The “Lush,” an “American Ensemble”

summarized by Tom Baker, based on the 1969 Master Classes, nos. 29, 45, and 51.    (Go to Registrations page.)
Stanza 3:
IF the tremulants don’t make the pitch wobble, but only contribute to a “certain vagueness:”
  • strings & celestes
  • flutes & flute celestes
  • weak diapasons
  • weak oboe or clarinet
  • no chorus reeds or mixtures
This is the lush sound of “what I call the American Ensemble.”
Especially useful if sopranos are to sing a descant.
The ideal for the tremulant: Kirsten Flagstad, especially her final F#.
 

What did VF mean by the term “American ensemble?”

In email I asked Winston Willis, the engineer of the Master Class CD, about Virgil’s use of the term “American Ensemble”. Mr. Willis replied:
“American Ensemble was anything that did not sound like a tracker/Holtcamp/Baroque, chiffing piece of &^%$%^^%^)(!.  VF referred to that combination of diapasons, flutes, strings, vox humanas, and tremolos as ‘lush.’ ‘Turn on the lush, Honey. Turn off the supers.’ David Ogletree calls it ‘the Riverside sound’. The trick with Lush was to have all those things wiggling and coupled together at 8'. Then, couple it all to the Great at 16', 8', and 4', playing the tune up an octave. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yeah!”


How does the “lush” work, and does it always work?

Winston Willis, email to me 6/14/2015: “T. Ernest Nichols is one of the few people still living who studied with Virgil. Here are some of his thoughts on the ‘lush’ sound and a couple of example of his playing a couple of pieces using it.”

T. Ernest Nichols (from the same email, quoted by Winston Willis):

... Lush depends on many 8' stops that have a full, but not thick, middle ... This stuff requires “special handling.” I seem to be the only one left in the VF “school” who knows how to use it. Lush does not work well in a high reverb. The reverb cancels the fake space the lush creates. Someday I'll tell you the story about how VF came to invent it.

T. Ernest says, “Direct him to my ‘Calm as the Night’ video ... The secret is couplers, celestes, and tremulants. The more lush you use, the more 32' flues you must add. In fact, direct him to the little chorale that has the lush repeats. He can see what happens.”

Calm as the Night       Schmücke Dich       Alle Menschen müssen sterben

The “lush” thus seems to fall into the same class as the “acoustic release:” it helps make a good, warm sound in a non-reverberant space.


How did VF come to invent the “lush?”

Email from T. Ernest to Winston, July 4, 2015:

In the old days (before and right after WW2), most organs were undersized and had oversized diapasons and flutes and grossly skinny strings ... Most organs had beater tremulants while Austin persevered with their horrible fan tremolos. The beaters were usually set fast and nervous like a theater organ ...

Solo stops are really nasty without a tremolo (except a French Horn which should only be played in the tenor register without a tremulant).

At one particular recital location, an Austin was specially horrible. There was nothing to be done. Then, it hit him [VF] to use effects that involved out of tune stops that could be drowned out, for the most part, in many registers engaged at a time. The fan tremolos came on to add to the instability of the tone, and the basis of lush sound was established. Of course, it’s better on a Skinner! Through years of playing many good and horrible instruments, mostly horrible, he evolved what David Ogletree coined for my videos done in IL...The Riverside Sound.

That Lush Sound saved VF‘s ass many times over the years.

That‘s the gist of it.

Any questions?


The importance of sub- and super-couplers ... (and a defense of the American romantic organ) ...

Ted Alan Worth on the Ruffati organ in the Salle Claude Champagne in Montreal, from Virgil Fox (The Dish), by Richard Torrence and Marshall Yaeger, based on a memoir by Ted Alan Worth, Ch. 56, “Sister Jeannie Jesus,” pp. 204-205. (New York, New York: Circles International, Ridgewood, New York: The Virgil Fox Society, c. 2001)

I was afraid to start playing, thinking we might start laughing at the instrument in front of our kind hosts. I climbed onto the bench and turned on the Principal on the Great. A rich and warm, singing sound poured forth from the pipes. I was pleasantly surprised. I then proceeded through the principal chorus of the Great, beginning with a handsome 16' and ending with two brilliant but transparent mixtures. I then added the three independent Great chorus reeds at 16-, 8-, and 4-foot. A blaze of tone raged from the Great division alone. We were flat out impressed!

The tone reminded Richard and me of the best of AEolian-Skinner, but there was a difference; the tone was more “singing” in its naturalness. None of the individual stops were particularly loud by themselves, but they all added up to a thrilling richness.

I was pleased to see Great sub- and super-couplers, devices that the Baroque enthusiasts would completely reject. Moreover, there were “subs” and “supers” within every division. Every manual coupled at 16-, 8-, and 4-foot! Casavant would have balked at this decision; but I was determined to have those couplers in Wayne. I had grown up with them, and my style of playing (as well as Richard Purvis‘s and Virgil‘s) required these couplers.

We believed that the American and Canadian builders of the day had fallen prey to the “classic” movement. Therefore, most of them preferred not to include these couplers and other valuable assets to the player because of certain academic theories. By eliminating these features, they were imposing restrictions on the player‘s artistry—restrictions that were often unavoidable with earlier, less well-developed instruments that were mechanical in operation (as opposed to electrical, as most American instruments had come to be).

These organ builders, academics, and critics declared themselves arbiters of taste and style, yanking away the roles that more rightfully belonged to performing artists and their audiences. These “purists” argued that since these devices were not “historically correct,” they were often “misused.” Therefore, the builders would prevent the possibility of any “bad taste” occurring.

Oh, how Virgil and I deplored this new thinking and the large and small “gutless wonders,” to quote Virgil, that resulted. These builders saved lots of money, of course, for they were erecting organs that had no “weight” and very little color—except for a few, new “quacky” classic-type color reeds, and a Pedal Organ (which should be the glory and foundation of any great instrument) that could barely sustain even modest hymn registration. We declared all these organs to be just plain blah and boring!

When I finally got the entire organ going in the Salle Claude Champagne, the place was on fire with a rich and full organ tone. It was a blazing, thrilling rage! ...