Symphony No. 2 in C minor: the ‘Little Russian’, Op. 17
Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky (1840-93)
Andante sostenuto - Allegro vivo; Andantino marziale, quasi moderato; Scherzo: Allegro molto vivace; Finale: Moderato assai – Allegro vivo
Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky’s Second Symphony was an immediate success at its première in 1873, winning the approval of the Russian nationalist composers known as ‘The Five’, led by Mily Balakirev. Tchaikovsky’s conspicuous use of three Ukrainian folk songs prompted the moniker ‘Little Russian’ because Ukraine was often referred to as Little Russia at the time. In a letter to his father, Tchaikovsky reported, ‘My symphony was played last week with great success. I was recalled many times and was cheered repeatedly.’ Despite the positive reception, Tchaikovsky was less enthusiastic about the symphony than were the critics. Over a period of seven years, he worked on a revised and shorter version, which is the one usually played today.
The first, second and fourth movements are based on folksongs, while the scherzo, which is not, might seem paradoxically to be more ‘folk-orientated’ than the other three movements. Although the quoted songs sound new to most 21st century Western ears, they were familiar favourites for Russian audiences of the time. They stoked nationalistic fervour and helped to establish Tchaikovsky as a composer of merit with impeccable patriotic credentials. So why was he dissatisfied?
Tchaikovsky loved Russian folk music. He loved Russian liturgical music as well, and made arrangements of this material throughout his life. At the same time, he identified a dichotomy that needed all his intellect and musical genius to resolve. Whether intended for singing or dancing, folk music tends to be immutable. Although folk melodies lend themselves well to embellishment and repetition, they can suffer when they are developed symphonically. If the essential melodic or rhythmic characteristics are changed, the core vanishes, and it is no longer folk music. In symphonic music, the melodies and motifs are often dissected, subjected to musical metamorphosis, and generally pummelled like kneaded dough. This can lead to a splendid result; a perfect loaf one might say. Folk tunes are better presented as something of a potpourri, but a potpourri does not a symphony make. Tchaikovsky overcame this problem to an extent in this symphony, and continued to develop solutions in later works, including the two ‘great’ symphonies, numbers 5 and 6.
Although Tchaikovsky included the borrowed melodies note-for-note, he found ways to shift from the simplicity of quotation to the complexity of symphonic development, at times using the folk melodies, or parts of them, as his palette for creating larger musical landscapes. He also combined the folk material with original composition, sometimes causing the latter to grow out of the former. The value that Tchaikovsky attached to lighter textures, especially as used by Rococo composers, is evident in this, his scaled-down version of the original symphony. He preferred to concentrate the heavier symphonic messages in his outer movements, and that is what happens here, the inner movements being comparatively short and light-weight. He lifted the second movement, virtually unaltered, from his opera Undine.
A folksong called ‘The Crane’ dominates the last movement. For the most part it is quoted notatim, but Tchaikovsky expands it in unexpected ways, exploring the full potential of the original musical material. The splendour of the piece, compared by some to ‘The Great Gate of Kiev’ in Modeste Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’, has delighted audiences in Russia and Ukraine for more than a century.
Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky (1840-93)
Andante sostenuto - Allegro vivo; Andantino marziale, quasi moderato; Scherzo: Allegro molto vivace; Finale: Moderato assai – Allegro vivo
Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky’s Second Symphony was an immediate success at its première in 1873, winning the approval of the Russian nationalist composers known as ‘The Five’, led by Mily Balakirev. Tchaikovsky’s conspicuous use of three Ukrainian folk songs prompted the moniker ‘Little Russian’ because Ukraine was often referred to as Little Russia at the time. In a letter to his father, Tchaikovsky reported, ‘My symphony was played last week with great success. I was recalled many times and was cheered repeatedly.’ Despite the positive reception, Tchaikovsky was less enthusiastic about the symphony than were the critics. Over a period of seven years, he worked on a revised and shorter version, which is the one usually played today.
The first, second and fourth movements are based on folksongs, while the scherzo, which is not, might seem paradoxically to be more ‘folk-orientated’ than the other three movements. Although the quoted songs sound new to most 21st century Western ears, they were familiar favourites for Russian audiences of the time. They stoked nationalistic fervour and helped to establish Tchaikovsky as a composer of merit with impeccable patriotic credentials. So why was he dissatisfied?
Tchaikovsky loved Russian folk music. He loved Russian liturgical music as well, and made arrangements of this material throughout his life. At the same time, he identified a dichotomy that needed all his intellect and musical genius to resolve. Whether intended for singing or dancing, folk music tends to be immutable. Although folk melodies lend themselves well to embellishment and repetition, they can suffer when they are developed symphonically. If the essential melodic or rhythmic characteristics are changed, the core vanishes, and it is no longer folk music. In symphonic music, the melodies and motifs are often dissected, subjected to musical metamorphosis, and generally pummelled like kneaded dough. This can lead to a splendid result; a perfect loaf one might say. Folk tunes are better presented as something of a potpourri, but a potpourri does not a symphony make. Tchaikovsky overcame this problem to an extent in this symphony, and continued to develop solutions in later works, including the two ‘great’ symphonies, numbers 5 and 6.
Although Tchaikovsky included the borrowed melodies note-for-note, he found ways to shift from the simplicity of quotation to the complexity of symphonic development, at times using the folk melodies, or parts of them, as his palette for creating larger musical landscapes. He also combined the folk material with original composition, sometimes causing the latter to grow out of the former. The value that Tchaikovsky attached to lighter textures, especially as used by Rococo composers, is evident in this, his scaled-down version of the original symphony. He preferred to concentrate the heavier symphonic messages in his outer movements, and that is what happens here, the inner movements being comparatively short and light-weight. He lifted the second movement, virtually unaltered, from his opera Undine.
A folksong called ‘The Crane’ dominates the last movement. For the most part it is quoted notatim, but Tchaikovsky expands it in unexpected ways, exploring the full potential of the original musical material. The splendour of the piece, compared by some to ‘The Great Gate of Kiev’ in Modeste Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’, has delighted audiences in Russia and Ukraine for more than a century.