The Piano Concerto No. 1 in , Op. 23 was composed by Pyotr
Ilyich Tchaikovsky between November 1874 and February 1875. It
was revised in the summer of 1879 and again in December 1888.
It is considered one of the most popular of Tchaikovsky's works
and among the best known of all piano concerti.
The work is scored for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets in
B-flat, 2 bassoons, 4 horns in F, 2 trumpets in F, 3 trombones
(2 tenor, 1 bass), timpani, solo piano, and strings.
The concerto follows the traditional form of three
movements:
The well-known theme of the introductory section to the
first movement is based on a melody that Tchaikovsky heard
performed by blind beggar-musicians at a market in Kamenka,
near Kiev in Ukraine. This well known passage in the concerto,
was notable for a considerable time after its composition on
its apparent formal independence from the movement and the
concerto as a whole. This sense of independence seemed to be
highlighted by being not in the work's nominal key of B flat
minor but in the relative major key of D-flat. Despite its very
substantial nature, the theme is only heard twice, and never
subsequently reappears in the concerto. Musicologist Francis
Maes writes that because of its independence from the rest of
the work,
For a long time, the introduction posed an enigma to
analysts and critics alike.... The key to the link between the
introduction and what follows is ... Tchaikovsky's gift of
hiding motivic connections behind what appears to be a flash of
melodic inspiration. The opening melody comprises the most
important motivic core elements for the entire work, something
that is not immediately obvious, owing to its lyric quality.
However, a closer analysis shows that the themes of the three
movements are subtly linked. Tchaikovsky presents his
structural material in a spontaneous, lyrical manner, yet with
a high degree of planning and calculation.
Maes continues by mentioning that all the themes are tied
together by a strong motivic link. These themes include the
Ukrainian folk song "Oy, kryatshe, kryatche ..." as the first
theme of the first movement proper, the French
chansonette, "Il faut s'amuser, danser et rire."
(Translated as: One must have fun, dance and laugh) in the
middle section of the second movement and a Ukrainian
vsnyankaor greeting to spring which appears as the first
theme of the finale; the second theme of the finale is
motivically derived from the Russian folk song "Podoydi,
podoydy vo Tsar-Gorod" and also shares this motivic bond. The
relationship between them has often been ascribed to chance
because they were all well known songs at the time Tchaikovsky
composed the concerto. It seems likely, though, that he used
these songs precisely because of their motivic connection and
used them where he felt necessary. "Selecting folkloristic
material," Maes writes, "went hand in hand with planning the
large-scale structure of the work."
Tchaikovsky authority Professor David Brown essentially
agrees with Maes, further suggesting that Alexander Borodin's
First Symphony may have given him both the idea to write such
an introduction and to link the work motivically as he does,
though he also mentions a four-note musical phrase ciphered
from Tchaikovsky's own name and a three-note phrase likewise
taken from the name of soprano Désirée Artôt, with whom the
composer had been engaged some years before.
There is some confusion as to whom the concerto was
originally dedicated. It was long thought that Tchaikovsky
initially dedicated the work to Nikolai Rubinstein, and Michael
Steinberg writes that Rubinstein's name is crossed off the
autograph score. However, Brown writes that there is actually
no truth in the assertion that the work was written to be
dedicated to Rubinstein. Tchaikovsky did hope that Rubinstein
would perform the work at one of the 1875 concerts of the
Russian Musical Society in Moscow. For this reason he showed
the work to him and another musical friend, Nikolai Hubert, at
the Moscow Conservatory on December 24, 1874/January 5, 1875,
just three days after finishing its composition. Brown writes,
"This occasion has become one of the most notorious incidents
in the composer's biography." Three years later Tchaikovsky
shared what happened with his patroness, Nadezhda von Meck:
I played the first movement. Not a single word, not a single
remark! If you knew how stupid and intolerable is the situation
of a man who cooks and sets before a friend a meal, which he
proceeds to eat in silence! Oh, for one word, for friendly
attack, but for God's sake one word of sympathy, even if not of
praise. Rubinstein was amassing his storm, and Hubert was
waiting to see what would happen, and that there would be a
reason for joining one side or the other. Above all I did not
want sentence on the artistic aspect. My need was for remarks
about the virtuoso piano techinque. R's eloquent silence was of
the greatest significance. He seemed to be saying: "My friend,
how can I speak of detail when the whole thing is antipathetic?
I fortified myself with patience and played through to the end.
Still silence. I stood up and asked, "Well?" Then a torrent
poured from Nikolay Grigoryevich's mouth, gentle at first, then
more and more growing into the sound of a Jupiter Tonana. It
turned out that my concerto was worthless and unplayable;
passages were so fragmented, so clumsy, so badly written that
they were beyond rescue; the work itself was bad, vulgar; in
places I had stolen from other composers; only two or three
pages were worth preserving; the rest must be thrown away or
completely rewritten. "Here, for instance, this—now what's all
that? (he caricatured my music on the piano) "And this? How can
anyone ..." etc., etc. The chief thing I can't reproduce is the
tonein which all this was uttered. In a word, a
disinterested person in the room might have thought I was a
maniac, a talented, senseless hack who had come to submit his
rubbish to an eminent musician. Having noted my obstinate
silence, Hubert was astonished and shocked that such a ticking
off was being given to a man who had already written a great
deal and given a course in free composition at the
Conservatory, that such a contemptuous judgment without appeal
was pronounced over him, such a judgment without appeal was
pronounced over him, such a judgment as you would not pronounce
over a pupil with the slightest talent who had neglected some
of his tasks—then he began to explain N.G.'s judgment, not
disputing it in the least but just softening that which His
Excellency had expressed with too little ceremony.
