SOAR ABOVE FROM THE 10 ORGAN SYMPHONIES OF CHARLES-MARIE WIDOR FREDERICK HOHMAN The 7310-pipe, 108-rank Casavant-Schantz Organ Saint Andrew's Lutheran Church, Mahtomedi, Minnesota USA Digital Audio Producer / Engineer, Post-Production & Mastering, Cover Art (and featured organist): Frederick Hohman Zarex HD Studio, South Bend, Indiana, USA Recorded on 16 & 17 October 2005 PRO ORGANO CD 7202 www.proorgano.com PROGRAM NOTES Few organ pieces are so distinctive, memorable, and so intertwined with custom and tradition, that they have impressed themselves onto the memories and psyches of listeners numbering in the millions. Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565 is certainly one of these few works, and just as certainly, another is the brilliant, concluding Toccata from Charles-Marie Widor’s Fifth Organ Symphony. This sparkling Toccata in F, with its brisk staccato chords and figures, was the perfect vehicle for exploiting the newly-expanded musical possibilities in the 100-stop, 5-manual Cavaillé-Coll organ installed in 1863 at the church of St.Sulpice in Paris. It was at this Grand Organ, the largest that Aristide Cavaillé-Coll would ever build, over which organist-composer Charles-Marie Widor would preside. At age 25, in January, 1870, the young Widor was named as organist of St. Sulpice to replace Louis Lefébure-Wély, the organist of the church since 1863, who had passed away just days earlier, on 31 December 1869. Although Widor held his appointment at St. Sulpice for 63 years, Widor was never given the official title of organist; instead, although his decades of service made his presence an integral part of the church, officially, his employment at St. Sulpice was that of a temporary interim. Widor’s famous Toccata in F has been the choice for countless wedding recessionals, and for other joyous festivals of the church, most often as a Christmas Eve or Easter Day postlude. It is a significant piece on several levels. While it is true that the work stirs a range of emotions such as awe and confidence, it also stands as a musical icon of sorts. At the time it was first played in the 1870s, the Toccata heralded the dawn of a forward movement in both organ-building and organ-playing in France. Prior to the 1860s, the scope, power and range of effects that an organist could achieve in the pipe organ were limited by the organ’s 18th-century mechanics. Baroque-era organ mechanics provided little assistance to an organist, who often had to play against stiff resistance of a heavy keyboard action. As pipe organs became grander in scale, with several divisions, each one assigned to a separate manual, and often coupled together mechanically, playing virtuosic music became very impractical, if not impossible. However, in the 1860s, a new keying system, known as the barker machine, or barker lever, was incorporated into keyboard actions of organs built by Aristide Cavaillé-Coll. The barker lever system allowed an organist to play for extended periods with keyboard resistance that was minimal, even with several manuals coupled together. It paved the way for both virtuosity and invention in French organ literature. Cavaillé-Coll’s application of this invention was just as revolutionary to the pipe organ as power steering and power brakes was to the modern passenger car. Widor’s inventive intuition and the modern Cavaillé-Coll organ made for a musical sensation in the 1870s; his famous Toccata, and many similar works, as played on modern organs the world over ever since, continues to inspire listeners, even 150 years later. Composers like Bach and Widor are renown today for just a handful of popular works. We must not forget that Widor’s famous Toccata is only one of more than fifty organ pieces that comprise the Ten Organ Symphonies that Widor wrote down for posterity over a 40-year period, between the 1860s and 1900. Some of these could have begun as improvisations, that is, they might have first been played spontaneously, without having been fully written out at first, with performance offered as incidental, but functional, music during the Mass. When one examines the early symphonies, that is, the first four, grouped as the Opus 13 set, we find that the movements are, in general, less complex and shorter than movements in his later symphonies. The later symphonies are conceived on a grander formal scale, with thematic and motivic ties that lend a sense of unity between the symphony’s movements. Also, depending on which printed edition one has, one might find a movement from one of the early symphonies to be entirely absent in one printed edition, with another entire piece substituted in