375-330 BC, or thereabouts, and a supporting column is built near Apollo’s Temple at Delphi in Greece, with three sculpted dancers frozen in time at its summit. Wearing short tunics, barefoot, an arm raised in gesture or perhaps holding crotales, they were rediscovered amongst the toppled ruins in 1894 during excavations by a French team of archeologists. Delphi is situated on Mount Parnassus – home of the Muses, the eponymous pianistic destination of Clementi’s Gradus ad Parnassum, and Debussy’s Dr Gradus ad Parnassum; he chose to bring those Danseuses de Delphes to life as the first of his Préludes in 1910, having seen a reproduction of the sculpture at the Louvre in Paris.
No neatly stylized Minuet or Passepied here; these Delphic dancers are slower but still gracefully fluid in their movements, Lent et grave the tempo, doux et soutenu the sound. As in so much of Debussy’s music, there are inner and outer layers to be conveyed: a legato, close-stepped melody tucked away within a progression of mezzo staccato chords, sometimes rising above while the chords are enfolded within, sometimes doubled at the octave while the chords appear offbeat above. The dance pauses twice while falling pianissimo chords pass by, elongating the phrases, then moves on inexorably in precise dotted rhythms towards the climax of the piece with its clashing major seconds – only a modest forte though, in a soundscape which asks the pianist to calibrate fine gradations at every level from f through mf, mp, p, piu p, pp, and piu pp,coming to rest serenely on an F major chord, ppp.
Towards the end, there are two backward glances at the opening theme, and perhaps the quiet ‘ting’ of crotales, before the concluding chords. Here is Cortot:
17,217,253. That is the number of views which YouTube’s top-ranking video of Debussy’s Clair de Lune had when I started research for this post a few days ago. The views now number 17,259,512 – over 42,000 more. Successive generations of pianists have fallen under the piece’s spell since its publication in 1905. My grandmother and my mother learnt it. I learnt it. Now my pupils clamour to learn it, influenced by Twilight. Its appeal is so popular that it can even be studied via YouTube in various tutorials which currently have thousands of views.
It comes from Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque, a collection of four pieces, of which three have Suite-like titles; a Prélude, and two dance movements: Menuet and Passepied. The titles are entangled with the poetry of Paul Verlaine, whose collection Fêtes galantes contains a Clair de lune – set as a song by Debussy – which uses the word bergamasque. The piano piece was originally named Promenade Sentimentale after a Verlaine poem, and the Passepied was originally a Pavane: again, a Verlaine title.
Clair de Lune is in D flat major, with a key signature of five flats; a luscious choice – think of the big, sweeping melody in Khatchaturian’s Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia, and Liszt’s Un Sospiro. It is in compound triple time with an occasional duplet, and it needs a persuasive rubato, a flowing, even accompaniment of semiquavers in the middle section, and a warm tone which is sometimes veiled, leading to exploration of pedalling and sound quality; all sorts of teaching points there and many others too, but one of the piece’s greatest benefits is that pupils really want to play it, so motivation is usually assured. Here is Paul Crossley:
The Prélude opens the Suite with a grand flourish and a broad theme at a sensible speed; a good start to a recital’s first or second half. The middle section gives scope for exploration of more distant keys and modulations, but it is all comfortably tonal and accessible, with no real surprises. Here is Gieseking:
The Menuet is quite sprightly with a beguiling modality and some delightfully unexpected twists and turns; deft fingerwork is demanded for its quasi-baroque ornamented melody. The thirds need some practice, too. A real charmer, which soon abandons its well-behaved intentions for a more full-blooded expansiveness. Gieseking again:
The final movement, a Passepied, opens with a lightly buoyant staccato LH accompaniment reminiscent of pizzicato cellos, and again a modally flavoured melody, giving the piece an attractive sepia tint. 3-against-4 is often called for, and the middle section forgets momentarily that it is supposed to be a dance as it lingers over some rather enjoyable harmonic colours. Gieseking:
Pianists and audiences will find much that is engaging in the Suite Bergamasque beyond its well known star attraction piece. Below is the poem which perhaps inspired it.
Clair de luneVotre âme est un paysage choisi
Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques
Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi
Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune,
Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur
Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres
Et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,
Les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres.
From Fêtes galantes (1869)
MoonlightYour soul is like a landscape fantasy,
Where masks and Bergamasks, in charming wise,
Strum lutes and dance, just a bit sad to be
Hidden beneath their fanciful disguise.Singing in minor mode of life’s largesse
And all-victorious love, they yet seem quite
Reluctant to believe their happiness,
And their song mingles with the pale moonlight,
The calm, pale moonlight, whose sad beauty, beaming,
Sets the birds softly dreaming in the trees,
And makes the marbled fountains, gushing, streaming–
Slender jet-fountains–sob their ecstasies.
