Deeply moving music sometimes tells a harrowing narrative, has a long backstory, speaks from the depths of depression, or is woven with deep philosophical thought. But sometimes the best stuff requires no explanation – like the haunting Valse Triste. Thank you, Jean Sibelius. Why speak words when you can communicate like this?

Actually, that title is completely wrong. If you don’t have solid rhythm, you’ll never dance this waltz.

Nearly all music (seriously – I mean like 99% or more) is in one of a couple meters. We divide them into a few categories: duple vs. triple; simple vs. compound. Duple means there are 2 (or 4) beats per measure. Triple means there are 3 (I bet you guess that already, though.) Simple means you can divide each beat into 2 smaller beats (twinkle, twinkle, little star); compound means you can divide each beat into 3 smaller beats (row, row, row your boat). You can have simple or compound duple meter (2/4 or 6/8 – 2 beats per measure, and each beat can be divided into 2 or 3 smaller beats); you can have simple or compound triple meter (3/4 or 9/8 – 3 beats per measure, and each beat can be divided into 2 or 3 smaller beats).

Confused? Don’t worry. The important thing is that we are by no means limited to using only these meters, despite the fact that they dominate the music we hear. Write something in a different meter – say, 5/4, 7/4, 11/8 – and your piece will have either a rhythmic edge that excites people, or a disorganized pulse which only confuses people. Enter Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, arguably the smoothest crafter of melody to have ever walked the earth. This “Waltz” from his Sixth Symphony is in 5/4 time, but flows so smoothly that you wouldn’t know it’s in a quintuple meter unless you tried to dance to the music. It’s a standard form for a dance: trio – there’s an A section with a sweeping cello melody, followed by a B section marked by a timpani pulse, then a return to the A material.

Maurice Ravel wrote “La Valse” as a commission by the famous ballet choreographer, Sergei Diaghilev (who also commissioned the Rite of Spring, and many other famous early 20th century pieces.) Diaghilev rejected the music, saying “It’s a masterpiece, but it’s not a ballet. It’s the portrait of a ballet.”

Indeed it is a masterpiece. There’s plenty of clichéd waltz material here, but it’s presented as a parody. It doesn’t play like the countless standard 18th century European waltzes. It’s more like a drunken dream about going to a posh party and getting swept up in the music and dancing. Imagine approaching a large European manor home. You can hear the distant music inside, you see the fancy dresses and carefree partygoers. You enter the home and are overwhelmed by the music and the rhythm. You dance and dance, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes with your lover, sometimes by yourself. Eventually the champagne kicks in, and everybody starts getting wild and out of control. The music, and the party, end abruptly and you are thrown out the front door. 9/10 would waltz again.

A piece of music, written about a piece of music? That’s sooooo meta …