Debussy: Première Rhapsodie
As part of his role as conseil supérieur of the Paris Conservatory, Debussy was charged with writing two new pieces for the school’s annual Concours in 1910; the result was the whimsical miniature Petit Pièce for the sight-reading round and the otherworldly Première Rhapsodie for the prepared round. Initially, Debussy was less than enthusiastic about hearing the clarinet students all attempt his demanding new works, but in the end was especially pleased by the way the Rhapsodie turned out and how it was received by his fellow judges. He returned to the piece the following summer when he fashioned the piano part into a lush, vividly colorful orchestration, and ultimately declared the work “one of the most pleasing [he had] ever written.”
Debussy marks the Rhapsodie “rêveusement lent” (dreamily slow), and so the piano paints the opening dreamscape with three sparse droplets of octave F’s and a triplet that drips into the clarinet’s entrance. The clarinet murmurs under its breath three evaporative notes of its own, simple and directionless, politely vanishing in time for the piano to repeat itself. Then, the same: drops of F, the clarinet whispers, but isn’t finished. With a flurry of notes and a crescendo it spills over into a splash of color — sunburst. The clarinet’s faux-improvisatory soliloquy that follows recycles its opening three notes, then raises them by a step before finally yielding to the piano, and the piece seems to begin anew. The piano lays a carpet of luxuriant harmony and gently lapping syncopations so that when the clarinet croons its faraway melody (starting with its seminal three-note motive in reverse order), it emanates from deep within the wash of piano, “soft and penetrating.”
Despite its serene opening, the mercurial Rhapsodie will soon spring to life, and the striking shifts between animated outbursts and time-stopping moments of suspended reality highlight Debussy’s masterful manipulation of texture and mood. It is a testament to Debussy’s imaginative musical language that this piece still sounds as fresh as ever today, 100 years after his death.
© Graeme Steele Johnson for the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival
As part of his role as conseil supérieur of the Paris Conservatory, Debussy was charged with writing two new pieces for the school’s annual Concours in 1910; the result was the whimsical miniature Petit Pièce for the sight-reading round and the otherworldly Première Rhapsodie for the prepared round. Initially, Debussy was less than enthusiastic about hearing the clarinet students all attempt his demanding new works, but in the end was especially pleased by the way the Rhapsodie turned out and how it was received by his fellow judges. He returned to the piece the following summer when he fashioned the piano part into a lush, vividly colorful orchestration, and ultimately declared the work “one of the most pleasing [he had] ever written.”
Debussy marks the Rhapsodie “rêveusement lent” (dreamily slow), and so the piano paints the opening dreamscape with three sparse droplets of octave F’s and a triplet that drips into the clarinet’s entrance. The clarinet murmurs under its breath three evaporative notes of its own, simple and directionless, politely vanishing in time for the piano to repeat itself. Then, the same: drops of F, the clarinet whispers, but isn’t finished. With a flurry of notes and a crescendo it spills over into a splash of color — sunburst. The clarinet’s faux-improvisatory soliloquy that follows recycles its opening three notes, then raises them by a step before finally yielding to the piano, and the piece seems to begin anew. The piano lays a carpet of luxuriant harmony and gently lapping syncopations so that when the clarinet croons its faraway melody (starting with its seminal three-note motive in reverse order), it emanates from deep within the wash of piano, “soft and penetrating.”
Despite its serene opening, the mercurial Rhapsodie will soon spring to life, and the striking shifts between animated outbursts and time-stopping moments of suspended reality highlight Debussy’s masterful manipulation of texture and mood. It is a testament to Debussy’s imaginative musical language that this piece still sounds as fresh as ever today, 100 years after his death.
© Graeme Steele Johnson for the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival