Download pyOTr ilyiCh TChaikOvSky (1840-1893)

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Romeo and Juliet: Fantasy Overture
19’00
Tchaikovsky’s talent and inclination for music were obvious from an early
age. However, during his childhood, there was little available public music
education in Russia. His first formal lessons in both piano and voice started at
15, rather late for someone destined to be one of music history’s renowned
composers. Instead, with the completion of a most traditional boarding
school education, he appeared destined for a more ordinary life than that
of a famous composer. By age 19 he began work as a civil servant for the
Ministry of Justice in St. Petersburg. However, with the formation of the St.
Petersburg Conservatory, he enrolled and began to follow his true destiny.
By his graduation in 1865, he had stopped all civil employment and was fully
committed to the often uncertain lifestyle of a composer. The formal Westernoriented music teaching he received contrasted greatly with the nationalist
movement set by the composers of the Russian Five (Cui, Borodin, RimskyKorsakov, Mussorgsky, and Balakirev). Tchaikovsky independently pressed
forward in spite of a mixed relationship with the group. His training determined
him to take a path to merge his musical education with the indigenous musical
styles he was familiar with from childhood. Through this grueling process
emerged a most personal but characteristically Russian style. Tchaikovsky’s
Romeo and Juliet: Fantasy Overture, unquestionably one of his finest and most
carefully hewn scores, was his initial orchestral success.
Tales of doomed love always resonated deeply with Tchaikovsky and
Shakespeare’s tragedy Romeo and Juliet was no exception. In 1869, at Mily
Balakirev’s suggestion, Tchaikovsky took up the play as a musical subject. At
this time he was enamoured of a young cousin of one of his students, Eduard
Zak. Four years later after Zak committed suicide, Tchaikovsky pondered the
incident in his diary stating: “the death of this boy, the fact that he no longer
exists, is beyond my understanding. It seems to me that I have never loved
anyone so strongly as him.” For Tchaikovsky, the stage was set for a most
personal and emotional meeting on the creative fields of tragedy and triumph.
Rather than attempting to retell complete details of the entire story of
Shakespeare’s “two star-crossed lovers”, as Berlioz, Bellini, and Gounod
had done earlier, Tchaikovsky brilliantly concentrated his attention on the
characters of Romeo and Juliet, and included only those elements of the play
– Friar Lawrence, the Montague-Capulet feud, and the power of fate – that
had a direct and elemental impact upon their destiny. Relying on the central
strands of Shakespeare’s tragedy, he renders Shakespeare’s narrative down
to its essentials in this 19-minute, tightly knit, sumptuously orchestrated tone
poem that is undeniably dramatic and yearningly beautiful.
Painstakingly revised three times over a 10-year period, the work was
disfavoured following the initial performances and publication. Panned in both
Vienna and Paris and slammed by the renowned music critic Eduard Hanslick,
the Fantasy Overture went through several versions before it arrived in its final
form. Not until Tchaikovsky cast off Balakirev’s heavy influence and returned
the work to a polished version of its original form did it come into both critical
and public favour. The result is clearly audible in today’s version, a version
that is strikingly different from the composer’s original concept of the piece.
Most importantly, a work of distinction both for its inspiration and technical
brilliance.
Embracing the three main strands of the Shakespeare story, the Fantasy
Overture presents a symphonic poem in sonata form, inclusive of an
introduction and epilogue. The music begins with a lengthy preamble before
presenting its two principal theme groups, the first being some oppressively
savage music representing the conflict between the Capulets and the
Montagues, and the latter being an ecstatic love theme for Romeo and Juliet.
The second statement of this theme is interrupted by the music for the warring
families as Romeo and Juliet’s love is crushed by the intense hatred the two
families share for each other. After a solemn variation of the love theme in
the minor mode, the theme is transfigured into music that is serene and
chorale-like, ending the piece on a triumphant, if not somewhat desolate and
otherworldly note. The tragic coda sums the tale up and aptly conveys to us
the unhappy, anguished fate of the “star-crossed lovers”.
Edvard Grieg (1843-1907)
Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 16
30’00
Grieg returned to his native Norway in 1866 following an eight-year period that
included formal music study in Germany and artistically productive pursuits
in Copenhagen. Having outgrown what he viewed as change-adverse and
stodgy Germanic teaching, he felt Copenhagen was a cultural oasis where
the best artistic forces of Europe and Scandinavia converged. There he found
an inspiring teacher in the composer Niels Gade of whom Mendelssohn was
a passionate advocate of his symphonies. It was Gade that encouraged Grieg
to compose with a distinctly nationalistic voice while embracing the cultural
furor of musical romanticism that was overtaking Europe in the late nineteenth
century. Inspired and independent, Grieg’s return to the country of his birth
inaugurated a four-decade career of prolific composition, concert tours and
teaching at the Norwegian Academy of Music. He loved the folk dances and
traditions of the countryside, elements that permeate his compositions. Grieg
wrote innumerable piano miniatures and songs, several incidental scores
for theatrical productions (Ibsen and Bjornson were friends and frequent
collaborators), orchestral works, chamber music and his most ambitious and
singular concerto, the Piano Concerto in A minor.
