Sir Arthur SULLIVAN (1842-1900)
Overture: The Pirates of Penzance [8:12]
The Sun Whose Rays (The Mikado) [3:07]
Oh, is there not one maiden breast? (The Pirates of Penzance) [6:41]
Overture: The Yeomen of the Guard [5:47]
Gavotte (The Gondoliers) [3:37]
Cachucha (The Gondoliers) [2:12]
Introduction to Act III of The Tempest [2:57]
Arrangements by John Kitchen, except The Tempest (Edward Bairstow)
Michael THOMSON (1949-2016)
On the Square [4:50]
Parc de Paris [3:47]
Salute to Busby Berkeley [7:43]
The Bard’s Ceremonial [4:01]
Whirly-Granny [3:53]
A Bouquet of Roses [8:30]
Tullich to Inverey: Scots March [4:26]
John Kitchen (organ)
rec. 2018, Usher Hall, Edinburgh
DELPHIAN DCD34212 [69:52]
Despite being a great fan of both the 1914 Norman & Beard organ in Edinburgh’s Ulster Hall, and of John Kitchen’s unpretentiously manicured playing, I wish someone else had recorded this music on a different organ. Kitchen is just too straight-laced to ham the music up enough to stop it sounding uncomfortably kitsch, while the organ, for all its superficial nods towards the town hall (it has a range of bells which are studiously omitted from the specification set out in the booklet) cannot shake off its inbuilt churchiness.
That churchiness is highlighted in the very first track, a transcription of Arthur Sullivan’s Overture to The Pirates of Penzance, which sounds for all the world like the kind of voluntary some organists throw in while the sacrament of the collection is being taken in church. But that in itself highlights a problem. The disc includes a number of Kitchen’s own transcriptions of extracts from Sullivan’s operettas, and these are so well done – idiomatic to the organ, faithful to the original, and clearly the result of a sincere affection for the music itself – that they thoroughly deserve to be presented on disc. And if Kitchen does not do it, who will? There is no question that these are exquisite little miniatures, sensitively prepared and charmingly played, and they emphasise that, shorn of W S Gilbert’s satirical texts, Sullivan’s music can hold its own in the very best company.
The problem is, it is not sharing this disc with the very best musical company.
Kitchen pays homage here to notable Scottish organist, Michael Thomson, who for many years held sway over the instrument in Aberdeen’s Capitol Cinema. There he provided the kind of organ-based light entertainment which was once such an attractive feature of British theatres and cinemas, but which is now something of specialism with its own tiny but dedicated band of devotees. Kitchen generously devotes roughly half of this disc to Thomson’s music most of which, we can safely assume, was intended for theatre or cinema use, and in all likelihood began as improvisations intended simply to show off the astonishing tonal resources of typical British theatre organ. Kitchen’s occasional nods towards the playing style of theatre organists – notably the characteristic note-slides and waving swell pedals - sounds terribly self-conscious, and aficionados of theatre organ technique will be suspicious of anyone who usually uses both feet to play the pedals.
Light music was clearly very much in Thomson’s blood. The only problem was, it was other people’s light music. Had I the time to delve through all 135 discs in Guild’s marvellous “Golden Age of Light Music” series, I’m quite sure I’d find the source material for just about everything attributed to Michael Thomson on this disc. He even borrows from Brahms in the medley of popular songs, A Bouquet of Roses, and while when someone writes a medley, we can hardly accuse them of plagiarism, I think Kitchen goes way over the top in his effusive booklet note which claims Thomson’s medleys are “substantial compositions of wit and originality”. To my ears, they are basic stitchings together of nice melodies, which probably worked in the cinema, but lose their lustre in the more hallowed environment of the Usher Hall. The only thing which really works for me, is The Bard’s Ceremonial which maintains the Tuba Tune tradition of C S Lang and Norman Cocker but adds a distinctive Scotch Snap to it.
How one longs for a tremulant-encrusted Tibia Clausa instead of the saintly flute in the Parc de Paris, a throbbing Vox Humana instead the churchy Open Diapasons of Whirly-Granny, or a raucous percussion-fuelled chorus instead of the restrained organo pleno in the jolly march On the Square with its very self-conscious tonal gear-changes. Kitchen gives us the music in clear, unfussy and unadulterated form, making some of it sound dangerously like an English Louis Vierne, but never really crossing the threshold into the camp of true theatre organ blatancy.
I enjoy the music, I admire Kitchen’s relaxed playing of it, and I much enjoy this Cook’s tour of the Usher Hall organ; I just wish this music could have been presented in a more appropriate way.
Marc Rochester
