ORGELPARK RESEARCH REPORT #5/2
The Utopa Baroque Organ at the Orgelpark [Hans Fidom]
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The Utopa Baroque Organ was inaugurated on 21 March, 2018. It is named after the Utopa Foundation, which initiated the Orgelpark in 2003. The objective of the Utopa Foundation is “to stimulate and promote the creative talent of people, particularly those whose potential goes unrecognised, for whatever reason.”1 The Orgelpark aims at integrating the organ into musical life by presenting it in new ways.
Therefore, the new Utopa Baroque Organ is more than “just” another baroque organ. It has a dual function: to facilitate historically informed/inspired performances of baroque organ music, more specifically the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, and to inspire composers and musicians to create new music. This article describes how each element of the organ came into being, which decisions had to be made and on what basis.
A “new” baroque organ
The idea of building a new organ in the Orgelpark was discussed for the first time in December 2012. As historically informed/inspired performances of both 15th/16th century music and 19th/20th century music had repeatedly proved successful in the Orgelpark, not the least thanks to the Gerritsz organ reconstruction (the “Van Straten organ”, built by Orgelmakerij Reil in 20122), the Aristide Cavaillé-Coll-inspired Verschueren organ (2009) and the restored Sauer organ (1922/2006), the dream to add an organ of comparable historic quality for 17th and 18th century music, especially that of Johann Sebastian Bach, became ever stronger.
In the spring of 2013, the board of the Orgelpark decided to build such an organ, with the proviso that it should inspire new music as well. Half a year later, in October, the Orgelpark published a first press release about the plan to build a “New Baroque Organ”, as the Utopa Baroque Organ was called until early 2018. In order to develop its concept as transparently as possible, the Orgelpark dedicated several colloquia and symposia to it in 2014, 2015, and 2016. Orgelpark Research Report 5/1 (2014) includes extended versions of lectures presented at the first ones of these occasions. Furthermore, the Orgelpark developed a blog, aimed at including anyone interested in joining in the discussion. The responses via this portal remained limited.
The project became the responsibility of a “core team” comprised of six members: chairman Loek Dijkman (chair of the Utopa Foundation), Sylvia de Munck (vice-chair of the Utopa Foundation), Johan Luijmes (Artistic Director of the Orgelpark), myself (researcher at the Orgelpark, Professor of Organ Studies at VU University Amsterdam), Peter Peters (researcher at Maastricht University), and Hans Elbertse (organ builder).
A Reference Group was set up as well. It consisted of experts who both spontaneously, and following invitation, offered their thoughts, advice and criticism and, in doing so, assisted the decision-making process. The group included, to name just the most influential ones, musicians/organists/composers Michael Bonaventure, Franz Danksagmüller, David Franke, Hans-Ola Ericsson, Robert van Heumen, Anne La Berge, Carl-Adam Landström, Jacob Lekkerkerker, Hampus Lindwall, Peter Planyavsky, Wouter Snoei, René Uijlenhoet, and Ansgar Wallenhorst; the organ builders Kristian Wegscheider and Gerald Woehl; colour expert Hilke Frach-Renner; and the scholars Fabienne Chiang, Marcel Cobussen, Randall Harlow, Koos van de Linde, Kimberly Marshall, Ibo Ortgies, James Wallmann, and Peter Williams. Peter Williams died on 20 March 2016; we regret deeply not to be able to enjoy and discuss the sound of the new organ with him.
Inventing the future
The organ history of the past few decades offers us a quite serious lesson. Inventive future organ concepts, such as the one developed at Kunststation
St Peter in Cologne (Willi Peter, 1968/2004), however interesting and inspiring in itself, appear to have little chance of ever becoming widely accepted. Yet, the opposite idea, to develop “mainstream” organs matching all sorts of music, suffers from its built-in compromise: by definition, they will never be suited to any musical style the best possible way.3 Thirdly, constructing single concept-organs in ways other than in Cologne appears to be complex as well: it is problematic, to say the least, to build new organs with a sound quality that equals that of historical organs. Strangely enough, the one group of 20th century organs with a convincing single sound concept, developed in Denmark, Germany, and the Netherlands in the 1950s and 1960s, is currently in danger: the voicing of many of these instruments has already been “corrected”, as it is called in a kind of sugarcoated newspeak.
Of course, we were not the first to “read” the 20th century organ history in this way. The early 21st century already showed two distinct reactions. The first one resulted in the succesful development and application of what is now increasingly called “process reconstruction”. The underlying idea is that an organ, if it is meant to sound as inspiring as a specific historical organ, should be built using the same methods - along the same lines of thinking, and based on the same knowledge - as employed by the builder of that example. Simply copying an organ makes no sense; one has to understand why it is built the way it is. This in fact requires knowledge not only of organs and music, but of the cultures they are part of as well. Landmark instruments in this context are those in Gothenburg (Örgryte Nya Kirka, 2000; inspired by the work of organ builders such as Scherer, Schnitger and Fritzsche), Rochester (Christ Church, 2008; inspired by Casparini), and Ithaca (Anabel Taylor Chapel, 2011; based on the work of Schnitger).
The second reaction led to a thorough reconsideration of how organs could profit from the integration of digital technology. Of course, such technology can be used to make the tasks of the organist easier, the sequencer being the best example. Meanwhile, however, it appears to be capable of much more, including expanding the way organists can use the sound resources of organs.4 Landmark instruments in this context include those in Ratingen (St Peter and Paul, 1953; enlarged in 2012 by organ builder Seifert with new technology developed by Sinua, Düsseldorf), Düsseldorf-Oberkassel (St Antonius, 2016; Mühleisen/Sinua), Würzburg (Hochschule für Musik, 2016; Klais), and Piteå (Studio Acusticum, first phase 2012, second phase in preparation; Woehl).
The technology employed in the Ratingen and Oberkassel organs allows the organist to combine pipes at will, outside the context of those pipes’ home stops. The organ in Würzburg allows the organist to control the amount of wind flowing into the pipes. The organ in Piteå combines three historical sound concepts – in fact three organs – in a single instrument and, in the near future, a “harmonics division”, meant to enable the organist to “build” new sound colors by carefully chosing combinations of mutation stops. What these organs have in common is that the search for a new understanding of what constitutes an organ begins with reconsidering the technology that links keys and pipes, rather than with inventing new specifications. That this search continues is demonstrated by plans for new organs with comparable structures in Malmö and Rostock. Researcher Randall Harlow proposed a name for this type of instrument; he christened them “hyperorgans”, which have “extended capabilities that seamlessly blend the electronic and acoustic worlds along the lines of other hyper instruments developed by Tod Machover and researchers at the MIT Media Lab in the past twenty-five years.”5
The Orgelpark decided to combine the concept of historically informed “process reconstruction” and the ideas that fuel the development of “hyperorgans” in the new Utopa Baroque Organ: that way it could indeed have a historically inspired sound pallete of the highest quality, and yet, since it would be accessible in completely new ways, invite and inspire musicians and other artists to make new music.
This was not as bold a decision as it might seem at first sight. Since 2009, we already had developed a digital console for the Sauer organ. We were inspired by visits to the organ in Ratingen, where the new technology had been developed and tested ever since 2007. After placement of the new console in the Orgelpark in 2011, we soon learned that a historic sound concept and new technology indeed can complement each other, provided that the historic pipework’s speech characteristics are not compromised by the integration of the new technology in the organ - a requirement we had to meet, since the Sauer Organ is a protected monument.6
So the question was: would such a combination of old and new technology (with the same proviso regarding the speech of the pipework) be possible in the context of the new organ to be built? New experiences gained with the organ in Ratingen had shown that the ability to combine any individual pipe with any other individual pipe provided a convincing way of realising new sounds. This meant that our organ would profit from being equipped with a wind-chest system that provided “single tone action” as well - yet, since its sound concept had to be baroque in every respect, cone-chests like in the organ in Ratingen would not be eligible.
