and ‘Cwm Rhondda’ were
chosen. As there was so much to try to understand and I did not have all day, I
simply got on with using the pre-set pistons to choose sounds with which to
play. The loudest stop by far is the Tuba Mirabilis on the Solo manual - this
would give the QE2 siren a run for its money.
I had brought with me some famous pieces, the first of which was Widor’s Toccata
in F. General piston number 12 seemed to obey the command for full organ for
this, while Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor made its stately procession
around the Hall, with increasing volume en route. Garth Edmundson’s glittering
‘Vom Himmel Hoch’ is like an aural representation of Niagara Falls with a
coruscation of notes tumbling down. A set of Variations on a Welsh Hymn Tune by
T J Morgan, however, proved challenging to balance the sounds I wanted. I
included ‘Jerusalem’ for the Bearwood College mp3 file, and finished with Saint
Saens’ Improvisation no.7.
Throughout all this Wendy was never still for one moment,
recording tracks on the ‘Mac’ laptop, taking some video shots and photographs.
She even brought the video camera to the console to record my feet and hands in
full swing. During our visit, several tour guides came in and out of
the building with about ten people listening to their guide, and to
me. Time flew by far too quickly, and as the final minutes of my time approached, the
Welsh National Anthem rounded off the morning.
I have to thank Wendy Gosling for being so willing to be the contact with the
Hall’s administrators and for securing this golden opportunity to play, in this
great building, one of the finest organs in Great Britain.
Victorian virtuoso W T Best, the French composer Camille Saint-Saëns to our present day players such as Simon Preston, Gillian Weir, Carlo Curley and Thomas Trotter.
When a pipe organ is built on such a scale as this, it does not fail to inspire awe and wonder in anyone who stands nearby, gazing up at the towering 32 foot front display pipes framing the three huge golden arches of the organ case, which echo the architecture of the hall itself.
Between 2002 and 2004 the organ received an urgently needed restoration – part of the hall’s general refurbishment – and £1.7 million was promptly found to carry out the task. Prior to this, its condition was so bad that any public performance had needed the organ repair team – Harrisons – at hand in the hall just in case of a breakdown.
At the stage door, my parents, Wendy and I met the jolly porter at his desk. This gentleman had clearly missed his calling as he regaled us with his merry banter and excessive references to Welsh rugby victories. We were then greeted by the hall manager, Mo, who, in her brisk but friendly manner told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to break the organ during the next two hours. She was then happy to hand over the key to the console and left us to our own devices. This is when we ran into the first unforeseen, major difficulty. Having switched on the organ, I soon discovered something which made me feel I would rather have stayed in bed. Not one of the 36 pedal stops would produce a single note! This is catastrophic for an organist, as most of the repertoire becomes unplayable! What to do?! The clock was ticking and the pedals were silent. Mo had disappeared into the bowels of the hall to prepare the stage for Eric Clapton, and had seemingly abandoned Mr and Mrs Enston senior, Wendy and I to a ship with no lifeboat! This switch, that switch, pulling stops in, pushing stops out. Nothing worked. Nil desperandum,
I could hear my father say, and Wendy thought quietly to herself, while I babbled incoherently, and then calmly switched off the organ, waited a few seconds then switched it on again. This worked! Pedal notes thundered forth, announcing their unmistakable presence. With a look of triumph on Wendy’s face, we continued on our mission.
I sat myself on the organ bench facing the four manuals (keyboards) and a seemingly bewildering array of beautiful ivory stops to my right and left, which reach high up above my head on both sides. Each manual has ten pre-set pistons under the keys to enable swift stop changes, and a further bank of 12 pistons, called Generals – very useful indeed – located above the fourth manual. More pistons again surround the foot well and pedals. The ivory stops number nearly 200 in all and are categorised according to tone quality – Reeds or Flues – and which division they operated of the four manuals – Choir, Great, Swell and Solo – and finally the Pedals. Each of these has its own Reed or Flue section clearly labelled. Non speaking stops – those with a connective function, or to couple higher and lower octaves together – are engraved in red.
To settle myself, I began by playing some straightforward Welsh hymns in order to reach a comfort zone as quickly as possible, Rachie and Cwm Rhondda were chosen. As there was so much to try to understand and I did not have all day, I simply got on with using the pre-set pistons to choose sounds with which to play. The loudest stop by far is the Tuba Mirabilis on the Solo manual – this would give the QE2 siren a run for its money.
I had brought with me some famous pieces, the first of which was Widor’s Toccata in F. General piston number 12 seemed to obey the command for full organ for this, while Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor made its stately procession around the hall, with increasing volume en route (go here to hear a recording of this). Garth Edmundson’s glittering Vom Himmel Hoch is like an aural representation of Niagara Falls with a coruscation of notes tumbling down. A set of Variations on a Welsh Hymn Tune by T J Morgan, however, proved challenging to balance the sounds I wanted. I included Jerusalem for the Bearwood College mp3 file, and finished with Saint- Saëns’ Improvisation no.7.
