Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64
Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky (1840-93)
Andante, Allegro con anima; Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza, Moderato con anima, Andante mosso, Allegro non troppo, Tempo I; Valse: Allegro moderato; Finale: Andante maestoso, Allegro vivace, Molto vivace, Moderato assai e molto maestoso, Presto
From 1877 to 1890, under the patronage of the wealthy widow Nadezhda von Meck, Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky was free to devote himself entirely to composition. Even so, he found conventional symphonic structure incompatible with his instinct. How could he express himself emotionally (his first priority) within the accepted conventions of the symphony and its revered ‘sonata form’, ‘scherzo’ and the rest?
At the symphony’s first performance, in 1888, some critics were far from convinced or impressed, possibly because Tchaikovsky used ‘motto themes’: musical ideas capable of manipulation and novel presentation while retaining their essential character. This was similar to Franz Liszt’s innovations where musical ideas were subjected to ‘metamorphosis’. For Tchaikovsky, the problem of reconciling formal strictures with free personal utterance was never overcome. However, his symphonic oeuvre led eventually to a host of works boasting the title ‘symphony’ by other Russian composers, Sergei Rachmaninov, Sergei Prokofiev and Dmitri Shostakovich in particular.
Because this work will be familiar to many, a detailed analysis is not essential. Even so, we might explore why it was deemed to be underwhelming at its first airing. Tchaikovsky imbued his creation with extra-musical significance. He wrote in his diary, somewhat enigmatically, that the symphony was ‘a complete resignation before fate, which is the same as the inscrutable predestination of fate.’ It has been suggested that he was following an example set by Ludwig van Beethoven in his fifth symphony, in which the gloomy minor mode cedes to the triumphant major mode as the piece progresses. Contemporary audiences would have understood this but they may have been less ready to accept a long work with emotional outpouring couched awkwardly within a traditional symphonic framework.
The symphony opens with a ‘motto’ theme, possibly signifying ‘fate’. It reappears in all four movements in various guises. The second movement, the best-known and most popular, is a heart-rending song far removed from the cerebral utterances of earlier composers. The operatic character of the famous opening solo for horn reminds us that Tchaikovsky was steeped in operatic form, and indeed wrote more operas than he did symphonies.
If opera was in his blood, so was ballet. The third movement is quite simply a waltz sharing space with a scurrying figure in the strings showing the influence of Léo Delibes, a composer Tchaikovsky greatly admired. The ‘fate’ theme concludes the movement.
However awful the threatened fate might be, gloom is eventually swept away in the busy, tuneful and sometimes very noisy finale.
Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky (1840-93)
Andante, Allegro con anima; Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza, Moderato con anima, Andante mosso, Allegro non troppo, Tempo I; Valse: Allegro moderato; Finale: Andante maestoso, Allegro vivace, Molto vivace, Moderato assai e molto maestoso, Presto
From 1877 to 1890, under the patronage of the wealthy widow Nadezhda von Meck, Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky was free to devote himself entirely to composition. Even so, he found conventional symphonic structure incompatible with his instinct. How could he express himself emotionally (his first priority) within the accepted conventions of the symphony and its revered ‘sonata form’, ‘scherzo’ and the rest?
At the symphony’s first performance, in 1888, some critics were far from convinced or impressed, possibly because Tchaikovsky used ‘motto themes’: musical ideas capable of manipulation and novel presentation while retaining their essential character. This was similar to Franz Liszt’s innovations where musical ideas were subjected to ‘metamorphosis’. For Tchaikovsky, the problem of reconciling formal strictures with free personal utterance was never overcome. However, his symphonic oeuvre led eventually to a host of works boasting the title ‘symphony’ by other Russian composers, Sergei Rachmaninov, Sergei Prokofiev and Dmitri Shostakovich in particular.
Because this work will be familiar to many, a detailed analysis is not essential. Even so, we might explore why it was deemed to be underwhelming at its first airing. Tchaikovsky imbued his creation with extra-musical significance. He wrote in his diary, somewhat enigmatically, that the symphony was ‘a complete resignation before fate, which is the same as the inscrutable predestination of fate.’ It has been suggested that he was following an example set by Ludwig van Beethoven in his fifth symphony, in which the gloomy minor mode cedes to the triumphant major mode as the piece progresses. Contemporary audiences would have understood this but they may have been less ready to accept a long work with emotional outpouring couched awkwardly within a traditional symphonic framework.
The symphony opens with a ‘motto’ theme, possibly signifying ‘fate’. It reappears in all four movements in various guises. The second movement, the best-known and most popular, is a heart-rending song far removed from the cerebral utterances of earlier composers. The operatic character of the famous opening solo for horn reminds us that Tchaikovsky was steeped in operatic form, and indeed wrote more operas than he did symphonies.
If opera was in his blood, so was ballet. The third movement is quite simply a waltz sharing space with a scurrying figure in the strings showing the influence of Léo Delibes, a composer Tchaikovsky greatly admired. The ‘fate’ theme concludes the movement.
However awful the threatened fate might be, gloom is eventually swept away in the busy, tuneful and sometimes very noisy finale.