Krisp

Good morning, Henry, First of all, thank you very much for your insightful comment. This text by Jules Laforgue is indeed fascinating. While it may appear abstruse at first glance, it invites the reader to join the poetic “dance” in order to uncover its deeper meanings. To begin with, like much of Laforgue’s work, this text is relatively unknown here in France. As a reminder, Jules Laforgue died in 1886 of pulmonary phthisis, a disease that defined the end of the 19th century and persisted into the next. Frequently referenced in art, it reached its literary zenith in works such as Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain. In this poem, although Laforgue uses certain thematic elements drawn from medical vocabulary, he is not addressing the tuberculosis that would claim his life less than a year later. Instead, he revisits a theme he had explored before: an invocation to the moon, treating it as a silent witness. I previously set another of his poems, Complaint of the Moon in the Provinces, to music, which also centered on this motif. Here, the moon, once confided in for sorrows and heartbreaks in the earlier lament, becomes something much more unsettling: still silent, but now mocking, like stained glass in a church at night—soulless, dead, or languid in the chloroform haze of the clouds. It remains indifferent, even as the poet suffocates—perhaps from illness, love, or solitude. The absurdity of the poet’s situation is stark. His bad romances (béquinades—a now-obsolete French word) provoke derisive laughter, highlighting how his “platonic” (idealized) loves are reduced to nothing more than the trivial musings of an ordinary man. His imagined grandeur is deflated, exposing the ridiculousness of his human condition. This obsession builds into a chant-like rhythm, escalating into a true nightmare. The enigmatic phrase, “I want to gently caress your sad paten, widowed dish of the chef of Saint John the Baptist”, takes center stage. This is where the poem becomes almost proto-expressionist. Mystical imagery permeates the poem, but here it becomes unnerving. The paten refers to the dish that holds the Eucharistic host. In this vision, the moon is transformed into a dish—a plate in the sky—that once received the severed head of Saint John the Baptist. Now, it is an empty vessel, once an instrument of horror, reduced to a pale, lifeless object. At first, I hesitated to set this part of the poem to music due to its strangeness. Similarly, the inclusion of Salve Regina seemed too overtly religious. Yet, it is precisely this disorientation that defines the poem. The saint being invoked is none other than the moon—the “white lady” of folklore, queen of the night, whom he wishes to pierce with his phalènes. This, as you noted, is where the carnal implications are most evident. The phalènes, or moths, symbolize his poetic verses, which he uses to pierce the sanctified face of the moon. Yet, the phonetic similarity to phallus cannot be ignored. This could suggest a symbolic act of violation—taboo and transgressive. In the closing lines, “I want to find a Lied that touches you to make you emigrate to my mouth”, the poet seeks words powerful enough to draw the moon, his beloved, saint, or muse, to him. He desires a Lied—a song, popular or stylized—to achieve this connection. Laforgue, who lived in Germany as a reader for a countess, was undoubtedly familiar with Schubert’s Lieder. For me, the theme resonates with Der Lindenbaum from Winterreise, the epitome of Romanticism. That Lied inspired the musical motif I used here, after de climax. Both poems share a similar springboard: an invocation to nature (the lime tree in one, the moon in the other) as a confidant and source of solace. Laforgue’s melancholy mirrors Schubert’s: the consolation sought is ultimately unattainable. By the poem’s end, the observation is bitter. No rhymes remain, no words suffice—everything has been tried, all in vain. Yet, it is neither tragic nor pathetic, for tragedy is too sublime. Instead, it is simply futile, almost absurd. In my musical setting, I chose to reflect this futility by paring down the music after the preceding deluge of sound. Finally, a word on the poem’s rhythm, which I sought to capture musically. It is a decasyllable—a ten-syllable meter with a feminine rhyme at the end of each line. This form is rare, as more regular, symmetrical meters are usually preferred for their balance, particularly with clear caesurae. Here, however, the rhythm feels obsessive, deliberately strange. Notably, Laforgue’s earlier moon poem (Complaint of the Moon in the Provinces) used strict seven-syllable lines—a metric that hints at unreason. For this setting, I used a 6/4 (or 12/8) time signature to accommodate the ten-syllable lines while emphasizing the rhythmic punctuation of each verse with two beats. The entire piece is driven by an ostinato of eight eighth notes and two quarter notes. This is what I can add to your reading of the poem. Congratulations again on your astute insights and perceptive listening!

