Clair de Lune

Prompt: there really isn't one. This is just my way of geeking out.

I'm sure most of you (if anyone is reading this) have heard of the song Clair de Lune by Debussey. I always wanted to listen to it when I first heard the name because, hey, it's my name in there, you know? Well, of course, it was named before me, but that's beside the point.

It's one of the most popular, well-known piano instrumental pieces around. I even heard it being played in the bookstore a couple of weeks ago. It took me a few minutes to figure out what it was, though. I must've been tired, heh.

Anyway, I picked up the sheet music for it again today. It's an absolutely breathtaking song (which is probably the reason why so many people are in love with it), but one that I've never actually learned all the way through. I have started learning it and, with my busy schedule, have left it unfinished for almost an entire year now... until today, at least.

You'd be shocked how much a difference a year makes... well, anyway...

I guess the thing the song reminds me of most is water. The beginning is like floating... like floating on a crystal clear lake with nothing around for miles and miles, the silence only broken by the soft swishing of the ebb and flow of the water around you. I can imagine my fingertips just breaking the surface and watching the silvery ripples flow outwards from the point of contact, making those beautiful little rings that you see in animated movies that shimmer and bounce off one another. I think that's part of why people love it so much, is that the beginning captivates you completely right from the get-go. Truly genius.

Then there are the raindrops. Well, I wouldn't describe them precisely as raindrops. They sound like soft little impacts, more like groups of droplets falling into the water all together, disturbing the surface with their distinct patterns, yet not being invasive. It's very hard to explain, but the part with the octaves is one of my favorite parts of the entire piece, even more so than the rippling, swift and flowing progressions of sixteenth notes that follow. It makes me think of golden and silver light bouncing on a dark background.

Not to say, of course, that the sixteenth notes aren't beautiful. They're very hard to play correctly, bringing out the hidden melody within their flowing harmony, like the strings of a harp constantly strumming, waving back and forth... back and forth... Maybe the reason I instantly think of water when I hear this is because it sounds very reminiscent of a song called Watermark by Enya. That, too, is a beautiful piece (and you should listen to it if you ever get the chance to. Some of her world is simply gorgeous, but it's not everyone's cup of tea. She sings a lot in Latin, which I love.) There's this one part, though... da-da-da (down one tone) da-da-da (down one tone) da-da-da (up one tone) da-da-da daaaa..... I don't know, but that definitely struck me as raindrops falling into a still pool, like when you see those slow-motion videos of droplets of water hitting a stationary (or as stationary as water can be) surface, the backlash diamond droplet flying upwards in a glimmering arch as tiny waves branch outwards.

I just love this piece. I love the entire thing, a true rarity, to be sure. If you've never heard it, you should listen to it. I don't think I do it justice as all, but there you have it. After all, how could I explain in words what is expressed quite intently through the musical genius of another? Sometimes, music just can't be put into words. You have to hear it to believe it.

Here I am, getting philosophical... I think I need sleep before I get even more sappy. This is all I'm going to write for now, except to say that many of Debussey's pieces are phenomenal (such as the Prelude de Pour le Piano) and should be treasured. They're certainly something else.