The solution was inspired by discussions among organ builders about the cone-chest when it was invented. In 1879, organ builder Friedrich Lütkemüller claimed how he himself had constructed the very first cone-chest at the factory of Eberhard Friedrich Walcker, were he had been appointed in the years 1837-1842. He remembered that the first cone-chests “had been constructed as a spring-chest with little pallets, operated by little stickers.”7 Indeed, 16th century spring-chests do provide a pallet per pipe just like cone-chests - but their construction is completely different, as they are the predecessor of the better known slider-chest, which forms the heart of most baroque organs. The route taken by the wind to the pipe does not, in fact, differ between spring-chests and slider-chests, whereas it does differ considerably between cone-chests and slider-chests. So what if our organ could be equipped with spring-chests? Even if the pallets per pipe in spring-chest are part of the stop action, i.e. not the key action?
The challenge hence was to develop spring-chests such that the pallets under each pipe would be operable individually from the keys; electrically of course, so that the same software as in Ratingen could be utilised. Once this became clear, we had to undertake research into the possibilities of building a baroque organ with two consoles: a mechanical console as an integral part of the case, just as in historical organs, in order to be able to play the organ in historically informed/inspired ways, and a digital console, in order to be able to discover and apply the new possibilities. We prefered to rebuild the digital console from 2011, if only to avoid adding to the sheer quantity of objects in the Orgelpark’s hall.
On the basis of prior experience with both companies, it was determined that Elbertse Orgelmakers (Soest) would be involved. For obvious reasons, the Sinua firm (Düsseldorf) was also included from the very earliest stages.
Arp Schnitger? Zacharias Hildebrandt!
In the early 1670s, organ builder Berend Huß involved the still young Arp Schnitger (1648-1719) in the building of the organ at the St Cosmae et Damianikirche in Stade, Germany. Because this instrument was built in 1675 with spring-chests on the Oberwerk, it provided an important model for us; so important indeed that we seriously considered taking Schnitger’s sound concept as our main reference. The first trip undertaken by the core team, in October 2013, had Stade as its destination. In addition, the team visited the Schnitger organs in Norden (1688/1692) and Hamburg (Jacobikirche, 1693). In Hamburg, the team also visited the new Flentrop organ in the Katharinenkirche, a reconstruction of the organ dating from 1607/1647, which had been destroyed during the Second World War.
In the interests of careful deliberation, the team also travelled in December, 2013 to the Bader/Reinecke/John organ in Borgentreich (1677/1710), which
has spring-chests throughout. On the recommendation of Martin Böcker, organist of the Stade organ, the Treutmann organ in Goslar/Grauhof (1737) also featured during the trip, due to its combination of North German and Central German sound concepts. As the tuning system to be employed in the new organ was also subject of research, the team visited the small Wegscheider organ in Allstedt (1990), too. This instrument has 18 pipes per octave, so that the player can choose between two temperaments: one focussed on pure thirds, with, as a by-product, a “wolf”, and one focussed on better fifths. These orientations are characteristic of the two main categories of tuning system, mostly classified as either “meantone” or “well-tempered”.8 The team also visited a fourth organ, the Hildebrandt in Naumburg. As the sound concept of the organ at Grauhof was partly of Central German and partly of North German nature, we liked to get to know an uncompromised Central German organ as well. We chose the organ at Naumburg because Johann Sebastian Bach had approved it after it had been completed in 1746.
During the course of the two study trips, the team became ever more convinced that the differences between spring- and slider-chests do not affect sound quality and hence may be considered inaudible. In Naumburg, we were deeply impressed: in soft registrations, the subtle combinations of 8’ and 4’ stops were seductive without either individual stop losing its own colour. In larger registrations, it was especially noticeable how rich and grand the sound became without ever being too loud. Ever since the restoration of the organ by Hermann Eule Orgelbau (Bautzen), the speech of the pipework has been under discussion: the Violdigamba, for example, has a clearly defined initial transient. The sound produced on release is also highly characteristic. As a result, the Naumburg organ is more “outspoken” than many organists and organ builders are accustomed to today, something which generates regular criticism of the instrument. Because the attack and release are colour-determining aspects of the sound, the team decided not simply to adopt this criticism, but rather to apply reverse logic: such phenomena can, seemingly, arise without negatively influencing the quality of the sound. A certain “wildness” might even be considered an essential element of the sound’s inherent interest. The discussion which arose, therefore, was whether in fact the sound concept of Hildebrandt might be preferable to that of Schnitger. The argument in favour of Schnitger of course was the compatibility of his sound world and the spring-chest. Given the facts that differences between spring and slider-chest seemed to be primarily theoretical, and that Schnitger’s concept has enjoyed much attention for decades, the team considered this question seriously. The team also considered whether, as Hildebrandt’s having worked with the only slightly older Gottfried Silbermann as a young man, might provide a justification for preferring Silbermann’s more famous sound concept. Yet, the organ in Naumburg was slightly milder in terms of volume than Silbermann organs of the same size, which is of considerable importance considering the acoustic in the Orgelpark. Also, we found the rich variety in the voicing of the 8’ and 4’ stops more outspoken and audacious than in comparable Silbermann organs. Did this in itself provide a sufficient answer to the question?
The team hesitated and decided to undertake a tour of Hildebrandt organs. These included the small organ in Störmthal (1723), the 1728 organ in the St Jacobikirche in Sangerhausen, and the closely related 1749 organ in the St Jacobikirche in Hettstedt. The team also re-visited the organ in Naumburg. None of these organs’ original concepts have remained unaltered. In Hettstedt the interior was replaced in 1905 with a (not uninteresting) pneumatic organ built by Wilhelm Rühlmann. In Sangerhausen the organ was restored in 1978 by Eule Orgelbau, with the restricted means and knowledge that period entailed. Similarly, the changes made to the voicing in Störmthal through the centuries had only been partially reversed during the restoration by Eule in 2008. Reservations about the organ in Naumburg were also evident: the instrument’s history had been trying, with the result that Eule’s restoration in 2000 had to entail the reconstruction of many stops and other significant parts, including the key action. Whether the sound which so charmed the team in Naumburg was Hildebrandt’s original was beyond question: it has gone forever. The sound did great credit, however, to the Eule firm and especially to the pipework specialist and voicer Helmut Werner who, during the many years he worked for Eule, made thorough studies of Hildebrandt’s methods. His great fascination for Hildebrandt above all others was evident in our conversations; we were impressed by his knowledge regarding the specific combination of scalings, construction methods and voicing of the pipework.
Because our realisation that Hildebrandt’s sound has been lost failed to outweigh the impressive sound-concept found in Naumburg (elements of which were also evident in Sangerhausen and Störmthal), which had stolen our hearts, the following step became obvious: investigate the extent to which spring-chests would be compatible with Hildebrandt’s sound-world. And: if the results were encouraging, what specification should the organ have?
