Rachmaninov: Piano Concerto No. 3

Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, Op. 30

Sergei Rachmaninov
(1873-1943)

Only in recent times could a serious writer on matters musical be bold (or reckless) enough to speak with

commendation of the work of Sergei Rachmaninov. (Anyone with access to the Fourth Edition of Grove's Dictionary will find the sort of disdainful critique of the composer quite characteristic of musical criticism until late in the 20^th century.) Why this has been so is difficult to explain. Perhaps the sheer popularity of Rachmaninov's works has caused the Arbiters of Good Taste to conclude that this alone must be a cause for condemnation. (Such persons forget the wonderful story about Brahms enscribing a photo of himself and Johann Strauss, of all people, in which he sketched out the opening bars of the "Blue Danube" with the inscription, “unfortunately NOT by Johannes

Brahms" - !) Another "problem" with Rachmaninov is perhaps his lifelong loyalty to a musical style and personal idiom shaped in the late 19^th century. (The solution, of course, might have been for Rachmaninov to have died before the age of forty!" But if no less a figure than Gustav Mahler could find much to admire in the work of his Russian colleague, perhaps foolish notions of “taste" should be reserved for food critics and the Style Section of the Sunday papers.)

Rachmaninov was born on an estate near Novgorod into a well-to-do family which moved to Saint Petersburg where the boy, his musical gifts manifest at an early age, began studies at the conservatory. Not yet in his teens, Rachmaninov was sent by his cousin, Alexander Siloti (himselfa distinguished pianist and conductor) to study at the Moscow Conservatory. There Rachmaninov received strict piano instruction, as well as the whole range of music theory and counterpoint, coming to know most of the prominent musicians of the "Moscow school," among them Arensky, Anton Rubinstein, Taneyev, and above all, his idol, Tchaikovsky. Already a prolific composer while still in his teens, Rachmaninov sketched the first version of his First Piano Concerto as early as 1890, followed in the same year by his first major orchestral work, the symphonic poem, "Prince Rostislav." In 1892 the TRIO ELEGIAQUE

and one-act opera, ALEKO were composed, while his most famous single work, the all-but-notorious "Prelude

in C-sharp minor," was published before the age of twenty----soon becoming the bane of his life as a concert pianist. ALEKO was performed, winning enthusiastic praise from Tchaikovsky, and the composer seemed moving ahead without a cloud on the horizon. But everything changed in 1897 with the disastrous performance of his First Symphony in D Minor, which had the misfortune to be conducted by the remarkably incompetent (and possibly intoxicated) Alexander Glazunov. The symphony and its composer were roasted by the critics, plunging Rachmaninov into a profound depression, which resulted in a period of three years without any composition whatever. (The symphony was not published, and the manuscript eventually disappeared. Happily in 1945 the original orchestra! parts were discovered, the score re-constructed, and on 17 October, 1945 the symphony had a triumphant second performance, and is now recognized as one of the composer's most original works.)

Rachmaninov's recovery from depression through the efforts of a doctor in Dresden, leading to the

resounding success of the Second Concerto is well known. There followed a succession of major compositions, notably the splendid Second Symphony in 1906. But rivalling Rachmaninov's acclaim as a composer was his accomplishments as a concert artist, which rapidly won him fame as one of the finest performers of the day. It was in preparation for his debut as both pianist and composer in the United States that the Third Piano Concerto was composed in 1909. The concerto received its world premiere at Carnegie Hail on 28 November, 1909, with the New York Symphony conducted by Walter Damrosch. A rather more auspicious performance at Carnegie followed on 16 January, 1910, with the New York Philharmonic under Gustav Mahler, who had been so deeply impressed by the concerto that (in that era before unions) he insisted upon extending the dress rehearsal by ninety minutes to do justice to the complexity of the work. Rachmaninov marvelled at Mahler’s attention to detail, and precise integration of the piano and orchestral elements, which resulted in a performance which he remembered as the finest of his career. Thirty years later Rachmaninov completed his cycle of the concertos on disc when he was soloist in a recording made in XXXX 1940 with his favorite orchestra, the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy.

