Claude Debussy’s Prélude à l’Après-Midi d’un Faune (1894)

When I was a boy I got some piano lessons from my grand­ma, whose creaky piano had been a fea­ture of her back room for as long as I could remem­ber, and although my progress was lim­it­ed (and per­ma­nent­ly arrest­ed at age thir­teen when I dis­cov­ered the gui­tar), I retain some vivid mem­o­ries: my grand­ma singing the music hall favourite Two Love­ly Black Eyes in her trade­mark falset­to, as well as Edel­weiss from The Sound Of Music and the mil­i­tary march song Men Of Harlech (after which, for a peri­od, she would address me as Dai Bach, or ‘lit­tle David’ in Welsh, as if recall­ing famil­ial roots that nev­er exist­ed). I would faith­ful­ly learn these songs on the piano, whilst leav­ing the unique singing to her.

Anoth­er piece of music I recall prac­tis­ing in those years was Claude Debussy’s Clair De Lune. No doubt every erst­while piano stu­dent does. It’s a haunt­ing and love­ly tune, for sure, and lat­er I was to learn that Debussy was a ver­i­ta­ble mas­ter of the haunt­ing and love­ly tune. He had an aston­ish­ing abil­i­ty to trans­late the nat­ur­al world into sound for orches­tral and solo piano music. Lis­ten to La Mer, for exam­ple, one of many pieces Debussy wrote about water: it’s easy to dis­cern the ‘sound’ of the play of light on water. The evoca­tive musi­cal imagery cap­tured so clev­er­ly in such com­po­si­tions as Rêver­ie, Images, Préludes, Études and Noc­turnes led him to be dubbed the first Impres­sion­ist com­pos­er, the musi­cal equiv­a­lent of Mon­et, Cézanne and Renoir (he was none too hap­py with the term by all accounts, but I’d have tak­en it).

My favourite evo­ca­tion, though, as a fan of the pas­toral and bucol­ic, is Prélude à l’Après-Midi d’un Faune. Based on Stéphane Mallarmé’s sym­bol­ist poem of the same name, the Prélude con­jures up a dream-like world of idyl­lic wood­land thick with sum­mer haze, in which sprawls a lethar­gic faun, wak­ing from rever­ie. If you don’t know it from its title, you’ll know it when you hear it from the excerpt below (it’s been used all over the shop). Oh, to be a faun in a mytho­log­i­cal Greek sum­mer land­scape! Beats work­ing…

Claude Debussy

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