Claude Debussy
A French “Impressionist”
Today
I am observing the 150th birthday of a famous and remarkable
innovator to whom so many twentieth century musicians and composers are
indebted. I doubt if many of you reading
are very familiar with his name, some perhaps not at all. Claude Debussy was born on August 22, 1862
and over the fifty-four years of his life (he died in 1918) he introduced a
style of classical composition that impacted upon the shape of Modernist orchestral
classics in the decades that followed and even the work of pop musicians. Though he himself did not use the term in
reference to his own work, his along with that of other French music masters
influenced by him acquired the designation Impressionist.
Impressionist
art on canvas put in its appearance during Debussy’s life. The labors of such portraitists as Claude
Monet and Vincent van Gogh come immediately to mind. We are treated to only sketchy, suggestive
glimpses of the subject, as opposed to classical works that strive for a graphic
likeness. It is an attempt to tell how
the subject feels to the artist, and it calls upon viewers to fill in the
details, using their own imagination and emotions. Short, broken brushstrokes are employed,
creating shimmering colors and shaded effects – this instead of attempting the
ideally imagined scene or its Romanticized heightening.
Many
have heard in the sounds Debussy created the musical equivalent to an
Impressionist painting. (Maurice Ravel
was a contemporary of his who composed in like vein.) Short strokes of sound,
sometimes with barely an echo of a melody, rather a wispy, loosely configured
construct, not a clearly delineated series of notes with which you could hum
along! The music is discursive, rambling,
volatile, disjointed. It sounds rather
spontaneous, even if it is anything but that from the musician’s point of
view. What other well known cult of
musical expression could be so described?
Nothing less than jazz itself! It
is no surprise that the jazz era followed right on the heels of Debussy’s and
Ravel’s lives. That is not to say that either of them wrote jazz; they did
not. Their work simply inspired free
form and exploration. And that is not to
say that the Impressionists never used melody.
Among Debussy’s masterpieces are the ever so popular “Claire de Lune”
and “The Girl with the Flaxen Hair,” both notable exceptions; they are very
melodic in texture. There is even a hint
of melody in “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun,” another of his works that is
often played. But at least 95% of his
compositions are on this order.
My
favorite of Debussy’s Impressionist works is “La Mer (The Sea.)” At anywhere from 23 to 25 minutes in play
time, it is made up of what many musical scholars have called “tactile
sensations.” There is no real resolution
of chords in it nor is there anything that could reasonably be called
development of ideas. Those “tactile
sensations” in his work have replaced ideas.
He does not require the ocean’s obeisance to the music, but just the
opposite; he makes the music subservient to the ocean. He gives us a series of impressions of the
sea, in which we do not hear the sound of waves per se, but in which we are
coaxed into feeling them. The music does
not lord it over the sea with some lush theme, as in a movie score. He suggests the rhythm of the sea; he plays
as the sea plays, on the sea’s terms. As
one author has put it, “the images are implied rather than specific.”
The
only feature “La Mer” holds in common with tradition is the three-movement
format. In the first movement the mood
is wondrous and mysterious. A pleasant
cruise over that sea is in progress. For
the most part all is peaceful, although there is an overtone of danger. In the last minute of it the sea’s majesty is
saluted with a lightweight fanfare.
In
the second movement shimmering strings tell us that life on the sea is
asserting itself – maybe ships being navigated or dolphins at play or divers
plumbing the depths. The waves get a
little stronger, signaling perhaps that vigilance is being demanded of the
living creatures before this restless and unpredictable colossus of water.
The
third movement introduces a note of distress, something stalking and
threatening! A leviathan or a predator
or perhaps a storm! By the end, the sea
has become a brawling force, the water crashing against the shore. The giant has at last asserted its
sovereignty.
A
constant restlessness pervades the work.
It never settles down. In the
absence of melody the orchestra churns and surges and drifts and quivers and
shudders and agitates and boils. This is
a giant that never quite sleeps. Yes,
the style is something to get used to.
Our rhetorical sensibilities have a hard time with it. But I invite you who have a nose for exciting
and exhilarating musical sounds to try it out.
It is the perfect introduction to French Musical Impressionism. Careful listening may allow you to catch the
drift (so to speak, no pun intended) and go with it. It mesmerizes me, if I choose carefully the
time to listen to it.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com
I welcome feedback. Direct it to bobracine@verizon.net