its place! In the first edition of the First Organ Symphony, for example, the sixth movement, in the key of E-flat minor, entitled Meditation (heard in this recording) - is not included in the later editions. Throughout his career, Widor revised both the small details in his organ symphonies as well as the content and order of their movements. With a weak sense of unity between movements within a given Widor organ symphony, many organists are seldom compelled to perform an entire Widor organ symphony as a unit in concert. Instead, organists choose their favorite stand-alone movements, and assemble them into short mini-suites for concert use. That is what I’ve done here in this recording, but on a somewhat larger scale. While I have more favorites by Widor than would fill a single CD disc, I find that these movements assembled here make for a varied, representative all-Widor program. Widor was a prolific composer. It is obvious from the way he swapped out movements that Widor had plenty of material in reserve. Widor did have one broad, unifying idea in mind for his symphonies when they were to become published. He ordered his first eight organ symphonies so that each successive symphony has a central key, or tonal center, at least in the outer movements, which is progressively one step higher than the numbered symphony preceding it. One can see this scheme in the list below: The Opus 13 Set (c. 1872) Symphony 1 in C Symphony 2 in D Symphony 3 in E Symphony 4 in F The Opus 42 Set (c. 1879) Symphony 5 in F Symphony 6 in G Symphony 7 in A Symphony 8 in B Symphonie Gothique (#9) Op. 70 (c. 1895, based in C) Symphonie Romane (#10) Op. 73 (c. 1900) The key area of F is repeated in both symphonies 4 and 5. Symphony 6 was actually the fifth symphony Widor penned. Symphony 6 pre-dates the composition of Symphony 5 by about a year, but when published, Widor re-numbered them in order to preserve the overall ascending key scheme, when viewing them consecutively by number. The final two of the ten Widor Symphonies are called not by number, but by name. Widor's #9 is the Symphonie "Gothique" and his #10 is Symphonie "Romane." Actually, one could argue that there is an eleventh Widor symphony, if one wishes to considers his Suite Latine, Op 86, from 1927. Organ music comprised only one facet of Widor’s career as a composer. When considering that Widor composed much chamber music, music for solo piano, works for orchestra, and even vocal music and some opera, we understand that Widor was considered a mainstream composer. And if the diversity in his compositional output were not enough, a look into the biographies of Widor’s life reveals that he was a true renaissance man, extending to a passing scientific interest as an inventor! In truth, a predilection for invention was in Widor’s blood, as there were noted inventors among Widor’s ancestors. Charles-Marie Jean Albert Widor, was born into a family of organ builders in Lyon, in the south of France on 21 February 1844. One of Widor’s ancestors, Marc Séguin (1786-1875) was the inventor of the steam boiler. The grand-uncle of Widor’s mother, Françoise-Elisabeth Peiron of Annonay, was Joseph-Michel Montgolfier (1740-1810), a pioneer in air navigation, and the inventor credited with bringing us the hot air balloon. In Widor’s time, prior to the advent of the horseless carriage and the airplane, the hot air balloon industry was a fashionable, practical & profitable business. It could be that Widor aimed to pay tribute to his mother’s ancestors when his first organ symphonies were published by Julien Hamelle (1837-1917) in the 1870s. In the engraved cover page from the original printing of the symphony scores – see image on next page – dating from 1872, in the upper right corner, we see a motto: “Soar above.” This motto stands out curiously, because it is the only text on the page printed in English. If this motto had been paired with an illustration of a hot air balloon, one might simply surmise that the reference is a personal tip of the hat to the inventors in Widor’s family tree. But without knowing of Widor’s roots, one might conjecture a more direct, philosophical meaning for these words. Could this cryptic two-word motto, in our wild imagining, be a secret message to English readers, perhaps a noble call to the common man to raise society to a new plateau of well-being and culture? In truth, the motto could represent all of the above, but the most likely explanation is that the phrase “Soar above” was an assertion by Widor that the publication of his organ symphonies signified a turning point in French organ literature. Widor had been influenced greatly in his