The two manual Kleis at the modern Saint Peter’s Lutheran at Lex and 54^th, with  32 stops and 42 ranks,  is hardly a limited instrument. But, with Hilse at the console I found myself kvelling (enraptured) from the first moment to the last. OK, I do like cute older men, but it was his music, honestly, that had me thrilled. In segments such as ‘Some Canonic Variations on Vom Himmel Hoch, BVW 769 (Variatii 1-5)’, he has a way of reproducing a distinctly ‘Lutheran sound’ building up from simple quietly pious beauty into sparkling gorgeous ornamentation.

There were one or two arched eyebrows at his performing Duruflé on the Kleis; but my dears, he studied with Duruflé in Paris! When he serenaded us with Fugue on the Theme of the Carillion of Suissons Cathedral, I could hardly sit still to keep myself from bursting into applause like some mad opera queen shouting Brava in the middle of a prima donna’s aria. He certainly does not sit still while he plays. Many organists use ‘body English’ to persuade their instruments to be ethereal, but Mr. Hilse swishes his sweet little butt, sways, and bounces around so much that I thought he would jump right off the bench.

The delicacy with which he plays quiet interludes belies his willingness to segue into full braying bravissimo glory in grander movements. No minimalist he; and no possibility of nodding off in reverie while listening to him play. As Isaac Stern said in China, there are no careless notes, each stands out as it is emotionally felt. And so it was as Mr. Hilse gratified us with Widor’s IV Moderato: Variations on Puer Natus, from the Gothic Symphony, Op. 70. One could literally sense his meaning with each keystroke.