For Christopher and Daryl: My Musical "Sons"

Most of my music aspirations have gone unfulfilled, and as many, I have made peace with my place in the music world, what I have accomplished, and what I am still able to do.  You will be spared the litany of mishaps and unfortunate occurrences.  On this day, 27 June 2012, I can only be grateful as I remember those of my musician relations who are no longer here to share their gifts to any degree at all.  And, as an old song begins, I’m still here.  


Having begun playing (or attempting to play?) piano around the age of six, five-plus decades later I am still trying.  In my school years I sang in school choirs, including while an applied music major at the University of Houston, and studied voice off and on privately because I had to teach my choirs and felt like the lessons would help me help them.  Yet, just a few years ago, I found a very large bucket in which to carry my alto voice; that bucket has proved itself to be serviceable, and said yes when occasionally asked to do solo work at my church.  My thought was that I ought to be safe at my church, if I’m to be safe anywhere.  (Of course, there is an exceptional group of folks that are the family of God called South Main Baptist – but that is for another time.)  By a series of incidents, a mixed bag of negative and positive, I was invited to join the Houston Ebony Opera Chorus.  This positive experience has brought me face to face with young, talented musicians, and I am blessed to get to know them, sing with them, and, hopefully, encourage them.  


Among those young ones, I met a tenor, Christopher Harris.  Mr. Harris later invited me to join his Houston Master Singers.  There I became more acquainted with him and his original compositions.  They continue to stir my heart and are new, fresh, exciting and uplifting each time my mind’s ear visits them.  


On this past Sunday, 24 June, Houston Ebony Music presented its annual Juneteenth concert at Riverside United Methodist Church here in Houston.  Our unique program featured works by local composers.  Two of the works performed were composed by Christopher Harris.  This long, lithe young man has depth and breadth of ability found in more seasoned musicians.  Faultless and I Am Loved are night and day.


Faultless, based on one of my favorite Biblical passages (Jude 24-25) starts with a quiet intensity that builds to a bright, glorious celebration of God, the Father and Son.  I like this passage from The Message:


And now to him who can keep you on your feet, standing tall in his bright presence, fresh and celebrating—to our one God, our only Savior, through Jesus Christ, our Master, be glory, majesty, strength, and rule before all time, and now, and to the end of all time. Yes.


Perhaps the reader will be more familiar with the King James version:


Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.


Either way, these fine, fine Words that are rendered in three versions and hang on the wall just to the right of my front door, and Mr. Harris has set them perfectly to music that makes the heart swell to bursting. 


On the other hand I Am Loved is broad, sweeping, exciting, and, at times, joyfully overwhelming.  Taken from Sarah Teasdale’s poem, Mr. Harris again created the perfect music setting for these words:

I am wild, I will sing to the trees,

I will sing to the stars in the sky,

I love, I am loved, he is mine,

Now at last I can die!

I am sandaled with wind and with flame,

I have heart-fire and singing to give,

I can tread on the grass or the stars,

Now at last I can live!

When we sang Faultless, there was first a wave of murmuring from the audience, then applause and excited utterances.  When we sang I Am Loved, which ended the program, the applause was even more adnimated.  As I stood with the chorus, my heart swelled with such pride as he, and we, witnessed the audience’s appreciation; it could not have been more had he been my own son.  


And now, a little more than 24 hours ago, I sat near the center aisle in the 6th or 7th pew at Grace Presbyterian Church on Sam Houston Parkway near Westheimer, in Houston, Texas with a direct view of Daryl Robinson, a young man who is not so tall in height, but who is a giant among his immediate peers, those who play pipe organ, the wider circle of peers who are musicians, and the even wider circle of people who just like music well executed.  Perhaps there were folks in attendance who had never been exposed to the grand sound of a well-played pipe organ, or who had never had a live experience like that.  Bless their hearts; they were certainly in the right place!


Daryl played as diverse a program as I could ever imagine.  While each of the four works were wonderfully rendered, the third, Ettrick Banks by Judith Weir (b. 1954) was the most unusual.  It evoked scenes that I easily visualized, unfolding a story in my mind’s eye.  The fourth, Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H, S. 260 ii, by Franz Listz, was the most powerful, heart-felt and breath-taking – literally breath-taking.   At its end I found myself exhaling, right hand clutching my chest, and faced streaked with tears.


This is only a lame attempt at painting a word picture whose elements are unique combinations of sound – and quiet – that stir every aspect of the human psyche.  The problem is, either words -- or my vocabulary -- are simply inadequate.  Music is not to be spoken of, but to be listened to, to consume, to be consumed, and to enfold, caress, soothe, renew, restore and rejuvenate.  It can do all of that, and more.


Both Christopher and Daryl, while they have their specialties, are well-rounded musicians.  Christopher writes, has a resonant tenor voice and plays piano.  Daryl is as commanding with his choral conducting and pianistic abilities as he is sitting at the organ.  When speaking of either Christopher or Daryl, I often say to those who know Daryl,  Christopher is to composition what Daryl is to pipe organ; and when speaking to those who know Christopher, Daryl is to pipe organ what Christopher is to composition.  Nothing else need be said; this seems to cut to the chase and relieve me of trying to describe how phenomenal either of these young men are.  I always end, though, with, and he has such a great spirit.  Unlike other uber talented people, they walk with both feet on the ground, are approachable, gracious, pleasant and personable.  My prayer is that even as they soar to higher dimensions of their calling, they remain as human and grounded as they are now.  

For Daryl: I REFUSE to Say Goodbye!

Tomorrow is a special day at South Main Baptist Church.  We have been blessed -- and spoiled -- by this wonderful young man who has enriched our worship, and for those of us who had the opportunity to commune with him, our lives in other ways as well.  To say he is a joy to work with, and under, sounds understated and trite.

When playing the organ or directing our choirs (voice or handbells)  he is fiercely focused, concentrated and intentional, with a commanding presence that says "stay with me now, work with me here" without being brash, harsh, or overbearing.  When communing with him he is sweet, personable and funny, with a smile that makes me want to call him "son."

He makes the organ an extension of himself -- or is it the other way around?  And he is one of the few musicians I know who flawlessly transitions from organ to piano.  (For me, the only thing these two instruments have in common is the keyboard.  Most folks think if you can play one you can play the other; the truth is that just isn't true!)

When Daryl came to South Main Baptist in 2003, he was already an awesome talent.  We have had the privilege of watching him grow.  He has a knack for choosing music for worship that is appropriate, thought provoking, and soul-stirring.  Despite his mastery at the pipe organ, one song I will remember for years to come was his piano prelude "I Gave My Life for Thee."  I have never heard anything quite so moving.

Daryl's interpretive abilities are second to none.  I will not forget that he came to me and asked for "pointers" on playing gospel music during the time we were preparing to celebrate South Main's 100th birthday.  We spent a few minutes in the sanctuary working on gospel music nuances.  I remember saying "That's it!  You got it!"  He replied, "but I don't feel it yet."   But he really did get it!  He later played works of my very favorite 20th century composer, the late Glenn Edward Burleigh, who was a classically trained and phenomenal pianist.  Glenn had a way of integrated all genres of music into his compositions which, still, give his music a unique style and sound -- NOT the stereotypical three-chord ditties many automatically dub as "gospel music."  When Daryl plays Burleigh, it is as if Glenn himself is sitting at the piano.

So what does all that have to do with tomorrow being a special day at South Main Baptist Church?  Well, it is Daryl's last day as our organist and music associate.  Even while we are happy for his taking the next step in his music ministry career, I cannot help but nurse my aching heart.   So, I will not say "goodbye," Daryl, just "see you later."  And, indeed, I shall.

