The invisible man

St John's Co Cathedral is a visual phantasmagoria; a powerful conglomeration of works of art all armorially hallmarked by the individual donors, members of the most exclusive and aristocratic organisation the world has ever seen; one that anachronistically still retains its rarefied kudos in the plutocratic and materialistic world of today.

This building; the jewel in the crown of Malta's many artistic and architectural treasures, is a spellbinding tribute to the achievements of this Order, universally known as the Order of Malta; a tribute that mesmerises and creates a deep and lasting impression. It is a perfect exemplar of the use of art in politics. Nobody can ever forget the grandmasters and the artists who made it all possible.

The troubled La Cassiere and the showy Pinto, the austere Cassar as opposed to the flamboyant Preti; all left their indelible mark on this great church that is unique in the world and of which we Maltese are, justifiably very proud. The restoration of St John's Co Cathedral continues apace and is fast reaching its conclusion. Already the effect is a total knock-out. The re-gilding has added a sumptuous element that was somewhat lacking before and I for one cannot wait till all the side chapels are restored to their former dazzling glory.

On Friday 18^th June, Din L-Art Helwa, Malta's national trust, in the 14^th year of its Bir Miftuh Music Festivals, departed from tradition by transferring the festival's venue from the relatively little modest Bir Miftuh Church on the outskirts of Gudja to the ultimate temple, St John's, to hold an organ recital by Pierre Mea by courtesy of the St John's Co Cathedral Foundation, The French Embassy and the Alliance Francaise. It has been literally ages since I attended an organ recital at t Johns. I will never forget the one by Fernando Germani several decades ago when the cathedral was filled to bursting point.

Since then we have had relatively few memorable ones: Missa Mundi by Charles Camilleri a couple of years ago perhaps but nothing to write home about. The popularity of organ recitals is debatable. There is something very disconcerting about the performance aspect simply because for the duration of the recital the organist is hard at it behind the altar and it is very difficult to create a rapport of any sort with the Invisible Man. It is also a wonderful way to add atmosphere to the already fully charged one at St John's. I believe there should be more of them as monthly lunchtime concerts put up against a modest donation organised by the Foundation.

The emphasis is all on the clarity of execution of this mechanical marvel that has wowed its listeners for centuries and has become synonymous with one man, Johann Sebastian Bach, who more than in any other musical combination, speaks with the voice of God particularly through his organ works which are the most sublime ever created for this instrument. Mea's Bach was noticeably more lyrical than the Bach we are used to, possibly because we are more attuned to the more cerebral ‘sublime sewing machine' versions of complex musical forms like fugues and canons.

Yet Bach's music is so indestructible that it can take a romantic interpretation to the extent that when one listens to a Stokowski transcription, astonishingly, the Bach hallmark is there, as indestructible as a phoenix. I especially enjoyed the stately cantabile of Schmucke dich, O liebe Seele BWV 654 while the D Minor Prelude and Fugue BWV 539 was truly stupendous especially in the fugal section.

I found that the echoes and the intervals in the Purcell Toccata in A Major were a trifle confused and ungainly sounding as if one were playing the piano with the pedal pressed constantly.

The four pieces by Nicholas de Grigny could have been written for a service at St John's Co cathedral. Grigny was born in the latter half of the reign of Louis XIV; a period during which services at St John's would have been at their apogee. I enjoyed the quintessentially Gallic Ave Maris Stella and while my mind and even more, my eye wandered around I realised that the age of Louis XIV would have coincided with the reigns of the two Cotoner brothers, Nicholas and Rafael, who succeeded to the grand-magistracy reigning for 20 years between them and whose cotton plant escutcheon can be found embellishing the cathedral's most precious artistic achievement; the Preti ceiling showing episodes in the life of St John The Baptist.

My favourite pieces played last Friday were, without a doubt, the four Schumann ones; especially the two Esquisses with their unmistakeably Schumannesque lilting rhythms and short, frenetic aromatic phrasing. I had never listened to them before and I was enchanted.

I am also convinced that they were Mea's most convincing interpretation and would have loved to have been behind the alter watching him working all those pedals and stops like some demented mechanical wizard. The result is sometimes disarmingly dissimilar.

The mechanical technique has to be so accomplished and smooth so as to negate itself to the clearest and most coherent interpretation possible. No mean feat may I assure you.

The evening came to a rousing end with Jehan Alain's Litanies which anticipates the minimalism that we have become so enamoured of in today's classical, music world; a minimalism that rose to dizzy heights of emotion in responsorial waves of sounds and phrases that were simply mesmerising.