This is not a piston

I thought it might have the piston nature, but I was mistaken.  It looks lovely, especially when illuminated but, despite being advertised as a momentary switch, there is a loud click when the button is depressed.  It sounds almost as if it is a latching switch with the latch removed.  Disappointing.

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Never mind.  I’ve another style on order, which should arrive some time after Christmas.  If that one also fails to meet my exacting standards, I’ll fall back on the tried-and-tested Kimber Allen piston.

I was going to do some work on the console on my week off (starting next Friday – huzzah!), but I’m trialling a new dog to see if she will settle in with my current dog.  She’s a rescue who has had a moderately horrible life, and needs somewhere warm and safe with a big sister.  The prospective big sister met her at the kennels yesterday and they got on remarkably well.  Next Friday is the big test to see if they maintain that bonhomie (bonnefemmie?) at home.  My house may be in ruins before the week is over.

And now the work begins…

Just a preamble to an actual, meaningful post, and for the sake of completeness, I purchased some goodies:

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  • Black & Decker workbench (had one years ago, and this was a good excuse to buy another): £80
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  • Glass fibre brush (nasty thing to use, but cleans contacts up nicely): £3
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  • 12V power supply: £8

I will be picking up the three-manual stack in a few days.  Hope it fits…

A brief glimpse at the innards

Wyvern Organs have a reputation for quality that is well-deserved.  This instrument is in the region of 45 years old, and the fact that it is still working (apart from some problems with the amplification circuitry, probably caused by someone tampering with it) is testament to the skill of the builders.  Alas, time marches on and everything must go, to make room for the Shiny!  New!  Future!  (which is both futuristic, new and shiny).  It is not all going to waste, however, as a local organ engineer has snaffled the parts in case they come in handy for a repair job.  Here are some photos of the analogue organ, taken before its excision.

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And a few of the surgery itself:

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Note that I have also removed the keyboards.  There is space in the console for three manuals, and I know a very obliging organ engineer with a spare three-manual stack.  More on that in a later post, but for now gaze in wonder at the carcass of the once beautiful console.  Will it rise, Phoenix-like, from the ashes?  Only time will tell.

The Odyssey Begins

[FX/Grams: Journey of the Sorcerer]

So there I was, nose deep in a mug of tea and scanning for interesting organ bits on eBay, when this pops up:

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This little beauty is a Wyvern analogue organ, model ‘Passau’.  Is it not lovely?  Here is another photo:

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This is how it was advertised, with a starting price of £70:

Wyvern Passau organ. Two full compass keyboards, 32 note radial concave pedalboard and full length bench. The organ is listed as for parts as it is about 40 or more years old and also requires external speakers to work (there are 4 outputs). However the luminous touch stops (push to switch on and push again to cancel) work. As this is an old analogue organ it has no midi but has a handsome oak console with folding glass doors.

It is heavy and will require a van to collect but we can help to load. Dimensions: W 1530mm H 1270mm D 770mm D inc pedals 1140.

Well, how could I resist?  Pausing only to check my wallet for the requisite quantity of farthings, I placed a bid and hoped.  In the end, I picked it up for only £122, which was well within my budget.  Having paid up, I negotiated a collection date with the seller, and then negotiated the good offices of Andrew, a friend from church.  Andrew is somewhat older than I am, but I am somewhat less fit than he is, so that balanced out.   “Come along for a trip to Sussex,” I said.  “It’ll be fun,” I said.  “We’ll be back just after tea,” I said.  Oh how we laughed.  Eventually.

The trip down to Sussex from North Norfolk wasn’t too bad, but I was reminded of the old saying, “If you want to get anywhere from Norfolk, start from somewhere else.”  Norfolk is a sleepy little county and we aren’t too fond of roads that travel more than a few yards in a straight line.  Still, we made good time and only hit a small amount of congestion on the M25.  Arriving at the seller’s house, I discovered that the instrument was being sold by Mr Wyvern Organs himself, who couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.  Although he didn’t remember (not that he should), this was the same man who sold me my old Toccata III back in the early 2000s.  Although Wyvern no longer keep a shop, they are very much in business.

The organ was quickly loaded onto the van and we began the return journey.  Progress was good at first, but then we spent several hours in slow-to-stationary traffic on the M25, and it just got worse and worse.  We arrived back at my house after 10pm and then began the task of unloading.  This was rather challenging as the console appeared to have gained several hundredweight during the journey north.  It took us until midnight to get it into the house, and required the removal of the front door (cue Bernard Cribbins, “‘Right,’ said Fred”) since the console was about a quarter of an inch too wide to go through.  Here it is, in its temporary location in the middle of my lounge (minus pedalboard and glass doors):

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Total cost including purchase, van hire, diesel and coffee and lunch for Andrew (for whose help I am deeply grateful): £275

Well hello there.

I’ve been an organist for over thirty years.  Excuse me, I have to go and lie down now.

*recovers from shock of typing that*

Ahem.  Anyway.  Five years ago, in part due to several house moves and relocating from one end of the country to the other, I was obliged to say goodbye to my delightful Wyvern Toccata III digital organ, which had given me many happy hours of entertainment, and didn’t upset the neighbours too much.  Fast forward to 2017, and my lifestyle has settled down to the point where I have the time and energy to devote to practice (all Bach, all the time).  My goodness, how time has moved on!  After looking at several digital instruments, wincing at the price and slinking sadly away, I came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to afford a new organ, so perhaps something would show up on eBay.

It was then that I discovered Hauptwerk.  If you have been living in a cave (or, like me, Norfolk) and have not heard of Hauptwerk, it a virtual organ application which runs on the Mac as well as Windows, connects to a MIDI keyboard stack, and turns your lounge into Salisbury Cathedral (only, without tourists interrupting you to take pictures when you’re trying to nail that little Krebs passage which keeps tying your fingers in knots, and asking you to play Widor’s Toccata).  When you are bored with Salisbury, there are dozens of instruments which have been professionally and extensively sampled, ranging from small parish churches to the great cathedral and concert organs of Europe and the US.  I also learned that a friend had built a Hauptwerk console out of an elderly electronic organ, so off I toddled to have a twiddle.

I was hooked.

Dear Reader, I now recount the curious tale of how I picked up an old analogue console, and document its transformation into a thing of beauty and delight.  Unless you’ve read the posts backwards.  In which case, I would like to reassure  you that there are no hidden messages to be revealed by so doing, and you can stop now.

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