‘Modern’ Sound Still Thrills After a Century - News · Jarrett and Fred Hersch. And not just...
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When I strike a chord on the piano, more is heard than those notes alone. The other strings vibrate with sympathetic over- tones, forming a halo over every note. Claude Debussy, who died a hundred years ago, was perhaps the first composer to write with this quality specifically in mind, to consciously harness it as part of his cre- ative process. Although it was Debussy’s orchestral work “Prélude à L’Après-midi d’un Faune” that Pierre Boulez described as “the begin- ning of modern music,” it was at the piano where his revolutionary new approach to form and timbre was developed. With “Pagodes,” the first piece of his trip- tych “Estampes” (1903), we hear some- thing totally fresh. Yes, Debussy had heard Javanese gamelan music at the Exposition Universelle in Paris in the summer of 1889 and had written with great admiration about its complexity and sophistication. But his use of its tonal color (loosely, the penta- tonic scale — the black notes on a piano) is not so much a translation of a foreign text as it is a poem written in a newly learned, fully absorbed language. Composers, especially in France, had regularly utilized exoticism in their works (Saint-Saëns and Bizet spring to mind) but it remained a decorative detail, a picture postcard, a costume. With Debussy the ab- sorption has gone to the marrow. It is a transfusion of blood, flowing in the very fin- gers which conjure up these new sounds at this old instrument. Igor Stravinsky commented that he “was struck by the way in which the extraordi- nary qualities of this pianism had directed the thought of Debussy the composer.” De- bussy’s discovery of new sounds at the pi- ano is directly related to the physiology of hands on keyboard. It is impossible to con- ceive of most of Debussy’s piano music be- ing written at a desk, or outdoors, despite his frequent use of “en plein air” titles. No, this is music made as molded by play- ing, as dough is folded with yeast to create bread. As the fingers reach the keys, sound and touch seem to fuse into one. The key- board has ceased to be a mere function for hammers to strike strings, and has become a precious horizontal artifact to caress. This is music of the piano as much as for the pi- ano. The poet Léon-Paul Fargue, having watched Debussy play, wrote that he “would start by brushing the keys, prodding the odd one here and there, making a pass over them and then he would sink into vel- vet.” “He gave the impression of delivering the piano of its song,” Fargue added, “like a mother of her child.” Debussy’s piano music is perfectly con- ceived for the instrument. But it isn’t just that it fits beautifully under the hand or sounds wonderful as the vibrations leave the soundboard and enter the ear. To play the opening of “Reflets dans l’Eau” (from “Images,” Book One) feels as if the com- poser has transplanted his fingerprints onto the pads of your digits. The way the chords are placed on the keys (flat-fingered on the black notes) is not so much a vision of reflections, whether trees, clouds or water lilies. It is as if each three-padded triad is an actual laying of a flower onto the water’s surface. Later in the piece, as the waters become more agitated, the cascading arpeggios are like liquid running through the fingers, all shimmer and sparkle. In “Poissons d’Or” (from “Images,” Book Two), the opening motive, a darting duplet of double thirds, is like trying to catch a fish’s flip as it slips out of the finger’s grasp. And in the central sec- tion, the slinky tune slithers with grace notes as the hand has to slide off the key as if off the scales of a freshly caught trout. In the first piece of this set, “Cloches à Travers les Feuilles,” the fingers are required to tap the keys (pedal held down, fingers pulled up) as if mallets against a bell. No other composer feels to me more im- provised, more free-flowing. But then the player is conscious of a contradiction as the score is studied: Music that sounds created in the moment is loaded with instructions on how to achieve this. The first measure of “Cloches à Travers les Feuilles” is marked pianissimo and contains just eight notes, each of which carries a staccato dot. But the first is also coupled with a strong-accented whole note; the fifth has an additional dash; all the notes are covered with a slur; and, if that were not enough, Debussy instructs the pianist to play “doucement sonore” (“sweetly resonant”). His suite “Children’s Corner” may be like so many toys in his daughter’s nursery, but the workmanship behind every join and seam is of the highest fastidiousness. All of his pieces sound spontaneous, but every stitch (every