On April 3, 1869, Grieg’s Piano Concerto was premiered in Copenhagen
to tremendous success by the Norwegian pianist Edmund Neupert. Grieg
naturally had intentions of performing the initial performance, but due to prior
musical obligations, he was absent. Neupert, his good friend, wrote to Grieg an
account of the event stating, “On Saturday your divine concerto resounded in
the great hall of the Casino. The triumph I achieved was tremendous. Even as
early as the cadenza in the first movement the public broke into a real storm.”
Subsequently, Liszt became a great fan of the concerto, remarking that the
young Grieg had the makings of a great composer.
Many scholars have noted the similarities of the piece to Schumann’s Piano
Concerto in A minor. Both share the same key, and both begin with a dramatic
opening orchestral chord immediately followed by fiery, virtuosic keyboard
flourishes from the soloist. These resemblances are not a coincidence. As a
student at the Leipzig Conservatory, Grieg heard Clara Schumann perform her
husband’s concerto. Grieg described this event as one of the highlights of his
stay in Leipzig – and he developed a deep admiration for the older composer‘s
music. Often we perceive smatterings of Mendelssohn, Chopin, and even Liszt
on occasion. All were composers that Grieg had a deep respect for. Hans von
Bulow even hailed him as “The Chopin of the North”. However, Grieg was
no mere imitator. He built on the stylistic tradition of the German Romantic
School, and integrated elements of Norwegian folk music. These features
imbue his music with a deep originality that distinguishes Grieg‘s uniqueness
in classical music.
It is entirely appropriate that Grieg’s most popular orchestral work is a piano
concerto, for the piano was central to all his compositional output. It is
noteworthy that Grieg did not produce large numbers of large-scale works,
preferring to work in the medium of small scale piano and voice works.
This makes the appearance of the piano concerto in his output even more
remarkable, particularly as it appeared so early on in his oeuvre. Cast in the
traditional three-movement design the Piano Concerto is a superb example of
the Romantic era concerto.
Typical of a Romantic piano concerto is the relationship of the pianist to the
orchestra which is more protagonistic in nature. The Grieg Piano Concerto
falls into this category, as the piano emerges immediately and assertively as
the champion of the moment. This psychological and rhetorical dynamic
holds throughout the movement culminating in the fiery and effusive cadenza.
Conceived in sonata form, the first movement displays characteristic folk
theme material displayed with a convincing interplay between the piano and
orchestra. In cyclic style, the Allegro ends with the same protagonist’s opening
statement giving us a full sense of completion, almost as if nothing further is
required. A complete work all within the first movement.
The second movement, seemingly a quasi-intermezzo, appears in
perfect balance, soft and pastoral with the piano part having expressively
improvisational underpinnings. Exquisitely calm and lyrical, it is laced with
moments of sheer magical wonderment. Uncomplicated in structure it
begins contemplatively, the orchestra in muted strings over which the piano
rhapsodises. Throughout the movement, a series of delicate trills signal the
entrance of the piano, until a dramatically transformed and angular version
of the main theme shatters the placid mood. Eventually, the serenity of the
beginning of the movement returns and leads to a quiet, dreamy ending that
lapses without pause into the stellar third movement.
The finale is essentially in two parts, the first being a generous segment of a
dressed up Norwegian athletic dance known as “halling”. Sound effects taken
from the unique, violin-like characteristics of a Norwegian folk instrument
known as the Hardanger Fiddle enhance the folk dance musical landscape.
The movement’s second subject is quicker, more deft and elaborate, but no
less folk-like. After a tranquil episode introduced by the solo flute, the main
theme returns for extended and impassioned pianistic development. The piano
soloist performs a brief cadenza, the music transforms from minor to major,
and yet another folk dance theme furthers the pace. The concerto concludes
with a brilliant, virtuostic Lisztian-styled cadenza, taking us to the triumphant
ending based on the earlier solo flute melody, now transmuted into the
major key. It is a flash of majesty to match the magnificence of Grieg's native
Norwegian landscape.
Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)
Symphony No. 3 in C major, Op. 52
29’00
Sibelius is widely recognised as Finland‘s greatest composer. Through his music,
he is credited with having helped Finland to develop a national identity during its
struggle for independence from Russia. Sibelius, while keenly focused early on in
developing a career as a concert violinist, was largely self-taught as a composer
until he began his studies at the Helsinki Music Institute, now the Sibelius Academy.
Once engaged in formal study, the self-taught Sibelius became highly influenced
by his composition teacher Martin Wegelius. Another of his teachers having
significant influence was the renowned pianist/composer, Ferruccio Busoni,
with whom he enjoyed a lifelong friendship. Having graduated from the Helsinki
Institute, Sibelius continued his studies in a less formal but perhaps more impactful
manner both in Berlin and in Vienna around 1890. Attending concerts and
operas, socializing within music circles as well as composing widened his musical
experiences and tastes. While in Vienna, he became particularly interested in the
music of Bruckner whom he regarded as “the greatest living composer”.