Spring-chests
In order to allow the wind supply to proceed smoothly to the hundreds of pipes of an organ, the wind-chests on which the pipes stand are divided into small segments known as “channels”. These channels are filled with wind when the organist pulls a stop (in the case of a stop-channel chest, such as a cone-chest) or presses a key (key- or tone-channel chest). In order for a pipe to sound, the relevant key must be pressed (stop-channel chest) or stop engaged (tone-channel chest), so that wind that is already in the channel can flow into the pipe.
Spring-chests, like slider-chests, are tone-channel chests: each key has its own tone-channel on which the pipes belonging to that key stand; hence, the number of the pipes per channel equals in principle the number of the stops. In the case of a spring-chest a pallet is located under each pipe in the tone-channel. When the organist engages a stop, these pallets are opened; should the organ have, for example, 49 keys, and therefore 49 tone-channels in the wind-chest, pulling a stop means opening 49 little pallets. Because each pallet is equipped with a spring, this requires a little strength. Therefore, the stop knob must be locked into place to avoid the 49 springs pulling the pallets back forcefully and cancelling the stop.
The many varieties of spring-chests fall into two main categories: “single” and “double” spring-chests. The great organ in the Nieuwe Kerk in Amsterdam (Schonat, 1655) has single spring-chests. In the event of a fault with the stop pallets, the pipes must be removed in order to be able to open up the wind-chest for repair. Double spring-chests, such as those used in Stade, are considerably more complicated, and therefore expensive, but much easier to maintain. The difference is that the pallets are mounted on a removable drawer; should repair be necessary, this drawer can be pulled out from the long side of the wind-chest.
Needless to say that the more complex variant of the spring-chest should be used in the new Orgelpark organ: the idea was to append action magnets to each pallet, and the drawers provide the perfect basis to do so. Once we would have found a manner of maintaining the wind pressure in the tone-channel, the activation of the magnet would suffice to allow the associated pipe to speak. Because each magnet is operated electrically, it could fulfil the function of both key-pallet and stop-pallet: the key was to ensure that the electrical circuit was closed only when the organist had engaged a stop and pressed a key. These are actions which the new organ’s computer (like those in Ratingen and Düsseldorf) would be able simply to “see” and then translate into the activation of the magnet in the desired way - for example according to settings chosen by the organist, who thus could make a pipe speak faster or slower, and/or only at limited “power”.
However, before the team could focus on such technical questions, a pressing artistic concern required analysis: when the organ was being played via the mechanical console would the magnets not act as obstacles to the wind on its way to the pipes? Action magnets tend to be rather large.
Listening test
In order to investigate this, the Orgelpark organised a listening test during the International Orgelpark Symposium in June, 2014. Participants included leading organ builders and organ experts from all over the world. In order to facilitate the experiment, the Orgelpark developed, in cooperation with Elbertse Orgelmakers, a “test organ”, equipped with the kind of wind-chest projected for the new organ, yet with an important adaptation: for each key three channels were provided. One with the capacity found in the Huß/Schnitger organ in Stade with no action magnets, an identical one with magnets, and a third with magnets but with a larger channel capacity to compensate for the volume of the magnets. Organist André Ferreira, then studying at the Amsterdam Conservatory with Jacques van Oortmerssen, played the organ, which was set up on the site of the future instrument. His task was far from easy: time and again, he had to play a short motif and repeat it. Sometimes the repetition sounded using the same channel type, most of the times the repetition sounded using another channel type.
The participants could only judge by ear whether they believed that the repetition of a motif sounded differently. On a simple form, they could check a box saying “yes” (“yes, I do hear a difference”) or “no”. There was space to add comments; that option was not obligatory.
The results were surprising: the “yes-boxes” had been checked significantly more often than our own experiences so far had made us expect. Even when the motives had been repeated without any change in channels, many participants had detected differences. This suggested that, in such cases, the organist might have been applying a slightly different touch; attack and release are strongly dependent on the way in which the player engages the key. But if such human differences were of more significance than whether or not there were magnets present in the tone-channels, what would that mean regarding the interpretation of the test data? Also remarkable was the extent to which the results contradicted each other: in the case of only a small number of motives did a clear majority concur on an answer.
The test taught us that not the results themselves but the number of contradictions should be taken as an important fact. Our analysis was that, given the circumstance that organ experts tend to assume that a “wind-polluting” element in a tone-channel must have an effect on the sound, as they have been in taught in countless books and other sources on organ building, and assuming that they most probably would have felt to have failed when they would not have detected such differences, the impulse to actually detect differences must have been quite strong. This means that the test should have been carried out without any prior explanation, but this would have been difficult to justify: why would respected experts respond to an invitation to participate in a listening test without the reasons having been explained? Apart from the limited enthusiasm this would have generated, there would also have been reason for the participants to feel manipulated.
In short: we realised that listeners, especially expert-listeners, do not only listen with their ears, but immediately embed what they hear in their systems of reference to the extent that deeply held preconceptions can colour their perceptions. The conclusion was clear: the new organ should be equipped with spring-chests with magnets located outside the channels; and the channels’ capacity should be as close as possible to those in Hildebrandt’s slider-chests. In any other scenario, we would saddle the judgements around the sound of the new organ with the baggage of a discourse around the construction of the wind-chests; a discourse which would very likely come at the cost of the attention paid to the sound of the instrument, the music made on it and listeners’ assessment of that music.
In March 2015, the core team travelled to Ratingen to discuss this matter with the engineers of Sinua. As a result, Sinua developed a completely new magnet, entirely different in both form and dimensions to normal action magnets, and, very importantly, much smaller. It looks like an AA battery, yet around 25% shorter. The magnet is hollowed-out along its length. Into this void is inserted a sticker. When the magnet is powered, this sticker moves; when the power is withdrawn, it moves back. This invention works perfectly with the spring-chests of the new organ, in the first instance because the magnet is small enough to fit inside the drawer instead of underneath it and, as a result, can remain outside the tone-channel. In addition, the cross-section of the magnet is so small that the width of the tone-channels could be less than, for example, those in Stade. This was important because, in general, spring-chests are broader than slider-chests. A third advantage of the new Sinua magnet was that the “sticker” inserted in the magnet was tellingly reminiscent of the stickers in original baroque spring-chests which open the stop-pallets; the historic means of activating stops could thus be applied without much adaptation.
Elbertse Orgelmakers took the next step: the organ builders were able to construct the wind-chests in such a way that the channel capacities would be more or less identical to those in Hildebrandt’s slider-chests. This meant that the combination of Hildebrandt’s sound concept and spring-chests had become a realistic option. Three further remarks need to be made in this context:
• The pallet box under the channels is, in the case of Hildebrandt chests, often located at the front of the organ, rendering the key action very simple but compromising the speech characteristics of the reeds, which remain at the rear of the chest. It is generally preferable to keep the reeds in the vicinity of the pallets; furthermore, repairs of elements in the pallet boxes should not become complex due to inaccessibility. Therefore, we discussed, and eventually decided, not to locate the pallet boxes of the new organ at the front of the chest but, in order to keep thinking in the spirit of Hildebrandt, not entirely at the rear of the chest either. The faceboards could be made entirely according to the model of the largely original slider-chests in Sangerhausen (1728).
• In order to allow organists to use their limited rehearsal time optimally and to free them from the stress associated with the relative skills of registrants (or their own ability to hand-register), we decided to equip this console, as well as the digital console, with a sequencer, rendering a mechanical stop action pointless. That meant that the stop-action would be entirely electric.
• Because the organ can only be played via the digital console when all the tone-channels are under pressure, the instrument cannot be played from both consoles simultaneously.