dot, dash, hairpin or slur) is specific. This is not mood music, pretty sounds assembled at a dilettante’s whim. Behind the bells and the water and all the poetic imagery is an abstract musical mind of the utmost intellectual rigor — an archi- tect of genius, despite the small scale of the buildings. If most of his piano music has a feel of im- provisation about it, the two books of “Préludes” celebrate this in a special way. Until well into the 20th century, a pianist would rarely begin to play a piece cold. A few chords, an arpeggio or two, served as a warm-up as well as allowing the audience to settle down. This was known as “prelud- ing,” and Liszt spoke of it as a technique to be learned by any aspiring pianist. De- bussy’s “Préludes” are perfectly crafted jewels, conveying more in their few min- utes’ duration than many an opera, yet they can also seem as intangible as mist — with titles, tacked on with ellipses at the end of each piece, like mere trails of perfume in the air. Debussy began piano lessons at the age of 7 in Cannes as an evacuee from Paris at the start of the Franco-Prussian War, and he died during the final year of World War I, unable to have a public funeral because of the aerial bombing of the French capital. The circumstances of his life, framed by his country’s enmity with Germany, seem an apt symbol for his music’s rejection of a kind of German aesthetic. His instinct to steer clear of classical structures; his elevation and celebration of small, ephemeral forms; and his delight in the atmosphere of beautiful chords for their own sake, with no desire to find a specific function for them, was an audacious chal- lenge to some more self-consciously serious German intellectual fashions of the time. In- deed, the “Golliwog’s Cakewalk” (from “Children’s Corner”) is a direct hit, with its cheerful celebration of popular culture and the cheeky quote from Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde,” followed by the minstrel’s scoff- ing sniggers. When assessing a composer’s place in history, there’s always the question as to whether he or she leans backward or for- ward. But despite the opinion of Elliott Carter that Debussy “settled the technical direction of contemporary music,” and de- spite the impossibility of the existence of the piano music of modernists such as Mes- siaen or Ligeti without him, I think the se- cret to playing Debussy’s music lies in its Chopinist roots — he edited the Polish com- poser’s works for Durand — and in his ties to his older, old-fashioned compatriots Massenet, Delibes and others. He may have stretched harmony and form into new shapes, but it seems to me that it is in a Parisian cafe, a Gauloise in hand and coffee at his side, that we glimpse something essential about the spirit of De- bussy. For all his sophistication, he could never resist the lilt and leer of a corny caba- ret song — not just overtly, like in “La Plus que Lente” (1910), but tucked away inside more experimental pieces such as “Les Collines d’Anacapri,” “Reflets dans l’Eau,” and “Poissons d’Or.” He never left behind completely the romantic sentimentality of early piano pieces like “Clair de Lune” and the “Deux Arabesques.” Although his taste for popular styles found expression in ragtime takeoffs such as “Minstrels” and the “Golliwog’s Cake- walk,” it was his more serious music that later had an immense influence on jazz composers like Gershwin, Bill Evans, Keith Jarrett and Fred Hersch. And not just be- cause of a shared sense of improvisation: The repeated patterns, the piling up of so- norities and the way Debussy would crack open a chord, finding creativity in the very color of its vibrations, found its way into their very DNA. And if the ghost of this Parisian ended up haunting every American jazz bar, it also found its way east, too. Debussy may have discovered his own pianistic voice after hearing the gamelan, but by the end of the 20th century the inspiration had reversed direction and his impact on Asian piano mu- sic is incalculable. Toro Takemitsu, Ameri- can Minimalists and New Age Muzak — they all owe Debussy virtual royalties. The first “modern” composer, a hundred years after his death, vibrates afresh in every cor- ner of the globe. ‘Modern’ Sound Still Thrills After a Century Celebrating Debussy’s slinking, sparkling piano works. By STEPHEN HOUGH CAT O’NEIL A sophisticated composer who couldn’t resist the lilt and leer of a corny cabaret song. STEPHEN HOUGH’S new recording of Debussy’s piano music is out on Hyperion, and he tours this spring with a recital program focused on that composer. 12 AR THE NEW YORK TIMES, SUNDAY, MARCH 4, 2018 C M Y K Sxxx,2018-03-04,AR,012,Bs-4C,E1 Classical
Transcript of ‘Modern’ Sound Still Thrills After a Century - News · Jarrett and Fred Hersch. And not just...