What do you think of when you read the word: Arabesque? To an artist, it consists of “surface decorations based on rhythmic linear patterns of scrolling and interlacing foliage, tendrils”* found in Islamic art and in European decorative art from the Renaissance onwards.
To a dancer, it’s a ballet position with leg stretched behind, and the arm held to the front, creating the longest line of which a human body is possible.
To a classical musician, it’s a piece which usually has a decorated melodic line, which seems neatly to combine the other two ideas. Debussy wrote two Arabesques, and they are a good starting point for a survey of some of his music, as they are early works -roughly 1888 – and the first Arabesque is often encountered early in a pianist’s repertoire at about Grade 8.
As well as being a very charming piece, it is useful for teaching 3-against-2, with RH triplets against LH quavers. Isolating the rhythms as a tapping exercise first, then trying a RH C major scale in triplets aginst a LH one in quavers, are useful practice methods; in the piece itself a careful RH fingering, trying to avoid bumpy position changes, will be essential, as in Liszt’s much earlier Sposalizio which it resembles. The LH has to glide smoothly through the arpeggios, too.
The middle section needs careful counting, with longer note values in the middle of the bar sometimes incorrectly shortened by less rhythmic players. There are good opportunities for rubato, and pedalling needs attention to avoid blurring, yet, sometimes, to give a wash of colour.
The second Arabesque is less often heard, but it is a delightful companion piece, requiring nimble fingers and clarity of attack in the RH triplet-based motives that feature throughout. Try a change of fingers in the triplet -eg 243 instead of 232 -to avoid what Ronald Smith used to call ‘the law of inertia’.
In both pieces, quiet dynamics are often called for; Debussy’s music requires a finely graded palette of soft sounds. A French dictionary will be useful for the less common musical terms. Innocuous and pleasant pieces – a good introduction to the composer. And, thinking of his later development, completely misleading.
Below is a piano roll of Debussy himself playing his second Arabesque. The group photograph shows Debussy playing to Chausson in 1893.
*John Fleming and Hugh Honour, Dictionary of the Decorative Arts 1977
Chopin in 2010, Liszt in 2011 – now that we’re in 2012, it is Debussy’s turn for the spotlight as we celebrate 150 years since his birth in 1862. It’s quite a logical succession -Debussy studied with a pupil of Chopin, and met Liszt in Rome; they are all connected.
As well as Debussy’s music, I’ll be looking at other French composers and their works – expect a Gallic twist in my Notes from a Pianist this year.
To set the scene, here is Debussy’s L’après-midi d’une Faune for orchestra – Stokowski conducts the LSO. Bonne année!
So we come to New Year’s Eve, the final day of 2011 and of the Liszt bicentenary. I set out on this online Année de Pèlerinage through Liszt’s music nearly a year ago, and it has been a fantastic experience. Thank you to all who have travelled with me in this blog, and warm greetings to all who have discovered Liszt’s music in concerts, broadcasts and recordings. And if his music is not for you – so be it! (But don’t give up…)
For further exploration of Liszt’s contribution to the Concert Etude genre, the Two Concert Etudes Waldesrauschen and Gnomenreigen, the Three Concert EtudesIl Lamento, La Leggierezza and Un Sospiro, and the Etude Ab Irato are well worth a look.
And for Liszt’s writings about music and about his travels in Switzerland and Italy, ‘An Artist’s Journey’, translated and annotated by Charles Suttoni, published by the University of Chicago Press, is invaluable and absorbing.
Finally, some words from the man himself; an excerpt from a letter written in Budapest on January 2nd, 1877 to his cousin Eduard Liszt in Vienna. Liszt’s correspondence was huge, and his letters (many of them online ) are a great read. Like many of us, at this time of year his thoughts are part sacred, part secular, part professional – and part financial…
Dearest, Most Honoured Cousin,
I always remain faithful to you in heartiest agreement with your thoughts and feelings. Every year brings us nearer to the fulfilment of our hope in Jesus Christ the Saviour! “He that endureth to the end shall be saved!” I am now quite recovered from my little attack. If there were nothing worse in this world than sprained legs and physical suffering, one could be quite satisfied. Moreover I belong to the very favoured and happy ones, even as regards physical suffering.
There is nothing particular going on here which I need mention. Four times weekly I have a class for pianists and pianistes, native and foreign. Half a dozen of these distinguish themselves and will be able to grow into capable public artists. Unfortunately there are far too many concerts and concert- players. As Dingelstedt quite truly said, “The theater is a necessary evil, the concert a superfluous one.” I am trying to impress this sentence on my disciples of the Hungarian Academy of Music… Heartiest greetings to your family, and au revoir in Schottenhof [Eduard Liszt's home in Vienna] in the middle of March, on the occasion of the “Beethoven-Monument Concerts.”
Your
F. Liszt
The Christmas week has beggared me. Be so good as to send me very quickly 500 gulden, for I have hardly 60 left.