Four organ building companies
Once the team had arrived at the conclusion that spring-chests and the sound-world of Hildebrandt were not mutually exclusive, the decision was taken to begin constructing the instrument. The firms Elbertse and Sinua started to build the organ’s basic elements (case, winding system, chests, action, reconstruction of the existing digital console) on the one hand and the hard and software for the organ’s digital action on the other. As the Eule firm had been responsible for the remaining Hildebrandt organs during the DDR-era and had restored several of them, and because of organ builder Helmut Werner’s expertise, it was decided that Eule would make the pipework.
As far as the voicing was concerned, the core team decided to work with another Hildebrandt expert: organ builder Munetaka Yokota. Yokota had not only carefully visited and mapped all the remaining Hildebrandt organs, but had, within the context of his work at the Göteborg Organ Art Center (GOArt), proven that he could make new pipes sound like old ones - as we had established with our own ears, listening to the aforementioned organ in the Örgryte Nya Kyrka. We visited Gothenburg in 2013: GOArt had been a decisive factor in the development of “process reconstruction” in the field of historically informed organ building, which we wanted to know more about.
Specification
In close consultation with Werner and Yokota, the core team next determined which Hildebrandt organ would provide the best point of reference for the new organ’s specification. Naumburg, with its 53 stops on three manuals and pedal, was much too large for the Orgelpark. The organs in Sangerhausen and Hettstedt seemed more relevant, each with originally about 30 stops. The organ in Hettstedt seemed the more appropriate of the pair with its slightly richer specification. The volume of the St Jacobikirche and that of the Orgelpark were closely aligned: although the Orgelpark is considerably higher, it is only a few cubic meters larger.
Only the case of Hildebrandt’s organ has survived in Hettstedt. However, the original specification from 1749 could be retrieved in the Hettstedt town archives.9
It seems as if Hildebrandt went further than Gottfried Silbermann, for whom he worked during the first three years of his career, in establishing the three characteristics which, according to the latter, a good organ should possess: Brillance is achieved thanks to the four compound stops on the Hauptwerk, even without considering the high-pitched stops on the Oberwerk; Poesie can be achieved in all manner of gradations thanks to the many 8’ and 4’ stops on the manuals, both in combination and as solo colours; Gravität, meanwhile, is provided by the Pedal which, despite the organ’s relatively small size, is equipped with one 32’ and three 16’ stops. Of particular note is the Posaune 8’ on the Pedal. Both sources the mentioned specification is based on bracket the two Posaunenbasses together: perhaps Hildebrandt built the two as one rank, deriving an 8’ and a 16’ Posaune from it? Given the fact that a 32’ Subbass would need a lot of space, that would make sense, and it would document how important the 32’ stop was to Hildebrandt; even that important that a brighter Trumpet 8’ on the Pedal could be considered less essential.
We chose to follow this specification as the model for the new organ; if Hildebrandt had been obliged to build an organ for a space such as that at the Orgelpark, he would probably have built something comparable. Yet, in the context of our striving for “process-reconstruction”, there was no reason to slavishly following the example; most probably, Hildebrandt himself would not have done so. We added a number of stops to the specification, and made some different choices regarding the pedal division.
On the Hauptwerk, we added a Fagott 16’ to the Hettstedt specification, inspired by the specification of the larger 1757 two manual organ in the Church of the Three Kings (Dreikönigskirche) in Dresden. In two manual organs Hildebrandt apparently preferred a Fagott to, such as in Naumburg, a grander-sounding Bombarde or Trompet. A second reason to add a Fagott was that the 16’ Fagott in the Naumburg Rückpositiv works perfectly as a solo stop in the bass. We decided to not to change anything else in the Hettstedt Hauptwerk specification, and to preserve its eccentricities, such as the absence of a 2’ Octav. We were curious how having no less than four compound stops as well as the three 8’ stops would inspire rethinking historically informed performances of baroque music.
The Oberwerk was originally intended to be identical to that in Hettstedt as well. This was until the core team, during their fifth study trip in March 2016, heard the Unda Maris on the organ of the Hofkirche in Dresden, begun by Gottfried Silbermann and completed, following his death in 1753, by Hildebrandt and his son Johann Gottfried in 1755. We had already been impressed by the Unda Maris on the Naumburg organ but, as this stop is “simply” a Principal 8’ tuned slightly out of tune with the “real” Principal 8’, we were initially of the opinion that an Unda Maris on our Oberwerk was out of the question: our Oberwerk, like in Hettsstedt, is based on a 4’ Principal. However, it then turned out that Elbertse had been cautious when preparing the Oberwerk chests and that space could be found for an extra stop, especially if, as would be the case with a Hildebrandt Unda Maris, it would begin at a0. We decided to investigate further. An Unda Maris in the form of a Principal 8’ would have been inappropriate; but why not choose a version of the same stop as made by Hildebrandt’s contemporary Tobias Heinrich Gottfried Trost, active in the same region? Trost’s Unda Maris is described in detail by Jacob Adlung in his Musica Mechanica Organoedi from 1768 ( 173): Trost made the stop from wood, equipped each pipe with two mouths and a separation in the pipe-body. In fact, each pipe was really two pipes with a common pipe-foot. At Hans Elbertse’s suggestion, the team chose to commission his firm to design and build an Unda Maris following Trost’s example; the scaling would be chosen such that the sound-colour would be close to that of a Principal.
In principle, the team was keen to remain as close to the original pedal specification as possible as well, even if the space in the new organ precluded the inclusion of a 32’ Subbass. In order to create a similar effect, we decided to provide a Subbass 16’ and a wide-scaled Quintbass 12’. The advantage of this is that the combination of the two stops is not inferior to a “real” 32’; on the contrary, it speaks more promptly and has a more stable sound. Another advantage is that the Quintbass can also be combined with other stops. Two other stops were eliminated from the Hettstedt specification: the Violon 16’ and the Nachthorn 2’. The function of the Violon could be perceived from the Principal 16’, which was expected to turn out rather mild thanks to the low wind pressure we projected: 63 mm water column seemed a good point of departure.10 The Nachthorn seemed to us to be non-essential because a 2’ flute would be available via the pedal coupler from the Hauptwerk, and because Hildebrandt did not deploy high-pitched pedal stops elsewhere. Instead of the Nachthorn, we opted for a third pedal reed: a Clarin 4’ as found on the organs in Dresden and Naumburg and more useful as a pedal cantus firmus stop.
Just as in Hettstedt, the Oberwerk in the Orgelpark would be equipped with a “Schwebung”: a Tremulant active on the entire division but primarily intended for the Vox Humana. The Hauptwerk was to be supplied with a Tremulant as well. In order to take advantage of the opportunities offered by the digital console, the team decided to make both accessories adjustable; Elbertse Orgelmakers therefore developed a new form of tremulant with a rotating valve located in the wind-trunk.
Hildebrandt built his pedal couplers as “wind couplers”: his Hauptwerk wind-chests have a second pallet-box, and the coupler activates a pallet allowing wind into it. In the interests of ease of maintenance, we chose not to follow this example and to make a “normal” coupler. The manual coupler is a shove-coupler, following Hildebrandt’s example - yet not in detail, since Elbertse had a develop a variant that could be engaged while playing; otherwise we should have to decide to leave the coupler out of the sequencer, which would undoubtedly have led to quite awkward situations during concerts. Elbertse found a solution by applying a hidden intermediate keyboard (a so-called “blind” keyboard).
