All Saints KingstonThe Frobenius Organ - Pipe Dreams |
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Pipe Dreams
Some years ago I was on a tour with Tiffin School Choir in Switzerland. We were giving a recital in Einsiedeln Abbey and I was accompanying the choir in a high gallery near the West End of the cavernous nave of this vast building. The pipes were in an equally high gallery at the East End and the choir was out of sight on the chancel steps. If I could have seen the conductor he would have been a speck, but I could not, so a resident monk, who had consumed far more than his allocation of wine for the day, had taken upon himself the task of relaying the beat, which confused even further the problems of rhythmic coordination in this impossible trigonometry. I remember wondering to myself, as my fingers ploughed on without any reference to sound of organ or choir, why I had chosen to play this ridiculous machine, when other musicians had the chance to sit right in the middle of the action with a real musical instrument under their chin.
Such edifices, of course, were not custom-built for organs, and neither was Kingston Parish Church. Indeed, it is hard to imagine that Kingston Parish Church was custom-built for anything. When I first became organist here, the altar was at the East End and the choir stalls were under the tower, so that half way through the Eucharist, the celebrant disappeared for good from the view of any but the handful who were sitting adjacent to the central aisle. The organ had variously been in the north east end and the north transept, and was now flanking (and aurally overwhelming) the choir, with the console on the south side. After the reordering of the church, the console was moved to the side of the choir vestry door where the present organ is. This instrument which I describe had originally been a Willis and a well-trained ear could have detected that. But over the years, at the transmogrifying hands of Norman & Beard, Rushworth & Dreaper and finally Compton, through its various moves, it had lost its original purity in every respect except that it was still out of tune with every other musical instrument and therefore could not be used in any of the concerts which were being held with increasing frequency. Finally, the electrics were reaching the end of their useful life and were becoming increasingly erratic. The cheapest option was to replace them and continue with this characterless instrument, with distant pipework which, though not so uncontrollable as at Einsiedeln Abbey, was an appreciable distance away and was situated so as to defy any real advantages from the reordering. Furthermore, the action was, in the colourful words of Carlo Curley, who later became a Joint President of the Appeal, like “summoning an elevator”. We explored the possibilities of a rebuild or a new organ with various English firms but were not convinced of their recommendations of location, tonal design, or action. I had a desire for a tracker action instrument, where the player can feel that he is making the sound and is sitting right next to it, but we did not want the abrasiveness and uncompromising tonal scheme that so often goes with such instruments. Kingston Parish Church prefers cathedral style worship with a choir that sings a very wide-ranging repertoire and the organ’s first task was to accompany that kind of service, with its wide tonal colour, its discreet accompanying possibilities, its romantic elements. So we set off – Brian Lewis, the Assistant Organist and I – on a series of organ hunts round the country, looking for a tracker instrument which was mechanically sound, versatile in tonal scheme, capable of service accompaniment, recital work and concert work with other instruments. We became wise to the snags – deafening positives above the player’s head, the reluctance of tracker builders to provide any playing aids whatsoever, and so on. Of all that we saw, both English and foreign, we were delighted most by the organs of Frobenius (of which there were a handful in this country at the time). We found them bright and vibrant, without being aggressive. (Mogens Pedersen, the voicer of this instrument, says the Danes refer to the organ as feminine, and I can see why.) They have lovely, soft colours, particularly flutes, and they are superbly crafted, partly through long experience and partly through a loving knowledge of wood. Eric Frobenius came to see us at Kingston and despite his Lutheran traditions he was determined to give us what we wanted and stayed over a weekend to listen to the choir. He drew up a specification which matched our needs for an organ which could be situated where we wanted and with a case design which has a modern and purposeful appearance. Indeed, Frobenius’ characteristic pipe pattern is functional in origin – it fits the maximum number of pipes into a small space. The case was stained and decorated by Hugh Cawdron, the Church Architect, in keeping with the reordered church. Hugh Cawdron, John Martin, the vicar, and Matthew Copley, whose company maintained the existing instrument, discussed the plans fully with Eric Frobenius, and we were all very much in agreement. Brian and I now extended our organ crawl to Denmark and listened to several Frobenius instruments there. We were particularly impressed by one at Nestveth, which had all the glory of an English swell – surely one of the most difficult elements to capture – combined with the variety, brilliance and majesty of a North European organ. Also, though Frobenius was a builder of superb tracker action instruments, he was not an intransigent purist and he happily combined the best of modern technology with the great Germanic tradition of organ building. We came back and reported our choice to John Martin and the P.C.C. The organ which Eric Frobenius had designed for us (plus a few embellishments of our own) was not cheap, and this was the dilemma. I had no doubt that we would get a marvellous instrument. I had no doubt that the church deserved it. I had no doubt that economically the proposition was sound, since this instrument will probably last 100 years. I even had no doubt that we could raise the money. But I did wonder if it was right to commit the church to raising so much money in comparison with other needs. However, we were all resolved to go ahead and the spiritual dimension was most articulately enunciated in a P.C.C. meeting by John Martin. The money was raised by personal commitment within the church and by the donations from those outside. Eventually, with increasing costs, minor additions to the instrument, and frightening changes to the exchange rate, the price rose to almost a quarter of a million pounds. But we had a determined and robust money-raising committee, a shrewd and energetic treasurer in Freddie Rushmore, some amazingly generous donations from individuals, and the most invaluable interest from Angela Pope. She decided that our venture was sufficiently lunatic to warrant an Omnibus documentary, from which, apart from the exposure, we gathered fees and incidental income. We were delighted that Carlo Curley and Richard Baker agreed to become Joint Presidents, which greatly raised the profile of the appeal. Finally, not altogether paid for, the organ was dedicated and first played at a Eucharist ten years ago – a much more fitting occasion than a recital, though one of these quickly followed. We have had up to a dozen every year in which a devoted audience has been entertained by outstanding programmes performed by top international artists, who have invariably been complimentary, not only about our Frobenius instrument, but also about the guts and imagination of this church in acquiring one. Three of those very good friends are entertaining you for the tenth anniversary recital.
David Nield
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