Shortly after returning to Helsinki, Sibelius thoroughly enjoyed conducting two of
his new works, the Karelia Overture and the Scène de Ballet at a popular concert.
Having developed an interest in all things Finnish, he was also able to continue
working on Kullervo, Op. 7. Kullervo premiered in Helsinki on 28 April 1892 and
proved to be an enormous success.
Central to Sibelius’ compositional output is his set of seven numbered symphonies.
While he is widely known for these and his tone poems, especially Finlandia and
the Karelia Suite, the symphonies beautifully display his stylistic evolution. As for
his musical style, hints of Tchaikovsky‘s music are particularly evident in the early
works such as his First Symphony and the Violin Concerto. For a period, he was
nevertheless overwhelmed by Wagner, particularly while composing his opera.
More lasting influences included Busoni and Bruckner. The similarities to Bruckner
can be observed in the use of brass instruments in his orchestral works as well as
the generally slower tempi in his music. From Busoni, he developed and asserted
the importance of musical form and structure.
Notorious for endlessly reworking his scores, Sibelius compared his
compositional practice to the search for the proper reconfiguration of
scattered mosaic tiles flung down from heaven. Particularly in his later
works, he laboured under merciless self-criticism, battling to balance
competing compositional and philosophical ideals. According to him, “a
‘natural’ symphony should be more like a river that gets its water from the
smaller brooks”. However difficult the creative process proved, Sibelius’
Third Symphony is all about the pleasure of making music. Certain pieces by
Beethoven fall into this category in that while containing some of the most
neutral materials, they are crafted into startling, often dramatically impactful
works beneath the strong layer of compositional craftsmanship. Beethoven’s
Triple Concerto comes to mind as one not so popular model, and his Emperor
Concerto being a most popular example. Sibelius’ Third Symphony is part of
this tradition. Its chief traits are modesty and energy. The orchestration, for
1907, is rather reticent, at its best achieving a very basic and most “classical”
sonority.
Formally speaking, Sibelius progressively stripped away the traditional icons
of sonata form and, instead of multiple themes that contrast, he created
cells and/or fragments that evolve and subsequently climax to a formidable
statement. His subsequent works are remarkable for their sense of unbroken
development, progressing by means of thematic permutations and derivations.
The Third Symphony is an amiable, triumphal, and deceptively simple-sounding
piece. Themes from Finnish folk music in the work‘s early chords contribute to
both its simplicity and likeability. Composed just after his major lifestyle change
and relocation to the countryside near Helsinki, it contrasts sharply with the
Romanticism of the first two symphonies and impresses us with the clarity of
its expression. This elemental and distinctively original sound permeated his
forthcoming compositions giving us music that matches the stark beauty of the
Nordic landscape he lived amidst.
It is fitting that Sibelius’s first major work from the countryside opens with
a broad, pastoral statement, establishing the home key of C complete with
resonant drones. The tightly constructed first movement wastes no time
transitioning to the secondary theme, a melancholy minor-key tune introduced
by the cellos. In the Classical era spirit of Haydn and Beethoven, Sibelius’ small
ideas such as running string figures become essential building blocks that
develop and transform the music while retaining their recognisable imprints.
The movement is in sonata form, which, in indecisive broad strokes, includes
the exposition (subjects/themes introduced), development (ample altercation
and experimentation with the exposition’s subjects), and recapitulation
(subjects restated).
The slow second movement shifts to the remote key of G-sharp minor,
exotic sounding in comparison to the purity of C major. The music seemingly
harkens to centuries past with woodwind duets, modal harmonies, and lutelike plucked accompaniments. It is hewn in three large sections, the third of
which recaps the first so that the structure is an A B A form. In Sibelius‘ classical
symphonic style, one can only become absorbed in the musical events
themselves as there is no imagery or jarringly dramatic moments. As with
Haydn one is simply compelled to sit back and listen.
The third movement returns from previously distant tonality with Beethovenian
efficiency, pivoting back to the home key through a single pitch spread across
the orchestra. The finale that ensues is an unusual hybrid, settling first into an
elfin scherzo that builds to a fortissimo climax. Then, with an elegant subtlety,
it morphs to a sturdy four-beat tempo, with the violas and cellos intoning a
humble chorale that grows into a roiling sendoff. The structure of the final
movement of Sibelius’ Third Symphony is adventurous, combining a scherzolike first half with a broad, chorale-style second half. Sibelius once described
the movement as “the crystallization of ideas from chaos”. Restless in nature,
the tempo constantly changes, sometimes abruptly, sometimes gradually.
Seemingly there are times Sibelius can hardly crowd as many notes as he
would like into each measure; at others, he will take the time to stand still
on a single note, or a pair, or a trill, or an intricately figured chord. Fragments
whisk by, some so fast we can hardly catch them including bits of the first two
movements. Seemingly shadow becomes substance.
This is fantastic music. It is firm and lithe without becoming arrogant or
superior. It embraces a generosity of spirit and a wonderful expansiveness that
is the mature Sibelius, one that returns in future symphonies.
Programme notes by Allan Fuller