As extra stops, the team chose to equip the new organ with a Cymbelstern and a Nachtigall, both from the catalogue of trade-supplier Laukhuff. The Nachtigall was installed without further adaptation. The Cymbelstern, on the other hand, was tuned entirely differently from Laukhuff’s standard procedure: the eight little bells first play the notes B(-flat)-A-C-H and then G#-C#-G-D; all tuned in the temperament developed by Ibo Ortgies for the instrument.11
Tuning, temperament, pitch
Although the visit to the Wegscheider organ in Allstedt was inspiring, the team stepped back from the idea of building a dual-temperament instrument. Eventually - yet after much discussion - the reason was simple enough: if we were to build more than 12 pipes per octave, the organ would become considerably heavier, which was, given the structure of the Orgelpark building, not an option.
We opted for a chamber pitch of a = 415.3 Hz at 20 degrees Celsius; a semitone lower than the pitch of the Sauer organ, the Molzer organ, and the Verschueren organ. As a result, the Utopa Baroque Organ can easily be integrated into ensemble music; Bach and his colleagues did not use continuo organs but their large church organs when performaning cantatas etc. Playing the new organ from the digital console, the pitch would be transposable at will. Ibo Ortgies designed a temperament that allows such transpositions. When the organ is played in chamber pitch, the tonalities with relatively few accidents include rather good thirds (even two good minor thirds), thanks to a combination of four 1/5-comma tempered fifths and two 1/10-comma tempered fifths. Is the organ played a semitone higher (for example to combine its sounds with those of the Sauer organ), the fifths that determine these same tonalities resemble equal tempered fifths (the Sauer organ has, of course, equal temperament). For more information about the tuning system and pitch used in the new organ, see the contribution hereafter by Ibo Ortgies.
In order to prevent running out of tones too quickly on the digital console, which has manuals with a compass up to g4,12 we decided to extend
the manual wind-chests with an extra fifth to a3 (g3, when the organ is transposed to choir pitch). The manuals of the mechanical console have a compass which, like those of Hildebrandt, extend only to d3. The Pedal board has a compass up to d1 (mechanical console) respectively g1 (or f1 at choir pitch). Whereas Hildebrandt’s organs originally did not have the key C#, Ortgies’s temperament allowed us to include it.
In terms of nomenclature, the team chose Hildebrandt’s spelling for Naumburg-equivalent stops; more precisely, those he indicated in his own design for the organ, rather than those in the official document, likely a copy by a notary based on Hildebrandt’s handwriting, which contains many divergences in spelling. For more information, please see contribution XIV.
Scaling, pipe construction, and voicing
Helmut Werner’s and Munetaka Yokota’s measeruments reveal that Zacharias Hildebrandt worked with three basic scales: normal, narrower and once again narrower. An analysis of the Hauptwerk scalings in the organ at Naumburg shows that a normal scaled 8’ C Principal pipe has a diameter of 150 mm; the diameters of the following c’s are 90, 50, 28 and 17 mm, whereas the highest c on the Octav 4’ has a diameter of 11 mm. The principals in the Naumburg Oberwerk are slightly narrower: the lowest C of the 4’ Principal has a diameter of 83 mm, the following c’s 46.3, 25.5, 15.5 and 10.3 mm respectively. These narrower scales are also found in the mixtures of the Hauptwerk. Because Hildebrandt also applied his normal scale in the small church at Störmthal, the team chose to follow the scaling system found in Naumburg. The scales for the Rückpositiv in Naumburg are of the narrowest kind, giving the principals a very overtone-rich sound. This works well in Naumburg, but would probably sound less convincing in the Orgelpark.
Hildebrandt gave his flue pipes a considerable overbite. The backside of the upper lip wall aligns almost with the front side of the lower lip wall; the difference being close the pipe wall thickness directly above the mouth section. This allows the languid to be positioned relatively high, which results in a bright overall sound quality.13 Additionally, this mouth geometry allows for a rich set of speech types. Yokota discerns at least four of them, each of which he applied in the voicing of the Utopa Baroque Organ:
• Chiff (German: “Spuck”)
• Cough
• Hiss
• Hiccup (for example audible when the wind pressure increases slowly, as is the case in - again for example - Subbass pipes that are not standing on a wind-chest but get their wind via a wind duct)
Needless to say that voicing using such “tools” requires a very careful approach: it includes “sonic skills”14 on the part of the voicer, in order to be able to decide which balance between speech types is optimal. But there is another condition to be met as well: the organ should be allowed to sound relaxed, open, free, as a stressed basic sound would render such delicate speech characteristics a nuisance all too soon. This is why the organ has a significantly lower wind pressure than Hildebrandt himself ever applied: as already mentioned only 63 mm water column instead of at least 10 mm higher, as Hildebrandt’s surviving organs have today. Yokota suggested to take this rather low pressure as a point of departure. That way, he could voice the pipes according to their own style. In other words: if we would have taken the wind pressure in Naumburg as a historical piece of evidence, essential to build an organ with that sound quality, Yokota would have probably been forced to close the toe holes, and, since the area of the toe hole and that of the windway are closely related, to work on the windway and the cut-up as well - thus having to change the mouth geometry as a first step. As it turned out, there was no need to raise the pressure to make the pipes, once voiced, speak louder: the acoustics at the Orgelpark support any sound very well, so that additional amplification was not needed.
Yokota followed a comparable line of thinking and working regarding the application of nicks: it appeared possible to make, for example, the Rohrflött 4’ speak the way he had envisioned it, i.e. without nicks, but it implied so many changes in the geometry of the mouth section that the pipes no longer could be considered Hildebrandt inspired pipes. A few very small nicks made this entire procedure redundant, which gives us reason to believe that Hildebrandt himself applied nicks too.
As for the reed stops: no original example by Hildebrandt has survived. Our Fagott 16’ is based on that in the Rückpositiv in Naumburg, the Vox humana on that found in the Oberwerk of the same organ. The Naumburg Vox humana was designed and built after Adlung’s descriptions by Helmut Werner.15 The other reeds of our organ (the two Posaunes, the Trompet and the Clarin) are, like the Fagott, conceived with Gottfried Silbermann’s examples of such stops in mind. The Posaune 8’ has slightly narrower resonators than the Posaune 16’, in order to achieve a bit more definition in its upper harmonics.
The surface of the inside of original Hildebrandt pipes gave the strong impression that Hildebrandt cast his pipe metal on linen. This impression is further supported by the fact that linen-weaving has been an important industry in the South-Eastern part of Central Germany for centuries. In order to determine what sort of linen would be most appropriate, Dirk Eule (Managing Director of Eule) organised a visit to linen-weavers Hoffmann in Neukirch, during the team’s fourth study trip, where Munetaka Yokota selected various varieties. Tests with this linen proved its ideal suitability for casting pipe metal: it remained perfectly intact and the metal plates were immediately flawless (without holes or other shortcomings) and of a proper thickness. The cooling of the plates occurred quickly thanks to the granite slab under the linen – thus guaranteeing optimal elasticity and strength.
While casting the metal, a single relatively high sliding box was used with a non-adjustable opening at the rear. On exiting the box onto the casting bench, assuming a constant speed, the gradual reduction in pressure in the box as the metal exited facilitated the thinning of the metal towards the top of the pipe. The metal sheets were then planed to the correct thickness by hand. During the pre-voicing of the pipework by Yokota and his employees in Elbertse’s workshop between August and November 2016, it became clear that Eule had gone about their work most diligently and had made pipes as Hildebrandt might have made them - that is: as far as we know of course.
