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Saturday 8 PM October 10, 2009 KING CENTER, Melbourne

Tchaikovsky Spectacular!

“Conductor Choices CD Recommendations”

Tchaikovsky - Marche Miniature from Suite No. 1
Chicago Symphony Orchestra/Fritz Reiner, conductor
RCA 61958

Tchaikovsky - Piano Concerto No. 1
Van Cliburn, piano
RCA Symphony Orchestra/Kirill Kondrashin, conductor
RCA 55912

Tchaikovsky - Serenade for Strings
London Chamber Orchestra/Christopher Warren-Green, conductor
EMI Classics 61763

Tchaikovsky - 1812 Overture
Saint Cecilia Academy Orchestra/Antonio Pappano, conductor
EMI Classics 70065

PROGRAM NOTES

"Marche Miniature" from Suite No. 1 in D major, Op. 43

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)

     Tchaikovsky Spectacular ends with one of the repertoire's loudest and most bombastic works - the 1812 Overture.  Our program begins on a much quieter note, with the seldom-heard Marche miniature from the Orchestral Suite No. 1 (1878-79). While 1812 employs full orchestra, pyrotechnics, and chorus, this delightful little march is scored for a small orchestra consisting of piccolo, flutes, oboes, clarinets, violins, triangle, and glockenspiel. This little 'toy wonder' is a close relative of Tchaikovsky's great ballet scores, with its fairy-like and gossamer quality prefiguring the delicate playfulness of The Nutcracker Ballet.

    

Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23:

Allegro non troppo e molto maestosa - Allegro con spirito

Andantino semplice - Prestissimo - Tempo I

Allegro con fuoco


Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)

 

     In 1874, Tchaikovsky was in his mid-30's, barely eking out a living by teaching harmony at the Moscow Conservatory and writing music criticism for a local journal.  These activities provided a modest income and were rewarding up to a point, but the composer saw them as burdens that took precious time away from his creative musical work.  He felt it was time to break free from the Conservatory and become a composer full-time.  Building on his successes with Romeo and Juliet and the Symphony No. 2, at the end of the year Tchaikovsky decided to write a piano concerto.  He hoped that the new work would bring him the artistic and financial success needed to move forward as an independent composer.  By this time Tchaikovsky was highly trained and confident, but recognizing his limited technique as a pianist, he sought the advice and guidance of Nicholai Rubinstein.  The encounter was a colossal mistake.

     In a letter to Madame von Meck, Tchaikovsky described the experience vividly:  "On Christmas Eve, 1874... Nicholai asked me... to play the Concerto in a classroom of the Conservatory.  We agreed to it... I played through the first movement.  Not a criticism, not a word.  Rubinstein said nothing... I did not need any judgment on the artistic form of my work; there was question only about its mechanical details.  This silence of Rubinstein said much.  It said to me at once:  'Dear friend, how can I talk about details when I dislike your composition as a whole?'  But I kept my temper and played the Concerto through.  Again, silence.

     "Well? I said, and stood up.  There burst forth from Rubinstein's mouth a mighty torrent of words.  He spoke quietly at first; then he waxed hot, and at last he resembled Zeus hurling thunderbolts.  It appeared that my Concerto was utterly worthless, absolutely unplayable; passages were so commonplace and awkward that they could not be improved; the piece as a whole was bad, trivial, and vulgar.  I had stolen this from that one and that from this one; so only two or three pages were good for anything, while the others should be wiped out or radically rewritten.  I cannot produce for you the main thing:  the tone in which he said all this.  An impartial bystander would necessarily have believed that I was a stupid, ignorant, conceited note-scratcher, who was so impudent as to show his scribble to a celebrated man."

     A proud and highly sensitive man, Tchaikovsky was offended and enraged, storming out of the classroom.  "... I could not have said a thing.  Presently, Rubinstein joined me and, seeing how upset I was, asked me into one of the other rooms.  There he repeated that my concerto was impossible, pointed out many places where it would have to be completely revised, and said that if within a limited time I reworked the concerto according to his demands, then he would do me the honor of playing this thing of mine at his concert.  'I shall not alter a single note,' I replied.  'I shall publish the work exactly as it stands!'  And this I did."

     With this courageous and momentous decision, Tchaikovsky proved that he had the confidence to strike out on his own as a composer.  In the autograph of the Piano Concerto No. 1, Tchaikovsky indignantly scratched Rubinstein's name from the title page, just as Beethoven did to Napoleon in the manuscript of the Eroica, and inscribed instead the name of the pianist and conductor, Hans von Bulow.  Von Bulow went on to be the soloist in the Concerto's world premiere performance in Boston, Massachusetts (curiously enough not in Russia) on October 25, 1875.  The reaction from both the critics and audience was tumultuous and wildly enthusiastic.  It has gone on to become one of the cornerstones of the repertory, serving as the standard against which all virtuosos must prove themselves.  It is a heroic test for the soloist's reserves of endurance and technique, as well as charisma and personality. 