There is "The" God

Early this afternoon Daryl Robinson stirred hearts with an eclectic and thoughtful mix of music as only he can deliver via his primary instrument -- pipe organ.  His recital was the first in a series called "First Fridays" co-sponsored by the Sacred Heart Co-Cathedral and the University of Houston's school of music.  

The Co-Cathedral’s structure at 1111 St. Joseph Parkway is relatively new.  During its construction it was frequently highlighted by various media as the building took shape and trappings and furnishings of every secularly-dubbed sacred kind and character were brought in to adorn the place with just the right marble, just the right statuary, just the right stained glass, blah, blah, blah.  It is indeed a magnificent structure, and a haven on the south end of downtown Houston – a place that I dread frequenting because of the traffic, noise, unfriendly parking (especially if one needs an accessible [politically correct word for handicapped space]), and especially the all-too-often unfriendly, self-possessed, self-absorbed people.  I had never visited the Co-Cathedral.  I am not Catholic and have never thought of worshiping there, and I do not see it as an attraction to tour – like going to the Museum of Fine Arts (no offense to the folks who have done this).  

As the sanctuary emptied of folks who attended the 12:10 mass, those of us who came for the recital joined those who chose to stay after the mass.  I took a seat about midway -- just a few feet from what appeared to be a small, very still pool of water in a raised marble platform (which I assumed to be part of the trappings of some Catholic ritual).  The organ, it turns out, is not in a place of prominence in the front, but in the choir loft above the main entrance in the back of the sanctuary. 

Without a word, Daryl began playing at the appointed time.  Some folks turned around to see Daryl – as much as could be seen of a man of medium height sitting at the instrument ensconced in the southeast corner of the loft.  Actually, it is hard to blame them for wanting to see.  The stuff that  Daryl executes with precision, excellence and grace, is sometimes difficult for one to actually believe comes from only 10 fingers and two feet.  As the sound of the organ filled the room I sat still and closed my eyes.  My first and continuing thought was only God could make something like this happen.  

Some will ask what’s God got to do with it?  Well, ask away!  And I am happy to answer:

• God made the dirt from which He created humankind.
• God gave humankind the thoughts, dreams, will, desire and ability to design great houses of worship – even knowing that our worship will not always be in spirit and truth (and that subject will be put aside for another time).
• God gave some the technology to make what others conceived in their minds, possible to construct.
• God gave others the skills and physical stamina to do the work to make the concept as outlined on paper and electronics, tangible.
• God stirred the hearts of others to make the financial commitments that brought all of the other elements together for the finished project -- even if they did it for the tax deduction or publicity.
• God created music.  Those 12 half-tones and the infinite ways in which they have been combined for millennia have done more to soothe the hearts, minds and souls of people all over the world, and even draw people of diverse nations, ethnicities, cultures and beliefs together on common ground, even in war, than anything else and anyone else other than Jesus, the Christ Himself, the Son of the Living, Almighty God.  
• And God brought Mr. & Mrs. Robinson together; they had a son and named him Daryl.   And for most of his young life, Daryl has embraced the art and honed his skills of making beautiful music.

Daryl’s Bach piece so moved one man that at its end he emitted an involuntary, audible cry, shaking me from my solitude (yes, it was as if I was alone in that huge room, enveloped in the music of the Almighty via Daryl’s hands).  I didn't recognize the man who could barely contain himself – or so I observed  – through my own tears.  

Daryl's mastery of the pipe organ is absolutely phenomenal.  Most folks with a degree of talent even approaching that which Daryl possesses would be so stuck on themselves they wouldn't even be approachable.  I am proud and pleased to call him son -- sweetie  -- dear or whatever comes to mind -- and that regardless of how I tag him for the moment, he responds with understanding that my labels are just an expression of my affection for him, and by extension, our God who made everything possible, creating us out of love.

A suggestion to any who is in doubt about God being behind all of this:  get your own dirt and do your own thing.

May the peace of God be with you always; may His goodness and mercy ever follow you.