Conservatoire national supérieure de musique de Paris

La Classe de Solfège - 1968

chez Mlle. Lequien (au piano)

That's me, back row, center.

 

 

Solfège at the Paris Conservatory was (and probably still is) the single most important, and most challenging, course for every student -- no matter what instrument they play.  Anyone who graduates from the Paris Conservatory must be able to solfège virtually anything at sight -- from simple melodies to works on the order of Berio's Sequenza (which, by the way, I learned in solfège before I ever played on the flute.) 

In France, by 'solfège,' the French do not mean the American system of moveable DO -- the very idea of which is incomprehensible to a French musician.  DO is always fixed at C -- and one must sing the correct pitch as well as name the correct note, in the correct rhythm, at the correct tempo.  One learns to keep the beat with one's big toe -- while not tapping one's foot. 

At the Paris Conservatory, one must become not merely proficient at solfège, but a virtuoso solfeger -- singing syllables at lightning speed.  I remember one day being asked to solfège Bach's Badinerie -- and Mlle. Lequien set the metronome at a true Presto.  There were those in the class who could solfege the Scherzo from Schumann's Symphony No. 2 and the Presto Coda from Beethoven's  Leonore Overture No. 3.  I was once told an anecdote by a friend in the Philadelphia Orchestra about conductor Riccardo Muti -- who was a famous whiz at solfège at the Conservatory in Milan (another temple of solfeggio.)  One day, as a joke, in a rehearsal of the Leonore No. 3 Overture, Muti stupefied the musicians in the first violin section by solfeging the Presto at top speed. 

In France, solfège is the lingua franca of music.  Teachers use it in every lesson.  Conductors use it in rehearsals with the greatest orchestras.  At the Paris Conservatory, anecdotes are told about the reputations of famous musicians as solfegers. 

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