St Cuthbert’s, Brislington
I walk past St Cuthbert’s in Brislington every time I go to Nightingale Valley to jump up and down on the solidified oil that was tipped there by American soliders after the war. You can see a kingfisher there too, flying like a dart up and down the brook.
The church always catches my eye with its great straight-edged brick simplicity. I contacted the church warden to ask if there was an organ, and had a lovely quick response: ‘Yes! A Rushworth and Dreaper’ that I was welcome to come and play.
I arrived on a hot day with two friends and their families, and the wonderful church warden gave us the key and left us to it.
First things first, we decided our organ stop nicknames:
Nighthorn, Salicet, Hautboy, Major Bass, Voix Celeste and Octave Geigen
And then we played and danced around the church.
A beautiful console
The organ at St Cuthbert’s was made in 1937 by Rushworth & Dreaper
After everyone had finished playing and dancing, they all sat very quietly and I played a few improvisations.
Listening back to the recordings, there is some lovely phasing produced by the instrument.
I enclose some recordings here:
“No other musical instrument can compare with the pipe organ in power, timbre, dynamic range, complexity of tone and sheer majesty of sound”
Neville Fletcher & Suzanne Thwaites
Looking up at the gallery
Church organs have been brought to a state of high perfection through the slow accumulation of knowledge. The slowness of organs is something that I love. Before playing, one should sit and take in the console, the stops, the grain of wood, the soft bench worn smooth by thousands of hours of organ players, the names of the stops and the texture of the keyboard. Then you can play.
Playing slowly
The slowness helps me to remain in the present and is very hypnotic. The long notes keep me there. As long as they’re being played, the future and past cease to exist.
