Very exciting and powerful piece of emotional hysteria
Disadvantages:
If you're obsessed with classical form and beauty, then this might just be too much
Recommend to potential buyers:
yes
Full review
"FATUM"
Pjotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was an unusual Russian composer of the 19th century. He was considered authentically Russian outside his own country, yet was scorned by the nationalist composers of Russia. The Mighty Five of nationalist composers (César Cui, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Modest Mussorgsky, Alexander Borodin and Mily Balakirev) were spearheading the idea of national Russian music as opposed to mainstream German Romanticism that was on the rage in the late 1800's. Their intent was specifically to counteract Anton Rubinstein, a composer known for being very academic and often producing music profoundly dull. This caused them, particularly Balakirev, to seriously suspect the viability of solid academic training, rather opting for music with an "authentic" Russian stamp on it. To them, Tchaikovsky seemed too cosmopolitan to be taken seriously as forwarding their cause, and therefore his career suffered, most notably in the hands of Cui, the most ardent and influential critic of Russia. However, things were not always so.
Enrolling into the newly founded St.Petersburg Conservatory after taking a job as a clerk in the St.Petersburg Ministry of Justice, Tchaikovsky was not slow in attracting the attention of Balakirev. Beginning with some smaller scale piano and string quartet works, Tchaikovsky's first, truly ambituous work came in the form of his First Symphony ("Winter Daydreams") of 1866, which almost caused him a nervous breakdown. This was followed by the opera The Voyevoda and shortly later by his first undoubted masterpiece, the fantasy overture Romeo and Juliet, the love theme of which Balakirev was particularly fond of. A lesser known work however preceded this more famous overture. Tchaikovsky was a firm believer in fate (or "Fatum" as he referred it). His battle with Fatum (in a very Beethovenian sense) would be central to his entire life and this also reflected in his work. In 1868, Tchaikovsky encapsulated his beliefs in a concert overture entitled "Fatum." It was not received favourably and was not published until following the composer's death, which is understandable since the work is pretty insubstantial and mediocre. But it did serve as a foreshadowing of the composer's later Fate Symphonies.
A TIME OF HARDSHIP
1877 was a year of profound unhappiness for Tchaikovsky. The premiere of his great ballet Swan Lake was a dismal failure, although the cold reception would soon turn into more favourable acceptance. His struggle with his homosexuality, something that was considered a crime in Russia, also caused him much pain. Tchaikovsky's solution to his affliction was to seek a wife. This he found from a former conservatory student, Antonina Milyukova, who had shown interest in him before. At the same time he had just started work on the opera Eugene Onegin, where the heroine Tatjana's confession of love to Onegin, who dutifully rejected it, involved Tchaikovsky to the point of him wanting to perform in the opposite manner. Therefore he married Antonina in July of 1877. However, the happiness he was seeking was not to be found from his attempt to do the dutiful thing. While on their honeymoon, Tchaikovsky fled and attempted to drown himself in the freezing waters of the Moscow River. He survived, and swiftly separated from the already unstable Antonina, who accepted the separation without much protestation.
On a more positive note, 1877 saw the beginning of the friendship between Tchaikovsky and the wealthy Moscow widow, Nadezhda von Meck. She would become Tchaikovsky's most devoted patroness, pulling him out of his severe financial difficulties. Their relationship, however, was one of strange mystery. In accordance for a generous annual sum, she stipulated that they would never meet, conducting their relationship entirely through correspondence. Even during the very few occasions that they did meet in person, no word passed between them. Among the 1200 letters that passed between them, one of the first contained a detailed programme on his new symphony, where he would give free reign to all of his barred emotions and struggles. (Madame von Meck's later composer friends also included the young Claude Debussy who served as a pianist at her house.)
The Fourth Symphony is the first of Tchaikovsky's symphonies to be obsessed with Fatum. Whereas the Fifth was written in the Berliozian fashion of employing a recurring idée fixe with a more sophisticated air to it, and the Sixth found the composer surrendering to Fatum and death, the Fourth is the most impetuous and energetic of the three. Here we have Tchaikovsky venting out all his frustrations and hardships in a heavily Romantic garb that is technically rather loose ("I am terrible when it comes to form" by Tchaikovsky's confession) but emotionally even more powerful. The main weight of the work is carried by the first movement, leaving the three others as more descriptive character pictures. On the whole, the Fourth Symphony is an amazing adventure of raw emotion, heady romanticism, and impetuosity that has made a crowd favorite. The first performance took place on October 22, 1878 in Moscow under the direction of Nikolai Rubinstein. The dedication reads "To my best friend," meaning Madame von Meck.
THE FOURTH SYMPHONY, A COMPOSER'S CONFESSION (The quotes at the head of each movement is a translation of the program Tchaikovsky made for Madame von Meck. These are followed by my own short-hand analysis.)
I. Andante sostenuto - Moderato con anima, in movimento di valse - Moderato assai, quasi andante - Allegro vivo
"The introduction is the core of the whole symphony. The main thought, that first appears in the trumpets and then in the French horn, depicts Fate, that malign power which hinders our pursuit of happiness from gaining the goal; that the sky is not free from clouds - a might that constantly swings over head like the sword of Damokles; that continually poisons the soul. There is no other possibility than to submit before that fate. The main theme of the Allegro represents the feeling of submission and hopelessness. Wouldn't it be better to just let go of reality and find comfort in dreams? This dreamlife is depicted by the second group of themes, to which gentle woodwind figures lead and which is begun by a sensitive string melody. Some bright clear human image passes, beckoning me on. The oppressive beginning motive from the Allegro returns, but how remote it feels. Little by little the dreams weave over the entire soul. Everything dark, everything mournful is forgotten. Happiness is here! But no, they are only dreams, the harsh theme of Fate dispells them away again. Thus life itself is nothing but a persistent alternation of hard reality with evanescent dreams and clutchings at happiness. There is no haven. Sail on that sea until it encompasses you and drowns you in its depths."