early years by his mentor, Jacques Lemmens (1823-1881). Lemmens was a Belgian organist credited with sparking a revival of quality French organ literature, and with laying the groundwork for vast advancements in organ playing technique that would extend into the 20th century. Widor shared Lemmens’ view that French organ literature between 1750 and 1850 was largely decadent and of no lasting artful value. Widor was determined, as was César Franck, to reverse and correct this condition. In fact, Widor’s teaching influence upon three generations of talented organists and composers created such a vast improvement in this area, that, compared with the century before, the late 19th-century change is often seen today as both revolutionary and cataclysmic. So, in summing up all the possible meanings for the curious motto, and in sympathy with Widor and Lemmens that organists must set good examples in musicianship and art for those who come after us, I have elected to call this audio recording – a collection of my favorites from Widor’s organ symphonies – nothing other than: “Soar Above.” Widor’s observations and recommendations for the organist. During his remarkable life of 93 years, Widor became concerned about how others performed and interpreted his published organ music. Perhaps he felt that the rapid changes he saw in the pipe organ mandated that the organist receive more than a cursory amount of guidance. This concern is evidenced by Widor’s detailed and lengthy prefaces to the first edition of his first eight organ symphonies, published during the 1870s. But this was not the only instance where Widor provided valuable insight and commentary to the organist. Years later, in 1912, together with Albert Schweitzer (1875-1865) - see image, this page - he edited what was, at the time, considered to be a definitive edition of the organ works of Johann Sebastian Bach, commonly known as the Widor-Schweitzer edition (published by G. Schirmer). Widor took the opening afforded by this new Bach edition to write another lengthy, and even more detailed preface in the French version of his Bach edition. There he addressed many aspects of performance practice of peculiar interest to the organist. It has been said, perhaps most eloquently by the noted, brilliant composer and music pedagogue Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979) – who had been a pupil of Widor – that a musical score is but the mere blueprint of music. Her comment infers that the score documents the essentials, and gives the structural detail that allows the piece to exist; yet, her advice confirms that we can gain only a limited amount of insight from this “blueprint.” While it is considered just as artistic to reinterpret a composer’s original score in new ways, most musicians still value retaining the gestures, clichés and persona that comprise a composer’s style when realizing the composer’s work. Many of these stylistic details are difficult, if not impossible, to convey by a score alone. Yet, these crucial details are absent in some degree from the score, in much the same way that a building blueprint, although accurate, fails to show the color and decorative style of furnished rooms in a finished building. Widor appears to have grappled with this very dilemma. How fortunate we are, then, to have this valuable guidance, directly from maître Widor, in these prefaces. Regardless of which preface we study, Widor’s recommendations for the organist appear to stem from one basic desire: to instill in the organist a thorough awareness of fine musicianship, allowing the organist to build and maintain an optimum and efficient technique while also granting the organist as much artistic freedom as possible. Widor’s approach is one of basic common sense. He admits that the organ, by its very nature, presents greater than average musical challenges, which can, and must, be overcome through diligence and craft. Several scholars have written extensively about Widor’s life and pedagogical thoughts. The most accessible author is John Richard Near.  