then we saw the stars again

Bolero, Maurice Ravel.

“Don’t you think this theme has an insistent quality? I’m going to try and repeat it a number of times without any development, gradually increasing the orchestra as best I can.”

Maurice Ravel wrote this to one of his friends in reference to his landmark piece, the Bolero. Composed in 1928, it clearly wasn’t groundbreaking in terms of tonal explorations, and it wasn’t breaking away from the traditional importance of melodic lines found in Western music before the 1900’s. Instead, Ravel used a very simple idea to a very effective end: let’s see how loud an orchestra can go. And what you hear is what you get: an uninterrupted 15-minute crescendo, a constant increase in volume, texture and sound layers, built on the repetition of the same melodic pattern, on a 3-beat rhythm.
And this is where you realise the beauty of Bolero: nothing ever stays the same, as much as surface listening would suggest. A single flute opens the piece, followed by a bassoon in an unusually high register, then a clarinet, and this chain only gets thicker as more instruments are added, even though they may all play the same thing. There is never any stasis in the repetition of the theme, the music can only get louder and more layered. And in truth, the only instrument (and I really admire the performers for that) that shows a constant throughout the piece would be the snare drum, and even there the execution goes from i-need-to-turn-that-up soft to he’s-going-to-break-the-skins loud.
And of course, stick around until the end, and the inevitable climax is even more of a payoff, hearing what (and how long) it took the orchestra (and the listener) to get there.

Similarly, dynamics play such an important part in post-rock that the genre itself has dangerously become close to cliche, when abused and overused. And yet, you listen to Mogwai’s Young Team, you listen to Godspeed’s F#A# and you can’t help but being lifted by this inexorable force, a force that carries the music and the listener through its most subtle nuances and up, all the way to a resolution that threatens the life of your speakers, or a good relationship with your neighbours. Because, let’s face it: you can’t really play post-rock at low volume, can you? The first time I heard “Like Herod” I was terrified by that sudden outburst of sound. And that only got worse after each listen!
(Slight aside: this aspect got a bit lost in the latest Mogwai offerings, and their dynamic range has reduced, which makes you miss those sweeping contrasts found in Young Team or CODY…)

Of course, post-rock is not just about the contrast in dynamics and texture, but that’s the thing that first attracted me to the genre. And I still don’t tire of the good old ’soft/loud’ pattern, when done well.

So, do not adjust your volume controls. For best results, you should stick to the volume you are at while listening to the snare drum intro. And it will get loud. Hope your neighbours are ok with that.

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There is a fantastic short documentary about a rehearsal of Bolero, featuring a young Zubin Mehta conducting the LA Philarmonic. In the following clip you can see the end, the final payoff, and the way it is shot would sit quite nicely in a Kubrick flick, or a David Lynch dream sequence.

The Los Angeles Philarmonic, dir. Zubin Mehta

For their latest album, Mono played a few ‘orchestral’ concerts to celebrate their 10-year anniversary. Reviewers have often noted how Mono are one of the most ‘classical’ bands in the post-rock circuit, and the album closer is reminiscent of the same rhythm pattern used by Ravel (barring the change from 3/4 to 4/4)

Mono, Everlasting Light. Live in NYC

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As usual, pieces here are for illustrative purposes only. If you like what you hear, buy the composer’s records, or go to their gigs and get a t-shirt!