Vital Organs

“Organ playing is the manifestation of a will filled with the vision of eternity.” Charles-Marie Widor

A whole new world of sound exposed itself to me in the dusty backroom of a thrift store. A Yahama Electone home organ with a $150 sticker on it. An array of primary red, yellow and green buttons on an ugly shade of brown (that really is uniquely reserved for 1970’s catalogues). The appeal, for me, lay somewhere between the awe of a spaceship and the playful joy of a colourful children’s toy- but I knew it contained within it the depth and breadth of possibilities my heart desired in a musical companion. The foot pedals are big and weighty and the in-built amplifier sent out a cocoon of sound that wrapped my body up in a warm 360 degree embrace that could lift and protect my spirits from the pains of being and elevate me from the little goings on of us ants on an ant hill in the shape of a globe.

I sat down at the organ everyday to write songs -most of which are now lost in the abyss of time, myspace and dead hard drives. Song titles like ‘Magnetic Arrest’ and ‘Speaking To Soft Toys’ speak volumes about my state of mind. In peak madness and mental isolation I delved inside this body of sound and came bubbling back out of it like a hot spring. I dumped my guitars like I never even knew them, and never looked back. I had no theoretical knowledge, so the one-finger preset chords made finding what I was looking for easy. I could twinkle a melody with the right hand, play some bass notes with the tip of my heel (I wore exceedingly uncomfortable 1950’s Saks Fifth Avenue court heels with a suede-fringed tongue and a gold bar). I began collecting exotica and easy listening records, immersing myself in the relief of music devoid of a singular personality or ego. I discovered Cherry Wainer and Ethel Smith. I dreamed of getting real good, just like them.

I plastered this organ all over my band’s first album and was faced with the pressing question of how to play the damn thing live and tour with it. I did my research and weighed up my options, landing on a cheap portable Yamaha keyboard called a PS-20. It was a creamy Ivory colour and came with an elegant silver screw-in stand. It was my own unique sound because no one but me would want this keyboard, or so I thought… until Beach House came out with a record completely defined by those same presets I’d fallen in love with on that exact keyboard. This was confirmation to me of just how exciting, beautiful and -uniquely feminine (?) this particular keyboard was. We didn’t want to drag it to the UK on tour, so I found the exact model again, on Ebay for £15 in Liverpool somewhere, picking up right where I left off, across the pond. It’s been sitting in Belle & Sebastian’s keyboardist’s studio (They call him “Beans”) in Glasgow ever since.

Years later in London, I’m still obsessing over the beauty of organs, spending my spare time trawling home made web pages of nerds documenting every organ that ever lived. Hours on Ebay leads me to a crazy looking organ for $3k that I post on my FB Page with the comment “If anyone would like to buy me this, free shows, eternal gratitude” or something equally impetuous. To my utter shock and amusement, I received a message from a man called Shane who said his “boss” would like to purchase me an organ, with a link to a rare Hammond C3 they had sourced in South London.

His Boss emailed me: “When I saw your request - I thought it was totally outrageous and deeply sincere all at once - it cried out to be fulfilled… happy music making and wishing you enlightened travels”. I pretty much thought gold dust had been sprinkled over my head and I might start levitating and turn into Tinker-bell.

I took a jazz musician called Artie (who knew his way around a Hammond) way down south with me for a discerning eye… and to be perfectly honest, a bit of security (in case it was some kind of axe murderer looking for a victim). We turned up on this church pastor’s door and he gave us a little show in his lounge room. I’m not religious, but I had been attending organ recitals in churches across London and… started praying a little bit. I’m not sure to who exactly, and for nothing specific, more like giving thanks to the universe for the people I love being kept healthy and any good things coming my way. I asked for protection and support in my endeavours. I thought this mystery fan, the organ and the church pastor was a sign that maybe a god did exist and had been hearing little old me out and sending me very strong signals to go forth. It thrilled and affirmed me in the way a gambler might get convinced of their luck by a big hit on a slot machine.

The tremolo and swells of that organ when the pastor played it moved me in ways nothing ever will. He informed me that we would be entering a bidding war with a Kenyan church over it. Though I’m not certain he wasn’t beefing that up for the hustle. I attended one of his weekend sermons as a thank you and out of sheer curiosity after we nabbed it, hoping there would be some real deal gospel music. It was a small congregation of about 30 people in an empty strip mall. It was an intense “lion of god”, militant type of christianity that kind of freaked me out, though I enjoyed the part where I got to play a tambourine that lay under my seat at the end. I couldn’t help but feel it was just a lil itsy bitsy bit scammy, and then guilt for having had that feeling. I don’t think it’s far-fetched to question the motives of anyone forcefully impressing extreme beliefs upon others with a collection plate. 

I don’t think it’s a mistake that the Vatican brought organs in to churches from the 7th century. It possesses an intense emotional power that bolsters and supports voices like none other. Creating a sense of awe, mystery and emotion is a critical component of religion. When you see the enormous wealth of artworks and artefacts in catholic churches it inspires you to believe in some kind of greatness. My hindu boyfriend (who was proudly brandished with an OM tattoo on his arm) left the Vatican half-joking “woah, I think I might become a catholic after seeing all that gold!”.

Music, wealth, power and art has always been used to inspire and evoke this sense of awe, emotion, connection and aspirational belief. It’s not without an element of intentional manipulation. The Wizard of Oz. In fact, the Organ’s second major appearance was in theatres and then cinemas -accompanying silent films. An organ had the power of an entire orchestra within it -as well as horns, doorbells and bird whistles. The ultimate performer. A god of sound, in fact, housed within itself.

The first organ was invented by Ctesibius of Alexandria - a Greek mathematician and inventor in ptolemaic Egypt. His specialty was the science of compressed air in pumps; the pushing around of air. The first pipe organ he invented -Hydraulis, was a water based organ, used during races and games in ancient Rome and Greece.  Again, the ultimate performer; the somehow transcendent sound made from pushing around the very earthly elements of air and water, that in turn, became the bedrock and underlying arouser of human performance -in church, film and sport. 

“I was hooked; the sound coming through the Leslie speaker”

Booker T Jones on the first time he played a Hammond. (I spoke about the time I met Booker and talked Hammonds in a previous post -another sign for me, that I was on the right track).

So, the Hammond was mine. I couldn’t believe it really. I couldn’t even fit it in my house, had to hire removalists to bring it to and from a show once, and bargained a place for it in my friend’s recording studio (where it still sits, and receives a lot of love and use). I exchanged a few emails thanking this dreamy mystery fan, but didn’t learn much about them or their origin story, though I know his mother country is Italy. Which makes more sense than almost anything else to me. 

He replied “your sound is an eternal gift…” 

And no person of sound mind couldn’t not feel romantic feelings about humanity and life in the face of such overwhelming generosity.