WOULD YOU WALK 200 miles to hear somebody play the ...

Buxtehude sat squarely between Heinrich Schutz (one of my all-time favorite composers) and Bach in time and in the development of German music. Best known-and until the last few decades, almost only known-for his organ compositions, Buxtehude also turned out a respectable collection of chamber music and a wonderful selection of mostly sacred vocal works, about 120 of which survive.

Since I have just about no background in either music practice or theory, I make a point of poring through old liner notes or digging out the knowledgeable skinny on the web for the classical pieces I care about. The words I find floating most often around Buxtehude's head-especially in relation to his chamber and vocal music-are "simplicity" and "variety."

Basically, he did nothing fancy, nothing showy; he just makes you listen. Maybe it was because he often bent the formulas of his day, carrying the musical line on emotion, even whimsy. But whether his chamber music bounces, paces or meanders, it always seems to know where it's going, even when it stops to admire the view or takes a side journey into a woodland glade. And you always, instinctively want to know where it's going next.

As for his vocal music-well, I must admit that I only recently discovered I still had an old Archive record with four of his cantatas. They're totally lovely, soft yet spirited sweeps of sound, full of devotion and joyous ease. And I don't mean "easy listening"; I mean ease of progress.

But the Buxtehude records I've treasured uninterruptedly through the years are volumes one and three of his complete organ music, recorded in the 50s by Danish organist and composer Finn Videro, who died in 1987. These came out on the little Washington Records label (which also, interestingly, issued a fairly definitive set of albums of Child Ballads, sung by Ewan MacColl and A.L. Lloyd).

Buxtehude's preludes and fugues don't wallop you with the organ's sound-especially in Videro's hands. Again, they entice you with their variety and general rightness: Once you've heard this music, it seems like it's always existed. The newer CD I picked up, with organist Julia Brown, sounds more heavy-handed, less nuanced to my ear.

Though I'm generally more at home with harpsichords than organs, the Buxtehude harpsichord works that I've heard don't hold my attention as well-with one curious exception. One side of an old Folkways album of Music for the Harpsichord and Virginal, played by Stewart Robb, is taken up by "La Capricciosa: Theme and Thirty-one Variations for Harpsichord" by Buxtehude. (The record was a cutout that I probably picked up at the old Record Hunter, without sleeve or notes, so I can't tell you anything beyond the track titles.)

Now, 31 is a certifiable shitload of variations to sit through, but I find myself entranced every time. The virginal pieces, on the other side, include works by Purcell, Frescobaldi and Orlando Gibbons. I couldn't tell you what a single one of them sounds like, but on a good day I can hum at least a couple of those Buxtehude variations.

Oh, by the way, the main John Wanamaker's store in Philly was (and as a Lord & Taylor's, still is) renowned for its massive central court organ. I used to delight in pointing at the building and telling people, "You know, John Wanamaker has the world's largest organ."

What's Out There: Amazon.com carries a trove of Buxtehude miscellany, but not, alas, the Videro organ collection.