When I strike a chord on the piano, more isheard than those notes alone. The otherstrings vibrate with sympathetic over-tones, forming a halo over every note.Claude Debussy, who died a hundred yearsago, was perhaps the first composer towrite with this quality specifically in mind,to consciously harness it as part of his cre-ative process.
Although it was Debussy’s orchestralwork “Prélude à L’Après-midi d’un Faune”that Pierre Boulez described as “the begin-ning of modern music,” it was at the pianowhere his revolutionary new approach toform and timbre was developed.
With “Pagodes,” the first piece of his trip-tych “Estampes” (1903), we hear some-thing totally fresh. Yes, Debussy had heardJavanese gamelan music at the ExpositionUniverselle in Paris in the summer of 1889and had written with great admirationabout its complexity and sophistication. Buthis use of its tonal color (loosely, the penta-tonic scale — the black notes on a piano) isnot so much a translation of a foreign text asit is a poem written in a newly learned, fullyabsorbed language.
Composers, especially in France, hadregularly utilized exoticism in their works(Saint-Saëns and Bizet spring to mind) butit remained a decorative detail, a picturepostcard, a costume. With Debussy the ab-sorption has gone to the marrow. It is atransfusion of blood, flowing in the very fin-gers which conjure up these new sounds atthis old instrument.
Igor Stravinsky commented that he “wasstruck by the way in which the extraordi-nary qualities of this pianism had directedthe thought of Debussy the composer.” De-bussy’s discovery of new sounds at the pi-ano is directly related to the physiology ofhands on keyboard. It is impossible to con-ceive of most of Debussy’s piano music be-ing written at a desk, or outdoors, despitehis frequent use of “en plein air” titles.
No, this is music made as molded by play-ing, as dough is folded with yeast to createbread. As the fingers reach the keys, soundand touch seem to fuse into one. The key-board has ceased to be a mere function forhammers to strike strings, and has becomea precious horizontal artifact to caress. Thisis music of the piano as much as for the pi-ano. The poet Léon-Paul Fargue, havingwatched Debussy play, wrote that he“would start by brushing the keys, proddingthe odd one here and there, making a passover them and then he would sink into vel-vet.”
“He gave the impression of delivering thepiano of its song,” Fargue added, “like amother of her child.”
Debussy’s piano music is perfectly con-ceived for the instrument. But it isn’t justthat it fits beautifully under the hand orsounds wonderful as the vibrations leavethe soundboard and enter the ear. To playthe opening of “Reflets dans l’Eau” (from“Images,” Book One) feels as if the com-poser has transplanted his fingerprintsonto the pads of your digits. The way thechords are placed on the keys (flat-fingeredon the black notes) is not so much a vision ofreflections, whether trees, clouds or waterlilies. It is as if each three-padded triad is anactual laying of a flower onto the water’ssurface.
Later in the piece, as the waters becomemore agitated, the cascading arpeggios arelike liquid running through the fingers, allshimmer and sparkle. In “Poissons d’Or”(from “Images,” Book Two), the openingmotive, a darting duplet of double thirds, islike trying to catch a fish’s flip as it slips outof the finger’s grasp. And in the central sec-tion, the slinky tune slithers with gracenotes as the hand has to slide off the key as ifoff the scales of a freshly caught trout. In thefirst piece of this set, “Cloches à Travers lesFeuilles,” the fingers are required to tap thekeys (pedal held down, fingers pulled up) asif mallets against a bell.
No other composer feels to me more im-provised, more free-flowing. But then theplayer is conscious of a contradiction as thescore is studied: Music that sounds createdin the moment is loaded with instructionson how to achieve this. The first measure of“Cloches à Travers les Feuilles” is markedpianissimo and contains just eight notes,each of which carries a staccato dot. But thefirst is also coupled with a strong-accentedwhole note; the fifth has an additional dash;all the notes are covered with a slur; and, ifthat were not enough, Debussy instructsthe pianist to play “doucement sonore”
(“sweetly resonant”).His suite “Children’s Corner” may be like
so many toys in his daughter’s nursery, butthe workmanship behind every join andseam is of the highest fastidiousness. All ofhis pieces sound spontaneous, but everystitch (every dot, dash, hairpin or slur) isspecific. This is not mood music, prettysounds assembled at a dilettante’s whim.Behind the bells and the water and all thepoetic imagery is an abstract musical mindof the utmost intellectual rigor — an archi-tect of genius, despite the small scale of thebuildings.