He has followed his original doctoral dissertation “The Life and Work of Charles-Marie Widor” (Boston University, 1985) with new, updated writings, with another work to be published presently. Other dissertations taken along with Dr. Near’s writings can confirm Widor’s thoughts and advice. Two of these references are: an unpublished Master’s thesis by Russell George Wichmann, entitled “The Organ Works of Charles Marie Widor” (Union Theological Seminary, New York, 1936) and a Masters’ thesis entitled: “Organ Symphonies of Widor” by Stanley Sheppelwich. Although these works mention the advice Widor had for organists, in many cases translating the advice from French into English, in this essay I have chosen to discuss just a few points from Widor’s prefaces, as these shed light into my interpretations, recorded here, which take several cues from Widor. Tempo The quest for a proper tempo drew frequent comment from Widor. In organ music, Widor believed that tempo should be governed, or at least influenced by, the room acoustics. This means, of course, playing slowly enough in a reverberant room so that there is rhythmic clarity for the listener. He admonished organists for their strict adherence to a given tempo marking, while giving no consideration at all to the conditions of the performance. In his Bach preface, Widor cautions that metronomic markings should be accepted only conditionally. Some who studied with Widor and who heard him perform his own music, observed that Widor's own tempi for movements of his organ symphonies were a good deal slower than the tempi he indicated in the published scores. Widor believed that it is more worthwhile to seek the beauty in the sound of the musical passage than to aspire to rapidity. As a further guide to finding a “proper” tempo for a given work, Widor suggested that the organist locate the smallest value of note that occurs in a piece, and choose a tempo where even the fastest note is expressed comfortably, without becoming hurried or rushed. Widor also favored elasticity in tempo, where tempo would be slightly varied, owing to a number of musical justifications, and where slight forward movement and slight slowing would reinforce other salient musical features.  This use of a “floating’ tempo would particularly help to shape ends of phrases and transitions between sections. Rhythm Widor placed great importance on the total control and use of rhythm in organ-playing. He blamed organists for poor rhythm, that, according to Widor, in turn, created the mistaken notion that the organ was a dull instrument. Widor insisted that organists develop an extremely keen sense of time and timing. In applying this awareness, Widor urged organists to add or subtract very small units of time to the duration of certain notes, and that the organist must delay or separate notes in time, varied in very small increments, in order to infuse a given musical passage with rhythmic vitality. Widor suggests that the variations in dynamic accent that are easily achieved in the piano using a faster or slower attack, must be achieved in the organ through other means, by applying a combination of rhythm tempered with varied articulation and varied note duration. A myriad of other topics are addressed in Widor’s prefaces, from issues of organ registration to posture and basic finger techniques. Widor’s advice here is so thorough that it imparts as much valuable knowledge as might otherwise be gained through several years of private study. On to the music I took great comfort in preparing for this recording, knowing how I resonate in sympathy with Widor’s sentiments as are expressed in his prefaces. But my effort here will be judged a success only when the music transcends the mechanics of performance, and when it reaches both the cultural and religious essence of Widor. In each movement, Widor paints a grand, romantic tableaux, which, like any cavernous church, such as Widor’s own Parisian church of St. Sulpice, beckons us to remove ourselves from our present existence, allowing both mind and soul to be transported to, and to freely wander within, a holier place. One can only imagine what it was like to hear Widor improvising on a given Sunday at St. Sulpice. Improvisation is the life blood and musical analogue to the French organist's stream of consciousness, as typified by Widor and other French organists, including Louis Vierne, Eugène Gigout, Marcel Dupré and Jean Langlais. The written music from these artists, for us today, is, in many respects, a record of distilled, encapsulated moments from their lives improvising upon the organ bench. Widor had already begun to set down organ works before he arrived at St. Sulpice. One of his earliest works, from 1862, is a Grand Fantasia for organ and orchestra. It is very likely that Widor’s early organ pieces became adopted as movements in his first four organ symphonies. Here we find elements of the Baroque, the Classical and the Romantic. One wonders how much Widor’s work was influenced by the old masters he studied. For example, the slow movement from Beethoven's Pathétique piano sonata in A-flat major is hinted at in the variations of the folk-like tune (also in A-flat major) in the Andante cantabile of Widor’s Fourth