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Debussy Essay

1) Debussy argues that the concept of "taste" in music has been lost, having shifted from nuance and subtlety to arguments and affirmations without elegance. 2) He contrasts composers like Beethoven and Mozart, noting that while Beethoven's genius may have bypassed taste, Mozart added the most subtle taste to equally powerful genius. 3) Debussy warns against writing music that reduces the living radiance of sounds to mathematical operations and systems intended to trap dilettantes.

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15 views

Debussy Essay

1) Debussy argues that the concept of "taste" in music has been lost, having shifted from nuance and subtlety to arguments and affirmations without elegance. 2) He contrasts composers like Beethoven and Mozart, noting that while Beethoven's genius may have bypassed taste, Mozart added the most subtle taste to equally powerful genius. 3) Debussy warns against writing music that reduces the living radiance of sounds to mathematical operations and systems intended to trap dilettantes.

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This is an essay Claude Debussey wrote 103 years ago (nearly to the day!).

I was
first given a copy of it by my first “legit” music theory teacher at the Berklee
College of Music, Matt Marvuglio. (R.I.P) He handed it out at the very first
class and I have found it indispensably instructive ever since. Enjoy!

Claude Debussey – “On Taste”


S.I.M., 15 February, 1913. Reprinted in Monsieur Croche et autres écrits, ed.
Francois Lesure (Paris: Gallimard, 1971) pp.222-25 Translated by S. Blum. 


 In our time, when the sense of “mystery” is gradually disappearing – – while
we’re caught up in attempts to systematically “channel” human beings – -, it was
inevitable that we would simultaneously lose the true meaning of the word “taste”.


 A century ago, to have taste meant nothing more than to support one’s views
in a congenial manner. Today, this word has acquired such an extended reference,
and functions in so many situations, that it amounts to little more than a kind of
argument, a blow from the first in the American style – – a strong affirmation,
without elegance. Following a natural tendency, “taste” – – formerly an indication
of “nuance” and “subtlety” – – now appears in the context of “bad taste”, where
forms and colors engage one another in extraordinary battles…But these reflections
are much too general, since we should speak here only of music – – a sufficiently
arduous undertaking.

 Genius may apparently bypass “taste” – – Beethoven, for example. But one
might contrast Beethoven with Mozart, who adds the most subtle taste to an equally
powerful genius. If we look at the work of J.S. Bach – – the benevolent deity to
whom musicians should pray before settling down to work, to protect themselves from
mediocrity; these countless works which mirror for us the achievement of the past,
from playful arabesques to religious fervor, unsurpassed to this day – – , we would
search in vain for a single error of taste.

 Portia, in “The Merchant Of Venice”, speaks of a music which each man
carries within himself…”Woe to him who hears it not” she adds. Remarkable words,
which should give cause for thought to those who, before listening to the singing
within their souls, concern themselves with picking up the formulas which will best
serve them. Or, with great ingenuity, line up single measures against each other,
sad like little boxes. Music which smells of tables and slippers. This with the
meaning given by mechanics who, trying out a badly assembled machine, say of it,
“That smells of oil.” We should guard against WRITING. The work of moles where
we end up reducing the living radiance of sounds to an operation in which,
painfully, two and two make four. For a long time now, music has experienced what
mathematicians call “the delirium of number”.

 Above all, we should protect ourselves from systems which are nothing but
traps to catch dilettantes.

 There have been, and there still remain – – despite the disorders carried
by “civilization” – – enchanting small peoples who learn music as early as one
learns to breathe. Their conservatory is: the rhythms of the sea, the wind in the
leaves, and the thousand small noises to which they listen attentively, without
studying arbitrary treatises. Their traditions exist only in very ancient songs,
linked to dances, to which each man, across centuries, brings his respective
contribution. Nevertheless, Javanese music follows a counterpoint against which
that of Palestrina looks like child’s play. And if one hears the charm of their
“percussion”, leaving aside European biases, one must admit that ours is nothing
but the barbarous noise of a circus band. 

 The Vietnamese perform a type of embryonic lyric drama, on Chinese models,
in which one recognizes the formula of Wagner Tetralogy, though there are more gods
and fewer stage sets…A furious little clarinet takes the emotions in hand; a tam-
tam gives a shape to terror…nothing more! No special theater, no hidden
orchestra. Nothing but an instinctive need for art, satisfying itself with human
inventiveness; not a trace of bad taste! To imagine that these people have never
thought of seeking their formula from the school of Munich: what are they thinking
about?

 Would it then be the professional musicians who initiate the decay of
civilized countries? Is it possible that the accusation, leveled against the
public, of liking only easy music (bad music) is misdirected?

 Actually, music becomes “difficult” whenever it doesn’t exist, the word
“difficult” being nothing but a screen to conceal its poverty. There is only one
“music”, and it asserts itself its claim to being, whether to takes the rhythm of a
waltz (even in a cafe!) or the imposing framework of a symphony. And why not
admit openly that, in the two cases, good taste will often lie on the side of the
waltz, while the symphony will barely conceal its pretentious piling up of
mediocrity.

 Let’s not insist further on repeating this commonplace, firm and dense like
stupidity: “One must not discuss tastes and colors.” On the contrary, let’s talk
to locate OUR TASTE, not that it’s lost, but we’ve smothered it beneath northern
quilts. It will be our best source of support in the struggle against the
barbarians, who have gotten much worse even since they started to part their hair
in the middle.

 We should uphold the notion that the beauty of a work of art will always
remain mysterious: One can never ascertain precisely “how it is made”. We should
retain, at any price, this magic peculiar to music. In its essence, it is more
disposed to embrace magic than any other art.

 When the god Pan gathered together the seven reeds of his syrinx, at first
he imitated only the long sorrowful tones of the frog, complaining under the
moonbeams. Later, he engaged in battles with the songs of birds. Most likely, it
is from this time that the birds expanded their repertoire.

These are sufficiently sacred beginnings, in which music may well take pride,
retaining something of their mystery…In the name of all the gods, we shouldn’t try
any longer to rid ourselves of it, any more than to explain it.

Embellish it with this subtle attention to “taste” That is the guardian of


The Secret.

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