Ilyich Tchaikovsky(1840-1893), Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23(1874~75, rev. 1876~79 & 1888~90)
 

Tchaikovsky wrote three piano concertos and all of them are masterpieces in their own right, but only the first one in B-flat minor is popular. Tchaikovsky composed his first piano concerto in 1874, and in January the next year he showed the work to his friend and famous pianist Nikolai Rubinstein for assessment. Nikolai Rubinstein, along with his older brother Anton, was considered one of the core members of the “pro-European” faction in the musical circle in Russia and was respected as such, and he criticized Tchaikovsky’s concerto with no mercy, finally delivering the verdict: “the concerto is unplayable in its current status; it will be performable only after revising the whole work according to my advice.”
The composer’s pride was badly hurt by this cruel comment, and he went on to publish the work without any correction or revision. But there was one thing that he decided to change: the dedicatee of the concerto. Tchaikovsky originally had intended to dedicate his first piano concerto to Nikolai, but after a rift sparked by his friend’s harsh remarks, he dedicated it to the famous conductor and pianist Hans von Bülow (who would later become the first principal conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra). And he genuinely loved the piece. Bülow garnered success after success by performing the concerto everywhere including the United States of America, which actually was the venue of the premiere. Nikolai changed his earlier opinion about the concerto, withdrew his bitter criticism, and often chose to perform the piece as a soloist. Tchaikovsky later partially revised the work. But his decision to do so was spurred on by another pianist, so it seemed like he was still holding the grudge. However, when Nikolai died at the early age of forty-five, he was deeply shocked.
The first movement is in a free sonata form with an introduction. The powerful and muscular opening chords on French horns is followed by a lyrical piano melody, which is prone to be thought as the first theme of the movement, but this is only the introduction’s theme and regrettably does not reappear later. After the introduction, the rather soft first theme is played on the piano, and the second theme is given to the clarinet. After the development and the recapitulation of the sonata form appears a cadenza played by the piano. The coda is magnificent and splendid.
The opening Andantino of the second movement conveys an air of Chopin’s Nocturnes. The scherzo-like Prestissimo section in the middle of the movement renews the mood, and the music becomes quite dynamic. The second half of this middle section includes a quotation from the French chansonette Il faut s’amuser, danser et rire (“One must have fun, dance and laugh”), which is said to have been one of the favorite songs of Desire Artot, the Belgian soprano whom the composer once loved. In a way, this poignant quotation expresses his yearning for an unrequited love.
The third movement in a rondo form is fantastically weaved with wild beauty, lyricism, and outstanding virtuosity. The first theme, violent and cheerful at the same time, is taken from one of the Ukrainian folk tunes, and it sharply contrasts with the broad and beautiful second theme. The movement demands fierce technique from the soloist until the very last moment, finally culminating in sheer frenzy at the end.

Text by Jingyu Hwang | Translation by SukHo Lee

Unsuk Chin(1961-), Frontispiece for orchestra(2019)
 

Frontispiece for orchestra was commissioned by the NDR Elbphilharmonie Orchestra to open Alan Gilbert’s inaugural season as their Chief Conductor. This occasion prompted me to write a short piece which presents a time lapse of a kind of the history of music: certain aspects of a number of key symphonic works of different epochs are being evoked and poured into new moulds by letting them interact and comment upon each other. These are never actual style quotations - mere allusions, and faint references. On the level of details, the work consists of many tiny fragments which all refer to gestures typical to certain works and composers, and these are being ‘translated’ to each other in numerous different and occasionally unexpected ways. As to give but a few examples: certain chord sequences by Anton Bruckner are interpreted in a manner akin to Anton von Webern, splinters of Strauss, Scriabin and Stravinsky collide, Brahmsian harmony passes through the prisms of, say, Charles Ives, and certain material from Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony – Heaven forbid – is being presented a la manière de Pierre Boulez. This process of ‘translating’ happens on several levels: diverse materials and gestures, ranging from Baroque music all the way to the avant-garde, are being transcribed and transformed in an alienating manner so that something very different arises as a sum of their interactions. All of this happens at a rather microscopic level: all aforementioned allusions, as well as other ones, are not immediately perceivable, and it is most certainly not necessary to trace them in order to be able to ‘understand’ the piece. On the level of the macrostructure, the work’s form is being held together by a certain chord, which could be called its supporting pillar – a chord which, by way of exception, is completely autarchic. Frontispiece reflects on my decades-long experiences with landmark works of the symphonic literature as composer and recipient. In extracting distinct aspects of works of certain composers, Anton von Webern’s art of revealing a ‘universe in a nutshell’ by means of extreme compression served as a particular inspiration.
 

Text by Unsuk Chin

Jean Sibelius(1865-1957), Symphony No. 1 in E minor, Op. 39(1899)
 

Sibelius, one of the most important symphonists of the twentieth century, wrote seven symphonies throughout his life. His symphonies are highly praised as the successor of the Western musical tradition of the Romantic era advocated by such composers as Brahms, Mahler, Tchaikovsky, Dvořák, and Bruckner. On the other hand, his symphonies are unique in their use of modal melodies, simple rhythms, persistent repetition of short motives, ostinato and pedal point techniques, distinctive orchestral colour and strong contrast of texture, all of which differentiate his music from any other composer’s.
Sibelius’s First Symphony conforms to the norm of four-movement symphony. The first movement, preceded by a slow introduction (Andante, ma non troppo), is a majestic allegro, and the second movement has a tragic theme in the mood of Finnish folk music. The third movement Scherzo starts with a fast rhythm and cheerful mood, and the last movement with the title ‘Quasi una fantasia’ (Like a fantasy) has a free form. The melody that had appeared in the introduction of the first movement reappears in the fourth movement, which shares pulse with the technique that Schumann employed in his symphonies, namely the use of cyclic theme. The orchestration of the symphony, with a harp, a base drum, and a triangle, seems to have been influenced by Mahler.
By “teleological germination” technique in which a theme is originated from a motivic fragment, Sibelius wanted to transform a symphony into a new and modern formal structure while keeping the tradition of symphony as a musical genre. At the same time, there are aspects of “symphonic poems” in this symphony, presumably because he felt affinity toward his many previous symphonic poems based on Finnish folk epics.
Sibelius is sometimes considered as a conservative composer who honors existing musical tradition. He certainly followed the standard genre idioms, preferred haunting diatonic melodies, and stayed within the boundary of tonal music. On the other hand, his symphonies fuse majestic tone reminiscent of Nordic landscape of the nature that surrounded him, contemplative mood, and Finnish folk tunes and non-tonal modal music. All of these combine to form unique color of his music, putting his music at the center of the twentieth century symphonic repertoire and appealing to audience of the twenty-first century.
 

Text by Jiyoung Kang | Translation by Sukho Lee