‘Quatuor Pour la Fin du Temps’: the “dissonant” piece of music Weyes Blood calls her all-time favourite
The infinite dystopia of war and the absence of mercy could be seen as the absolute opposite breading ground for any kind of creativity. If art and poetry are defined as the application of the human imagination, the effervescence of which finds no place in the monochrome images of existential turmoil and contemplation. French composer Olivier Messiaen already stood on a ground of musical excellence when he was captured and imprisoned in Stalag VIII-A, so he connected the human spirit by utilising the skill he had already worked hard on honing.
During his initial days in the prison, Messiaen stumbled across a cellist, Étienne Pasquier, and a violist, Jean le Boulaire. They naturally began working together on a three-part composition, which eventually emerged into something much bigger than he would later call ‘Quatuor Pour la Fin du Temps’, known as ‘Quartet for the End of Time’ in English.
The eight-movement piece was originally presented to an audience of prisoners and guards in 1941 after Messiaen acquired some paper and pens from a friendly German guard, onto which he would write his notes and sheet music. The piece, in its entirety, lasted about 50 minutes, which could have either felt like a blink or an eternity, considering the distorted time fracture experienced by those imprisoned during the war.
This likely factored into the music itself, capturing both the claustrophobia and desolation of war and the optimism of hope and redemption. In just under an hour, Messiaen’s audience experienced the various stages of civil unrest, chronicling the kaleidoscope of human emotions in such traumatic conditions.
Despite its clear complexities, ‘Quatuor Pour la Fin du Temps’ is also powerful due to its ability to play on simplicities and human expectations. It’s for this reason that Weyes Blood has labelled the composition one of her all-time favourite pieces of music, citing the way it hangs heavy on each element without understating the previous part.
“The desolation is so audible, and the redemption comes in heavy on ‘Louangeà l’Eternité de Jésus’,” explained Weyes Blood, whose real name is Natalie Laura Mering. ‘Louangeà l’Eternité de Jésus’ is the fifth segment of the song, which begins softer in sounds and tempo before the instruments gradually get louder and more cutting, symbolising absolution.
“It never ceases to amaze me how something so dissonant and minimal can say so much about the human condition,” Mering explained to Elle. Her deductions are on the mark—the entirety of the piece is a spiritual journey, almost like experiencing the whole of humanity in a short space of time. Messiaen was surrounded by despair and destruction at the time of writing, but his belief in the power of music to unite and uplift never waned.
Listen to the song below. You might need to pour yourself a cup of tea first.
