Now it’s 3 AM here in East Java. I can’t sleep, so I’m looking for a piece, I want it to be not too long but not too short, to help me wind down. I ended up with Maurice Ravel’s String Quartet in F Major. Let’s listen together, if you’d like, using my listener’s log down below.
Context
Ravel wrote this when he was 28 (gosh, I wish I can do something like this when I turn 28). He dedicated this String Quartet to his teacher at the Paris Conservatoire, the great composer Gabriel Fauré. However, in a surprising and ironic twist, Fauré himself was not a fan of this piece, being particularly critical of the short, energetic final movement which he found “stunted” and unbalanced. This initial disapproval from his own mentor didn’t matter in the long run, as the quartet quickly became recognized as a true masterpiece and is now considered one of the best of the entire chamber music repertoire.
Experience
Movement I
There’s this immediate impression of enlightenment while still yearning. It’s an eerie combination, the music feels resolved and calm, but not done yet. The harmony calms me down, but the main melody shows that there’s still progress, a sense of searching. This is a classic sonata form, like a conversation between two ideas: the blissful, calm primary theme and a more restless, searching secondary theme. Every so often, an occasional tremolo or a dissonant chord appears suddenly, as if telling me to “wake up.” These moments create a wonderful tension that makes the release back into the blissful melody feel even more satisfying. Wow.
Movement II
The second movement maintains tension right from the start with the constant plucking of the strings, a technique called pizzicato. There’s a certain theme played with the bows that gives the feeling of being “epic” and deep. Then, a playful theme enters that sounds a bit like a Chinese scale. I learned this is a pentatonic scale, which gives it that unique, open sound.
Suddenly, the entire mood changes. This is a classic Scherzo and Trio structure, where the piece shifts into a slower, more lyrical Trio section. It becomes haunting and ghostly, making me feel a longing sadness, like a slow heartbreak. The violist is likely playing very near the bridge to get that glassy, hollow sound, a technique called sul ponticello. Then, the pizzicato returns, this time accompanied by a beautiful tremolo, before the “epic” theme comes back. It feels like it’s taking me to sleep and into a spiraling dream when the volume swells back and forth, from quiet to loud. Then it abruptly stops, waking us up and ending the movement with a final chord of pizzicatos. Shocking!
Movement III
The third movement starts slowly, with no flashy melodies. The musicians are using mutes (con sordino) on their instruments, which creates a hushed, lonely sound. The phrasing again feels like it’s searching and full of unrest, which comes from Ravel’s use of harmonic ambiguity (he avoids giving us an easy resolution almost like Tchaikovsky). But occasionally, he takes us to a small window of peace.
In the middle part, the tension builds and it feels like the melody will finally resolve! Oh wait, no. It moves again dissonantly, especially in the cello. Wow. Just wow. Then, it shifts again, and all four instruments play together gloriously in the movement’s powerful climax. It’s like they’re rising from the dead. Afterward, the music descends from that glory, as if losing hope, but it ends the movement with a feeling of finally coming back home.
Movement IV
The fourth movement shocks me with its sudden, almost violent playing—a total contrast to the quiet end of the third movement. It’s the chaos of the 5/8 time signature. But slowly and surely, it begins to transform. There are small hints of that “coming home” feeling from the first movement. This is a technique called cyclical form, and the theme from the beginning struggles to reveal itself from the fog. It appears and is shoved back, again and again. It gets very tense and more complex. It makes me wonder, will it win over the chaos?
The tension is finally released in a sudden ascent. It ends so fast with a final chord. It’s theoretically resolved, but it left me hanging and still wondering. My feeling is that it’s like looking at a firework, but not a glorious display. It’s just a single one that ascends to the sky and explodes, a small, brilliant explosion. This is the quartet’s virtuosic coda, a final burst of energy that ends the whole journey.
The Final Verdict
The most memorable thing for me is its tension between the tension and resolution, I love how Ravel wrote it playfully but still maintain its seriousness. Would totally recommend this to anyone.
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