Jo Schornikow Makes the Pipe Organ Intimate

Lots of musicians across the wide and varied landscape of Nashville music put new spins on old traditions. Not many — if any — do that in quite the same way as singer-songwriter and keyboardist Jo Schornikow. 

The Australia-born musician typically plays the kind of portable electronic keyboards you’d expect to see when she’s around town or on the road, performing her own material or with an array of projects. (See: Phosphorescent and William Tyler, among others.) But a keyboard that’s near to her heart is the 108-year-old pipe organ nestled in East Nashville’s Woodland Presbyterian Church, where she serves as music director. The mammoth instrument, described as an “old lady” by the church staff since it requires ample airflow for upkeep, is at the center of Schornikow’s latest record, an EP called Quiet Excerpts. She welcomed family, friends and the organ-curious to the intimate space Friday night for a free candlelit release celebration.

Schornikow’s new record doesn’t resemble the dramatic Phantom of the Opera balladry, geometric Bach pieces or quippy baseball-game jingles that many people associate with the instrument. Instead, the six-song project explores the pipe organ as an intimate ambient instrument — which, when heard live, I can only describe as akin to being transported to some sort of alternative spiritual realm.

Just before sundown, guests filtered in through the church’s open doors. Old acquaintances hugged over the pews and chatted in the aisles. The electric lights flickered on for just a few brief moments before the show, allowing the four seven-armed candelabras holding taper candles to be lit. The last bit of sunlight peered in through the stained-glass windows, leaving LED tea lights in white paper bags to light the way at the end of each pew.

Onetime Nashvillian songsmith Annie Williams and pedal-steel wizard Spencer Cullum sat down to tune up just after 7 p.m. The duo hunched over their instruments in floor-level chairs, a brass cross and the cloth-draped pulpit behind them. Cullum initiated the first notes of the night with drawn-out strains from his signature instrument. Williams joined in on electric guitar, plucking a gentle melody and adding smooth, diaphanous vocals. The pair’s combined effort created a light, shoegaze-y sound with just a touch of Western twang, which was amplified tenfold as it echoed throughout the church.

Throughout the set, the duo alternated roles. Cullum took the lead on every other song, switching out his steel for an acoustic guitar and scooting up to the mic to sing, complemented by Williams’ layered harmonies. 

“This is making my life better,” said someone from the pews in between songs.

“Well, thank you, sir,” Cullum replied, offering two thumbs-up. “We’ve got two more for you.”

After the duo finished, the audience stood once more to mingle before the main show. Schornikow entered promptly at 8 p.m., after the sun had gone down completely. She approached her small stage, which was lit entirely by tiny flickering candles, flanked by Anson Hohne on drums and Jack Lawrence on synthesizer.

Schornikow perched on the bench and leaned down to switch her instrument on. With a few keys, she coaxed a low hum from the organ, a powerful sound that seemed to seep into the bones of the building, traveling through the floor and rattling in the chest of everyone present. She began with “Prelude I & II,” a 10-minute piece that opens with light, drawn-out notes that steadily build to a heavy crescendo. Lawrence worked in airy synth sounds to complement the dominant instrument, while Hohne layered soft crashes and tingling bells with his felt-tipped sticks. 

The group transitioned seamlessly into “Upstream,” a lighter piece that incorporates vocals and thicker synth textures. Schornikow kept her back to the crowd, her gaze focused on the sheets and keys in front of her. Her eyes, doused in an orange glow from tea lights spread across the width of the instrument’s great wooden body, were reflected in a small mirror just above her.

During the final pieces, the soft, silvery sounds heavily featured on “Bells” melted into the melody of the closing song, “In Dulci Jubilo.” With a last prolonged note and a few fading twinkles, Schornikow stood from her bench, quickly gave her thanks and made her exit. The crowd jumped to their feet in the narrow pews, rewarding her with a standing ovation.