Symphony. Similarly, it could have been young Widor’s experience with the Scherzo from Felix Mendelssohn's Incidental Music for A Midsummer Night's Dream that influenced his own Scherzo in the Fourth Symphony. These early movements are just as much at home on a large organ as with a smaller two- or three-manual organ. The later symphonies show broader structural concepts and writing that suggests use of a larger instrument’s tonal palette. The opening work on this recording is one of Widor’s all-too-neglected masterpieces: the Final to the Seventh Symphony in A, Opus 42 #3. This grand Final can conjure up as many different images as there are people with ears. The images I draw from this work include an ancient chariot race, combined with a hot-air balloon ride launched during a raging thunderstorm. (I have not forgotten that the hot-air balloon is an invention of a Widor ancestor.) Amid the grandeur of the opening strains of the Final, we find an extroverted, proud march in triple meter. Ostinato figures that prevail in the development bring to mind the mechanized, industrial age, seasoned with a hint of a carnival, yet, we are never allowed to lose sight of the severe and grand nature of the Final’s overall gesture. The interpretive challenge of this piece is to keep everything sounding natural as we move through a grand diminuendo, a moment of reflection, a quasi recitative, and a declamatory end. In this single movement we find a mature Widor at one of his finest and most poignant of moments. The Andante-Allegretto (third movement) from Symphony 7 is in a common A-B-A form. The character of the “B” section lends the work the character of a "storm piece," that is, a type of programmatic work,popular in the late 19th-century, where beginning and ending, pastorale-like “A” sections surround a highly-agitated “B” section.  This Widor movement is rarely heard. Perhaps it is not more often played because the “B” section does not lie comfortably under the hands. When I perform it, for comfort, I reverse the right and left hands of the score. Pastorale-like writing occurs frequently with Widor. The opening of the Andante-Allegretto of Symphony 7 is one example. The Scherzo of the Fourth Symphony has a middle section so stereotypical that one can almost hear the bleating of the sheep! Other bucolic allusions are found in the Pastorale from the Second Symphony, and even in the middle of the energetic Intermezzo from his Sixth Symphony. As one becomes familiar with the dozens of movements in the Widor symphonies, one begins to recognize common devices, that is, clichés, or Widorisms, if you prefer. One of these is when Widor moves abruptly to a remote key for a single phrase or two. This happens in the Andante cantabile of the Fourth Symphony, and in the Pastorale of the Second Symphony. One can locate many more examples when one listens. The first movement of Widor's Fifth Organ Symphony may be categorized in the theme with variations form. (I’ve recorded the theme and variations from the Fifth Symphony on Pro Organo CD 7021 "A Couple of French Fifths.") It is interesting to note how each of the movements of the Fifth Organ Symphony have attained different levels of popularity in different eras. Today, the Toccata from the Fifth Symphony is regarded as the most popular movement. But if one looks back to the beginning of the 20th century, one would find that the most played of the symphony’s five movements was the second movement: the quiet Allegro cantabile. It is not nearly as popular today as it was a century ago. One can speculate as to a reason for this. My sense is that there many organs in 1900 where the tonal resources could support this movement, yet there were likely far fewer organs (and organists) in 1900 that could handle the sustained fortississimo and sustained physical demands of the Toccata from the same symphony. Two movements from Symphony 2 remain my favorites. Here, it is my guess that, in both its Pastorale and the Final, Widor, like Johann Sebastian Bach centuries before, is making experiments of these movements. More importantly, in them, he appears to be imitating styles of his contemporaries. In Widor’s Pastorale, do we not hear shades of César Franck's Pastorale, in the long, block chords on the principal chorus? In the Final, we see a definite homage to Jacques Lemmens, because the toccata figurations in use are so similar to textures in the toccatas of Lemmens. In the Andante sostenuto from Widor's “Gothique,” we hear Widor at his most expressive while also at his most complex, as he writes in a six-voice texture with a double-pedal line. Just as early Widor imitated his