The word ‘symphony’ is used to describe an extended orchestral composition in Western classical music. By the eighteenth century the Italianate opera sinfonia - musical interludes between operas or concertos - had assumed the structure of three contrasting movements, and it is this form that is often considered as the direct forerunner of the orchestral symphony. With the rise of established professional orchestras, the symphony assumed a more prominent place in concert life between 1790 and 1820 until it eventually came to be regarded by many as the yardstick by which one would measure a composer’s achievement.
Mily Balakirev was the brilliant, dynamic leader of the group of St Petersburg composers known as ‘The Mighty Handful’ or ‘The Five’, which included, besides himself, Mussorgsky, Borodin, Rimsky-Korsakov and Cui. As well as stimulating these other men, who might never have taken up composition but for him, he was a very fine composer in his own right. Completely lacking in conventional musical training, he had educated himself by studying the works of the Western masters and of his great Russian predecessor, Mikhail Glinka, and he was thus without the preconceived ideas inculcated in conservatoires of music in his day.
Elgar's two symphonies are good example of interpretations of music being stuck thanks to the strange British conservatism. If you listen to 10 recordings of these symphonies by 10 British conductors, they all sound more or less same in terms of interpretation: controlled, noble, beautiful Elgarian rubato and so on.
With 27 symphonies to his name, Nikolay Myaskovsky is known as the ‘father of the Soviet symphony’, his legacy placing him in the same line as other great Russian symphonists such as Prokofiev and Shostakovich. Myaskovsky’s richly Romantic Symphony No. 1 won him the Glazunov scholarship, and as a graduation work reveals the influence of Tchaikovsky and Scriabin in its expressive, dramatic impact. The more experimental but also deeply inward-looking and disconsolate Symphony No. 13 is regarded as one of Myaskovsky’s most individual statements.
The month of March will be marked by the 150th birthday of the great Russian composer Sergei Rachmaninov. Though mostly remembered for his piano compositions, he excelled in every genre, and his symphonies and tone poems are no exception. We release here the highly praised complete recordings made by Andrew Litton and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, including the famous Vocalise in its instrumental version, and the Symphonic Dances, both making their digital debut.
This set underlines various lessons. One of them is not to disdain the first three symphonies. They may not have the torrid solar flares of the last three but they certainly deserve as much attention as comes the way of Balakirev 1, the Borodins, the Glazunovs and the Lyapunovs. Pletnev is a most caring and thoughtful shaper of moods as the First Symphony shows. The playing is finely nuanced to match the strong balletic character. Indeed it made me think of Nutcracker more than once.
The symphonies of Tchaikovsky are richly scored and very demanding technically, as well as displaying a remarkable and highly individual amalgam of Russian characteristics and Western symphonic structure. In the case of his first three symphonies, we find many unusual features, a desire on his part for affirmation from his teachers and mentors, and an unease on their part due to what they expected him to compose and what he actually did. There is, of course, the question of an influence of native folk music in his output. About this, he once wrote: “…as far as the Russian element in my music is concerned, i.e. the relationship between the national songs and my melodies and harmonies, this is because I grew up in the backwoods, from earliest childhood saturated with the indescribable beauty of the characteristic traits of Russian folk music.”