Die Toccata XII von Georg Muffat jetzt auch auf Video!
Ab Minute 22:03 unter https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-gOxzQvbKI&t=1323s
FreitagsMusik "Süddeutsche Orgelmusik"
Inspiriert durch die schönen barocken Orgeln in Bayern spielte Ludger Morck in der FreitagsMusik Werke aus Süddeutschland.
Die Truhenorgel eignet sich hervorragend für die brilliante Toccata XII des um 1700 amtierenden Passauer Domorganisten Georg Muffat, das Cappricio „Cucu“ von Kerll, Praeludien von Albrechtsberger oder für die feinen, reizvollen Stücke, die Joseph Haydn für eine mechanische Flötenuhr komponierte.
Auf dem Cembalo erklingt eine elegante Sonate des um 1750 in Ottobeuren lebenden Franz Xaver Schnitzer und eine packende Passacaglia von Johann Caspar Kerll (1627-1693), zu seiner Zeit einer der bekanntesten Komponisten.
Nachdem Ludger Morck bis dahin alles gut sichtbar vor dem Altarraum gespielt hat, bringt er am Schluss oben an der großen Orgel zu Gehör, dass der Nürnberger Organist Johann Pachelbel (1653-1706) einer der größten Organisten und wichtigsten Komponisten der süddeutschen Orgeltradition war. In seinen Kompositionen Praeludium, Fuge und Ciacona kommen Pedalsoli, schnelle Läufe, dichte Akkorde, aber auch ruhige Töne zur Geltung. 
Auf dem Cembalo erklingt eine elegante Sonate des um 1750 in Ottobeuren lebenden Franz Xaver Schnitzer und eine packende Passacaglia von Johann Caspar Kerll (1627-1693), zu seiner Zeit einer der bekanntesten Komponisten.

01 Muffat - Toccata Duodecima et ultima

Dr. Steven Zielke and the Oregon State University Chamber Choir performing the premiere of Lux Beatissima on June 6, 2013, at the President's Concert in Corvallis, Oregon, with Josh Rist at the piano.

My sincere love and appreciation goes to the collaborative artists that made this piece a reality with me, and for every listener who completes this artistic exchange. Music isn't real without someone to hear it, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you for listening. If you enjoy it, please share it with others. 


Program Notes and Translation for Lux Beatissima

This piece was written as a meditation and celebration of the dichotomies of light and darkness, knowledge and mystery, and the questions I have about what it means to be human. The first text, O Lux Beatissima, is from the medieval liturgy, Veni Sancte Spiritus, or Come Holy Spirit, and it translates as follows:

O lux beatissima
Oh light most beautiful

Reple cordis intima
Fill the innermost parts

Tuorum fidelium
Of your faithful ones

Numerous composers have set this piece of liturgy before, but what makes my setting of it unique is how I grafted it with another sacred text, an excerpt from the opening of the gospel of John. This text translates as follows:

In ipso vita erat 
In him was life

Et vita erat lux hominum
And that life was the light of man

Lux in tenebris lucet
The light shines in the darkness

Et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt
And the darkness has not understood it

I know many of people are familiar with either or both of these texts, and I want to respect what they mean to them and their faith.  My interpretation is by no means an attack on any faith or worldview. I have simply used these texts as a means to meditate on an idea, a question, that I have been thinking and marveling about for some time, a question which in some way or another has influenced or inspired each of my recent pieces, Psalm of Life, Invictus, The Cave, and now, Lux Beatissima. 

What does it mean to be human?  

What is the difference between these animated bodies we have and a body from whom the spark of life has just left? What is the twinkle in certain people’s eyes that makes them seem so radiantly alive? And what is up with the duality I see in myself and in others where we carry this innate capacity to do amazing good or incredible harm?

I don’t know, so I keep on searching and composing.

To understand the text of Lux Beatissima as I intended, the key is in the following lines:

In ipso vita erat
In him was life

Et vita erat lux hominum
And that life was the light of man

I love that phrase, lux hominum, light of man, and when I first read it, I made a transfer to the prayer of O Lux Beatissima.  Essentially, I want to be fully enlightened by whatever this ineffable thing is, this light that manifests itself through creativity, connection with one another, and aliveness. This piece begins and ends with this prayer for that reason.
At the center of this piece, the mood shifts in an attempt to reflect on humanity’s struggle with our weaknesses, our dark sides. The text says:

Lux in tenebris lucet
The light shines in the darkness

Et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt
And the darkness has not understood it

As I spent more time pondering these thoughts and experimenting with the music that they inspired, I began to embrace this duality within myself and empathize when I saw it in others.  I am learning to celebrate the mystery, the sometimes-joyful-sometimes-tragic complexity that defines our condition and our experience; this sentiment drives the piece towards its climax and resolve.
Those of you who know me well know that I am strongly convinced that humanity has the power to better ourselves, to make the most of our brief existence.  Whatever that lux hominum is—whatever it is that makes us more alive, more aware, more benevolently human—I want it to indwell me and be transmitted through my life and interaction with others.  It is my hope that Lux Beatissima may somehow express these things through its singers and listeners.

Josh Rist

Lux Beatissima

Kirchenmusiker in der Kath. Pfarrgemeinde St. Peter, Rheinhausen.

01 Muffat - Toccata Duodecima et ultima

Ludger Morck

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