Amidst the joy of performing Bach’s Mass in B Minor this past weekend was the somber news I received the day before about my former teacher, Joan Lippincott (12/25/35–5/31/25). I must say that I wasn’t surprised—my colleague, Clarence Cloak, had messaged me a few days before, to let me know that she was in hospice, so I wasn’t totally shocked, but saddened.

Here’s the official obituary:

With deep gratitude for her life and legacy, we share the obituary of Joan Lippincott.

Joan Lippincott, one of America’s preeminent concert organists and a revered teacher whose artistry and pedagogy shaped generations of performers and church musicians, died on May 31 in Newtown, Pennsylvania, at the age of 89, following complications from a spinal infection.

A musician of extraordinary intellect, technical brilliance, and spiritual depth, she leaves a legacy of excellence that continues to resonate through concert halls, churches, and conservatories across the country.

Born Joan Edna Hult in Kearny, New Jersey, on Christmas 1935, to parents Frank and Edna Hult, she studied piano and organ from an early age. She eventually was a pupil of the renowned Alexander McCurdy at Westminster Choir College in Princeton, New Jersey, where she earned both Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees, and at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia, where she received the Artist’s Diploma. Dr. Lippincott quickly established herself as a formidable interpreter of the major organ repertoire, particularly the works of J.S. Bach, whose music remained central to her life’s work.

Dr. Lippincott was widely regarded as one of the foremost American organ teachers of the late twentieth century. For nearly four decades, she served with distinction on the faculty of Westminster Choir College, where she was Professor of Organ and Head of the Organ Department—the largest in the world at the time. With an unerring ear, a fierce dedication to musical integrity, and deep personal kindness, she was both a demanding teacher and a lifelong mentor to her many students, who became affectionately known as “Lippincott Kids.”

Beyond Princeton, Dr. Lippincott concertized widely. In 1967 she signed on with Lilian Murtagh Concert Management (which later became Karen McFarlane Artists, Inc), and remained with the management throughout her career. In more than 600 solo recitals throughout the United States and abroad, she appeared at major cathedrals, churches, universities, and international festivals.

Her discography contains more than 20 recordings, many centered around the music of Bach, but also covering Mozart, Mendelssohn, Liszt, Widor, Duruflé, Alain, and Pinkham, among others. These recordings garnered acclaim for their clarity, expressiveness, and stylistic insight, in which scholarly rigor and vibrant musicality were always held in elegant balance. Her playing demonstrated her championship both of historical performance practice and the living American organ tradition.

In addition to teaching, concertizing, and recording, Dr. Lippincott served from 1993 to 2000 as Principal University Organist at Princeton University, sat on the juries of several prominent organ competitions, and was active in the American Guild of Organists and other professional organizations. She served on the Advisory Board of The American Bach Society and was an honorary member of Sigma Alpha Iota.

Her career saw a garland of honor. Westminster Choir College awarded her its Alumni Merit Award, Distinguished Merit Award, Williamson Medal, and an Honorary Doctorate. In 2013, the Organ Historical Society published a festschrift, Joan Lippincott: The Gift of Music, with Larry G. Biser editing contributions from students and colleagues. Rider University awarded her its Sesquicentennial Medal of Excellence in 2015. She was the honoree for the American Guild of Organists Endowment Fund Distinguished Artist Award Recital and Gala Benefit Reception in 2017 and was named International Performer of the Year by the Guild’s New York City Chapter in 2019.

Beyond her public accomplishments, Joan was a person of grace, humility, and quiet strength. Her students remember her not merely for her precision and high standards, but for her nurturing of the entire student, person and artist combined. She took deep care with each student’s voice and vocation, guiding both with patience, insight, and love.

She was preceded in death by her beloved husband, Curtis, to whom she was married 58 years. She is survived by countless former students, friends, colleagues, and admirers. A service of thanksgiving for her life will be held at 11:00 on Saturday, October 4 at the Princeton University Chapel.

To her face, we grad students at Westminster Choir College called her “Mrs. Lippincott,” but behind her back, we just called her “Joan,” a force of nature by all counts.

She made a huge impression on my teaching after studying in college with Irene Robertson, who always kept her distance. I remember Dr. Robertson sitting in the first row of Bovard Auditorium during my lesson, eating a banana for lunch (!) while I sat on the organ bench at the console located in the orchestra pit. So we were always physically distant at lessons if not in other ways.

I went from that rather distant teacher-student relationship at USC to Westminster Choir College, where my teacher, Joan Lippincott, was the complete opposite. Even though she sat in a chair next to the organ bench, often she was practically in your lap, reaching over to demonstrate a passage. I’m afraid that I’ve adopted her style of teaching and frequently say (as she said to me), “Slide over,” so I can demonstrate how to play a particular passage.

Joan sat so close, if not sitting on the bench with you not only to demonstrate a concept, but to work on every single detail of a piece—the phrasing, the registration, the architecture — everything.

Her mantra was “Practicing means playing perfectly,” meaning that you tried to not make any mistakes from day one by playing at a slow tempo. She insisted that we write in and practice using the same fingerings each practice sessions. To this day, I can go back and play the same pieces I played in grad school, and by gosh, I see that my fingerings are the same, even if it’s been DECADES!

She shared everything with her husband, Curtis, including everything that happened in our lessons and our progress and/or struggles. Now you might think this a bit odd, but since Joan thought of us as “her kids,” it was perfectly fine.

Not only did I find my name in the book as a subscriber, but my former classmate, Clarence Cloak, had remembrances of our organ performance classes, and wrote this: Among the many Westminster memories are those from the organ performance classes including fellow classmates Kay Strunk, Ginny Aubrey, Kim Heindel, Clifford Hill, Ruth Darling, Hal Pysher, Katherine Au, Eric Howe, and Stephen Kolarac. Yes! familiar names from my past!

I only saw Joan twice in person after my year at Westminster, but she certainly remembered me. The most recent encounter in person was at the Boston Early Music Festival in 2011. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to take a photo together. We did exchange a few emails over the years, so I was able to share some of my Bach programs with her. I also wrote to her when her husband, Curtis, passed away, and she wrote back and sent me the memorial program. And — she wrote me after the book was published to thank me for being a subscriber.

In rereading some of my past posts about Joan Lippincott, I found this:

I often tell my students it’s a matter of “practice means playing perfectly,” as my teacher Joan Lippincott used to say, and never letting yourself make a mistake, even in practice. Playing music is not like hitting a baseball, in which a .400 batting average is considered superlative. That means only hitting the ball 4 times out of 10. If you played only 40% of the right notes in a piece of music, people would say that you’re terrible! In fact, even if you play only 10% of the notes wrong, people would still say that you need to keep practicing!

Lippincott used to say that the worst thing anyone could say during a lesson was “I always make a mistake there!” because it meant that you were not practicing correctly.

I quote Lippincott every day ! (Sigh!)