More than two decades after the tragic 9/11 attacks blanketed Trinity Church in Lower Manhattan with dust and debris, a remarkable symbol of resilience and renewal has emerged. While this magnificent Gothic Revival church miraculously withstood the devastation of the nearby World Trade Center towers, its venerable 5,000-pipe Aeolian Skinner organ, a fixture since 1923, was tragically deemed beyond repair.
Now, after years of anticipation, Trinity Church has proudly unveiled its magnificent replacement. A recent inaugural concert by renowned organist Anna Lapwood vibrantly filled the sacred space, sending a powerful message of hope through every note. “It’s an amazing instrument,” Lapwood enthused, describing how she could “really feel you are playing the building as well as the organ itself.” (A compelling video demonstration of Olivier Messiaen’s “Dieu Parmi Nous” vividly captures this immersive experience.)
This monumental instrument, a decade in the making and a nearly $17 million investment (including its intricate woodwork and casing), features an astounding 8,041 pipes, some soaring to 32 feet – truly as grand as an organ can be. It includes two consoles, one positioned at the front and another at the rear of the church, each equipped with four manuals (keyboards) of 61 keys each. With 113 stops – the knobs above the keys – an organist can masterfully emulate an entire orchestra, conjuring everything from the dramatic flourishes reminiscent of “The Phantom of the Opera” to the most delicate pianissimos of Debussy.
As Trinity’s organist and chorus master, Avi Stein, prepared to demonstrate its capabilities, he playfully asked, “Do you want loud or soft first?” before opting for a quiet passage. (A video captures the nuanced performance.)
The history of Trinity Church itself is deeply rooted, with the current structure completed in 1846 as the third iteration since the parish’s founding in 1697. The journey to create this new organ was equally extensive, involving a ten-year design and construction process, a collaborative effort between Glatter-Götz Orgelbau in Pfullendorf, Germany, and tonal designer Manuel Rosales. Though showcased prominently at the front for its inaugural concerts, the mobile console will typically reside beside the pulpit for regular services.
For those in the audience, the mesmerizing agility of an organist’s hands across the myriad keys is often the focus. However, a true organist commands the instrument with all four limbs. Take a moment to imagine the intricate “slow dance” performed by Avi Stein’s feet, deftly maneuvering through a complex array of levers, pedals, and buttons, largely hidden from view. Thirty-two pedals handle the deep, resonant bass notes, while four central levers, resembling gas pedals, act as “swell shoes,” controlling shades that adjust volume. The numerous buttons, or pistons, are programmed to instantly activate specific combinations of stops, allowing for rapid shifts in the notes’ tenor, pitch, and overall character. (A video provides a close-up look at this impressive footwork.)
During the intervening years, in 2003, Trinity briefly adopted a digital organ called the Opus. Built by Marshall & Ogletree, this electronic instrument, while technically advanced, sparked considerable debate among purists regarding its authenticity. Despite engineers’ best efforts to refine its sound, the knowledge that its notes emanated from 74 speakers hidden behind decorative pipes, rather than true wind-blown pipes, was hard to overlook. As expected, this wasn’t universally embraced within the Trinity music community. Avi Stein, ever the diplomat, noted that the digital organ “lacks some of the tangible singing quality that turns a machine into a work of art.” Consequently, with a new renovation in 2018, the digital organ was retired. Now, experience the “real thing” as Stein performs Maurice Duruflé’s “Prélude et Fugue sur le Nom d’Alain.” (A video captures this powerful performance.)
Depending on how the player uses those 113 stops, the organ can sound like a French horn. A big trumpet tuba. An oboe. A flute. “American organs in particular were built as equivalents of orchestras,” Stein said. “If you didn’t have an orchestra, well you had an organ.” To demonstrate the musical versatility of this organ, Stein turned to the concluding measures of the slow movement of Debussy’s String Quartet in G minor. “That’s not even a piece of organ music,” he said. “But as you can see, it can do all these great orchestral colors.” (Another video showcases these orchestral capabilities.)
From the organist’s commanding console, the sound can be directed precisely throughout the church, enveloping the space from the pews to the soaring ceiling, from the nave to the pulpit. Melissa Attebury, Trinity’s director of music, aptly describes this as “surround sound.” Sitting amidst the pews, listeners genuinely feel the vibrations of the pipes deep within their bones—a testament to Anna Lapwood’s observation that “you are playing the building as well as the organ itself.” While the Trinity organ is fundamentally new, a thoughtful nod to its past remains: a portion of the original 1846 casing in the nave, designed by English architect Richard Upjohn, has been carefully preserved.
This remarkable organ is a single, cohesive instrument comprised of four distinct parts: the two consoles (one mobile at the front, one fixed at the rear) and corresponding sets of pipes located at both the front and back of the church. Crucially, unlike its digital predecessor, it generates no electronic sound. Instead, an intricate system, primarily electronic, connects these components. Pressing a key on the front console sends an electric signal through an Ethernet network, triggering a precise blast of air through the appropriate pipes – a process so finely tuned that technicians even use an old iPod for calibration. Yet, some connections honor tradition: in the gallery organ, a mechanical linkage can be observed, where a key directly moves pivots that meticulously control the airflow to the pipes. (A video illustrates this fascinating mechanical action.)
Rising majestically 281 feet from its Broadway foundation to the tip of its steeple, Trinity Church, upon its completion in 1846, stood as the tallest building in the United States. While that distinction has long passed, it remains an undeniably grand and imposing edifice. After a 24-year hiatus, the church once again possesses an organ truly capable of filling this vast and sacred space. “You feel it all through your body,” declared Melissa Attebury, Trinity’s director of music, her voice echoing the sentiment: “It is magnificent.” (Experience the grandeur with a performance of Charles Hubert Parry’s “I Was Glad.”)