Throughout all this Wendy was never still for one moment, recording tracks on the laptop, taking some video shots and photographs. She even brought the video camera to the console to record my feet and hands in full swing.
During our visit, several tour guides came in and out of the building with about ten people listening to their guide, and to me. Time flew by far too quickly, and as the final minutes of my time approached, the Welsh National Anthem rounded off the morning.
I have to thank Wendy Gosling for being so willing to be the contact with the hall’s administrators and for securing this golden opportunity to play, in this great building, one of the finest organs in Great Britain.
Do you have any favourite Royal Albert Hall memories? I'd love to hear them in the comments below.
The visit to the RAH had been organised by Mrs Wendy Gosling – a Mathematics teacher at Bearwood College – who exchanged many emails with the RAH administrators. We were offered a choice of dates and set off armed to the gunnels with organ music, cameras and recording equipment.
Having seen and heard it on television and radio, and live in concert, the organ is an integral part of the hall and possesses both legendary and iconic status. Built in 1871 by ‘Father’ Henry Willis, and not quite complete when Queen Victoria opened the hall in that year, the organ is the second largest in the United Kingdom with 9,999 pipes, rivalled only by Liverpool Anglican Cathedral in first place! Since 1871, it has been played by every leading organist on earth, from
Victorian virtuoso W T Best, the French composer Camille
Saint Saens to our present day players such as Simon Preston, Gillian Weir,
Carlo Curley and Thomas Trotter.
When a pipe organ is built on such a scale as this, it does not fail to inspire awe
and wonder in anyone who stands nearby, gazing up at the towering 32 foot front
display pipes framing the three huge golden arches of the organ case, which echo
the architecture of the Hall itself.
In 2002/04 the organ received an urgently needed restoration - part of the Hall’s
general refurbishment - and £1.7 million was promptly found to carry out the
task. Prior to this, its condition was so bad that
any public performance had needed the organ repair team
- Harrisons – at hand in the Hall just in case of a breakdown.
At the stage door, my parents, Wendy and I met the jolly porter at his desk. This
gentleman had clearly missed his calling ‘Live at the Apollo’ as he regaled us
with his merry banter and excessive references to Welsh rugby victories. We were
then greeted by the Hall manager, Mo, who, in her brisk but friendly manner told
me in no uncertain terms that I was not to break the organ during the next two
hours. She was then happy to hand over the key to the console and left us to our
own devices. This is when we ran into the first unforeseen, major difficulty.
Having switched on the organ, I soon discovered something which made me feel I
would rather have stayed in bed. Not one of the 36 pedal stops would produce a
single note! This is catastrophic for an organist, as most of the repertoire
becomes unplayable! What to do?! The clock was ticking and the pedals were silent. Mo had disappeared into the bowels of the Hall to prepare the stage for
Eric Clapton, and had seemingly abandoned Mr and Mrs Enston senior, Wendy and I
to a ship with no life boat! This switch, that switch, pulling stops in, pushing stops out. Nothing worked. Nil desperandum, I could hear my father say
in such situations. Wendy thought quietly to herself, while I babbled
incoherently, and then she calmly switched off the organ, waited a few seconds
then switched it on again. This worked! Pedal notes thundered forth, announcing
their unmistakable presence. With a look of triumph on Wendy’s face, we
continued on our mission.
I sat myself on the organ bench facing the four manuals (keyboards) and a
seemingly bewildering array of beautiful ivory stops to my right and left, which
reach high up above my head on both sides. Each manual has ten pre-set pistons
under the keys to enable swift stop changes, and a further bank of twelve
pistons, called ‘Generals’ - very
useful indeed – located above the fourth manual. More pistons again surround the
foot well and pedals. The ivory stops number nearly 200 in all and are
categorised according to tone quality - Reeds or Flues - and which division they
operated of the four manuals – Choir, Great, Swell and Solo and finally the
Pedals. Each of these has its own Reed or Flue section clearly labelled. Non
speaking stops – those with a connective function, or to couple higher and
lower octaves together are engraved in red.
To settle myself, I began by playing some straightforward Welsh hymns in order to
reach a comfort zone as quickly as possible, ‘Rachie’ and ‘Cwm Rhondda’ were
chosen. As there was so much to try to understand and I did not have all day, I
simply got on with using the pre-set pistons to choose sounds with which to
play. The loudest stop by far is the Tuba Mirabilis on the Solo manual - this
would give the QE2 siren a run for its money.
I had brought with me some famous pieces, the first of which was Widor’s Toccata
in F. General piston number 12 seemed to obey the command for full organ for
this, while Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor made its stately procession
around the Hall, with increasing volume en route. Garth Edmundson’s glittering
‘Vom Himmel Hoch’ is like an aural representation of Niagara Falls with a
coruscation of notes tumbling down. A set of Variations on a Welsh Hymn Tune by
T J Morgan, however, proved challenging to balance the sounds I wanted. I
included ‘Jerusalem’ for the Bearwood College mp3 file, and finished with Saint
Saens’ Improvisation no.7.
