Blossoms

In a life-long search of the essence of Beauty, I have realized that I am rather searching for the Divine, the Sublime, the Eternal. What is it that sifts the Beautiful music from the music that is not? How, as composers, do we reveal the Sublime? How do we know when we see it? How do we record it?

And that's it. We can't record it. It just happens, and we have to be ready to catch it with our senses, our spirits.

I was in a piano lesson once working on the second movement of Ravel's Sonatine. There is an incredible moment when the first theme returns, blossoming out of the previous key. Here Ravel makes every part of that theme the same, except for the ostinato in the left hand, which continues the Db, Cb, Ab (C#, B, G#) progression from the previous four bars (this is all in the second stanza in the image below).

Below, I would suggest listening to the entire movement for the full effect, but the moment happens between about 1:40-2:00.



It's an incredible few seconds for me. Every single time I play that I am overcome with astonishment, longing, and embracing, like returning home after traveling abroad. What makes this work musically is how Ravel brings that theme back in the home key, and yet still manages to retain that piece of melody from the distant key of a few measures before.

And here's the rub; you'll notice that right before that key change Ravel writes a simple command: Sans ralentir. In English, "Don't you dare slow down." And that goes against all of my musical instinct! The moment is beautiful, let me cherish it, let me savor it, let me ponder it. No! Keep going. We're done here!

And so back in my piano lesson, I stubbornly slowed down anyway. That invited a rebuke from my teacher, "Why in the world would you do that? Ravel explicitly says not to do that." My lame responses were heartfelt, but not thorough. My teacher then revealed what truly makes that moment beautiful, the fact that it's passing. It's effervescent, like a flower blooming. It comes, it's beautiful, and then it's gone.

I have been stunned ever since that lesson a year ago. This book helps with the thought of finding eternity within a single moment, the "always within never" (again with the French!). But I think herein lies the power of human expression, of human discernment of the Sublime, that is, that we are passing away.

Man who is born of woman is few of days and full of trouble. He comes out like a flower and withers; he flees like a shadow and continues not.

This begs our attention. We don't have long to observe the wondrous creation of the world as we know it here, broken as it is. We don't have long to wrestle with the eternal questions, to wrestle with God.

And this is why music is so important to me. Therein we find the Sublime, as in most other disciplines. This is simply the one I've chosen, or perhaps the one chosen for me. And so we keep practicing, keep exploring, keep going, sans ralentir; right now I'm not sure of what fruitful other options we have.