On Familiarity and Unfamiliarity in Erik Satie’s Air du Grand Prieur from the Sonneries de la Rose+Croix

In the interpretation of a piece of music the consideration of familiarity and unfamiliarity in its passages is essential. In the characteristically unique work of Erik Satie, reflection thereon seems all the more important. Certainly then does this apply to the Air du Grand Prieur, the third and final part of the Sonneries de la Rose+Croix. Written for the occultist Josephín Peladan’s mystical Rosicrucian sect, one might expect abnormalities, but it yet strongly evokes the chants from which European music emerged. What of the music itself, though? How, in its passage, does it convey both unfamiliarity of mysticism and familiarity of age? In order to find an answer, it would appear best to consider the composition chronologically, arranged into five sections to be specified as they appear.

At the opening, the audience is presented with a series of pianissimo harmonies, the movement of which at times both satisfies and defies expectation. For example, there are simple movements by fifths; the fourth and fifth chords struck are C major and F major, as well as altogether unexpected progressions, such as that between E minor and E major. Thus the progression in this way treads the line between the ear’s expectation and that which is unexpected. Furthering this point, there is the matter of the first two Sonneries, which bear an extraordinary similarity to this third one in that they consist of a succession of harmonies, a melody, and those combined. Assuming all are performed together, by the third section the audience should be quite familiar with the nature of the pieces; however, there yet remains the inherent oddity that, despite internal consistency, remains somewhat foreign. This is best exemplified by the irregular metric quality of the work that arises from its lack of measures. Invariably accentuation becomes an interesting question, and sometimes it must defy regularity.

In the second section, consisting of a melody played in both hands an octave apart, this metric abnormality becomes clearer, as the performer is left with a degree of freedom to choose how exactly to accentuate the theme. Instead of measures, notes are grouped for the most part by slurs and by the presence of longer notes to divide the sections of the melody. Satie, then, has outlined the meter by the necessities of expression, rather than by a regular beat, especially when it is noted that these melodic groupings are not the same length. The dynamic change to forte also accentuates a difference from the preceding part. Of course, it is once again the case that not all is foreign, for this bit is not at all unlike the previous Sonneries, especially considering the exclusive use of triplets and quarter notes (sometimes tied) is a quality shared by both the Air du Grand Maitre and the Air du Grand Prieur. Furthermore, this exclusive use of certain rhythmic divisions adds to the consistency of the melodic line, thereby giving the listener the comfort of a clearly defined section, with a recognizable degree of internal regularity. There is one final point of familiarity to note with this section, one that becomes all too clear with the approach of the third, relating to the fact that both the series of harmonies and the melody consist of thirty-four quarter note beats.

This is of course that the harmonies and the melody are written to function together, and the third section does just this. Once again, assuming a full performance of all three Sonneries, this would be perfectly expected; Satie had done just the same thing in the first two. Furthermore, simply by sound, such should be evident to the particularly active listener, or even perhaps subconsciously to the less engaged one. This third section, then, presents no new thematic material, but merely combines all that had been presented thus far in a simple homophony, even maintaining the legato of the melody and the detachment of the accompanying harmonies together. The only immediately identifiable change in expression is the dynamic move to piano. By all accounts, this section exemplifies interior familiarity, except for a minor detail at the conclusion, where instead of continuing on with either the previously written harmony or melody, Satie instead places a new, unexpected C# minor chord followed by an F# major chord, with an appropriate melodic accompaniment. The reason for this is likely that the melodic and harmonic sections do not particularly match at this point in a particularly euphonic way. Also, by repeating this last figure, Satie increases the length of this section by three quarter note beats. Thus in what is an otherwise extraordinarily familiar, albeit new section there is added a slight change to prevent complete repetition and to provide a more interesting transition to yet another repetition.

This repetition consists of basically the previous section played an octave lower, so it is obvious that familiarity shall once more dominate the nature of this section. It even maintains the piano dynamic. In fact, up to this point, this should be the most familiar section yet, for not only have both sections been presented once separately already, but also they have been presented together. There are only two unique points here. The first, the movement down an octave, has been noted. The second is the ending of the section, which should still sound very much like something that has heard before because it follows the harmonic sequence set out at the beginning. While not a precise repetition of its most matching section, it is not at all new, and if familiarity dominates this section, then it without doubt the final section epitomizes it.

To end his Sonneries, Satie chooses to repeat the series of harmonies from the beginning of the Air du Grand Prieur. Indeed, it matches in every note and in every expression. Furthermore, the audience should recall that the first Sonnerie, the Air de l’Ordre, both began and ended with its own chord progression, so even reflecting on the structure should not induce wonder. The only particular oddity here is the fairly abrupt ending, one which is only prepared for by the performer’s interpretation, not by Satie’s direction. Even still, the others ended the same way, so internally this remains not at all strange.

To review the course of the piece, the audience’s expectations were created within, though defied from without. Once the internal tendencies of the music’s structure, none of which are particularly hidden, are learned, all becomes for the most part predictable. It is for this reason that across all three Sonneries as well as simply across the Air du Grand Prieur or either of the others unfamiliarity exists at the start, but slowly dwindles as repetitions and combinations constantly review the material. In combination with the observation that all three are spawned of essentially the same musical idea, it is almost as if Satie meant to create an intimate familiarity with the music, presenting it from multiple angles. In this way, an interesting coexistence between the familiar and the unfamiliar arises, wherein a unique and ethereal sound, though reminiscent of an aged music, develops as something both new and gradually more known from beginning to end. An ancient mysticism is in this way encapsulated.