Nightcap with Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat Major
The Backstory
Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9 No. 2
I'm Frédéric Chopin, and I'd like to tell you the backstory of my Nocturne in E flat major. You'll find out how this gentle piece grew out of my first published set of nocturnes, and why it became the one people love most. Once you've read it, test yourself on the Trainer , where my fellow composers and I teach you to recognize our pieces the moment you hear them.
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The Middle Child Speaks Up
I wrote this nocturne as the second of three that belong together, so it sits right in the middle like the filling of a sandwich. The first is in B-flat minor and marked Larghetto, while the third is in B major and marked Allegretto. Mine is the one in a warm, open major key, standing between them. If the three were siblings, this would be the calm one who somehow ends up the most remembered.My First Time in Print
This set was the first batch of nocturnes I ever had published. Putting out your first set of anything is a nervous business, because suddenly everyone gets to hear what you can do. A nocturne turned out to be a gentle way to introduce myself, since it asks for a hush rather than for fireworks. Looking back, I'm glad the first thing I offered was a song and not a show-off piece.A Date With Some Fuzzy Edges
If you ask me exactly when I wrote it, the honest answer is that the sources disagree, with guesses ranging from 1830 to 1832. I was born in 1810, so the story goes that I was about twenty at the time. Twenty feels right to me for a piece that sounds so calm and sure of itself. Nobody has pinned it down any further, and I've made my peace with that.Borrowing Sugar From John Field
I owe a debt to John Field, who wrote nocturnes before I did. His were simpler than much of what came later, and this piece is the closest relative of those plain, tuneful pieces. The idea is a melody that sings on top while the piano keeps quiet company underneath. I kept that idea and gave it a tune of my own.The Tune Keeps Coming Home
If you like a little structure, the piece is built in rounded binary form, which sounds grander than it really is. It goes A, A, B, A, B, A, so the main tune and the contrasting section take turns. It's a bit like a friend who keeps leaving the room and coming back to say hello again. Then a coda rounds everything off, like a few last words at the front door.Short and Sweet
Of the three nocturnes in the set, this is the shortest, with only 34 bars. That isn't much for a piece that has stayed with people for so long. I never believed a good tune needed padding to be memorable. Everything in it has a job to do, and nothing hangs around waiting for applause.Dedicated to Madame Pleyel, Whichever One
I dedicated the set to Madame Pleyel, which was my way of tipping my hat on the very first page. Sources can't agree whether she was Marie or Camille, so I'll leave you to pick the one you like best. The Leipzig publisher Kistner brought out an edition in 1833, though one source claims it came a year earlier. Either way, the music was out in the world, and it didn't take long for people to start humming it.The One Everyone Knows
Of everything I wrote, this is the piece most often called my most famous. That surprises me a little, given how short and plain it is. Maybe people simply love a tune they can carry around in their heads. Whatever the reason, I'm delighted that something so quiet has ended up so loved.---
When I look back at this little nocturne, I'm still a bit surprised by how much it says in so little time. It's the shortest of the three in the set, just 34 bars, and yet people have carried it with them for generations. It is often called my most famous piece, and I'm touched that a quiet tune meant for the evening ended up traveling so far. I think part of the reason is that it never tries too hard. It owes a debt to the simpler nocturnes of John Field, but I wanted the melody to sing like a human voice, and I hope you can hear that. Even the ending feels like a held breath let out slowly, with the penultimate bar marked senza tempo, as if the clock is allowed to stop for a moment. So tell me, did you enjoy learning about the story behind the Nocturne in E flat major? There is still plenty more to discover about it, from the way the ornaments change each time the melody returns to the small details that make the performances differ so much. If you'd like to keep exploring, please click on the links provided and carry on listening and reading at your own pace. I'd be glad to have you back the next time this melody drifts into your evening.