The motto that opens the symphony is set as a forceful F minor fanfare which is repeated several times (it has been suggested that the fanfare was inspired by the Book of Revelations). The ensuing Moderato con anima begins as a staggering waltz in 9/8 time with a fluid swirl of downward melodic curves. A marked feature of this movement is that Tchaikovsky refuses to return to the main key of F minor until the very end when the Fate motto returns for the fourth time. Along the way Tchaikovsky posts harmonic reference points throughout the movement making key relations not all that important. Even in the recapitulation Tchaikovsky doesn't return to F minor, as is the usual practice, but instead goes to D minor, a key that has not even been hinted at before. And when F minor finally returns in the coda, it is even more powerful and doom-laden than before. This is one of the most hysterical, yet most compelling movements I have ever heard in any symphony and the closest rival that comes close would be Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique, to which it owes not a small debt.
II. Andantino in modo di canzone
"The second movement expresses another phase of suffering. It is that feeling of melancholy that comes in the evening when we sit at home alone; we try to read, but the book has slipped from our hands. A whole rush of memories crowd upon us. How sad it is that so much has already passed and is gone forever. One regrets the past, yet one would begin life anew, one is too weary… One remembers happy moments when the young blood ran hot and life fulfilled all our desire… But those days are already so far away. It is sad, yet somewhat sweet to linger in memories of the past."
After the dramatic first movement, the following movements are more in the line of picturesque support. The Andantino is built upon a melancholy song for oboe that doesn't depart from the even succession of eighth-notes throughout its twenty bars. It is then taken over by cellos, followed by the violins that carry the music to a more emphatic statement reminiscent of the first movement's similar moments of "comfort in dreams." The middle section offers a quasi-march that is again succeeded by the original oboe theme, now in the violins with surging little wind figures. The middle section is briefly hinted at before the violins, clarinet and bassoon bring the movement to a close in a fading sense of broken phrases.
III. Scherzo. Pizzicato ostinato (Allegro)
"There is no particular emotion depicted in the third movement. It contains quirky, imaginary arabesques - intangible images that pass through the mind when one has drunk wine…. Fantasy has free reign and draws the most wondrous pictures. The picture of a drunken peasant… a brief street song sounds in the background… far off, a military procession passes by. These are all individual characters that come into being in our sleep and disappear in our brain. The pictures are out of touch with reality."
The Scherzo is a curious piece of music for a symphony. Consisting almost completely of a perpetual pizzicato, the strings are never touched in any other way. The oboe offers a jaunty little tune (probably the street song) after which comes a little bit of martial sounding music (the military procession). After the two themes are blended, the music returns to its original demenour. Originally Tchaikovsky was not very sure about how fast to play the movement. His initial instructions told the pizzicato was to be played as fast as possible, but he gave up the idea and assigned a more standard direction of Allegro. Tchaikovsky was very proud of his novel orchestration, but later on felt more annoyed as the "cute" scherzo made a bigger impression than the rest of the symphony.
IV. Allegro con fuoco
"If you can't find joy within yourself, then look around, go to the people. See how they can give themselves up to pleasure! A peasant festival is depicted. But no sooner do you forget yourself in others' joy than the unrelenting Fate again reminds its presence. Again the heavy theme from the first movement appears. But the others don't care. They are not looking at you at all, they are still happy. Rejoice for the happiness of others, and so you can still bare to live."
The final movement begins with a big F major flourish of eight bars. It is then succeeded by the Russian folk-song "A Birch Tree Stood in the Field" that is cast in A minor (Rimsky-Korsakov had already used this melody in his Overture on Russian Themes, Op.28), which makes for a distinctly unstable effect. These two themes then alternate in the style of a rondo with greatly varying orchestrations. Amid the glamour, the "Fate" fanfare again breaks out with even more malignant power than before. This however is but a brief reminder and once the moment is past the movement is free to race to its empahtically jubilant conclusion. (And people say classical music is boring.)
RECORDINGS
As is expected, the Fourth Symphony has been recorded numerous times. Here are my three top recommendations:
My favourite of them all must inevitably be George Szell's Decca recording from the 1960s with the London Symphony Orchestra. The reading is very exciting without ever sounding forced; the first movement is filled with drama that is springed out very naturally, the second brings an authentic sense of melancholy, the third is more vivacious than usual, and the finale culminates in great excitement. To add to this the recorded quality is surprisingly good considering its age and this makes Szell's version by far the most preferable.
Following close behind is Mariss Janson's digital recording with the Oslo Philharmonic on the Chandos label. Here we have a version that revels in the small nyances of Tchaikovsky's writing while offering a very compelling reading. The finale in particular is very fast but never gets out of hand.
My third recommendation would be Lorin Maazel's Vienna Philharmonic which, while not quite as exciting as Szell's version, unravels with a sense of inevitability. Maazel doesn't push the music, but rather lets it come out naturally on its own. That's not to say the performance is lacking in excitement, but it is more like excitement that is controlled rather than marked. The first movement for instance flows freely without dragging, while the finale is taken slower than in his later version, reaching a very excited conclusion. And every time when the Fate motto appears, it always resonates with force and great dramatic weight.
