Erik Satie was a composer, a pianist, and an author. Born in May of 1866 in Honfleur, Normandy to a French father and British mother, Alfred and Jane. A year after little Erik was born, along came Olga and then a second son, Conrad. Alfred was a shipping broker and after the Franco-Prussian War, he felt compelled to move in a different direction. He picked up the family of 5 and moved to Paris, eventually becoming a music publisher.
In 1872 Jane passed away, leaving Alfred overwhelmed with the duties a mother would normally manage. Erik and his brother were sent back to Normandy to be raised by Alfred’s parents. When Erik was 8 years old, he began taking music lessons with a local organist. This ignited a genuine curiosity within Erik, drawing him to love the eerie and solemn sounds of old church music.
At 12 years old, the only other mother figure Erik now had, suddenly passed away. His grandmother. The two boys returned to Paris to be with their father. The boys never attended a formal school, rather, Alfred took them to lectures at the College de France. Alfred sought out the help of a tutor in pursuit of his sons learning Latin and Greek. While on the hunt for a tutor, Alfred met a piano teacher and salon composer, Eugenie Barnetche. The pair married soon after, despite Erik highly disapproving of the pair. I wonder why?
Eugenie had musical talent , and perhaps she saw the same draw and passion in her eldest stepson…or perhaps she merely wanted to steer her stepsons into a near replicated version of herself. Whatever the motive, both scenarios led Eugenie to enroll Erik into Paris Conservatoire (a college of music and dance) at age 13. Erik was not excited about this decision. He described the school as “a very uncomfortable, ugly building; a sort of prison with no beauty…”
After a year, Erik took his first set of examinations as a pianist. He was described as “gifted but indolent.” Perhaps he was just a slow mover? Alas the next year he was described as the laziest student in the Conservatoire. Two mournful years later, poor Erik was expelled due to “unsatisfactory performance.” Despite all the negativity and criticism, Erik wrote his first composition in 1884. Satie felt inspired while on holiday in Honfleur and more than likely felt drawn to compose without the pressure of exams and drab walls surrounding him. He was often marveled by various aspects of religion and awed by stained glass windows and medieval manuscripts. In 1885, he was surprisingly readmitted to the Conservatoire, under his stepmother’s former teacher’s guidance.
His teacher stated Satie was worthless, taking three months to learn a certain piece. Obviously, poor Erik wanted out! Erik wanted out so desperately, he volunteered for military service and joined the 33rd Infantry to Regiment in November 1886. Much to my assumption, he soon realized military life was not very well suited for him. How to get out of this troubling entrapment? Deliberately contracting acute bronchitis of course! Erik stripped of his clothes and walked out into the winter night. Behold, you have bronchitis and are going to be invalided out of the army! Just what Erik always wanted!
Soon after, Erik moved away from his father to reside in the 9th arrondissement. He was lodging near the popular Chat Noir cabaret, where he became a resident pianist. The Chat Noir was known as “the temple of any zany convention”, which was perfect for young Erik who was now free to explore his creativity and soak up the wild lifestyle surrounding him. Erik created various personas during his life and during this particular period he let his hair grow long, often wearing a top hat and frock coat. I dig it, Erik!
Erik earned a modest living as a pianist and conductor at the Chat Noir, but due to a testy falling out with the owner, he was forced to start playing at a nearby place called, Auberge du Clou. Erik enjoyed meeting other composers who appreciated his experimental approach to composition. He reveled in the bohemian spirit and relished the choice to follow the direction of his heart, rather than rules.
Erik never married, but he did fall in love once (to be known of), and quite hard at that. He met a painter who after just one night, drove him to propose marriage. She did not say yes, but rather moved to a room next his, residing there for five months during their courtship. During this period Erik was infatuated, writing her love letters filled with fervent expressions of compliments. “I love your small feet”, being one of them, though worded a bit more poetically! Heh. Despite all the gushy compliments, she decided she had to move on and in doing so, she left Erik devasted. “I’m left with nothing by an icy loneliness that fills the head with emptiness and the heart with sadness.”
In 1898, Erik realized he needed to cut some expenses and moved to the southern suburbs, in the commune of Arcueil-Cachan. This is where Erik remained until his last breath. He never had any visitors in this dwelling, leaving one to wonder if he was protective of his space or merely a quiet soul. He joined a radical socialist party and yet his image was that of a quiet and dignified schoolteacher, wearing his bowler hat and holding an umbrella.
As Erik became older, he rebuffed all his cabaret music, calling it vile and against his nature. After hearing the premiere of Claude Debussy’s opera Pelleas et Melisande in 1902, he felt compelled to reevaluate his own music. Suddenly reinspired to improve his technique, he enrolled into a music academy called Schola Cantorum, continuing his studies until 1912. Surprisingly, despite the fact he began composing music at such a young age, it was not until his mid-forties where people started to notice his eerie, hypnotic and unique talent. He was evolving into a pioneer of the musical revolution taking place, and people finally took notice. The press wrote about his music and a leading pianist (Ricardo Vines) even performed some his pieces! What a compliment! His good friend and fellow composer, Claude Debussy conducted the first and third Gymnopédies in concert, undoubtedly adding immense popularity to this name and music.
Young composers were entranced by Erik and would try to include Erik in their musical groups. Though initially flattered, the young composers threatened his achievements and pride, leaving Erik to flee from their social groups and remove himself from their inquisitive skill. Erik also had a quarrel with his old friend Claude Debussy. Erik felt resentful of Claude’s lack of accolades towards his newer pieces. The two never made their peace, leaving bitterness to resound until their last days.
In 1916, Erik received a commission from the Princesse de Polignac. This commission created a confusing masterpiece intended for voice and piano. This piece was entitled, Socrate. Erik described it as “a return to classic simplicity with a modern sensibility”. He envisioned the work as incidental music for the reading of Plato. Later on in life, he became quite popular for his writing and was in demand as a journalist. He wrote extensively for the press as a creative writer.
Aside from his passion for music, what was Erik like in his normal mundane moments? Well, despite his free spirit and tendency to seek creative freedom, Erik was not supportive of new technology and innovative creations, including the telephone and radio. He was very sloppy, accumulating oodles of rubbish and clutter within his home. He didn’t handle finances very well and often spent or gave away any money he earned.
Erik ate a diet of only white foods. Yes, only white foods. Huh. Eggs, sugar, shredded bones, the fat of dead animals, veal, salt, moldy fruit, etc. He said, “I have a good appetite, but never talk when eating for fear of strangling myself.” Obviously, he had an amazing sense of humor. Not only did he fear of “strangling himself” while eating, but he found colossal joy in giving his pieces humorous names. “Three Flabby Preludes for a Dog”, “Three Pieces in the Shape of a Pear” and “Desiccated Embryo” to name a few.
He enjoyed his drink, a bit too much. His friend noted “he was extraordinary, but cunning, and a real sad child who is made optimistic by alcohol”. In the 1920’s, the drinking substantially increased and at only 59 years old, Erik passed away of cirrhosis. I can’t help but wonder of the creativity still brimming within his unique soul and what marvels he may have composed if he hadn’t left us so quickly. His quirky, eccentric and often, humble demeanor is one I can’t help but feel drawn to. His pieces truly leave me in a trance of a mesmerized fan like no other and for that, I feel grateful that he didn’t hinder the captivation he felt towards music and creativity. It seemed to ooze from his soul like nectar from a flower, being drawn into the poetic keys of a piano.
References:
Top 10 Fascinating Facts about Erik Satie – Discover Walks Blog
Header quote reference, “Erik Satie”