Sergei Rachmaninov's first two piano concertos were freely modelled upon the celebrated B-fiat minor Concerto of his beloved Tchaikovsky, opening with full-throated lyrical melodies, the piano part closely interwoven with elaborate and richly-colored orchestral writing. The Third Concerto, an altogether more intricate and large-scale musical structure, opens with a simplicity and directness not heard since the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. Against an accompaniment figure whose rhythmic elements, hardly noticed at first, will increasingly take on importance throughout the concerto, the soloist unfolds an plaintive melody of almost folk-like character, naive in its rhythmic character, diatonic in its musical language. While the musical argument will soon take on a complexity and sheer weight which is unique to this concerto, the truest expression in the work is always found in those moments when the composer returns to the simplicity of this opening. With a quickening of tempo the main theme is taken over by the violas and horns against a delicate tracery of passage-work in the piano. The tempo quickens yet again, the virtuoso piano writing begins to push aside the lyrical flow of the main theme, building in exitement and richness of detail. Settling down into a slower tempo (MODERATO), the Second Subject draws together a number of contrasting elements, at first giving voice to a powerful lyrical outburst by the strings, then moving into a SCHERZANDO passage, with staccato writing in the strings in dialogue with the piano, soon is transformed into a smoothly flowing episode in the piano alone (in B-Flat), then joined by the orchestra, increasing in fullness of texture and harmony. The exposition is then rounded out, still in B-fiat, in classical fashion returning to the music which opened the movement, at first back in the home key of D Minor, the principal theme recalled for a moment in its original uncomplicated form. Suddenly becoming agitated, a new figure (staccato thirds in winds and piano) is introduced, pressing on into increasingly urgent triplet passagework in the piano, soon breaking into a wild passage in which the staccato thirds are now dense chords in the piano over the primary rhythmic element from the very beginning of the movement. These too are hammered out in triplet figures as the music rushes into a frenzied climax, the piano in a shower of sixteenth-notes in the upper register over a heavily sustained bassline moving in half-notes. Withdrawing into a quiet mood as quickly as it had raced into dramatic wildness, the sustained bassline continues, the piano circling about in restless eighth-note canonic writing, the two hands widely spaced on the keyboard. The thirds reappear, the atmosphere becoming ever more sustained and subdued as the cadenza is launched.

CADENZA

In a quite original touch, Rachmaninov introduces brief passages for solo wind instruments into the latter portion of the cadenza, sharing the moment with solo flute, oboe, clarinet, finally horn.

Returning to D Minor, Rachmaninov, having already mademuch use of the secondary theme, rounds out the movement without a formal recapitulation, finishing with a final statement of the first subject in its original lyrical form, which serves as a coda to the movement.

While the term “intermezzo” is often applied to a rather light-weight, usually lyrical movement, often taking the place of a more a more animated SCHERZO, in this case the INTERMEZZO

acts as a deeply introspective interlude linking the massive outer movements. Even for a composer as given to expressions of melancholy feeling, the lengthy orchestra introduction to this movement is unusually sombre and inward-turning. The piano enters with a mood-breaking splash of color and virtuosity, then settling into the warm key of D-flat for the principal theme of the movement. This soon moves into darker harmonic colors with a remarkably extended passage which hovers over a long sustained pedal F. (It is sometimes suggested that the main part of the movement is a freely composed theme and variations.) Breaking away into shifting harmonic territory, the tempo quickening and emotional tone heightened and impassioned, the main theme becomes ever more insistent, finally returning to the key where it had begun, D-flat. Unexpectedly (taking his cue from the slow movement of the Tchaikovsky first Concerto), Rachmaninov lifts the music into the more transparent tonality of

F-sharp minor. Stepping into a rapid 3/8 metre, the effect is of a will-o-the-wisp SCHERZANDO episode which, all to soon, gives way to the earlier atmosphere of sorrow and aching emotional expression to end the movement. Sidestepping a conventional conclusion, the piano instead moves assertively forward in a brilliant cadenza-like passage to launch the finale without a pause.

