In my life as a concert artist, I spend hundreds of hours practicing in various locations across the globe. As such, I am painfully aware of the rivalry that exists between church organists and sextons. Despite my best efforts, my rehearsals always overlap "hoovering" the church.

In my dismay, I considered writing a piece for organ and vacuum cleaner. At first, I wondered, should such a piece be titled, "Hoover in F"? Should custodial staff be asked to perform in my concerts? Dr. Emma Lou Diemer suggested I compose a trio for 32' Contra-Bombarde, Hoover and Leaf blower.

This led to further questions: Why do churches have carpeting anyway? How much would it cost to vacuum every church in the USA (several million dollars)? Do people know that it is impossible to set registrations when one cannot actually hear the organ?

There is no doubt that some custodians decide to work only after I arrive. After all, many people enjoy listening to music as they work. It is also true that some do this just to be annoying (many consider their duty to drive you out). There have been times when the organ tutti has come in handy! In Germany, one woman came after me with her broom. Another said, "Oh, don't worry, love; we don't mind your practicing at all!"

I cannot count the number of times I have rehearsed with organ ciphers, dead notes, rattles, buzzes, and other mechanical problems (which always multiply when a Bishop enters the church). In Huntsville I somehow managed to practice Liszt's Liebestraum (in A-flat) while the sound booth was playing "This is My Father's World" in the key of G and the custodian was vacuuming in the key of A. In Switzerland, one video monitor included a TV with Mass, CNN and the World Cup (talk about distractions). In Oxford, staff were tearing down tables and dropping them on the floor. Periodic cymbal crashes in my left ear would have had a less dramatic effect! In Iowa, a piano student began practicing diligently downstairs while I was playing the organ upstairs. In the Ozarks, a wedding party came into the chapel and started nailing things to the walls. I finally had to call for help!

Performances can often be just as bad as rehearsals. At a live broadcasting session in Atlanta, television cameramen were placed six inches away from my hands, feet and face. Afterwards, a congregational member asked, "How did it feel to play the Widor Toccata with a camera up your pant leg?" As if none of this was bad enough, I have performed concerts during a 17-year plague of cicadas (locusts), in temperatures ranging from 40F (I could see my breath) to over 100F degrees, and on an organ console laden with lady bugs. Church members repeatedly told me, "Don't squish the bugs!" During one concert, my page turner tried to remove a beetle from "middle C" while I was performing a Bach fugue. I kept my composure until a large bug landed on my head! When I whisked him off, he flew over the railing and started bombing audience members instead.

There have been countless times when my carefully, pre-scheduled rehearsals have conflicted with events not listed on the church diary. I have forfeited practice time for bus tours, a First Grade Rosary, Santa Claus, stage construction (and demolition), weddings, funerals, piano tuning, new light and sound system installations (complete with testing), and MIDI programming errors. At a mega-church in Minneapolis, staff were removing the church's 30-foot Christmas trees with chain saws; the church was full of smoke when the organ tuners arrived. The church chaplain informed me the fire alarm (complete with deafening horns) would only last three hours! The vacuum cleaner took another five.

I have been forced to cancel recording sessions due to thunderstorms, lawn mowers, air conditioning compressor noise, airport flight patterns, construction crews, ambulances, fire sirens and power failures. In my travels, I seem to encounter an overabundance of other distractions. I have been booked into hotel rooms above discos (open until 5:30am), next to train stations (and crossings), and a Mosque with a minaret (with loudspeakers at 4:00am every morning).

During my most recent tour of the Czech Republic, I encountered several video and cameramen who were enthusiastically documenting my concerts (please note, without my permission). Imagine this sequence: camera upstairs, camera downstairs, back upstairs again, over my right shoulder, click, flash (repeatedly), over my left shoulder, click, flash (repeatedly), recording on (beep), recording off (beep)-- always during the most difficult or softest passages, while stepping on the squeakiest places in the floor. When I complained about this to a colleague of mine she said, "Joan, you should be used to the paparazzi by now!"

As you can imagine, I have long since given up hope of ever having a quiet place to practice. Thus, when a church in Tennessee suggested I play the grand piano in the gym while the softball girls were practicing their off-season pitching, I figured, "What have I got to lose?" Aside from the few stray balls that went zinging past my head, it was the most pleasant group that I have ever accompanied. Who would have thought?

Copyright © 2008 Joan DeVee Dixon

Joan DeVee Dixon tours the globe as a concert musician and teacher. When not playing for "Polka Masses" in her home state of Iowa, she is likely riding her Trek Madonne bicycle (just like Lance but not as fast).