loyd.net

Well, the main story here is really a second-hand memory.  First, the present-day context:  The postlude at church this morning was by Oliver Messiaen (Apparition de l'église éternelle).  The pastor commended it to the congregation and suggested that we sit and listen to it instead of rushing out as usual.  I think that's because he wanted to listen to it in its entirety.  We have a wonderful tracker organ at church that is well-suited to Baroque music, and our organist (just retired as professor of organ at FSU) plays a lot of Bach and Buxtehude, which is quite fine with me.  Occasionally we hear some Mendelssohn or Hindemith, and sometimes something a bit more modern.  I don't recall the last time our organist played any Messiaen, though, so it was a bit of a treat—well, for some of us.  Messiaen is, if nothing else, distinctive.

Hearing Messiaen played at church reminded me of a story from my former college town. I believe I was told this story during my master's comps.  At the time Abilene had a population around 100,000.  It is in west Texas, the largest city in about a 150 mile radius (between Ft. Worth and Midland/Odessa).  It has three small, church-related universities, an Air Force base, some excellent barbeque joints, and a few mesquite trees.  I attended the Southern Baptist school, the middle-sized, moderate school; it was a bit more liberal than the larger Church of Christ school and more conservative than the smaller United Methodist school.  Traditionally, the professor of organ at my school also held the post of organist at First Baptist Church.   According to my sources, the former professor of organ (before my student days) was rather fond of Messiaen, and would frequently play that composer's works at church.  From what I was told, the congregation of First Baptist Church, Abilene, Texas, did not always appreciate this choice of repertoire.