If most of his piano music has a feel of im-provisation about it, the two books of“Préludes” celebrate this in a special way.Until well into the 20th century, a pianistwould rarely begin to play a piece cold. Afew chords, an arpeggio or two, served as awarm-up as well as allowing the audience tosettle down. This was known as “prelud-ing,” and Liszt spoke of it as a technique tobe learned by any aspiring pianist. De-bussy’s “Préludes” are perfectly craftedjewels, conveying more in their few min-utes’ duration than many an opera, yet theycan also seem as intangible as mist — withtitles, tacked on with ellipses at the end ofeach piece, like mere trails of perfume in theair.
Debussy began piano lessons at the ageof 7 in Cannes as an evacuee from Paris atthe start of the Franco-Prussian War, and hedied during the final year of World War I,unable to have a public funeral because ofthe aerial bombing of the French capital.The circumstances of his life, framed by hiscountry’s enmity with Germany, seem anapt symbol for his music’s rejection of a kindof German aesthetic.
His instinct to steer clear of classicalstructures; his elevation and celebration ofsmall, ephemeral forms; and his delight inthe atmosphere of beautiful chords for theirown sake, with no desire to find a specificfunction for them, was an audacious chal-lenge to some more self-consciously seriousGerman intellectual fashions of the time. In-deed, the “Golliwog’s Cakewalk” (from“Children’s Corner”) is a direct hit, with itscheerful celebration of popular culture andthe cheeky quote from Wagner’s “Tristanund Isolde,” followed by the minstrel’s scoff-ing sniggers.
When assessing a composer’s place inhistory, there’s always the question as towhether he or she leans backward or for-
ward. But despite the opinion of ElliottCarter that Debussy “settled the technicaldirection of contemporary music,” and de-spite the impossibility of the existence ofthe piano music of modernists such as Mes-siaen or Ligeti without him, I think the se-cret to playing Debussy’s music lies in itsChopinist roots — he edited the Polish com-poser’s works for Durand — and in his tiesto his older, old-fashioned compatriotsMassenet, Delibes and others.
He may have stretched harmony andform into new shapes, but it seems to methat it is in a Parisian cafe, a Gauloise inhand and coffee at his side, that we glimpsesomething essential about the spirit of De-bussy. For all his sophistication, he couldnever resist the lilt and leer of a corny caba-ret song — not just overtly, like in “La Plusque Lente” (1910), but tucked away insidemore experimental pieces such as “LesCollines d’Anacapri,” “Reflets dans l’Eau,”and “Poissons d’Or.” He never left behindcompletely the romantic sentimentality ofearly piano pieces like “Clair de Lune” andthe “Deux Arabesques.”
Although his taste for popular stylesfound expression in ragtime takeoffs suchas “Minstrels” and the “Golliwog’s Cake-walk,” it was his more serious music thatlater had an immense influence on jazzcomposers like Gershwin, Bill Evans, KeithJarrett and Fred Hersch. And not just be-cause of a shared sense of improvisation:The repeated patterns, the piling up of so-norities and the way Debussy would crackopen a chord, finding creativity in the verycolor of its vibrations, found its way intotheir very DNA.
And if the ghost of this Parisian ended uphaunting every American jazz bar, it alsofound its way east, too. Debussy may havediscovered his own pianistic voice afterhearing the gamelan, but by the end of the20th century the inspiration had reverseddirection and his impact on Asian piano mu-sic is incalculable. Toro Takemitsu, Ameri-can Minimalists and New Age Muzak —they all owe Debussy virtual royalties. Thefirst “modern” composer, a hundred yearsafter his death, vibrates afresh in every cor-ner of the globe.
‘Modern’ Sound Still Thrills After a CenturyCelebrating Debussy’s slinking,sparkling piano works.
By STEPHEN HOUGH
CAT O’NEIL
A sophisticated composer who couldn’t resist the lilt and leer of a corny cabaret song.
STEPHEN HOUGH’S new recording of Debussy’spiano music is out on Hyperion, and he toursthis spring with a recital program focused onthat composer.
12 AR THE NEW YORK TIMES, SUNDAY, MARCH 4, 2018
C M Y K Sxxx,2018-03-04,AR,012,Bs-4C,E1
Classical