contemporaries, this mature Widor was imitated by those who followed him. The undulating sixths as an accompaniment, and uses of the extended treble register of harmonic flute in the Andante sostenuto - are devices that are heard, respectively, in the First Organ Symphony and Clair de Lune (from Pièces de Fantaisie) by one of Widor’s most noted pupils, Louis Vierne (1870-1937). The organ music of Widor beckons us to take stock of both our senses and sensibilities. In the Seventh Symphony, we are witness to the high drama of its Final, and we are treated to a most delicate and tuneful ballet as a trio of voices weave a beautiful play in its Andante-Allegretto. In the Pastorale of the Second Symphony, can we not sense the aroma of a field of bright, sunlit wildflowers in a bucolic pasture? Can we also sense the pageant and attentive stance of a military parade in its Final? In the Sixth Symphony, we find rhapsodic, extroverted flair and precision in the Intermezzo and Final. In the Allegro cantabile of the Fifth, the steadfast, ever-faithful voice of the plaintive oboe seems to issue an aural commentary, evoking feelings similar to those that might be felt when viewing an impressionist painting depicting a grey, overcast sky with gas lights reflecting in puddles of rain on a busy Parisian street scene. But perhaps it is in the lyrical Andante sostenuto of the Ninth Symphony, the “Gothique,” where two melodies combine and co-exist in a virtual quod libet – signifying both love between two humans as well as the love of God to all mankind – and in the most careful and reverent contemplation in the Meditation of the First Symphony, when we come closest to communing with the expressive and compassionate heart of Widor. For all of the social and religious contexts and connections of this music, which still ring true for us today, when one listens to this music, how can one not help but “soar above?” - Frederick Hohman Program notes © Copyright 2011 Frederick Hohman. All rights reserved. The Organ The Casavant-Schantz organ at St. Andrew’s Lutheran Church, in a northeast suburb of the Twin Cities in Minnesota, might seem an unlikely choice of venue for an album devoted entirely to organ music of Widor. But after just ten minutes of having seen and played this instrument, I knew there would be no better choice. Granted, it is not a 19th-century Cavaillé-Coll; however, in it there is absolutely nothing lacking. Its size and specification are every bit the match of the Cavaillé-Coll organ where Widor composed his symphonies. The acoustic, while not that of a large cathedral, is rich enough to support this music, yet not so dense as to obscure fine detail. Unlike most historic romantic organs in France, this organ is in perfect regulation and tune, the way that Cavaillé-Coll would likely have left his magnum opus instrument at St. Sulpice when it was first opened 150 years ago. Add to this the climate-controlled space, and all of the modern advancements in organ design as applied by Schantz organ company to this restored 1920s Casavant - with just a hint of French-Canadian accent in voicing - and we have not only a perfect match for Widor, but we also have the making of a virtual musical miracle! – F.H. The 1927 Casavant Organ The 4-manual, 108-rank Casavant organ, Opus 1177 (1927) from the Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts plays again in its new home after nearly two decades of silence. The organ has been ­reconstructed by the Schantz Organ Company of Orrville, Ohio and was ­installed in the summer of 2001 in the new 1800-seat sanctuary of Saint Andrew’s Lutheran Church in Mahtomedi, Minnesota. Originally installed in George Washington Hall at the ­Academy, the organ was relocated to a new chapel on the campus in 1932 when the ­burden of the Great Depression prohibited the purchase of a planned new instrument. In this ­second installation, most of the organ suffered from extremely poor tonal egress with pipes trapped behind walls and façade woodwork. Nearly doomed to become another casualty of the then fashionable “neo-” trends in American organ building, the closeted Casavant survived for ­almost a half century before the school decided to replace it with a smaller, well-placed ­instrument. The organ was sold and moved to a barn in Traverse City, Michigan, where it was to stay ­temporarily before being reinstalled in a nearby performing arts building. Those plans never materialized, and the organ changed owners several times but remained in the barn and ­endured over 15 years of grim storage conditions. In 1995 the organ was purchased by a Saint Andrew’s family and finally moved to safe