Ravel, Canteloube, and the Flute at Dusk — September 29, 2025

This afternoon, I spent some time at Parc René-Lévesque recording my progress on the C-foot flute I acquired this month, playing from memory an excerpt of Maurice Ravel’s Pavane pour une infante défunte. Since I’m only a beginner and started just a month ago, there is still so much to improve. But I’m deeply attached to this instrument — for its beautiful timbre and the textures written for it by so many French Impressionist composers, especially Ravel — not to mention its portability and accessibility.

On my way back, I kept thinking about the flute solos in L’Indifférent from Shéhérazade and in the second movement of the Piano Concerto in G, which are incredibly beautiful. I also borrowed the flute arrangement of Ma mère l’Oye, which promises to be wonderful. And I love how, in orchestration, the flute generally occupies the highest voice in the woodwind section, often leading, and doesn’t need to be transposed. Honestly, flutes, harps, and piano are among my favorite instruments — horns too, especially when muted, and violins with pizzicato… I often used these instruments in my compositions when scoring films with MIDI software.

At the same time, I am currently reading Jean-Bernard Cahours d’Aspry’s book on Joseph Canteloube, because I’ve always had a fondness for Occitan landscape folksongs and for Canteloube’s interest in musical regionalism, as well as his wonderful arrangements of pastoral melodies. A phrase that stayed with me today is a piece of advice from Claude Debussy in Monsieur Croche, antidilettante (La Revue blanche, 1901): “Do not listen to anyone’s advice, except the sound of the passing wind, which tells us the story of the world.” This advice was not directed at Canteloube, but reflects Debussy’s philosophy of intuitive listening to music and nature. There is also Déodat de Séverac (whom I’ve just discovered — what a revelation!) who encouraged his colleagues to gather in calm and peaceful places where there is nothing but unadorned nature. That resonates deeply with me.

To me, the tranquility of Parc René-Lévesque at dusk is unmatched: the distant church bells and the serenity of nature inspire me enormously, far from the crowds.