Pulling out all the stops

uranium has a shorter half-life than sibling rivalry. i didn't get my dad a father's day gift, which isn't exactly unusual, but when i heard my sister offer to take him for lunch, i figured i better get my act together.

that's how i ended up at the winspear centre for the free concert on the davis organ. of course i've been to the winspear plenty of times; the pipes have become a familiar backdrop. and of course i'm familiar with all the hoopla: the two millon dollar gift, the five semis to get it here, the "world-class" sound -- but there's something so off-putting, so aggressively yet vacuously optimistic, about the adjective "world-class" that i've never made the time to actually hear it.

my bad. because this instrument is magnificent.

they roll what i think of as "the organ" onto the middle of the stage. the players face the pipes, which means they have their backs to the audience. this surprised me, but then i realized it's because that way you get to see the organ itself: all four hand keyboards and the foot keyboard -- "manual" and "pedal" keyboards, i should say -- the 96 stops and the little while buttons that might or might not be the 122 ranks. it is so complicated that i still have no idea how it works, even though my dad explained it all. i'm so flat-footed where these things are concerned that i just wanted to know things like, "where do they hide the rest of the 6551 pipes?" and "how is the organ connected to the pipes?" "oh," said dad, breezily, "it's all electronic."

when marnie giesbrecht and joachim segger started to play a piece by bedard, a canadian composer whose sinfonietta shows off everything this baby can do, i had the terrible epiphany that i have reached the age where i'd probably like to listen to wagner. there's just nothing like that low, low hum, the one you feel in your crotch, the tone so low you can count the vibrations per minute. there it is, augmented by a fifth, then a sixth, harmonics jarring so off kilter that you think nothing will ever be right again in the world, and it's just getting louder and louder, worse and worse -- okay, you want to say, you win! i cannot stand undismayed! -- until the chord resolves and everything is amen and hallelujah and you wonder how you could ever have worried.

as the show went on, i realized that an organ can have a sense of humor, too. barrie cabena takes you from bach to scooby-doo in one unforgivable variation. and, come on: organ duets? who writes a composition for a dozen bellows, four hands and four feet? it's funny just to watch their bums jostle for space on the bench.

the show is part of a summer series of freebies celebrating the year of the organ. (who knew?) once you add up the performers, the copyright fees, the tech, and the front of house, you realize it's a not-inconsiderable gift. especially by my father's day standards.