storage in November of 1996. Due to the unfortunate damage from years of neglect and the careless loss of critical components, plans for a full restoration of all the chests, console and mechanisms were abandoned. Instead, all new electro-pneumatic chests replace the original ­ventil chests, and the reconfigured organ includes a new console (with original ivory keys from Casavant Opus 1175) and a new façade which was installed by Schantz in the fall of 1999. Of the 7,310 pipes of the organ, almost all are restored, original pipes, and faithful replicas replace pipes deemed ­beyond repair. The largest relatively-unaltered example of Casavant's exceptional work during the 1920s, notable, yet somewhat typical, attributes of this grand 1920s Casavant include: 73-note chests for almost all manual stops including Mixtures and Cornets; three 32' pedal stops; comprehensive Diapason choruses in all divisions; full 16', 8' and 4' reed choruses in each manual division; three amply scaled Cornets and last, but not least, no fewer than nine 16' manual stops, with only one ­borrowed to the pedal, which itself has 14 independent registers. Acknowledgements from the Artist Sincere thanks is extended to Bill Chouinard, Organist of St Andrew’s Lutheran Church, Mahtomedi, for his ­fabulous support in organizing this recording upon one of the finest of organs I have yet encountered; to Michael Barone, whose friendship makes each visit to the Twin Cities a delight; and to my Elizabeth and Gladys, who bring such abundant faith and joyto life that it cannot help butsing out whenever I play Widor! Friends and family this good are rare,and my gratitude abounds. The Artist Frederick Hohman is known as a concert organist, but he is also sought-after as an audio-video producer / engineer, having produced, engineered or mastered over 350 commercial audio recordings and dozens of television programs, with most released on the Pro Organo and Midnight Pipes labels. From 1974 through 1990, Fred earned the Performer's Certificate, Mus.B., M.M. and D.M.A. degrees while enrolled at the University of Rochester’s Eastman School of Music. During his Eastman years, he remained in the organ class of David Craighead, and became a published and prize-winning composer while a composition student of Samuel Adler. Fred was born in St. Louis in 1955 to parents who both were experienced as dance band and jazz instrumentalists. His early piano and organ training was with Charles Cordeal of Webster Groves, Missouri. Between 1974 and 1993, Fred served as organist and director of music to a number of protestant churches in New York, North Carolina, Missouri and Indiana. In 1984, Fred was named First Prize Winner in the Arthur Poister Organ Competition (Syracuse, AGO), as well as in another prestigious national American competition, the Clarence Mader Organ Competition, in Pasadena, California. Since 1984, his organ concert tours have taken him throughout the USA, and to the Caribbean, Australia, the UK and Finland, totaling hundreds of concerts, where he has presided either as a solo recitalist, or as concerto soloist with orchestra, or at the opening of important new American pipe organs. In addition to appearing before regional and national conventions of The American Guild of Organists, The Organ Historical Society, and The American Institute of Organbuilders, Fred has appeared in several noted music festivals and series, including The San Anselmo Organ Festival, the Redlands Organ Festival, the Spoleto Festival and The Friends of the Wanamaker Organ, with several return engagements at the Great Organ of Methuen Memorial Music Hall and for Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ. Since 1997, he has served each September as the jury chairman and festival artist in the Albert Schweitzer Organ Festival & Competition/USA, held in Wethersfield (greater Hartford), Connecticut. His original compositions and organ transcriptions are published by Wayne Leupold Editions www.wayneleupold.com and by Zarex Scores www.zarex.com. His 1990 doctoral essay "The Art of the Symphonic Organist," and his many CD recordings (on Pro Organo) of original works and organ transcriptions of Edwin H. Lemare, have established him as a leading symphonic organist. Since 2009, Fred has served as the Director of the American Guild of Organists' (AGO) Committee on Educational Resources (CER). His CDs and DVDs are available at the website: www.proorgano.com. More details about Fred’s concert life are chronicled at: www.frederickhohman.net. There one may find Fred’s concert calendar, reviews, photographs, streaming videos, an index to his CD recordings, and more.