Conforming entirely to the tradition known from the work of Silbermann, Hildebrandt also opted for a relatively high tin content in his metal pipework. For the new organ, Yokota and Werner decided on a tin percentage of 87.5 % with the balance made up of lead and, in very small quantities, antimony, bismuth and copper in order to ensure the necessary strength in the metal. Comparable “pollutants” were formerly entirely common in lead/tin alloys; today, these must be added separately due to the purity of modern metals.
The shallots of the reeds are entirely cast from lead with a collar mounted on a wooden block, once again as was common in the Silbermann tradition. The boots and blocks are made of pearwood. The resonators of both Posaunes are made of pine, as are the longest resonators of the Fagott. The Subbass, Octavbass and Quintbass are made of the same material; these three stops as well as the Unda Maris and the lowest eight notes of the Principal 16’ were made by Elbertse Orgelmakers. The languids of the wooden pipes, like those of Hildebrandt, are equipped with a separate front end, made of oak, allowing the voicer to determine its position and its angle when voicing. The voicer glues the oak parts to the languids once these parameters are decided upon.
Winding system and action
In order to allow it to function optimally, as if it were a Hildebrandt organ, the instrument is equipped with four wedge bellows measuring 9 feet by 5 feet: considerably larger than their North German equivalents which mostly measure 8 feet by 4 feet. The difference (45 square feet rather than 32) was undoubtedly down to Hildebrandt’s concept of utilising a larger number of stops with large pipes; a Hildebrandt organ consumes more wind than a Schnitger organ.
Because there was no other place available, we chose to locate the bellows in the lower case of the organ. Consequently, the bellows were obliged to be smaller than those in Sangerhausen (where they measure no less than 11.5 feet by 5 feet). Given the fact that the organ has a relatively low wind pressure, we thought this decision to be justifiable. An extra advantage is that all four bellows can be humanly operated from the right-hand side of the organ. This requires two calcants, weighing at least 50 kg each.
The length of the wind trunks could be limited due to the interior location of the bellows. Because the location of the pallet boxes differs from Hildebrandt’s, the geometry of both the wind-trunks and the action is likewise different. The relatively low wind pressure results in only a light pluck at the key. As a result, the attack on stops with a very characteristic initial speech (such as the Violdigamba) can be manipulated rather easily: a strong attack (by opening the pallets more quickly) results in the organ sounding more promptly than a softer attack (by opening the pallets more slowly). Experienced organists can, as a result, give extra profile to polyphonic lines.
As said, the stops are engaged and cancelled by changing the position of long wooden bars. The action which moves these bars is made of iron and operates via rollers (also made of iron) manipulated by powerful electro-magnets. These magnets are activated whenever the organist engages a stop at the mechanical console: two for the C-chest and two for the C#-chest. An advantageous by-product of electric stop action is that the stop knobs do not have to be locked into place to prevent them springing back. It was important, nonetheless, to avoid this being solely down to the magnets; Elbertse Orgelmakers were able to make the action such that the necessary power to hold the springs open was delivered elsewhere in the system and by mechanical means.
A unique facet of the action in the Utopa Baroque Organ is that powerful magnets are also employed to open all the key-pallets in all of the pallet-boxes simultaneously. These magnets are activated as soon as the organ is switched on at the digital console: all tone-channels are then permanently under pressure, so that the organ can be played via the pallets under the pipes, which act solely as stop-pallets when the organ is played from the mechanical console. Whether a pipe speaks or not is determined exclusively by the status of the Sinua magnet, in turn determined by the software in the digital console, which, in turn once again, is determined by the organist.
That the new organ in the Orgelpark is not a Hildebrandt organ is true not only because he didn’t build it, but also because the design of key elements differs significantly from Hildebrandt’s practices. That said, the principle of “process reconstruction” was applied as seriously as possible in all sound-producing elements of the instrument: the type and measurements of the bellows, the wind-trunking, the pallet-boxes, the design of the pallets themselves (size and overlay), the speaking point in the mechanical key action, the volume of the tone-channels and finally the construction and voicing of the pipework. This final aspect is of ultimate importance. In order to assure that no compromises were made, the core team commissioned Munetaka Yokota to voice the organ using only the mechanical action.
Digitality
This does not however imply that the quality of voicing when the organ is played from the digital console was left to chance. Thanks to an innovation developed in the summer of 2017 by Sinua, the possibility exists to closely control the speed and the extent to which the current opens the pallet. Likewise, during release, the current is withdrawn in two stages. In both instances the parameters can be adjusted via the Sinua software. Pipes which spoke too explosively when tested from the digital console had the “behaviour” of the respective magnets adjusted, in most cases to allow the corresponding pallets to open slightly slower. The parameters thus determined for each magnet are referred to as the “sweet spot” which the console will always “remember” and get back to; the organist can introduce variations in the behaviour of each magnet.
The console built in 2011 for the Sauer organ could be adapted to make the Utopa Baroque Organ playable on it without any great problems. This means that the 2011 console is now the interface to two organs. During the design phase of the software, the decision was made to use the same software system for both.16 This not only to avoid confusion but, following the example of the Woehl organ in Piteå, to make different instruments “accessible” via one and the same set of keyboards. Just as in Piteå, the different sound concepts (in our case the Sauer organ on the one hand and the Utopa Baroque Organ on the other) are entirely independent. However, again as in Piteå, it is possible to combine them.
This meant that the console had to be revised; only the stop controls for the Sauer organ have remained in their original place. These are divided into six groups, each with its own colour; each colour corresponding with one of the Sauer organ’s six wind-chests. The white and blue stop controls refer to the two chests of Manual I, the pink and yellow to the chests of Manual II (enclosed), the green and grey to the chests of the Pedal.17
The 2011 design of the console was simple. In the keycheeks of all of the manuals, push buttons were installed in the same six colours as the stop controls. By pushing these buttons, the organist could determine which colour of stops (i.e. which wind-chest) would be playable on the corresponding keyboard. Each colour (wind-chest) had three buttons per keyboard to determine whether the stops in question would sound at their nominal pitch, one octave higher or one octave lower, or in combinations of the three. The pedal stops allowed only for nominal pitch and one octave higher (or, of course, a combination of the two).
Interfaces
As said, a console is, in fact, an “interface”: the link between the sounds offered by the Utopa Baroque Organ and the Sauer organ, and the organist. The interface “faces” the organist on the one hand; on the other hand, it also “faces” the organ(s) in order to activate the organist’s desired combinations of sound.
In the case of historic organs, the majority of sound possibilities contained within the pipework are inaccessible. Their simple technical structure and the correspondingly limiting compasses of the manuals keep these sounds out of reach for the organist: pipes are grouped exclusively in stops and must be activated as such, rather than individually.
As has already been stated, the experience gained by the core team in Ratingen showed that the ability to overcome the restrictions of this grid, i.e. to combine individual pipes at will, rendered the organ’s sounds considerably richer and more interesting. This led us to ask what would happen when this option would be applied to an already beautiful historic sound-concept. In addition to the technical conditions, i.e. the choice to use spring-chests and Sinua software, another condition was of essential importance to this innovation’s success or failure: the digital console needed to “face” the organist in such a way that it would invite and encourage to get to know and explore the myriad of new sound possibilities without extensive study.
