Nothing is quite as inspiring as a dirty piece of poetry.
Well, that’s how it all began. Stéphane Mallarmé wrote a sexy poem called “The Afternoon of a Faun“, in which a faun dreamily describes some intimate experiences he had with some nymphs that morning. The poem is highly effective at creating an erotic mood, and is considered one of the finest ever written in French. Enter Claude Debussy, who found the poem and set it to music as a “tone poem“. To be clear, he did not set the text of Mallarme’s poem to be sung by a singer or choir; instead, instruments alone were used to paint the evocative mood with erotic, chromatic melody and lush harmony that was truly groundbreaking when it was written. Mallarme at first was worried that the natural “music” of the poetry would be destroyed by a composer’s music. Debussy invited him to premiere; Mallarme’s fears were assuaged, and he wrote the composer a nice letter praising the piece. Later, one of the most influential ballet dancers of the 20th century, Vaslav Nijinsky, would create a ballet using the music.
This goes to show that when powerful minds are at work, even a lazy afternoon can change the world.
It’s easy to think of a composer writing a piece as a romantic gift to a potential lover. Wow, lucky guy/girl, we think. But what about when a composer writes a masterpiece as a friendly gift to a 6 & 7 year old girl & boy? Bah, ungrateful little brats!
I’m kidding, of course. But still, we can be sure that this young pair had no idea of the honor bestowed upon them when Maurice Ravel wrote his Mother Goose Suite as a present for them. Though the original composition was for piano, within a year Ravel had expanded the work into a full ballet and orchestrated it. It has since become a beloved classic of “children’s’ music” (that is to say, music for all ages). The suite includes tells some common fairy tales like Sleeping Beauty, Tom Thumb, Little Ugly, and Beauty and the Beast. It ends with this gorgeous pastorale, The Fairy Garden, which doesn’t tell any specific story, but instead captures the simple rapture of children listening to a good tale.
If you’ve ever seen a “lead sheet“, then you’re already halfway to understanding basso continuo (or BC.) A modern lead sheet displays the melody (and words) of a song, with the chords listed above the melody. The bass, guitar, and keyboard instruments play the printed chords while a voice or melodic instrument plays the melody. Rewind 250 years. Nearly every composition that wasn’t a solo keyboard work had a basso continuo part. They all read the same piece of a music – a bassline with a series of numbers which indicted the chords to be played. This part was played by the bass instruments (cello, double bass, bassoon) as well as the instruments capable of playing chords: the harpsichord, organ, lute, and … the Theorbo!
The Theorbo is a guitar on steroids. Put away your six-string – this badboy has 14-19 strings (and unlike the 12-string guitar, each of the 14 strings is tuned to a completely different note – no doubling.) This selection from a dance suite by Robert de Visée (court lutist for Louis XIV) takes the theorbo out of its basso continuo role and lets you hear its dulcet tones in a solo performance.
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