Overture Magazine - 2015-2016 Season March-April 2016 | Page 27

program notes {
song, which ebbs and flows in intensity and
passion. Midway through this movement
comes a faster, feathery dance led by the
piano; listen to the woodwind solos that
accompany it for they are singing a cleverly
altered version of movement one’s chant
theme. The pianist abruptly dismisses the
dark mood, and with a burst of virtuosity
sails directly into the finale.
Rachmaninoff loved the sound of
Russian church bells, and we hear them
ringing in the piano as the finale opens. As
in movement one, the second theme is first
presented rhythmically in thick, aggressively syncopated piano chords. Then it
is transformed into the big soaring tune
we wait for in every Rachmaninoff work.
A series of variations on the bell theme,
featuring coruscating pianism of extreme
difficulty, takes the place of a development
section. The concerto’s final drive begins
with a roaring march for the piano, spurred
on by low strings.
Instrumentation: Two flutes, two oboes, two
clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two
trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani,
percussion, and strings.

Symphony No. 4 in F Minor

Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Born in Votkinsk, Russia, May 7, 1840; died in
St. Petersburg, Russia, November 6, 1893

Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony is a tale
of two women. Both entered the composer’s life in 1877, the year he created
this tempestuous, fate-filled work. One
of them nurtured his creative career with
bountiful gifts of friendship, understanding, and money; the other, in a quixotic
marriage, nearly destroyed it.
The composer’s bright angel was Nadezhda von Meck, recently widowed and
heiress to a substantial financial empire.
An intelligent, highly complex woman,
she loved music passionately and that
passion became focused on Tchaikovsky.
Early in 1877, she began writing long,
heartfelt letters to him: “I regard the
musician-human as the supreme creation
of nature. … In you the musician and the
human being are united so beautifully, so

harmoniously, that one can give oneself
up entirely to the charm of the sounds of
your music, because in these sounds there
is noble, unfeigned meaning.”
From such effusions grew one of the
strangest and most fruitful relationships in
music. Mme. von Meck and Tchaikovsky
found they were soul mates, yet they
determined to conduct their relationship
exclusively through letters and never to
meet. For 14 years, they poured out their
innermost feelings to each other. She gave
him a generous annual stipend that freed
him from financial worries. He stayed at
her estate when she was away. Years later,
when they accidentally encountered each
other on a street in Florence, they raced
past each other in embarrassment. For
a man of homosexual inclination who
nevertheless yearned for closeness with a
woman, it was an ideal situation.
Less ideal was Tchaikovsky’s relationship
with his dark angel, Antonina Milyukova,
whom the composer — hoping to create
a “respectable” home life for himself
—foolishly agreed to marry in July 1877.
The relationship was a disaster from the
beginning and drove the composer to a
nervous breakdown. He fled his new bride
almost immediately and for years traveled
throughout Europe to avoid her.
The Fourth Symphony was conceived
during this turmoil — drafted before the
marriage and orchestrated in the aftermath — and the continual appearances
of a “Fate” fanfare, the turbulence of its
first movement, and the almost hysterical
rejoicing of its finale reflect it. Dedicating
the