The basis for the interface design was formed by two insights drawn from practical experience. Firstly, the fact that pipes are traditionally collected in stops, rather than being combinable at will, could not be viewed as having been superseded by our innovations. On the contrary: the console addresses historic sound concepts without being changed in any way, not even to make them fit the options offered by the digital technology better; in fact, we even chose the Utopa Baroque Organ to have an inequal temperament. This meant that the new console needed to have stop controls as of old. The “only” change would be the increased diversity of manners in which these stops could be engaged - or, more precisely, in which the constituent parts of the stops, i.e. the pipes, could be engaged.
Our second practical insight was that the ability to combine pipes at will is most useful and manageable if it is done primarily to create “new stops”. In Ratingen, and subsequently with other organs with Sinua software, organists such as Olivier Latry have enjoyed building new stops by combining certain pipes on the lowest key of the keyboard and then having the computer programme the same combination on the other keys. This insight means that the digital console has to “see” the Sauer organ and the Utopa Baroque Organ just as they are: organs with a sound structure determined by traditional stops. Should the organist wish to go further, for example by assigning pipes at random to whichever keys, this is entirely possible, but we chose to have such possibilities not visible in the surface functions of the interface.
That said, a pivotal question arises: if the digital console “presents” stops in the traditional sense, how in practice does it invite the player to search for and apply new sounds?
The first part of the answer, we determined, was the idea of registering in “layers”, conforming to the philosophy behind Sinua’s software, but taken a stage further. In Ratingen and Düsseldorf, in order to provide organists with a sense of security, Sinua has designed the interface such that it seemed as if certain stops were permanently linked to a corresponding keyboard.
In the Orgelpark the solution is different: the console does not suggest that the stops of the Utopa Baroque Organ belong to a particular keyboard, just as the wind-chests of the Sauer organ don’t belong to a particular keyboard.
Registering in “layers” means that (many) more than (just) one registration can be realised on each keyboard and that those registrations can be used simultaneously at will. The old colour-coded push-buttons in the keycheeks have disappeared and been replaced with new buttons via which the registration “layers” can be activated and controlled. Each keyboard has four buttons marked respectively, for example on Manual III, “III.1”, “III.2”, “III.3” and “III.4”. These correspond with the first four registration layers on Manual III.
Following its rebuilding, the panel above the third manual (directly under the music desk), previously empty save for a single display screen, now presents quite a few controls. The upper half of the panel is occupied by a long dark glass screen behind which are located a row of six displays. Underneath five of the six displays are located black push-dials. Under the third display (from the left) are located, instead, four white buttons marked “New Layer”, “Edit”, “OK” and “Escape”. Under these displays and their corresponding controls are located the stop controls for the Utopa Baroque Organ in a single row and in traditional order: from left to right the stops of the Hauptwerk, then the Oberwerk and then the stops of the Pedal. Between the stops of the Hauptwerk and the Oberwerk there is a space occupied by six coloured buttons (corresponding to the six wind-chests of the Sauer organ) and six white push-buttons, allowing to make a layer sound in “normal” pitch (the corresponding button is labeled “ 8’ “), and/or an octave lower (16’), and/or an octave higher (4’). The three other buttons control other layer-properties: “Chord” allows the organist to attach a selection of keys to each key played, “Bass” lets the layer sound only on the lowest key played, “Melody”, in turn, lets the layer sound only in the highest key played. The system does the latter more intelligently than bass- and melody-couplers from the era of (electro-)pneumatic organs: if, in case the melody-button is activated, the organist releases the highest key played but does not release the other ones, the system will not make the then highest key louder; it will do so only after that key is released and played again, or if another key above it is played.
In order to gain some idea of the thought-process behind the layer registration concept, here is an example of how it might be used. Once the organist has activated the button “III.1” in the bass keycheek of the upper keyboard, she can use the controls above Manual III to determine the composition of the first registration layer on Manual III, i.e. layer III.1. Let’s imagine that she chooses the Principal 8’ from the Hauptwerk of the Utopa Baroque Organ. On activating the button “III.2”, the knob for the Principal 8’ will be cancelled; the organist can now determine the sound of registration layer III.2. For example, the Principal 8’ might again be engaged, but this time, by rotating one of the black push-dials, a number of notes higher or lower (let’s say a third higher). The display adjacent to the respective push-dial shows that layer III.2 sounds 4 semitones higher than “normal”. On playing, for example, the note C on Manual III, two pipes from the Principal 8’ sound: the pipe corresponding to the note C (layer III.1) and the pipe which sounds a third higher (layer III.2).
In order to keep track of all the registration layers active, the console is equipped with a display screen. In the case of our example, the screen would display two boxes, one for each registration layer. The box named “III.1” tells the organist that in layer III.1 the Principal 8’ is active, the box named “III.2” that the Principal 8’ is also active but sounding a third higher than normal.
While playing, the organist can engage and disengage registration layers: adjacent to each layer button in the keycheeks, there is a second button marked “Mute”. Using this control allows the organist to silence a layer immediately. The display screen also has touchscreen capability. This means that the organist can also plan registrations by touching the screen, for example moving layer III.2 to another keyboard, using the drag and drop feature.
Each registration layer has its own properties. “Transpose”, the one just explained in the example, is just one among many others. Another property is “Ambitus” which the organist can use to determine in which area of the keyboard compass the registration layer is active. Another, more complex, property is called “Dynamic” with which the organist can determine the velocity of touch at which each layer becomes active. It is possible, to use the cited example, to make layer III.2 active only when employing a heavy, i.e. fast touch; in all other cases only layer III.1 will sound. There are around 1518 of these functions which can be assigned to each layer, including some which, as described, affect the way in which the movement of the key is translated into the movement of the pallet. As a result, the organist has a level of contact with the sound via the digital interface that is barely possible with a mechanical action.
Should the organist wish to engage sounds from the Sauer organ, the first step would be “opening” a layer, for example layer III.1 on which, in our example, the Principal 8’ from the Utopa Baroque Organ has been activated. The organist opens the layer by pressing the button marked “III.1” in the bass keycheek of Manual III. The buttons above Manual III (the stops of the Utopa Baroque Organ) will revert to the situation created within that layer, in our example by engaging the stop tab “Principal 8’ “. Because the Sauer organ has a more old-fashioned construction than the Utopa Baroque Organ,19 only wind-chests can be added, rather than individual stops. Expanding on our example, should the organist want to add the blue stops to the layer, she would have to push the blue button above Manual III. In order to determine which of the blue stops would be added on pushing the button, one or more blue stops would have to be engaged from the stop panel to the left of the keyboards, for example the Bourdon 8’.
If the organist now plays on Manual III, both the Principal 8’ of the Utopa Baroque Organ and the Bourdon 8’ of the Sauer organ are heard. Layer III.2 remains programmed with the Principal 8’ of the baroque organ, still a third higher than unison pitch. As stated earlier, each layer can be deactivated by pressing the “Mute” button corresponding to the layer in question.
Next to each layer button not only a mute button but also a third button marked “∞” is provided. This is a “sustain” device; on activating, each key which is pressed continues to sound on release until struck (firmly) again. The degree of firmness required to release the note can be determined by the organist via the touchscreen. Of course the sounds can be released as well by pressing the ∞ knob again.
The Sinua system also features proven old-fashioned playing-aids including a sequencer which allow registrations to be saved in the required order. The memory for the sequencer is “user-specific”; each organist receives an individualised RFID key, so that it is impossible to access (and change) the registrations of other organists. This is likewise the case with the sequencer on the mechanical console. The digital console also allows the organist to record his or her playing, saved in the form of key and stop movements. The 2011 version of the console was already equipped to do this; it is a very useful tool, for example to analyse improvisations.
Organist Jacob Lekkerkerker was especially helpful in determining the layout of the console. At his suggestion, Sinua realised a second innovation (the first being the abandoning of the suggestion that specific stops belong to specific manuals), namely a “loop-station”. Lekkerkerker often uses this tool, much beloved among electric guitarists, as it allows a phrase to be repeated as soon as it is played. On pressing the “loop” button (located in both the bass and treble keycheeks of Manual I and also provided as a toe piston) the organ begins to record the movement of the keys. On pressing the button again, the organ begins to repeat the keys played time and again.
Four balance pedals are located directly above the pedalboard. The organist can nominate which function is assigned to each pedal. One operates the blower which provides wind to the bellows of the Utopa Baroque Organ: the blower’s revolutions per minute can be manipulated. Organists who find it exciting to work with variations in wind pressure have, therefore, and in addition to the options offered by the layers of registration, the opportunity to control the source of the wind directly. The possibility also exists for them to work with human calcants: the blower can remain switched off in order that the calcants can provide the wind and any desired effects to be produced by them. In order to optimise the opportunities in this regard, a special music stand for the calcants has been provided adjacent to the pumping pedals.
The other three function pedals on the digital console are intended for the so-called “general crescendo” of one or both organs,20 the swell box of the Sauer organ and for the volume of the loudspeakers in the event that the organ is, via MIDI, controlling (and in fact making) electronically produced sounds.
It is important to note that the interface offered by the digital console does not have to be used at all. The console features MIDI and OSC connections which make it possible to play the Utopa Baroque Organ via other interfaces such as laptops, tablets and microphones etc. Because musicians who work with laptops etc. also like to make use of loudspeaker-produced sounds in their music, the Utopa Baroque Organ is equipped with five patchbays: locations where their microphones and loudspeakers can be connected to the sound system of the Orgelpark. Three of these patchbays are located in the organ itself, one on each “floor” (bellows, Hauptwerk, Oberwerk). The other two are located to the left and right of the organ. No standard microphones and loudspeakers are installed in the organ itself, because equipment which may now seem essential for the music of the future may turn to be obsolete all too soon. We opted, therefore, “only” to provide mounting points for such equipment so that composers, musicians and other artists feel invited to add to the organ sounds produced by loudspeakers.
Façade, ornamentation and colour
The fifth and final study trip undertaken by the core team took place from 30 March to 2 April 2016, by which time most important decisions had already been made. The organ case was taking shape in Elbertse’s workshop, Eule was already busy making the pipework.
The structure of the organ case had already been determined by the core team. It had decided against, for example, a simple contemporary case without decoration. Because the Hildebrandt organ in Hettstedt had given us the basis of the Utopa Baroque Organ’s specification, the team decided that the basic form of the Hettstedt case should likewise be adopted, both in terms of its basic structure (Hauptwerk in the centre, Oberwerk above and Pedal either side) but also the profiles and proportions of the entablatures, carvings and the columns which give the pedal towers their characteristic appearance. As the specification would be slightly larger than in Hettstedt and because the bellows had to be accommodated within the case, adopting the proportions of the Hettstedt case was not possible: we needed more height. The solution lay in the relative proportions of the organ case in Sangerhausen: adopting them in the Orgelpark gave us the space we needed. All necessary measurements were taken on an additional trip and forwarded to Elbertse’s cabinet makers.
At this stage we were still considering the colouring and ornamentation of the case: should the organ be decorated in contemporary colours and ornaments in order to reflect the organ’s new aspects? Instead of ornamentation, was incorporating decorative lighting into the organ case a better option? On the basis of research undertaken by VU University student Fabienne Chiang, the history of organ façade design of the past three decades was charted, revealing the current fashion for such lighting, sometimes in combination with plexiglas decorations.
The goal of the team’s fifth study trip was primarily to find answers to these questions. The programme included visits to the Hildebrandt organs in Langhennersdorf (1722), Lengefeld (1726) and Sotterhausen (1730) as well as the organ in the Hofkirche in Dresden, begun by Gottfried Silbermann and completed by Hildebrandt in 1755. Although the colourful, and presumably original, decoration of the organ in Sangerhausen, where the trip began, resembled the contemporary colour scheme under consideration, the restful colouration of the Dresden organ with its rich ornamentation proved much more inspiring. A subsequent visit to Langhennersdorf revealed that the same basic colour (soft white) could also be perfectly combined with turquoise accents and gold ornamentation, and that this combination had in all probability been designed by Hildebrandt. This made us decide that the Utopa Baroque Organ would have the same colours as the organ at Langhennersdorf. This instrument had been restored in 1996 by Kristian Wegscheider at which time the colouring was reconstructed in close co-operation with Hilke Frach-Renner. Frach-Renner did some further research for the Orgelpark and was able to provide the team with precise details of the colour palette. On this basis, the team developed a definitive colour design. The painting and gilding were undertaken by the Schildersbedrijf De Jongh (Waardenburg).
Because the wooden carvings in Langhennersdorf were also deemed appropriate by the team for the façade of the Utopa Baroque Organ (beautifully detailed but quite reserved in their visual language), it was decided to use these too. Wood carver Gert van den Dikkenberg (Veenendaal) formulated the designs and produced the carvings.
Inspired by the organs in Sangerhausen and Hettstedt, a cartouche is located above the console featuring a text which tells of the organ’s construction history. This was likewise designed and made by Van den Dikkenberg; the ornamental design of the cartouche follows the same idiom found in Langhennersdorf. Translated in English, the Dutch text on the cartouche reads as follows: “Inspired by the works of organ builder Zacharias Hildebrandt, contemporary and fellow countryman of Johann Sebastian Bach, has this Utopa Baroque Organ been built by and for the Orgelpark, an initiative of the Utopa Foundation, chair Loek Dijkman, vice-chair Sylvia de Munck / The Orgelpark realised this organ, that gives access to its 18th century sound world in both old and new ways, in cooperation with Elbertse Orgelmakers (Soest; technology, wooden pipes, organ case), Hermann Eule Orgelbau (Bautzen; metal pipes), Munetaka Yokota (Tokyo; voicing), Sinua (Düsseldorf; digital technology)”:
Conclusion
The Utopa Baroque Organ is a hyperorgan, equipped with technology which allows its own acoustic sounds to be heard in many more diverse ways than would be possible with traditional organ technology. The Orgelpark built the organ to complement the sound-worlds of the 15th/16th and 19th/20th centuries, represented in the existing instruments, by providing an instrument reflecting a specific sound-world of the 17th and 18th centuries. At the same time, the Orgelpark wanted to build an organ which would inspire new music. For this reason, the organ is equipped with spring-chests which, on the one hand, facilitate historically informed/inspired performances without any restriction, but also allow the organist to use that very same sound-world in entirely new ways.
It is not unthinkable that the newly rebuilt digital console might not only inspire new music, but stimulate reconsidering performance of early music as well, for example because the control of the pallets can be far more closely controlled via the digital keys than could ever be possible with mechanical organ technology. In addition, the sound of the organ can be far better judged by the organist from the digital console downstairs in the room than from the mechanical console attached to the instrument. It is an open secret that the location of the organist when making music at mechanical action instruments is one of the poorest places to judge the music made. In other words, the new aspects of the Utopa Baroque Organ might be just as inspiring for the performance of old music as its old sounds might be for the creation of new music.
