The organ recital

Choral Evensong ended, refreshments were dispensed and the congregation turned audience settled down to the much anticipated organ recital. Three quarters of an hour to relax and enjoy an expert playing that wonderful instrument. Introductions were made and the programme explained then the first triumphant piece filled the church.  Next came a more contemplative prelude followed by some modern variations that were rather less well known.

A famous toccata and fugue began at the same time as a strange thought surfaced. What would happen if all the sounds in the heads of the audience were released into the church along with the strains of the organ? Behind the rows of calm faces ran a myriad of thoughts –

‘Must phone my daughter this evening when I get back,’

‘I hope Jamie sleeps better tonight,’

‘Can we really afford a holiday at the moment?’

‘I think I’ll move some money into an ISA on Wednesday,’

‘So nice to relax now I’ve tackled the wisteria,’

‘Sheila was looking so well at lunch today,’

‘I wish I had remembered to say how sorry I was,’

‘When did I last hear this piece played live?’

Plans for the week ahead, worries over children or grandchildren, money, an impending interview, redundancy, the garden, regretful or pleasurable retrospection, musical dissection – a discordant cacophony behind the masks.

How much was each individual hearing and if such thoughts were released aloud how much of the organ would come through? How long would the competition last and when would the music begin imposing itself, demanding dominance? Would the organist be able to entice, seduce or coerce the hearers, through the power of the music, into leaving all other thoughts behind? Would there be a moment when the sounds from the people ceased and the organ transcended all to hold absolutely everyone and everything in its hand? Surely that time would come.