While considering Liszt’s Paganini Etudes, a few other points should be mentioned -Busoni also made piano transcriptions of Paganini’s Caprices, as did Schumann. Liszt dedicated both his 1838 and 1851 editions to Madame Clara Schumann, who, née Wieck, was one of the finest pianists of her generation; sadly her attitude towards Liszt became increasingly hostile, as did her husband’s. It is probably unlikely that she ever performed any of these pieces.
But to return to the Etudes – above left is a reproduction of Paganini’s first Caprice for violin, in the composer’s manuscript. Below right is Liszt’s piano transcription in the 1851 version -
and even at this small size, the resemblance is apparent. It appears as Etude no 4; Liszt replaces the bowing technique demanded of the violinist with the need for a delicate, springy piano touch, the LH frequently crossing over the RH, the double-stops replaced by staccato thirds in the pianist’s RH.
In E Major, it is followed by another in the same key, ‘La Chasse’. We visit the familiar musical territory of the hunt with its instrumental calls; even Paganini demands this of the violinist, writing ‘SullaTastiera imitando il Flauto’ (playing over the fingerboard imitating the flute) and ‘imitando il Corno sulla 3a e 4acorda’ (imitating the horn on the 3rd and 4th string). Liszt’s pianist is asked to do the same, without reference to fingerboard or strings. This is a delightful piece, playful, leaping about con bravura at times, but leggero, and, after a perdendosi dying away towards the end, two final loud chords. Liszt had a sense of humour. Here is Gilels:
Liszt concludes his six Grandes Etudes de Paganini with Paganini’s concluding Caprice, No 24. It is a Theme and Variations, and the theme is well known, having been used by many composers since Paganini – Rachmaninov, Lutoslawski, Brahms and Lloyd Webber spring to mind. Paganini’s variations run the gamut of violin technique; Liszt’s do likewise, pianistically. One can almost sense Liszt relishing the challenges of each short, sixteen-bar variation testing yet another technical feature. Clarity, evenness, octaves, staccato thirds, leaps, alternating hands, trills, arpeggios – the list goes on, but this catalogue of technical skills has to be put to musical use rather than mere gymnastic display.
A wet, grey day in Cornwall, and I sit in a holiday cottage listening to a recording of violinist Itzhak Perlman playing Paganini Caprices, as you do. It’s not hard to imagine the impression that Paganini made on European audiences as he performed such pieces in the 1800s; even without the visual impact, these are stunning works, needing advanced technical wizardry in order to bring them off musically – and effortlessly. Even the composer’s manuscript looks alarming – here. Small wonder that Liszt was fired to replicate this on the piano.
Liszt arranged 6 of Paganini’s Caprices, combining two into one piano étude, and that is the one chosen to open his set of Grandes Etudes après Paganini of 1851, these being revised versions of similar Etudes published in 1838. He names it Preludio, and the opening G minor flourish transposes and transcribes Paganini’s opening flourish in A minor from his No 5; the violinist’s arpeggios and rapid scales become a pianist’s two-handed arpeggios in different inversions, and scales in 6ths. Liszt then welds this to a transcription of Paganini’s no 6 within the same piece – a rather lugubrious melody with tremolando accompaniment, initially all combined in the pianist’s left hand alone- of course that’s how a violinist has to do it, too.
Liszt chooses the material for transcription carefully and arranges the études in an attractive order. Next up is Paganini’s 17th Caprice, in which Liszt introduces the pianist to interlocking octaves, and an extended octave passage in the middle section alla Paganini, but with a Lisztian counter-melody as accompaniment; Liszt then makes both hands play the octave theme, with the counter melody within. It’s a humorous piece, with an elegant, simple theme at the beginning and end, interspersed with sparkling runs. Evgeny Kissin plays it here as an encore -
Liszt’s No 3, is La Campanella. This is not derived from a caprice, but from the melody opening the third movement of Paganini’s 2nd Violin concerto. A little bell features as part of the orchestra, hence the name; it is heard throughout Liszt’s piano version.
Liszt’s transcription/arrangement is notorious. Transposed, it bristles with sharps: five, (Paganini only asks for two,) and requires accuracy in leaps in both hands, repeated octaves and repeated single notes, plus strength and evenness in the physically weaker RH 4th and 5th fingers. Here is Kissin – a marvel:
at its summit. Wearing short tunics, barefoot, an arm raised in gesture or perhaps holding crotales, they were rediscovered amongst the toppled ruins in 1894 during excavations by a French team of archeologists. Delphi is situated on Mount Parnassus – home of the Muses, the eponymous pianistic destination of Clementi’s Gradus ad Parnassum, and Debussy’s Dr Gradus ad Parnassum; he chose to bring those Danseuses de Delphes to life as the first of his Préludes in 1910, having seen a reproduction of the sculpture at the Louvre in Paris.
