The Sensibility of Maurice Ravel

New Zealand Listener, Volume 32, Issue 816, 18 March 1955, Page 22

The Sensibility of Maurice Ravel

by

ANDRE

BEUCLER

HE recent revival of Bolero by the Marquis de Cuevas Ballet and the complete recording of Daphnis and Chloe which has recently appeared on the market, -have turned the thoughts of Ravel’s friends back once more to those sweet bygone days when the master composed those great works. It will soon be twenty years since he died, and itis hard to realise that such a barrier lies between us and him, for he has remained so sharply present in his music-and in our memory. Daphnis and Chloe, a choreographic symphony in three parts and five themes, was staged by Michel Fokine in 1911. The Bolero dates from 1928, and is closer to us, more popular and more moving, Ravel had been pondering over it two or three years at the time I had the rare good fortune of being introduced to him by one of his best friends. It was one evening when they were going to sup together at a small restaurant in Montmartre, where the creator of Heure Espagnole, a modest man who wanted to be left alone, was known under an assumed name. The friend to whom I owe that marvellous experience was none other than

Leon-Paul Fargue, a militant in music, then in the fullness of his inspiration, and I can still hear him saying: "This Bolero is simply the perpetual movement hidden in music, its rightful place. All it needed was discovering. It was the Christopher Columbus egg of instrumentation. But someone had to think of it. The piece is unique of its kind today. It is a plunge too into the mysterious essence of monotony, an exploration of the merging undercurrents of universal rhythm, the baptism of sound, a force of nature in its primitive state..." He would then take the composer by the arm, beckon to one or two friends whom he deemed worthy of the adventure and pilot us to a night club where just before closing time, when the jazz band had left, Ravel, impassive and smiling, would sit down to the piano and entrance us. Sometimes he would give form to his thoughts and record the moment of inspiration he was livingsearching, starting again and suddenly finding what he wanted, as though he were alone at home; sometimes he would play passages from his Sonatina, a lively, beautiful piece, one of the masterpieces of piano music; or fragments from Miroirs, that captivating suite with its wings and pearls dropping into the dark

clear water that you can actually feel around you in the end, and of which he was so fond. That piece was already twenty years old at the time, and it brought to us evocations, echoes and souvenirs of forgotten enthusiasms. It did, of course, and yet it did not. Ravel, a pupil of Massenet and then of Fauré, is one of those who retain no trace of influences he might have shown and which he only brushed by just closely enough to take that infinitely small, infinitely precious something which had to be preserved. What influences were these? They range from Erik Satie to the beginning of jazz, via the Russian Ballet, symbolisyn and cubism, music hall, modern style, naturalism, the 1900 vogues, languor, subconscious control . . . A man who is interested and sensitive cannot remain impervious to modes and manners. He even showed that he was not averse to the face of fashion provided he found elements of what he liked there. But he always retained his independence. Nothing ever actually took a hold of him. As one of his close friends

in those early days explained, what was new might at times modify the way he wrote but never what he wrote. At that time of night, or rathing morning, Ravel would suddenly stop playing, as though disturbed by some bes i between the time, the place and his presence, or as if he wished to master his inspiration known one instant to him alone. But a kind of shyness, an expression of dissatisfaction almost, prevented him from resuming again forthwith. He.would fold his arms and stay still on the stool. Naturally we could not possibly do other than respect that short spell of meditation. Then he would turn round, restless and concerned, mak+ ing an effort to put on a pleasing and even humorous countenance, and he was never so true to himself, so to speak, as during those moments. Ravel was built on the small side; he was sharp, tense and showed his breeding, but he was merry, saucy, too, and very naive when he wanted, suddenly | stern, reticent, wily, thoughtful and reserved, then open again, hearty and gay. That unforgettable face of his, so straight and honest, was dimpled and yet bony. At times he seemed to be some haughty and distinguished lone figure already departed from this life; at others he was like a mischievous schoolboy who has just thought out the best prank of (continued on next page)

the year. Behind these visages, only possessed by the truly emotional, treasures lay hidden, of extreme warmth of feeling. One it is particularly delightful to find in L’Enfant et les Sortiléges. It was not easy to become a close friend of his and many over hasty admirers gave up the attempt; but once you were, it was for good. Almost immediately one felt the keenest and deepest affection for the man, and when he started to talk and comment freely, you could spend hours'listening to him, for he had that happy, flashing, luminous mind and that gift of observing the lighter side of things, which are only granted to men of pure heart. He was an excellent counsellor, too. A man like Fargue, attracted by shrewdness, consulted him at all times and never forgot to declare in a loud voice (for he too was modest about his feelings) that a musician who had so striven after prefection when composing Valses Nobles et Sentimentales, the Pavane and Le Tombeau de Couperin, must have received his share of supreme lucidity and divine pertinence. Ravel would laugh at this. He knew that his art was a wonderful play of mechanics, a model in arrangement and technical accuracy, down to the smallest parts, but he liked it better when his heart was found, and his gratitude went out spontaneously to anyone who felt stirred above all by his sensibility. Then he would flush: you felt he would do anything to thank you for being moved by his work. The fact that his music derives from that genuine source, explains why he is popular with the general public today and sought after by more select audiences.