JH's hour-long program yesterday of Thomson's sacred works for organ and chorus was a miracle. Without drawing attention to performance but focussing on what was being performed, he managed to lend variety and drama to music not containing these qualities. Such contradictions are resolved by only a special breed of interpreter: not, for example, by a Bernhardt or Billie Holiday who often performed mediocre art marvelously [sic] by drawing attention to themselves; nor by a Schnabel or Lotte Lehmann who performed great art marvelously [sic} by drawing attention away from themselves; nor by a Gielgud or Glenn Gould who perform great art marvelously [sic] by drawing attention to themselves. No, those who perform mediocre art marvelously [sic] by drawing attention away from themselves are as paradoxical as the black holes of outer space. Like Piaf and Duse, JH can turn the trick. At least he turned it yesterday in the Chapel of the Intercession. (In fairness, JH professes to be deeply touched by the music he performed.) Afterward in the choir sacristy, Virgil, very manic, bestowed enthusiasm on all but me.