Hello dear friends young composers. Little music scribbled at the beginning of the year always on my dear and dear Jules Laforgue, too soon died of phtisia at the age of 25 it seems to me. Always his biting irony. Again, he takes as a witness the moon that never responds, remains cold, like a Rose of the basilica of silence that is the night. In French, the hidden games of meaning are absolutely fascinating, and the metric of the poem itself gives me a feeling of incantation or at least of scansion. I would even say that we touch on certain expressionist images when Laforgue evokes the head of Jean-Baptiste absent from the dish that is the moon! This poet has not been set to music to my knowledge. So I have dared for several years my little experiments by trying to serve him sincerely. I added an English translation in subtitles, but I'm not sure it can be totally respectful of the black magic of this text. Good listening and do not hesitate to criticize!

Oh thanks! Yes, it was a tender break. Thank you very much!

You're absolutely right. I left aside all irony and the squeaks that are familiar to me for this evocation of my father's work. He is a very sweet person, very quiet, who tirelessly travels his country paths with his camera on his shoulder. When he was young, he took a lot of street photos, in Montparnasse, in Paris, in the suburbs, scenes of daily life near where we lived. It was the 50s, 60s, 70s, a time today very distant so much the cities have changed here in France. In the 1970s, in France, the physiognomy of some suburbs was still almost rural, often working-class neighbourhoods, a very popular France, immortalised by the great post-war photographers, humanist and realistic. My father, some of whose photos were used for press publications because he was in an agency, belongs to a generation younger than this current, but his expression was still impregnated with it. Today, of more fragile health, his approach is calm, as I said. Paths, nature, and this small plant world has become the theatre of its colourist, impressionist expression, and its portraits are no longer humans but flowers, leaves, trees. With this in mind when writing my notes, I could not imagine anything other than a lullaby. The Lydian is very soft, very posed to my ears, despite the attraction towards the fifth that adds like a sensitive second in the scale. A doubly sensitive to express sensitive things... That's it, in any case thank you and thank you again for your beautiful comment!

Hello everyone, I hope you are doing well. This simple lullaby on a single chord to illustrate my father's photos. This little thing comes from an improvisation at the beginning. Don't look for more than a contemplative moment in the service of images.

Thank you for your attentive listening. I admit that I have moved on to other occupations since the writing of this piece and you are grateful that you can bring me back a little to the time of this composition. I am very happy that my little harmonic tricks win your support. You must have noticed that when you walk on the edge of the tone, you can get trapped by ease and convention, and soon also make big beginner mistakes that are then understood as writing clumsiness. It is therefore a little challenge to play on these lines while trying not to fall into the traps. There is sometimes some left (you must have heard something that crumples me: on the words "plaquant un dernier accord", I left the delay and the note delayed at the same time, telling myself that I was going to correct this later to make the line clearer. Especially since it is the evocation of the "dernier accord, last chord", so a certain furtive dissonance was my goal, Because this last chord could only be slightly dissonant, but here, I find afterwards that the idea lacks precision of execution and is understood as a clumsiness rather than as a will. That's how it is ; I have to accept to leave failed things according to my own criteria (others will find that the whole thing is failed Haha). You are also right about the possible use of unacorda, which I generally love Because I consider it a very important piano timbre game, especially in chamber music. It is also something that could have been done easily. And there was a card to play just as you emphasize between the sound and the meaning on the cotton in the ears. The reason is very trivial: I don't have a unacorda on my master keyboard. I didn't recorded the piano not on my digital piano (a clavinova) which is to the right of my desk, not very easy, but on the Komplete keyboard that is just under my hands when I am sitting in front of my machines, and there is only one midi pedal for the sostenuto. That's what I can say. And thank you again! Your opinion is precious to me!

Merci !

Well, I'm glad you like it. I know that I can be blamed for redoing post-impressionism or anachronistic romanticism. There would naturally be other ways to musically illustrate these beautiful texts by Jules Laforgue that have accompanied me since I was very young, but hey, I assume at my almost advanced age to be able to do what goes through my head! I sometimes mentioned some reproaches that could be made to me in my youth, where my mentors saw my writing a little as retrograde (they excused me because I was nice anyway haha) But at 54, my old serial masters no longer have too many reproaches to make me, where they are. And since I compose for my simple leisure, I admit that I feel free on YouTube to pass for anachronistic.... In any case, thank you for listening, it makes me very happy!

Hello everyone, Here is my last little composition, this time for piano and singing. Text full of bitterness by Jules Laforgue, whom I love so much, for this very particular language, a mixture of strangeness and almost ridiculous simplicity. Do not hesitate for any remarks or criticisms. I know I'm not very in tune with my time... And that I still cultivate the impressionist nostalgia somewhat... But well... ok.

I also take advantage of this writing break to work on visual projects: photos, videos or drawings for order-made illustrations. This activity also takes me a lot of time, Forces me to meet certain deadlines, and I'm already late... We all have overflowing lives!

Thank you Henry for your attentive listening! It is always appreciable to be heard by so many connoisseurs on this forum and your opinion is a treasure for me! I'm a little paused for the composition because I'm leaving a Verdi production (it's my job as a chorister) and I was a lot on the road and on the move. It will take me a little time to recharge my envy batteries. I don't know if it's identical with you... I sometimes have the impression that the composition phases put my reserves a little flat so I need a break. I will have to find other ideas during the fall. But just talking about it here already makes me want to go back in front of my music paper!

Oh, my mistake. It seems that the "chouette hulotte" is still said differently in English (I don't know either...) The mystery remains!

Hello ! Thank you For this surprisingly attentive reading ! So at 0.43 we have firstly the solo trumpet of the staccato orchestra on C# F# C# In triples Then immediately a response from the solo tenor trombone on C F C In triples too, and the last answer of the motif comes to the cor solo staccato on F# B F#. At the bass the double bass in fifth. Ostinatis in violins 2 altern 1 (Parallel thirds) And flutes too... The "motifs" that you have well identified serve me as building materials. The first this kind of call in the fourth, then the second pattern based on a game of minor third descending and then ascending to the half-tone, various mutations, actually leads to 4:56, but it would be tedious to list all this. (The wolf-owl bravo! It was the little night wink... Haha.. I wasn't sure if anyone heard it)... (In French it's "chouette hulotte" but I prefer the name you give it and that I didn't know)

Bravo! Indeed, this is indeed the case, and moreover this passage that you mention precisely gives the name to my play "the astral tide"... (hantise at 2:52) and it is also about a similar coda in « l’hiver qui vient », for voice and orchestra, composed when i was Young… So I drew on all this without imagining that someone would have the insight to notice it... Congratulations again for your very good musical memory! Thank you in any case for your listening and this enlightened comment!

Hello, Very beautiful music bravissimo. And what a pleasure to hear these singers, They sing exceptionally well. This second version is very successful at the prosody level (and the interpretation even more controlled vocally, and musically. "rejoindre" the DRE is to be placed in the prosody otherwise we have an inelegant contraction. French is not known a priori for its strong tonic accents, but they are present and sometimes surprising, they can give the expressive intention (And often dependent on the meaning we want to put in the sentence we pronounce). But overall here, it's quite well done, so congratulations. We can perfectly understand the text (version 2) in having to read it, which is an excellent thing. Only a few colors of vowels drift slightly but we are used to closing our eyes to these little things... I believe that as such, for example, the French forgive foreign singers singing French much more than they reciprocate! But you know, despite these few observations, I am conquered by such a beautiful piece so well sung! It's beautiful.