You could have heard a pin drop in Dublin's National Concert Hall midway through the Irish première of Gerald Barry's mischievous Organ Concerto, and that's not because organist Thomas Trotter and maestro Stefan Asbury leading the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra weren't playing loud enough. It was due to the 66-year-old Irish composer, who often lards his works with musical pranks, inserting the Angelus at the halfway point – with special resonance in a country where the bells signaling a moment of silence for prayer still precede news broadcasts.
That wasn't the only surreal moment in a concerto that runs hell for leather to its conclusion in just over 17 minutes and change. In a nod to another musical prankster, György Ligeti, we get 21 metronomes ticking away maniacally. Cymbal crashes announce the beginning – and end – of a harmonium solo. Timpani play scales, not once but several times... even though the timpani can only be tuned to one note at a time. There also are heart-stopping glissandi, in one of which the orchestra reaches an impossibly high pitch, on the piccolo, only to be outdone by the organ heading into the canine-audible registers. If it sounds like Barry might be taking the piss, that would be wrong; this is more of a love song to the organ, but with ears wide open.
Barry started playing the organ as a teenager, on a wheezy harmonium in the parish church, and graduated to church organs in major cities around Europe. So his Organ Concerto is something of a distillation of his career as an organist, but it's also a piece laced with laugh-aloud humour. In an accompanying programme note that occasionally sowed more confusion than clarity, Barry said that when he was growing up in rural County Clare the Angelus "was a haunting marking of times of the day" and its tolling would produce "silence over the whole village... Then when the bells ended you continued whatever you had been doing before though in my case it was usually nothing."
The concerto opens with a duet between organ and principal trumpet, establishing they can play together, until the organ seems to have a temper tantrum and calls a halt. Other parts of the orchestra join in the fun, resulting in one of Barry's signature descending glissandos that sounds like an LP record juddering to a stop, only to resume and soar back up again a few seconds later. Barry reports how a sacristan in Ennis hated his organ playing so much he would occasionally pull the plug, causing the organ “to implode from lack of air”.