Symphony No. 1 (Rachmaninoff)

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Sergei Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 1 in D minor, Op. 13, was written in 1895, and premiered in 1897. It was not performed again in the composer's lifetime. He left the score in Russia when he went into exile; it was subsequently lost.[1] In 1944, the instrumental parts of the symphony were discovered. The full score was reconstructed, and the second premiere took place at the Moscow Conservatory on October 17, 1945, conducted by Aleksandr Gauk.

Contents

[edit] Form

Overall as a symphonic composition, Rachmaninoff's First Symphony was to composer Robert Simpson much superior to the two with which Rachmaninoff followed it, having been created "naturally and without strain"[2] and with all four of its movements "thematically genuinely integrated,"[3] He also felt it avoids what he considered the lyrical inflation and forced climaxes of the Second Symphony and the piano concertos.[2] In fact, if one were to chart Rachmaninoff's progress as an orchestral composer after he graduated from the Moscow Conservatory—in other words, from Prince Rostislav to The Rock and from The Rock to the symphony—one might notice an increasing brevity and concision present.[4]

Simpson essentially concurred about this musical economy, commenting that the symphony's structure as a whole could not be faulted. While Rachmaninoff did indulge in his habit of relaxing into a slower tempo with the second subject of in his first movement (a habit at which, Simpson claims, Rachmaninoff became much worse later in his career), he kept a firm grip on the music, allowing nothing to get out of hand. Simpson especially cited the last movement's climax as overwhelmingly powerful and extremely economical in the use of its musical material.[2]

The symphony is written in four movements:

  1. Grave—Allegro non troppo in D minor
  2. Allegro animato in F major
  3. Larghetto in B flat major
  4. Allegro con fuoco in D major

The most original element in this work comes from a network of motivic relationships. Rachmaninoff had already used this device in his Caprice Bohémien. Here he takes it further. The result is, while the symphony is a fully cyclic work, the thematic integration within the music itself is taken far more extensively than in most Russian symphonies. Themes and thematic fragments from earlier movements are transformed, sometimes profoundly, to help shape existing material or to generate new material.[5] By doing so, Rachmaninoff uses comparatively little musical material for a composition of this work's size, combining all four movements with many thematic metamorphoses and more overt reminiscences. César Cui may have been referring to this qualitty in his 1897 review when he complained of "meaningless repetition of the same short tricks." Others have since considered these "tricks" a compositional strength, not a weakness.[6]

The score has been studied by motivic analysts and proves that Rachmaninoff could write genuinely symphonic music compared to the ballet music squeezed into sonata shapes which were written by many other Russian composers. This suggests that Rachmaninoff's treatment of symphonic form might owe more to Alexander Borodin than to Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky—a point that the St. Petersburg critics somehow failed to notice at the work's premiere. The symphony is also the first in a series of works that would prove Rachmaninoff to possess a sense of large-scale form at once acute and well-focused.[7]

Another original idea of Rachmaninoff's was the use of знамени (znammeny) chants as source material for his thematic ideas. He never quotes these chants literally, though the material the composer derives from them lends some pages of the symphony a decidedly religious air. In this respect they resemble what Bela Bartok would call "imaginary folk music," which appeared from Bartok's having so completely absorbed the spirit and vocabulary of Eastern European folk song and dance that he sometimes composed in this style without quoting any source material.[8]

The symphony is not without its problems, however. While it would seem formally taut overall, both the scherzo and slow movement suffere from serious longeurs. These are created in the slow movement by a static central episode with growling references to the motto theme in the lower strings and in the scherzo by rambling repetitions of the same theme depleting the music of its rhythmic drive. The orchestration is occasionaly brash and can sound clogged, making the piece sound portentous. However, an attentive performance can help minimize the potential pitfalls in the orchestration and clarify it, making the symphony the dark, forceful and rapturous musical statement that Rachmaninoff may have intended all along.[9]

[edit] Instrumentation

The symphony is scored for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion and strings.

[edit] Overview

Rachmaninoff in 1897, the year his First Symphony was premiered.
Rachmaninoff in 1897, the year his First Symphony was premiered.

[edit] Composition

The First Symphony was actually Rachmaninoff's second attempt in that genre. During his final year at the Moscow Conservatory he produced a symphonic movement in D minor, approximately 12 minutes in length, which was published posthumously in 1947 entitled "Youth Symphony." This work is written in traditional sonata form and, modeled after Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony, follows very closely in that compooser's shadow. This lack of originality may explain the lack of enthusiasm from Rachmaninoff's composition teachers, Anton Arensky and Sergei Taneyev.[10] His First Piano Concerto, which he would write later that year, would be a better indicator of his potential for handling large-scale form.[11] After graduation, in 1894 he transcribed Tchaikovsky's Manfred Symphony for piano duet, which gave him additional direct exposure to the symphonic genre.[12]

Rachmaninoff began planning what would become his First Symphony after he finished orchestrating his Caprice Bohémien in September 1894.[13] He composed the symphony between January and October 1895. This was an unusually long gestation period for the composer and not without difficulties. He wrote from Ivanovka on 29 July that despite a routine of composing seven hours a day he was finding work on the symphony extremely hard. By September he had increased his work time to 10 hours a day. However, by the time he left Ivanovka on October 7, he had not only finished composition and orcheration but also transcribed the work for piano duet.[14]

The unusually long time, for Rachmaninoff, of composing the work was mirrored by a long time in getting the work performed. In 1895 he had met musical philantropist Mitrofan Belyayev. It was because of Belayev's interest in programming a piece of Rachmaninoff's that the tone poem The Rock had been performed at the Russian Symphony Concerts in St. Petersburg.[15] As another friendly move, Belayev commissioned Rachmaninoff to transcribe Alexander Glazunov's Sixth Symphony for piano duet.[16] During 1896, largely through the influence of Taneyev and Glazunov, Belayev agreed to have the symphony performed. [17] Eventually, it was scheduled for performance the following year.[16]

Taneyev's initial impression of the work was not promising. Rachmaninoff brought him the manuscript and played it on the piano. Taneyev complained, "These melodies are flabby, colorless—there is nothing that can be done with them." Rachmaninofff made considerable changes to the score[18] and Taneyev assured Belayev that Rachmaninoff would soon forward the manuscript to the committee for the Russian Symphony Concerts for review.[19] Meanwhile, Rachmaninoff had second thoughts about parts of his symphony and sought out Taneyev a second time. Further changes followed, including an expansion of the slow movement.[16]

[edit] Glazunov

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, whose own musical preferences in the later years of his career were not overly progressive, may have sounded an advanced warning on hearing the symphony in rehearsal. He told Rachmaninoff, "Forgive me, but I do not find this music at all agreeable."[20] As the elder statesman of Russian music after Tchaikovsky's death, Rimsky-Korsakov may have felt justified saying something to Rachmaninoff, but he said it for the wrong reason. The rehearsal he had just heard, conducted by his friend and musical protegé Glazunov, was a disaster; many present agreed it was a terrible travesty of the score.[21] Not only did Glazunov conduct badly, but he also made cuts in the score and made several changes in orchestration.[22] The cuts Glazunov made in the first two movements made little sense musically,[23] and Glazunov's poor use of rehearsal time was complicated by the fact that two other works were receiving their first performances at the same concert, as well.[24]

Alexander Glazunov conducted Rachmaninoff's symphony poorly at its premiere.
Alexander Glazunov conducted Rachmaninoff's symphony poorly at its premiere.

Glazunov premiered the symphony on March 28 (March 15 o.s.), 1897. The performance was a complete failure; Rachmaninoff himself left in agony before it was over. Conductor Alexander Khessin, who attended the premiere, remembered, "The Symphony was insufficiently rehearsed, the orchestra was ragged, basic stability in tempos was lacking, many errors in the orchestral parts were uncorrected; but the chief thing that ruined the work was the lifeless, superficial, bland performance, with no flashes of animation, enthusiasm or brilliance of orchestral sound."[25]

Moreover, Rachmaninoff's wife and other witnesses later suggested that Glazunov may have been drunk on the podium. One person in particular wrote that at the rehearsal he was "standing motionless on the conductor's rostrum, wielding his baton without animation. Rachmaninoff was obviously very concerned and in the pauses went to Glazunov and said something to him, but he never managed to arouse him from a state of complete indifference."[26] Although this was never intimated by Rachmaninoff and cannot be confirmed, it is not implausible for a man whom, according to his pupil Dmitri Shostakovich, kept a bottle of alcohol hidden behind his desk and sipped it through a tube during lessons.[27]

Drunk or not, Glazunov may have neither understood nor been totally committed to the symphony—a work written in a newer, more modern idiom and greater length (approximately 45 minutes) than he might have expected[28]. He commented on another occasion about Rachmaninoff's music, "There is a lot of feeling ... but no sense whatever."[29] The comment itself is strange considering that Glazunov himself may have anticipated Rachmaninoff's musical idiom in his own Second Symphony, which he had written in 1886.[30] (Glazunov demonstrated his low regard for Rachmaninoff's music by leaving a copy of the score for the Fourth Piano Concerto in a Paris taxicab in 1930. The score had been a present from the composer.[31]) All things considered, it is perhaps a surprise that Glazunov conducted a competent performance of Rachmaninoff's orchestral fantasy The Rock the previous year.[24] While it was generally received favorably, César Cui stated, in a foretaste of his comments on the symphony, that "the whole composition shows that this composer is more concerned about sound than about music."[32]

[edit] Contemporary response

Because of his past successes, Rachmaninoff may have expected another triumph with his symphony. Instead, he literally received the shock of his life. He actually should not have been so shocked. He should have been warned by the fact it took an unusually long time, especially for one of his works, to obtain a performance. He should have been further warned by rehearsals, at which he was present, going so badly.[33]

The elder Rimsky-Korsakov.
The elder Rimsky-Korsakov.

[edit] Political bias

For all of Belayev's good intentions at attempting to foster Rachmaninoff's talent with the premiere of his symphony, having the work performed in St. Petersburg did not necessarily bode well, with Rimsky-Korsakov's comment an omen of things to come. The musical scene there was dominated by the group of young composers called the Belayev Circle, headed by Rimsky-Korsakov since he had taught many of them at the Conservatory there. Composers who wished to be part of this circle, who desired Beleyev's patronage had to write in a musical style approved by Glazunov, Lyadov and Rimsky-Korsakov. Because of this, Rimsky-Korsakov's style became the preferred academic style—one that young composers had to follow if they hoped to have any sort of career. Those who opposed the Belayev circle did not fail to notice this bias.[34]

While Rimsky-Korsakov called the group "progressive" in his autobiography,[35] "moderately academic" might have been more fitting, with the majority turning technnical accomplishment into an end in itself—an attitude which had always characterized the Conservatory.[36] Despite Rimsky-Korsakov's denial of the the Belayev Circle being similar to "The Five" under Balakirev, the two factions did share one trait. Like the kuchka, the Belayev group viewed with suspicion those compositions which did not follow its canon.[37]

Cesar Cui led the critical charge against the symphony.
Cesar Cui led the critical charge against the symphony.

[edit] Critical reaction

Much of the motivation for what was written about it was fueled by the long-standing antagonism between St. Petersburg and Moscow, which reached far beyond musical questions. There was also the fact it was a symphony in question this time—a musical form the St. Petersburg critics and many other members of the Belayev Circle were very particular abuot defending. They had actually given good reviews to The Rock when Glazunov conducted it. A symphony was another matter.

Rachmaninoff's work may have been considered offensive because of its relatively progressive use of symphonic form, something that went against the critics' sensibilities and the precepts Rimsky-Korsakov taught at the Conservatory.[24] Alexandr Gauk, who would conduct the triumphant revival of the symphony in 1945, surmised as much, suggesting the work failed initially "because it was a modern composition, far ahead of its time, so it did not satisfy the tastes of the contemporary critics." [38] The more partisan of these critics went on the attack, with Cui leading the charge:

If there were a conservatory in Hell, and if one of its talented students was to compose a programme symphony based on the story of the Ten Plagues of Egypt, and if he were to compose a symphony like Mr. Rachmaninoff's, then he would have fulfilled his task brilliantly and would delight the inhabitants of Hell. To us this music leaves an evil impression with its broken rhythms, obscurity and vagueness of form, meaningless repetition of the same short tricks, the nasal sound of the orchestra, the strained crash of the brass, and above all its sickly perverse harmonization and quasi-melodic outlines, the complete absence of simplicity and naturalness, the complete absence of themes.[39]

Cui also begrudged Rachmaninoff as close to a compliment as he would ever come, writing, "Mr. Rachmaninoff does avoid banality, and probably feels strongly and deeply, and tries to express these feelings in new forms." This olive branch was too obscured by the vitriol of the rest of the review for anyone to notice. Moreover, Cui's antipathy toward Moscow composers was extremely deep-seated. In a letter to M.S. Kerzina dated December 19, 1904, he placed them together with Richard Strauss, "whose absurd cacophony will not be music even in the 30th century."[40]

A more balanced consideration of the work, unfortunately too late to undo the damage wrought by Cui, came from critic Nikolai Findeisen in the April issue of Russkaya Muzykalnaya Gazeta:

The climax of the concert, Rachmaninoff's D minor symphony, was not very successfully interpreted, and was therefore largely misunderstood and underestimated by the audience. This work shows new impulses, tendencies toward new colors, new themes, new images, and yet it impresses one as something not fully said or solved. However, I shall refrain from expressing my final opinion, for it would be too easy to repeat the history of Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony, only recently (thanks to Nikisch) "discovered" by us, and which everyone now admires as a new, marvelous, and beautiful creation. To be sure, Rachmaninoff's first symphony may not be wholly beautiful, integrated and definite, but some of its pages seem far from mediocre. The first movement, and especially the furious finale with its concluding Largo, contain much beauty, novelty, and even inspiration....[41]

[edit] Composer's reaction

Rachmaninoff wrote to composer Alexander Zatayevich on May 6 "of my impressions of the performance of the symphony ... though it is difficult for me." This letter has been cited frequently for the composer's opinion of Glazunov's lack of conducting skill. However, Rachmaninoff also shares extensively about his impression of the symphony itself:

I'm not at all affected by its lack of success, nor am I disturbed by the newspapers' abuse; but I am deeply distressed and heavily depressed by the fact that my Symphony, though I loved it very much and love it now, did not please me at all after its first rehearsal. This means, you'll say, that it's poorly orchestrated. But I am convinced, I reply, that good music can shine through poor instrumentation, nor do I consider the instrumentation to be wholly unsuccessful. So two surmises remain. Either, like some composers, I am unduly partial to this composition, or this composition was poorly performed. And this is what really happened. I am amazed—how can a man with the high talent of Glazunov conduct so badly? I speak not merely of his conducting technique (there's no use asking this of him), but of his musicianship. He feels nothing when he conducts—as if he understands nothing!... So I assume that the performance may have been the cause of the failure (I do not assert—I assume). If the public were familiar with the symphony, they would blame the conductor (I continue to "assume"), but when a composition is both unknown and badly performed, the public is inclined to blame the composer. This view would seem plausible, particularly as this symphony, though not decadent, in the current sense of the term, is really slightly "new." This means it must be played according to the most precise indications of the composer, who may thus somewhat make peace between the public and himself, and between the public and the composition (for the composition would then be more intelligible to the public).... As you see, at present I'm inclined to blame the performance. Tomorrow, probably, this opinion, too, will change. In any case I will not reject this Symphony, and after leaving it alone for six months, I'll look at it, perhaps correct it, and perhaps publish it, but perhaps by then my partiality for it will have passed. Then I'll tear it up.[42]

Long after the fact, Rachmaninoff told his biographer Oskar von Riesemann, "I returned to Moscow a changed man. My confidence in myself had received a sudden blow. Agonizing hours spent in doubt and hard thinking had brought me to the conclusion that I ought to give up composing."[43] However, the composer's comments to Zatayevich seem considerably more rational, even logical. Nor had the press been entirely unfavorable toward the symphony (see above). It may have been on subsequent reflection that Rachmaninoff suffered his psychological collapse.[44]

This delay in Rachmaninoff's collapse has never been explained, nor may it ever be. One question some scholars have asked is whether the symphony had an autobiographical dimension that gave its failure a more personal dimension. According to many sources, the original manuscript, now lost, carried a dedication to "A.L." plus the epigraph to Leo Tolstoy's novel Anna Karenina, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay." A.L. was Anna Lodïzhenskaya, the beautiful Gypsy wife of his friend Peter Lodïzhensky. He had also dedicated the Caprice Bohémien to her. Whether Rachmaninoff's regard for her was merely infatuation or something more serious cannot be known. Neither can the connection between the two of them and Anna Karanina, or between the biblical quotation and the religious chants providing the basis for the symphony's thematic material.[45]

When the collapse came, it left Rachmaninoff totally shattered. He abandoned sketches for another symphony[46] and was unable to compose until 1899, when family members and friends convinced him to seek hypnotic therapy with Dr. Nikolai Dahl. The famous product of these meetings was the immensely popular Second Piano Concerto, premiered in 1900.

[edit] Neglect and disappearance

The symphony was not performed again in Rachmaninoff's lifetime.[47] He did not tear up the score but remained ambivalent about it.[48] In April 1908, three months after the successful premiere of his Second Symphony, he considered revising the First. He wrote his Conservatory colleague Nikita Morozov that the symphony was one of three of his early works that he would like to see in a "corrected, decent form." (The other two compositions were the First Piano Concerto and Caprice Bohémien.)[49][50] He wrote in 1910 to critic Grigory Prokovief, "The symphony contains many successful passages in so far as its music is concerned, but the orchestration is worse than weak, a fact that caused its failure at the St. Petersburg performance."[51] In 1917, he wrote Boris Asafiev that he would not show it to anyone and make sure in his will that no one would see it. He left the score in Russia when he went into exile; it was subsequently lost.[48]

Eugene Ormandy led the first American performance of the First Symphony in 1948. It was also part of the first televised concert in the United States.
Eugene Ormandy led the first American performance of the First Symphony in 1948. It was also part of the first televised concert in the United States.

[edit] Second life

Shortly after the composer's death, in 1944, the instrumental parts of the symphony were discovered. Using these parts and the two-piano arrangement, a group of scholars headed by prominent Russian conductor Aleksandr Gauk reconstructed the full score. The second premiere of the piece conducted by Aleksandr Gauk took place at the Moscow Conservatory on October 17, 1945, and was a grand success. This led to a new and more enthusiastic evaluation of Rachmaninoff's music in Russia.[citation needed]

The American premiere took place on March 19, 1948 at the Philadelphia Academy of Music, the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Eugene Ormandy. It was part of the first concert to be televised in the United States. A second performane was broadcast on radio the following day. Worth noting in light of the 1897 premiere is that seven rehearsals were needed to prepare the work for its initial American hearing, even though both Ormandy and the Philadelphia had long been familiar with the composer's style. With the posthumous rise in Rachmaninoff's reputation as a composer, the symphony became part of the standard orchestral repertoire.[52]

Conversely, the first British performance of the symphony did not take place until January 2, 1964, the Polyphonia Symphony Orchestra conducted by Brian Fairfax. This was during a time when Rachmaninoff's music was held in low regard in the United Kingdom.[53]

