Sergei Rachmaninoff (Russian; 1873-1943)—14 Romances, Op. 34, No. 14: Vocalise (1915)

1915 was a year of loss for Rachmaninoff. The unexpected death of his close friend, pianist and composer Alexander Scriabin, coupled with that of his teacher Sergei Taneyev, were tragic for Rachmaninoff. While taking a summer break in Finland, he began work on his 14 Romances, Op. 34. While the first thirteen songs feature dramatic text from various poets, the final movement, “Vocalise”, features no text at all. “What need is there for words?” stated the composer. This unique song has become among his most famous works, having been arranged for countless instrumental configurations.

Friday, October 20, Ferguson Center for the Arts, Newport News

Rachmaninoff—Piano Concerto No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 1 (1891)
I. Vivace
II. Andante cantabile
III. Allegro scherzando

Rachmaninoff was born into a musical, aristocratic family. His father, an army officer, had intended for his son to pursue a similar career, but the expense was too great as Rachmaninoff’s father was forced to sell one estate after another to pay debts. The musical career path seemed more obvious, as Rachmaninoff was taken with the piano during lessons with his mother that had begun at age four. At ten, he was studying at the St. Petersburg Conservatory, and through the support of his uncle, pianist Alexander Siloti, Rachmaninoff would find a new start in Moscow.

At 13, he was attending the Moscow Conservatory where he lived and studied keyboard with Nikolai Zverev, Siloti’s former teacher. As he grew to study more advanced musical concepts, he became interested in composing to the disapproval of Zverev, who believed it was a waste of energy for the talented pianist. A rift formed between the two, and Rachmaninoff instead spent his summers at his uncle and aunt Satin’s nearby estate. The peaceful Ivanovka estate was an idyllic setting for Rachmaninoff to begin his first compositions, as with his First Piano Concerto during the summer of 1891.

The work’s premiere occurred the following March at the Conservatory, and was dedicated to Siloti, who would also perform the work several times. Despite Zverev’s thoughts on students’ efforts in composition, Rachmaninoff would become one Russia’s most famous duel threats. He later revisited his First Opus, offering some decades of experience to the orchestration and a few other finer points, and reintroduced the refined version into the repertoire while maintaining its youthful zeal. 

Much of the work follows the model set forth by Grieg, as with the brass fanfare that announces the opening, which is followed by a dramatic descent by the pianist that leads to the primary theme. A brief insight to Rachmaninoff’s later yearning melodies, it is recycled in a number of animated variations, the harmonically cycling development, and an extensive concluding cadenza. The nocturnal Andante is modest in size, but intensely personal and introspective in effect. The orchestral opening fades for a ponderous melody presented by the soloist. Rachmaninoff later amended the orchestration to have a lighter touch, which delicately colors the piano-dominated movement. The Concerto’s finale begins as a chaotic romp, but a disruptive second theme stalls the wild engine with lyrical whimsy. The opening music returns and is propelled by innovative variation that constantly ups the energy. Although Rachmaninoff’s first Concerto relies on comparisons to earlier works, it demonstrates early evidence of his signature style, overflowing with ideas and pianistic prowess.

Saturday, October 21, Chrysler Hall, Norfolk

Rachmaninoff—Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18 (1901)
I. Moderato
II. Adagio sostenuto – Più animato – Tempo I
III. Allegro scherzando

The premiere of the promising young composer’s First Symphony in 1897 was an utter catastrophe. Alexander Glazunov conducted an ill-prepared orchestra while drunk, and Rachmaninoff left before the performance was over, preparing himself for an inevitable onslaught of cutting reviews. The bereft composer fell into a years-long bout of depression, affected by alcoholism, money problems, and a general disinterest in composing.

Rachmaninoff’s family was desperate for a solution to pull him out of his despondent writer’s block when they organized sessions with Nikolai Dahl who specialized in hypnosis, and whose methods were successful in reversing his mental state. Time spent in Italy may have also played a role in reviving the composer, who enthusiastically began work on a new Concerto during an extended visit.

All but the first movement completed, he performed a partial premiere of the work in 1900 with his cousin debuting as a conductor. The scene was a nervous one for all involved, but the performance was received with adoration, prompting Rachmaninoff to finish the work, eventually premiering it in full the following year. Without the financial and emotional support from his friends and family, Rachmaninoff may have languished. Instead, his despondency broken, the Second Piano Concerto propelled him into international fame and remains a stalwart member of the repertoire.

Tolling bells appear out of silence in the Concerto’s opening, growing to an oscillating piano accompaniment to the orchestra’s brooding theme. The piano performs the second theme, which by contrast, aches with optimism. The anxious development borrows bits from both themes, returning to the opening theme with the pianist now presenting a marching accompaniment. The heavy C minor that concludes the opening movement initiates the second, with a series of chords shifting to peaceful E major with a flute introducing an intimate melody. The rhythmic motion continues into the B section, which provides a tense, mysterious contrast, energetically billows into a cadenza, and is bookended by the opening music.

In the finale, Rachmaninoff again borrows the previous movement’s key, and through a wry orchestral introduction, transitions from E major back to C minor. A march-like theme is followed by intense figurations by the soloist. A second theme emerges, now in a lyrical B-flat. The tumultuous development fixates on the first theme, and arrives at an abbreviated recapitulation that overcomes the ominous opening bells to achieve a triumphant C major conclusion.

Friday, October 20, Ferguson Center for the Arts, Newport News, and
Sunday, October 22, Sandler Center for the Performing Arts, Virginia Beach

Rachmaninoff—Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, Op. 30 (1909)
I. Allegro ma non tanto
II. Intermezzo: Adagio
III. Finale: Alla breve

The onset of the Russian Revolution in February 1917 created a fraught environment for Rachmaninoff and his family. He had become one of Russia’s most internationally-recognized musicians, equally lauded as a pianist, composer, and conductor. He was now married to Natalia Satina and much of the wealth he had earned was tied up in his portion of the Ivanovka estate. Upon the estate’s confiscation by the Social Revolutionary Party, he was faced with the challenging decision to relocate to the United States. This latter portion of his career was defined by major successes in concertizing, and while time to compose was rare, he was celebrated as a treasure by American audiences.

However, it was not his first time in the United States. In 1909, audiences adored him for some 26 performances, both conducting and performing. The monumental success of his Second Piano Concerto led him to prepare a Third for his trip, which he premiered with the New York Symphony Society. The second performance was perhaps one of his most cherished memories, as the now New York-based Gustav Mahler led unending rehearsals of the New York Symphony Orchestra with great care in every detail.

The formidable concerto’s popularity was slow to come at first. His publisher took it on in 1910, but its dedicatee, pianist Josef Hofmann, never performed it publicly. It eventually gained traction in America over his otherwise more well-known Second for its historical ties, as well as its sensational 1930 recording by pianist Vladimir Horowitz.

The simple, melodic first theme is presented immediately by the soloist, who adds sparkling figures over the orchestra’s repetition. The soloist’s virtuosity spills over into a cadenza. A lightly martial interlude leads to an intimate second theme. A brief reminder of the first theme is followed by a development section that is a showcase in the building of tension through rhythmic intensity, arriving at a number of ferocious climaxes. Two cadenzas are heard, both rich displays of pianistic technique. The first is powerful, reaching its apex with dense chords. The orchestra enters, acting as a bridge as the emotional content relieves and settles into a second, sweetly nocturnal cadenza. The movement finds its way back to the opening materials for one last refrain.

The wintry Intermezzo is a theme and variations by design, with the orchestra introducing the melancholic theme and first variation. The entrance of the piano is a shocking barrage, but calms to a warm variation. After a variety of keys and textures are explored, the piano writing becomes frantic, only to descend into a final, solemn presentation of the theme by the orchestra. The soloist interjects, surging into the final movement without resting.

The vigorous finale features powerful variations on familiar thematic materials. Again, the two themes’ moods contrast, but here the first is sharply militant, while the second is lyrical and yearning. Rather than an expected development, the score is marked “scherzando,” with a lush orchestra being pestered by the jocular soloist until the two merge. The finale contains no cadenza, but soloist and orchestra work in tandem with technical verve as themes are recycled and reworked, until the tempo achieves a galloping vivace in an energetic sprint to the victorious D major conclusion.

Saturday, October 21, Chrysler Hall, Norfolk

Rachmaninoff—Piano Concerto No. 4 in G minor, Op. 40 (1926)
I. Allegro vivace
II. Largo
III. Allegro vivace

Rachmaninoff began his life and career in America in 1918. Although the life built in Russia was forever gone, his connections and reputation in the United States made for quick and profitable work. A constant performance schedule followed by a contract with the Victor Talking Machine Company quickly refilled his empty coffers and afforded his family a life of luxury in a swanky Manhattan apartment. It was not until eight years into his busy American career as a performer that he finished a major composition with a new Piano Concerto that reflected the changed circumstances for the composer.

When Rachmaninoff premiered his Fourth Piano Concerto in 1927 with Leopold Stokowski conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra, critics were miffed. Late-stage composers like Rachmaninoff are often stuck in a paradox as audiences demand freshness while expecting sameness. The Russia he grew up in was long gone, and its lush Romanticism would have been naively nostalgic, yet his love for jazz (especially Gershwin’s recent efforts in orchestral jazz) may have been jarring for those expecting the former. 

Ultimately, the Concerto was plagued with criticisms of formal inclarity, thematic wandering, and lacking in cohesion. Intensely self-conscious and reminded of the failures of his disastrous First Symphony’s premiere, he embarked on major revisions in 1928, and again in 1941, always in an attempt to satisfy critical narrative. Later performers lament the changes, recognizing the brilliant effort to create art in a new world. Modernism in Europe, Jazz at home, and the growing love for epic film scores were all on the composer’s mind when he set out his Fourth Concerto.

The fiery opening shifts elusively from major to minor as an anxious orchestration undergirds the pianist, who pounds a thick melody. This gives way to a subdued, mystical tone colored by figurations and melodic interjections by the orchestra. The development was the source of much critical scorn for its meandering, but Rachmaninoff’s skirting of formal expectations leaves us with an adroit study in the use of thematic materials to develop musical atmospheres that progress seamlessly, and reach cinematic climaxes. 

If ever Rachmaninoff was influenced by jazz, the second movement may be its most explicit manifestation. Even if not obvious, the smokey piano melodies are tinged with intriguing chromaticism and an improvisational feel. The soloist plays call-and-response with the orchestra, eventually combining after some tumult. 

Again, Rachmaninoff drew criticism for his wandering finale, but his intentions could better be understood if heard episodically. The intensely pointed opening is shaken off for more cryptic scenes. Melodic fragments are woven into an ever-growing tension spurred on by an increasingly active pianist, until the ensemble reaches its zenith with an epic melodic presentation intensified by the soloist’s percussive additions.

Saturday, October 21, Chrysler Hall, Norfolk, and
Sunday, October 22, Sandler Center for the Performing Arts, Virginia Beach

Rachmaninoff—Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43 (1934)

Rachmaninoff’s health declined in the 1940s, and he passed away in 1943, just shy of his seventieth birthday. However, he remained busy in the 1930s while also dedicating time to much-needed relaxation. By the end of the 1920s, Rachmaninoff was enjoying summers in France with his family and socializing with other Russian émigrés, ultimately buying land and building his Villa Senar on Switzerland’s Lake Lucerne. Taking breaks from his busy concert schedule, he enjoyed taking the family out on the motor boat, while peacefully composing his final works.

It was here in the summer of 1934 that he composed his fifth and final work for piano and orchestra, Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. He performed a portion of the work the following November with Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra, and a month later, recorded it with the group. Niccolò Paganini’s twenty-fourth installment of Caprices for solo violin serves as the basis for twenty-four variations, often divided into three sections.

With each variation averaging less than one minute in length, their boundaries blur as the music morphs, asserting the work as rhapsodic more than theme and variation. Throughout, the chosen theme, or its outline, is present, even if just by allusion. The elder Rachmaninoff, unburdened by a need to prove himself, is simply having fun. The playful opening is itself a variation, and only after is the theme heard, and out of this tiny musical snippet, Rachmaninoff builds an entire world. 

After some tongue-and-cheek, the theme is flipped for the Dies Irae (from the Mass for the Dead). The oft-used theme has deathly implications, but here Rachmaninoff seems to be peacefully reflecting on his life, and then gets on with it. The work traverses scenes that are at times mysterious and dreamy, a terrifying march, and the famous 18th variation, an extensive and warm lullaby. The final stretch is sprinkled with showy cadenzas, one last laugh with the Dies Irae, and a raucous, triumphant closing. The pianist has the last word with a sly wink.