Throughout all this Wendy was never still for one moment,
recording tracks on the ‘Mac’ laptop, taking some video shots and photographs.
She even brought the video camera to the console to record my feet and hands in
full swing. During our visit, several tour guides came in and out of
the building with about ten people listening to their guide, and to
me. Time flew by far too quickly, and as the final minutes of my time approached, the
Welsh National Anthem rounded off the morning.
I have to thank Wendy Gosling for being so willing to be the contact with the
Hall’s administrators and for securing this golden opportunity to play, in this
great building, one of the finest organs in Great Britain.
Victorian virtuoso W T Best, the French composer Camille Saint-Saëns to our present day players such as Simon Preston, Gillian Weir, Carlo Curley and Thomas Trotter.
When a pipe organ is built on such a scale as this, it does not fail to inspire awe and wonder in anyone who stands nearby, gazing up at the towering 32 foot front display pipes framing the three huge golden arches of the organ case, which echo the architecture of the hall itself.
Between 2002 and 2004 the organ received an urgently needed restoration – part of the hall’s general refurbishment – and £1.7 million was promptly found to carry out the task. Prior to this, its condition was so bad that any public performance had needed the organ repair team – Harrisons – at hand in the hall just in case of a breakdown.
At the stage door, my parents, Wendy and I met the jolly porter at his desk. This gentleman had clearly missed his calling as he regaled us with his merry banter and excessive references to Welsh rugby victories. We were then greeted by the hall manager, Mo, who, in her brisk but friendly manner told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to break the organ during the next two hours. She was then happy to hand over the key to the console and left us to our own devices. This is when we ran into the first unforeseen, major difficulty. Having switched on the organ, I soon discovered something which made me feel I would rather have stayed in bed. Not one of the 36 pedal stops would produce a single note! This is catastrophic for an organist, as most of the repertoire becomes unplayable! What to do?! The clock was ticking and the pedals were silent. Mo had disappeared into the bowels of the hall to prepare the stage for Eric Clapton, and had seemingly abandoned Mr and Mrs Enston senior, Wendy and I to a ship with no lifeboat! This switch, that switch, pulling stops in, pushing stops out. Nothing worked. Nil desperandum,
I could hear my father say, and Wendy thought quietly to herself, while I babbled incoherently, and then calmly switched off the organ, waited a few seconds then switched it on again. This worked! Pedal notes thundered forth, announcing their unmistakable presence. With a look of triumph on Wendy’s face, we continued on our mission.
I sat myself on the organ bench facing the four manuals (keyboards) and a seemingly bewildering array of beautiful ivory stops to my right and left, which reach high up above my head on both sides. Each manual has ten pre-set pistons under the keys to enable swift stop changes, and a further bank of 12 pistons, called Generals – very useful indeed – located above the fourth manual. More pistons again surround the foot well and pedals. The ivory stops number nearly 200 in all and are categorised according to tone quality – Reeds or Flues – and which division they operated of the four manuals – Choir, Great, Swell and Solo – and finally the Pedals. Each of these has its own Reed or Flue section clearly labelled. Non speaking stops – those with a connective function, or to couple higher and lower octaves together – are engraved in red.
To settle myself, I began by playing some straightforward Welsh hymns in order to reach a comfort zone as quickly as possible, Rachie and Cwm Rhondda were chosen. As there was so much to try to understand and I did not have all day, I simply got on with using the pre-set pistons to choose sounds with which to play. The loudest stop by far is the Tuba Mirabilis on the Solo manual – this would give the QE2 siren a run for its money.
I had brought with me some famous pieces, the first of which was Widor’s Toccata in F. General piston number 12 seemed to obey the command for full organ for this, while Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor made its stately procession around the hall, with increasing volume en route (go here to hear a recording of this). Garth Edmundson’s glittering Vom Himmel Hoch is like an aural representation of Niagara Falls with a coruscation of notes tumbling down. A set of Variations on a Welsh Hymn Tune by T J Morgan, however, proved challenging to balance the sounds I wanted. I included Jerusalem for the Bearwood College mp3 file, and finished with Saint- Saëns’ Improvisation no.7.
Throughout all this Wendy was never still for one moment, recording tracks on the laptop, taking some video shots and photographs. She even brought the video camera to the console to record my feet and hands in full swing.
During our visit, several tour guides came in and out of the building with about ten people listening to their guide, and to me. Time flew by far too quickly, and as the final minutes of my time approached, the Welsh National Anthem rounded off the morning.
I have to thank Wendy Gosling for being so willing to be the contact with the hall’s administrators and for securing this golden opportunity to play, in this great building, one of the finest organs in Great Britain.
Do you have any favourite Royal Albert Hall memories? I'd love to hear them in the comments below.