     Hans von Bulow offered this fitting statement of praise:  "The ideas are original, so powerful; the details are so interesting, and though there are many of them they do not impair the clarity and unity of the work.  The form is so mature, so ripe and distinguished in style; intention and labor are everywhere concealed.  I would weary you if I were to enumerate all the characteristics of your work, characteristics which compel me to congratulate equally the composer and those who are destined to enjoy it."

 

Serenade for Strings in C major, Op. 48 & 1812 Overture, Op. 49

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)

     Tchaikovsky was effusive in expressing his lifelong affection for what remained a favorite among his creations.  In a letter to his publisher, he proudly proclaimed, "I am terribly in love with this work, and can't wait for it to be played."  And in correspondence to his patroness and friend, Madame von Meck, in October, 1880, he proudly wrote:  "The Serenade... I wrote from an inward impulse; I felt it, and venture to hope that this work is not without artistic merit."  Interestingly, at almost the same time Tchaikovsky wrote his 1812 Overture, fulfilling a request to write some festive music in commemoration of the Silver Jubilee of the coronation of Czar Alexander II.  He based what has become one of his most well known works on several popular Russian themes depicting one of his Mother Country's proudest moments, the surrender of Napoleon at Moscow.   But despite the 1812's wild success, Tchaikovsky found it to be coarse and noisy; lacking in any real artistic value; and admitted that it was written without much warmth or enthusiasm. 

     Understanding full well that Mme. von Meck would find the Overture bombastic and over-the-top and knowing that she had only heard the Serenade on the piano, Tchaikovsky offered the following defense of his favored work in another letter.  "I wish with all my heart that you could hear my Serenade properly performed.  It loses so much played on the piano, and I think that the middle movements, as played by the strings, would win your sympathy.  As regards the first and last movements, they are merely a play of sounds and do not touch the heart.  The first movement is my homage to Mozart:  it is intended to be an imitation of his style, and I should be delighted if I thought I had in any way approached my model."  And the pride continues with, "Do not laugh, my dear, at my zeal in standing up for my latest creation.  Perhaps my paternal feelings are so warm because it is the youngest child of my fancy." 

     The opening Pezzo in forma di sonatina is a sincere tribute to the spirit of Mozart.  Ever since hearing Don Giovanni as a boy, Tchaikovsky idolized Mozart and from time to time, e.g., in the Orchestral Suite - Mozartiana - sought to declare his love for the 'Christ of Music' (as he would refer to him).  The first movement of the Serenade reflects the one composer's reverence for the other through its humor and deft interplay; and through its adherence to the Classical attributes of balance, elegance, and grace.  As Tchaikovsky insisted, the middle movements are especially delightful and memorable.  The second movement - an audience favorite frequently performed on its own - is the Waltz, notable as one the most charming and elegant examples of the composer's affinity for the genre.  The Elegy is an exquisite reverie and a masterpiece in string writing.  The Finale begins with a slow introduction based on a Russian folk tune, in particular a Volga "hauling song."  A bustling main theme follows and can be traced to the slow introduction of the first movement, returning again toward the end in its original form.  The conclusion to this high-spirited movement comes with a final outburst of the exuberant Russian main theme, bringing the Serenade to a resounding finish! 

     Returning to Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, here is a work that is everything the Serenade is not.  Written side by side in 1879-80, the Serenade is refined and all about beauty; the 1812, by contrast, is earthy and all about fanning the flames of patriotism.  As noted above, Tchaikovsky was rather embarrassed by the Overture and frequently talked of it disparagingly.  Making its success even more unlikely is the negative ink that critic's just l-o-v-e to heap upon it.  Along with Pachelbel's Canon in D and Ravel's Bolero, the 1812 Overture is one of the musical intelligentsia's favorite whipping boys.  But who has the last laugh?  It is the 1812 itself.  It is safe to argue that this piece has been more successful perhaps than any other in turning listeners into classical music lovers.  (It happened to this reviewer with a 1958 Mercury recording featuring the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra under Antal Dorati.)

     Although called an overture, it should be noted that the work is really a symphonic poem, commemorating the Russian defeat of Napoleon in 1812.  Listen for strains of the French anthem "La Marseillaise," eventually supplanted by the imperial Russian anthem, "Save, O God, Thy People."  The score calls for a large orchestra along with military band, all manner of bells and chimes, and cannon shots (we'll have to see whether the King Center's retractable roof works).  For an even grander effect, some performances add a chorus to some sections.  It is our good fortune to have the Brevard Community Chorus with us for tonight's concert.     

 

Notes provided by:  David R. Glerum, Music Director - WMFE-FM/NPR, Orlando, FL. (1990-2009); Music Director - WXXI-FM/NPR, Rochester, N.Y. (1980-1990)


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