Where the first movement is predominantly lyrical and the INTERMEZZO elegiac, the finale is most notable for its rhythmic vitality and irresistible momentum. Bounding off, brimming with energy, the principal theme is an uncomplicated, chordal statement in the piano set against a galloping background in the winds (with faint hints of rhythms heard in more relaxed surroundings at the beginning of the concerto.) A sturdy “transitional theme" follows, the piano writing suggesting the rather "military" style found in such popular Rachmaninov pieces as the Prelude in G Minor. This tumbles onward to lead in the secondary theme (in C Major), another thickly chordal passage bristling with syncopation which unexpectedly yields to a sustained melody in G Major unfolded in triplets in the piano, combined with syncopated figures in the strings. The end of the exposition is signalled in traditional fashion with a solid cadential thump, a faster tempo (ALLEGRO MOLTO), and after few ruffles and flourishes in the orchestra, a move into the key of E-flat, where the composer is content to settle in for an extended stay. This development section, marked SCHERZANDO, is laid out as a fourfold variation upon material derived from the secondary theme of the first movement, the piano displaying a full spectrum of decorative filligree and playful virtuosity. Rachmaninov, never blinking, dares to remain in E-flat for a no fewer than 92 bars (!), for a moment gliding off into E Major for a moment of gentle reflection before sliding back to E-flat, where this lovely (and harmonically static) central episode closes with an oddly understated hymn-like cadence in---E-flat. The recapitulation, opening in C Minor, follows fairly closely the earlier sequence of elements, if anything with even great momentum and excitement. Of particular note is the lyrical expansion of the syncopated secondary element, now with even more urgent expressive power, the sweeping melodic line in the piano now riding over softly pattering repeated eighth-notes in the strings. This spills over into the CODA, marked VIVACE, which opens with music actually derived from the first movement cadenza, the piano in its lowest register, joined by timpani and lower strings, creating an atmosphere of menace and irresistible momentum. The music gallops forward, with a brief pause for a short cadenza before reaching the emotional peak of the work: a grand, sweeping melody derived from the secondary theme now forming a majestic apotheosis. A brief, exultant final sprint brings the concerto to a triumphant close.

Rachmaninov: Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini , Op. 43

Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini , Op. 43

Sergei Rachmaninov (1873-1943)

Like Richard Strauss, Sergei Rachmaninov lived a life which stretched from an imperial late 19^th century world to the momentous cultural and political upheaval of the first half of the 20^th century. It was a life which moved from the world of Tchaikovsky and Mother Russia to the Academy of Music in Philadelphia, Riverside Drive, and Beverly Hills.

In another parallel with Strauss, Rachmaninov’s works have always been well-loved by the wider musical public, despite the strictures of critics and academics. Unlike Strauss, who attempted to ignore political storms, Rachmaninov suffered the wrenching impact of a loss of his cultural roots in leaving Russia behind after the Bolshevik Revolution. Although, like Strauss, a celebrated conductor, and one of the great virtuoso pianists of the age, Rachmaninov’s 25 years of exile severely limited his output as a composer, with but a scant half-dozen large-scale compositions written after 1918. While these include several splendid works, including the Fourth Piano Concerto, Third Symphony, and Symphonic Dances, only the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini (1934) would gain popularity comparable with the early concertos and orchestral works.

Written in his summer home in Switzerland, the Rhapsody, which could well be regarded as a virtual “Fifth Concerto,” represents Rachmaninov at the height of his powers, still faithful to his late19t^h century Russian roots, yet venturing into a more tautly-constructed musical idiom, occasionally revealing some links with a more “contemporary” musical language that had been heard previously.. The basis for the work is the well-known 24^th Caprice for solo violin of Nicolo Paganini (itself actually a set of variations), which had been inspired sets of variations by a host of noted composers, among them Schumann, Liszt, Brahms and in the 20^th century Boris Blacher and Witold Lutoslawski.

The rhapsody comprises twenty-four variations, some following the theme quite strictly, others with relative freedom. And, in another time-honoured Romantic tradition, Rachmaninov makes occasional references to the medieval Gregorian Chant sequence, DIES IRAE, following in the footsteps of Berlioz and Liszt. (He had already made use of that melody in his First Symphony and the tone poem, ISLE OF THE DEAD, and it would reappear in his last work, the Symphonic Dances.)

There is a brief introduction built upon a distinctive five-note figure which runs through the Paganini theme, four sixteenth-notes linked to an eighth-note), but where one would expect to hear Paganini’s melody, Rachmaninov, in an eccentric departure from tradition, writes a skeletal “First Variation” BEFORE the theme is introduced. The Paganini’s original melody is heard in the violins in the tonality of A Minor.

Variations 2-6 form an unbroken group, performed without change of tempo, all in the home key. The five-note figure is much in evidence, only in Variation 5 moving away from a literal repetition of the theme’s melodic contours. A more reflective mood is heard in Var. 6, with greater rhythmic freedom and decorative filigree in the solo piano. The music’s momentum is slowed somewhat in Var. 7, the five-note figure now heard in an augmented form in the bassoon, the piano playing simple block chords as harmonic background. Following the toccata-like Variations 8-10, Var. 11 serves as a reflective, rhapsodic interlude, richly decorated with decorative writing in the piano against a sustained orchestral background.

Shifting to D Minor, now in triple metre, Var. 12 is marked “tempo di menuetto.” Hints of the DIES IRASE theme are heard in the piano, with elegant rhythmic figuration heard against swooning melodic figures in the orchestra. Still in D minor, the mood in Var. 13 now becomes heavy and assertive, with the piano slamming out chords, while the strings play a stripped-down version of the theme, with embellishment in the winds.

In a renewal of energy Var. 14 is set in the related key of F Major, the orchestra stepping off with a fanfare-like variant of the theme, soon joined by the piano, hammering out heavy chordal patterns.

In Var. 15 the piano sails off by itself, with richly-textured passagework which at first suggests a cadenza, joined by the orchestra to come to a quiet conclusion. Shifting to the remote, dark key of B-flat minor, the orchestra now takes the lead, with the piano heard as ornamentation over stretches of the theme heard in solo oboe, later solo violin and horn. Remaining in B-flat minor, Var. 17 forms a bridge to its successor, the piano confined to murmuring arpeggio figuration heard against the barest suggestion of the theme in the winds, with hushed tremolo in the strings.

Until now most of the variations have been tightly woven, and fairly removed from the characteristic gestures of Rachmaninov’s earlier style. But in Var. 18, at last the listener is rewarded with the celebrated D-flat major variation, revealing Rachmaninov in his most lushly Romantic guise, as through reverting to the seductive warmth of his earlier compositions. And, in a delightful instance of musical craftsmanship, this glamorous new melody turns out to be the result not of inspiration, but calculation: Rachmaninov INVERTS the Paganini theme (literally tipping the melody upside-down), a time-honored musical gimmick, with Paganini’s rather “classical” tune now taking on the distinctive lusciousness of old Russian Romanticism. First heard in the piano alone, in a easy flowing ANDANTE, the orchestra enters in full flood, producing the sort of textures which have been imitated in Hollywood soundtracks for the last seventy years. (Anyone suspicious of such “heart-on-sleeve” sentiments would do well to listen to the composer’s own recorded performance, which is both warmly tender and utterly free of sentimentality.)

In a renewal of energy, Variations 19-22 return to the home key of A Minor, each succeeding variation quickening in tempo. The soloist moves from springy triplets to buzzing sixteenth-notes (bringing back the five-note figure), followed by even more furious triplet passagework. In the march-like Var. 22 the rhythm of the five-note figure presses forward, the piano hammering out crisp chords with increasing power. Sustained lines in the strings form a background to racing patterns in the piano, the five-note figure takes the lead, building to a massive climax. A short cadenza in thundering octaves leads to Var. 23, in which the theme returns very much in its original form, with another short cadenza forming a link with the 24^th, final variation. Here the Dies Irae theme comes very much to the fore, as the music pushes on to a conclusion which, at the very last moment, suddenly pulls back to end quietly, with a final snap of the five-note figure.