In the last few years it has become fashionable for electronic musicians to renounce their computers in favour of the pre-digital delights of 60s- and 70s-style modular synths. Evidently, the next logical step is the reappraisal of the pipe organ – for what is a pipe organ but the original synthesiser, its array of keyboards, knobs and levers designed to produce an awe-inspiring barrage of otherworldly sound? This is the thinking behind Organ Reframed, a festival of new works for pipe organ by doyens of the electronic avant garde (plus the odd intrepid indie rock band), now in its second year at Union Chapel, London.
Along with the flamboyant recitals of Cameron Carpenter and its appearance on acclaimed experimental releases by, among others, Kara-Lis Coverdale and Tim Hecker, it seems that the organ might be having a bit of a moment.
But, as the opening night of the festival shows, it’s a tricky instrument to reframe. Of the six specially commissioned new pieces, efforts range from the kitschy (Emily Hall) to the atonal (Phill Niblock) without fully harnessing the organ’s natural heft.
It doesn’t help that the Union Chapel organ (originally built by Henry “Father” Willis in 1877 and fully restored over the last few years) is completely obscured by the pulpit. Via the big screen we can see James McVinnie’s hands moving nimbly across the keys, or his brogues on the pedals, but never both at once, so you don’t really get a sense of the physicality involved. Centre stage is occupied by a small ensemble of musicians from the London Contemporary Orchestra. Musically as well as visually, it sometimes feels as if the organ has been reduced to a bit-part role at its own celebration.
It’s not until midway through Hecker’s rousing contribution that McVinnie really makes his presence felt, bashing out strident but slightly wonky chords like a melting Bach fugue. Similarly arresting is the contribution of Mira Calix, who never shies away from a challenge having previously explored the musical properties of insects, paper and stones. Her piece is an angry meditation on Brexit entitled #DeHFO (The Department of How to Fuck Ourselves). Reflecting a country split down the middle, it’s made up of very high and very low notes. A tense standoff between the two eventually erupts into a scurrying baroque cacophony.
Perhaps the most effective reframing comes courtesy of Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Smith is one of those aforementioned modular synth buffs, whose beatific compositions make ingenious use of vintage machines such as the Buchla 100, eschewing their obvious sci-fi connotations for warmer, fleshier tones. She handles the transition to pipe organ with aplomb, delivering a piece of music that feels fresh and exhilarating, even if you suspect that much of that may be down to the use of flute, harp and xylophone rather than the organ itself.
The following night’s concert shows the value of keeping it simple as far as the organ is concerned. Festival curator Claire M Singer plays unaccompanied except for an occasional sympathetic cello. Her cautious chord progressions aren’t particularly adventurous but she really knows how to wring the best out of this magnificent instrument, creating moments of sustained rapture.
Minnesotan trio Low have never been ones for over-elaboration. They are renowned for playing slowly and quietly but with white-knuckle intensity. As a gift to the Union Chapel – a home from home for them over the years – they perform an entire set of new music, apparently inspired by Caravaggio’s The Incredulity of Saint Thomas.
Low have never made any secret of their religious affiliation – founding couple Mimi Parker and Alan Sparhawk are Mormons – but they are constantly questioning and examining their faith, often with mordant, self-deprecating humour. At one point in this subtly theatrical performance, Sparhawk wryly bites into an apple; at another, he pours water into his glass to make wine (or possibly blackcurrant squash).
Dressed entirely in black, he and Parker stand solemnly at a desk singing and operating a basic drum machine while bassist Steve Garrington handles the organ. It’s a setup that completely reinvigorates the band. While their last album Ones and Sixes seemed to lose its way in search of “proper songs”, these circular chants about doubt and faith feel vital and resonant.
After an encore of old favourite Breaker, which sounds far more chilling than it ever did on record, Parker and Sparhawk exit the stage while Garrington (with assistance from Claire Singer) literally pulls out all the stops, filling the venue with a terrifying, polyphonic din. It may have stubbornly refused to be reframed, but the organ still has the power to transfix and overwhelm.
