Here's what I put in my
programme notes when I performed this little
ditty in May of 2004:
Debussy wrote the
Preludes later in his life (
pub. 1910) and they display a correspondingly more mature approach to
composition – each one bears the hallmarks of his unique style and declares its individual
identity at its start. In the case of this particular prelude, this is done through the opening melody, though the prelude’s
climax (after the build-up of rising
pentatonic scales) is perhaps its most memorable moment. The Preludes are more
abstract than the depictions found in the
Images, and though each numbered prelude has a
subtitle placed at the end of it, it is intended to be less of a
representation than a
guide for the performer and listener.
Anyway, enough of that
clinical bull. This is piece, no. 8 in
Debussy's first book of
preludes, is, at present, the only one I can play, although I have been taking steps to improve my
sight-reading. The subtitle translates as 'the girl with the flaxen hair' (though I thought 'de lin' meant 'woolen'). It is neither
technically nor
rhythmically difficult. It is, however, deeply
expressive and
evocative of a kind of
whistful and
melancholy nostalgia and memories of a former love. The texture seems to alternate between
sonorous chords and
isolated one-line tunes, though, as I've written above, the climax comes after progressively louder repetitions of a rising
pentatonic scale and culminates in an almost-tear-jerking series of chords.... man, it's amazing how lifeless it's possible to make it sound... I guess that's what
A-level music does to you.
This piece is short, barely two minutes, but its
emotional content is very rich. It's a
backwards glance to you from a
beautiful girl you once knew. It's the memory of a long-forgotten
childhood home out in the country, among the waving fields. It is a great example of what the
piano can do.