Composers › Maurice Ravel › Programme note
Cinq mélodies populaires grecques (1904-6)
Gerald Larner wrote 2 versions of differing length — choose one below.
Chanson de la mariée
Là-bas vers l’église
Quel galant m’est comparable
Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques
Tout gai!
Ravel’s Cinq mélodies populaires grecques developed from a request to supply examples of Greek folk song that could be sung with piano accompaniment to illustrate a lecture to be given by Pierre Aubry in 1904. Ravel’s approach to the folk material – selected and translated by M.D. Calvocoressi, who was of Greek descent – was essentially modest. Far from glamorising the originals, he presents them as they are, adding only a minimal piano part to the vocal line and restricting the harmonies to those suggested by the modal nature of the song itself.
The impulsive Chanson de la mariée is accompanied by the same rhythmic figuration in the same sparse, mandolin-like texture almost throughout. On a hint from the original song, Ravel’s setting of Là-bas vers l’église sways sadly between duple-time and triple-time, the piano part again suggesting some kind of plucked string instrument. In Quel galant m’est comparable Ravel allows himself a cheerful little bagpipe interlude and postlude, perhaps as an ironic comment on the attitude of the young man strutting his stuff. Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques is contrastingly sentimental and inspires a correspondingly sympathetic treatment: Ravel’s setting not only reflects its metric freedom but also picks up the decorative cadence figure of the shamelessly adoring vocal line. But what else does a girl have to think about when gathering lentisk all day? The most developed of the five songs is followed by the shortest and, given the faintly Spanish guitar figuration in the left hand of Ravel’s piano part, the least Greek-sounding song in the set.
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Mélodies pop greques/w268.rtf”
Chanson de la mariée
Là-bas vers l’église
Quel galant m’est comparable
Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques
Tout gai!
Ravel had shown no sign of interest in Greek folk song - or, indeed, any folk song outside Spain and the Basque country - until he was called on to do an emergency job in that area of ethnomusicology in 1904. Pierre Aubry was giving a lecture on Greek folk song and was in urgent need of examples that could be sung, with piano accompaniment, to illustrate what he was talking about. A mutual friend, M.D. Calvocoressi, who was of Greek descent, found five choice examples and Ravel supplied the accompaniments in a mere thirty-six hours. Impressed by this “extraordinary feat,” Calvocoressi produced three more Greek folk songs and commissioned Ravel to arrange these as well. The new collection, selected from eight arrangements in all, was first performed by Marguerite Barbaïan and published as Cinq mélodies populaires grecques in Calvocoressi’s French translations in 1906.
Ravel’s approach to his task was essentially modest. Far from glamorising the folk originals - as Canteloube was to glamorize the Chants d’Auvergne twenty years later - he presents them as they are, adding only a minimal piano part to the vocal line and restricting the harmonies to those suggested by the modal nature of the song itself. The impulsive Chanson de la mariée (a song addressed to the bride rather than sung by her) is accompanied by the same rhythmic figuration in the same sparse, mandolin-like texture almost throughout. On a hint from the original song, Ravel’s setting of Là-bas vers l’église sways sadly between duple-time and triple-time, the piano part again suggesting some kind of plucked string instrument.
In Quel galant m’est comparable - with Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques one of the two items surviving from the 1904 lecture programme - Ravel allows himself a cheerful little bagpipe interlude and postlude, perhaps as an ironic comment on the attitude of the young man strutting his stuff. The other folk song chosen for the 1904 lecture is contrastingly sentimental and inspires a correspondingly sympathetic treatment. Ravel’s setting not only reflects its metric freedom but also picks up the decorative cadence figure of the shamelessly adoring vocal line. But what else does a girl have to think about when gathering lentisk all day? The most developed of the five songs is followed by the shortest, the gayest (in the old-fashioned sense of the word) and, given the faintly Spanish guitar figuration in the left hand of Ravel’s piano part, the least Greek.
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Mélodies pop greques/w408”