So after hearing one relatively tame recital (and a few inadequate sneak listens over the last year), I may be jumping the gun a little to say that the Disney organ is also the most beautiful- sounding organ in the world. To give such a pronouncement authority, I'd have to have heard all of the world's famed organs, and I haven't. It would also help to be an organist and an organ authority -- I'm neither. Time may eventually dull the visual and sonic immediacy of early impressions. The love affair is still young.

The wimpy official qualification, therefore, must be that the Walt Disney Concert Hall organ is one of the world's great organs. But the fact of the matter is that the Walt Disney Concert Hall organ is not one of anything. It stands alone. It's a beautiful instrument, and its beauty is alluring, lusty and profound. You don't listen to the Disney organ, you absorb it, you let it steal your senses. It's an organ no church would ever likely permit -- it provides far too much physical pleasure.

It turns out that being in direct contact with this organ can feel, well, organic. This is an organ about color, brilliant dazzling color, and subtle, refined color. I don't really know how much measurable difference the wood makes in the sound of an organ pipe or if curvature matters. But when the 32-foot pipe rumbles, the connection between its wood and the wood of the floor and the seats helps create the sensual vibrations that you hear and feel. Last summer when a convention of organists got a preview of the instrument, some took off their shoes and put their bare feet on the seat backs and floor to get the full experience.