I was not only astounded but outraged by the whole scene. I
am no longer a boy trying his hand at composition, and I no
longer need lessons from anyone, especially when they are
delivered so harshly and unfriendlily. I need and shall always
need friendly criticism, but there was nothing resembling
friendly criticism. It was indiscriminate, determined censure,
delivered in such a way as to wound me to the quick. I left the
room without a word and went upstairs. In my agitation and rage
I could not say a thing. Presently R. enjoined me, and seeing
how upset I was he asked me into one of the distant rooms.
There he repeated that my concerto was impossible, pointed out
many places where it would have to be completely revised, and
said that if within a limited time I reworked the concerto
according to his demands, then he would do me the honor of
playing my thing at his concert.
"I shall not alter a single note,"I answered,
"I shall publish the work exactly as it is!"This I
did.
Tchaikovsky biographer John Warrack mentions that, even if
Tchaikovsky were restating the facts in his favor, "it was, at
the very least, tactless of Rubinstein not to see how much he
would upset the notoriously touchy Tchaikovsky.... It has,
moreover, been a long-enduring habit for Russians, concerned
about the role of their creative work, to introduce the concept
of 'correctness' as a major aesthetic consideration, hence to
submit to direction and criticism in a way unfamiliar in the
West, from Balakirev and Stasov organizing Tchaikovsky's works
according to plans of their own, to, in our own day, official
intervention and the willingness of even major composers to pay
attention to it."
Warrack adds that Rubinstein's criticisms fell into three
categories. First, he thought the writing of the solo part was
bad, "and certainly there are passages which even the greatest
virtuoso is glad to survive unscathed, and others in which
elaborate difficulties are almost inaudible beneath the
orchestra." Second, he mentioned "outside influences and
unevenness of invention ... but it must be conceded that the
music is uneven and that [it] would, like all works, seem the
more uneven on a first hearing before its style had been
properly understood." Third, the work probably sounded awkward
to a conservative musician such as Rubinstein. While the
introduction in the "wrong" key of D flat (for a composition
supposed to be written in B flat minor) may have taken
Rubinstein aback, Warrrack explains, he may have been
"precipitate in condemning the work on this account or for the
formal structure of all that follows."
Brown writes that it is not known why Tchaikovsky next
approached German pianist Hans von Bülow to premiere the work,
although the composer had heard Bülow play in Moscow earlier in
1874 and had been taken with the pianist's combination of
intellect and passion, and the pianist was likewise an admirer
of Tchaikovsky's music. Bülow was preparing to go on a tour of
America. This meant that the concerto would be premiered half a
world away from Moscow. Brown suggests that Rubinstein's
comments may have deeply shaken him about the concerto, though
he did not change the work and finished orchestrating it the
following month, and that his confidence in the piece may have
been so shaken that he wanted the public to hear it in a place
where he would not have to personally endure any humiliation if
it did not fare well. Tchaikovsky dedicated the work to Bülow,
who described the work as "so original and noble" (although he
later dropped the concerto from his repertoire).
The first performance of the original version took place on
October 25, 1875 in Boston, Massachusetts, conducted by
Benjamin Johnson Lang and with Bülow as soloist. Bülow had
initially engaged a different conductor, but they quarrelled,
and Lang was brought in at short notice. Although the premiere
was a resounding success, George Whitefield Chadwick, who was
in the audience, recalled in a memoir years later: "They had
not rehearsed much and the trombones got in wrong in the
‘tutti’ in the middle of the first movement, whereupon Bülow
sang out in a perfectly audible voice,
The brass may go to hell". Interestingly, Benjamin
Johnson Lang himself appeared as soloist in a performance of
the concerto with the Boston Symphony Orchestra on February 20,
1885, under Leopold Damrosch.
The Russian premiere took place on November 13, 1875 in
Saint Petersburg, with the Russian pianist Gustav Kross and
Czech conductor Eduard Nápravník. In Tchaikovsky's estimation,
Kross reduced the work to "an atrocious cacophony". The Moscow
premiere took place on December 3, 1875, with Sergei Taneyev as
soloist. The conductor was none other than Nikolai Rubinstein,
the same man who had comprehensively criticised the work less
than a year earlier. Rubinstein had come to see its merits, and
he played the solo part many times throughout Europe. He even
insisted that Tchaikovsky entrust the premiere of his Second
Piano Concerto to him, and would have done so had he had not
died. At that time, Tchaikovsky considered rededicating the
work to Taneyev, who had performed it splendidly, but
ultimately the dedication went to von Bülow.
Despite his declaring to Rubinstein that he would "publish
the concerto exactly as it stands" (something that the composer
actually did), in 1876 Tchaikovsky happily accepted advice on
improving the piano writing from German pianist Edward
Dannreuther, who had given the London premiere of the work, and
from Russian pianist Alexander Siloti several years later. The
full chords played by the soloist at the opening of the
concerto may in fact have been Siloti's idea, as they do not
appear in the first two editions of the concerto. In the two
earlier editions, the piano plays arpeggios over a limited
range of the keyboard while the strings play the opening
theme.
Piano Concerto No. 1 in B flat minor, Op. 23
·
Piano Concerto No. 2 in G
major, Op. 44 ·
Piano Concerto No. 3 in E
flat major, Op. 75 ·
Violin Concerto in D major,
Op. 35
List of compositions by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky