Mysterious and enchanting, Spain has always fascinated French composer Maurice Ravel. In his work he repeatedly turned to Spanish themes. The reasons were twofold: on the one hand, it was the homeland of his mother, who knew and loved the musical folklore of her country well and did not miss an opportunity to tell her son about the memories of her youthful years spent in Madrid; and on the other, the encounters with Spanish musicians living in Paris. Although their work lied on a different plane from Ravel’s, they inspired him and helped him to get closer to the source. The violinist Hélène Jourdan-Morange, a close friend of the composer, recalls that he often said: ‘Spain is my second musical homeland’. And indeed – Spain accompanied him from the Habanera, included in his early piano cycle for 2 pianos, Aural Landscapes, to the Three Songs of Don Quixote, with which he ended his compositional career. This first Spanish experience for him was followed by Alborada del gracioso and a piece in the form of a habanera, not to mention the great musical canvas, the comic opera Spanish Hour, written in 1907. All this led directly to the composer’s symphonic development of Spanish themes.
At the time he composed his opera The Spanish Hour, Ravel was also conceiving the Rapsodie espagnole. His original intention was for it to be for two pianos, but he then decided that it would be better to resort to orchestral sonorities. The Rhapsody is in four movements: to the three movements written in this period – Prelude to the Night, Malagenia and Feria – Ravel added the Habanera, written 12 years earlier, which became the third movement.
The first performance of the new work was on 15 March 1908 in Paris, conducted by Edouard Colon. The success was so great that the Malagena had to be played as an encore. In his article on the concerto, the Spanish composer Manuel de Falla wrote: “The music of the Rhapsody strikes with its truly Spanish character, which, contrary to what Rimsky-Korsakov does in his Capriccio, is achieved not by the simple use of folk material (with the exception perhaps of the ” Feria“), but by the free use of essential rhythmic, melodic and ornamental features of our music”.
Rapsodie Espagnole begins with ‘Prelude to the Night’, a picture of a southern nightscape. The sophisticated orchestral sonorities evoke images of a mysterious night filled with amorous longings. The motif of four descending tones is heard continuously against the quiet tremolo of the violins. It takes place first in the violins and violas, then moves into the oboe, English horn, flute and celesta. The delicate orchestral colours, and the melodic, rhythmic and harmonic variability paint an exquisite impressionistic picture. Two clarinets in octave enter with a sad melancholy lilt which is replaced by a dance motif, then a new cadenza enters – this time in bassoons which are accompanied by quiet murmurs and vague echoes of the dance , fragments of the lilt blending with the overall sonority. The movement ends with the return of the descending motif of night.
The second movement, Malagenia, is a love song-dance, one of the most common in Andalusia. Here the colourful dance scene is exquisite, imbued with true Spanish spirit. It begins with a short relief theme, consisting of three bars, played in cello and double bass. Its pizzicato is mysterious, even disturbing. The theme is repeated, whimsically embellished. The new, propulsive theme, played by trumpet with mute, is dreamily repeated by the violins and conjures up the notion of the appearance of soloist-dancers, a cavalier and a lady. The increasingly animated dance is suddenly interrupted by the monologue of an English horn. Urgent, full of passionate exuberance, the descending motif from the first movement (celesta, solo violins, viola and cello with mute) suddenly rushes into the closing cadenza. The dance with which Malagenia ends returns immediately.
The poetic Habanera – the third movement – fascinates us with its poignancy, its rhythm and its nostalgic imagery. According to Alfred Cortot, ‘the loveliness of the rich and precise orchestration gives it timbral richness and picturesqueness’. Almost throughout the Habanera the same tone is heard, repeated in an unvarying rhythm. It is something of a core around which short motifs curve, exquisite harmonies full of languid bliss. The dance melodies seem to drift in from afar and disappear again, dressed in colourful, original orchestral clothing. Individual short descending intonations, contradicting the general ascending movement of the melodies, add a particularly lyrical and dramatic tension to the music. The short bursts of the violins evoke associations with violent dance movements (the habanera is danced with the whole body and especially with the arms flying up like birds’).
The final movement, Feria, is a vivid image of the folk festival. One can hear the whistling of flutes, the rumble of small drums, the characteristic click of castanets, the tinkling of guitars imitated by the strings. The jota unfolds: starting with the flute, its theme gradually takes over the whole orchestra. One can hear the original motifs of the most vivid Spanish folk dance, familiar from Glinka’s Jota of Aragon. Motifs from the earlier movements of the Rhapsody also appear. After the exciting tutti there is a sudden drop. Against a background of subtle ‘sighs’ on low strings, the English horn improvisation sounds, as in the second movement. Motifs reminiscent of the Prelude to the Night , lead to the return of the original section. The jota unfolds more and more fervently, ending with a dazzling swirl.