[edit] Sources

  • Harrison, Max, Rachmaninoff: Life, Works, Recordings (London and New York: Contunnum, 2005). ISBN 0-8264-5344-9.
  • Maes, Francis, tr. Pomerans, Arnold J. and Erica Pomerans, A History of Russian Music: From Kamarinskaya to Babi Yar (Brekeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 2002). ISBN 0-520-21815-9.
  • Norris, Gregory, Rachmaninoff (New York: Schirmer Books, 1993). ISBN 0-02-870685-4.
  • Norris, Gregory, ed. Stanley Sadie, The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians (London: MacMillian, 1980), 20 vols. ISBN 0-333-23111-2.
  • Simpson, Robert, ed. Robert Simpson, The Symphony: Volume 2, Mahler to the Present Day (New York: Drake Publishers, Inc., 1972). ISBN 87749-245-X.
  • Steinberg, Michael, The Concerto (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1998). ISBN 0-19-510330-0.
  • Volkov, Solomon, tr. Bouis, Antonina W., St. Petersburg: A Cultural History (New York: The Free Press, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc., 1995). ISBN 0-02-874052-1.
  • Walker, Robert, Rachmaninoff (London and New York: Omnibus Press, 1980). ISBN 0-89524-208-7.

[edit] References

  1. ^ Norris, Rachmaninoff, 23.
  2. ^ a b c Simpson, 129.
  3. ^ Simpson, 130.
  4. ^ Walker, 31.
  5. ^ Brown, David, ed. Robert Layton, "Russia Before the Revolution (1993), 285-286.
  6. ^ Norris, Rachmaninoff, 97.
  7. ^ Harrison, 80-81.
  8. ^ Harrison, 79.
  9. ^ Norris, Rachmaninoff, 99.
  10. ^ Harrison, 34.
  11. ^ Harrison, 36.
  12. ^ Harrison, 63.
  13. ^ Norris, Rachmaninoff, 20.
  14. ^ Harrison, 67.
  15. ^ Harrison, 67-68.
  16. ^ a b c Harrison, 68.
  17. ^ Norris, Rachmaninoff, 21.
  18. ^ Harrison, 76.
  19. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 70.
  20. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 71.
  21. ^ Harrison, 76.
  22. ^ Walker, 37.
  23. ^ Harrison, 82 ft. 4.
  24. ^ a b c Harrison, 77.
  25. ^ Martyn, 97.
  26. ^ Elena Yulyevna Kreutzer, as quoted in Martyn, 96.
  27. ^ Norris, New Grove, 709.
  28. ^ Walker, 37.
  29. ^ Seroff, 57.
  30. ^ Harrison, ft. 5.
  31. ^ Woolridge, 266.
  32. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 68.
  33. ^ Harrison, 76.
  34. ^ Maes, 173.
  35. ^ Rimsky-Korsakov, My Musical Life, 286-287.
  36. ^ Volkov, Solomon, St. Petersburg: A Cultural History (New York: The Free Press, 1995), 349.
  37. ^ Volkov, St. Petrersburg, 350.
  38. ^ Cited in Gronowicz, Antoni, ‘’Sergei Rachmaninoff’’ (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1946), 67.
  39. ^ Kyui, Ts., "Tretiy russkiy simfonicheskiy kontsert," Novosti i birzhevaya gazeta (17 March 1897(o.s.)), 3.
  40. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 72 ft.
  41. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 72.
  42. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 73-74.
  43. ^ Riesemann, 102.
  44. ^ Harrison, 78.
  45. ^ Harrison, 78.
  46. ^ Norris, New Grove, 15:551-552.
  47. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 74.
  48. ^ a b Norris, Rachmaninoff, 23.
  49. ^ Bertenssohn and Leyva, 144-145.
  50. ^ Norris, Rachnmaninoff, 97.
  51. ^ Quoted by Yasser (1951).
  52. ^ Harrison, 82.
  53. ^ Harrison, 83 ft. 21.

[edit] External links