symphony orchestra Wednesday, October 4, 2023 • 7:30 pm • UNCG Auditorium

SYMPHONY NO. 5 IN E MINOR, OP. 64

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was born in 1840 in the city of Votkinsk in modern Ukraine. He began showing his musical inclination at a young age but trained for the civil service as a result of the lack of formal musical training programs available in Russia at the time. As a result, Tchaikovsky’s musical training reflected the practices of Western European traditions. Though he idolized composers from that tradition, Mozart and Beethoven most of all, he was also indelibly influenced by the Slavic folk music of his youth and the school of Russian nationalist composers that were his predecessors and contemporaries.

One of the earlier students of the Russian Musical Society’s classes, prior to its becoming the Saint Petersburg Conservatory in 1862, Tchaikovsky found himself caught between the Russian “Mighty Handful’s” focus on the fostering of amateur talent and the Conservatory’s focus on importing structured musical training from abroad. As a result, his music was consistently viewed through the lens of which of the two causes it was paying service to, and Tchaikovsky strove to reconcile the two schools of thought within his works while maintaining his independence from either one. Among Tchaikovsky’s compositions are 3 ballets, 11 operas, 6 symphonies, and many choral, chamber, concert, piano, and program works.

Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 in E minor, op. 64 was composed in the summer of 1888, following a lengthy European tour. In his personal correspondence with his family, Tchaikovsky confides many of his own thoughts and feelings during that summer. Perhaps most relatable, he writes that in spite of his determination to compose this symphony he is plagued by a gnawing fear that he has fulfilled his potential as a composer and is past his prime. As his last symphony was premièred a full decade prior to this time, a fear that he might have exhausted his creative abilities may not have lacked rationale. Tchaikovsky writes that he finds it difficult to begin work, and begins – and rejects – material repeatedly before settling on his final symphonic sketch and, ultimately, its orchestration. His own perception of the symphony’s success initially fails to mirror its popularity in both Russia and greater Europe. His personal correspondence reveals a continued cloud of self-doubt and dissatisfaction as orchestras continue to enthusiastically embrace this work, until Tchaikovsky himself comes to regard it as a success.

Although the composer himself often cautioned against seeking too much literal meaning in his works, instead advocating that they be taken for exactly what they were, Tchaikovsky drafted a rough outline for the first movement before beginning: Introduction. Complete resignation before Fate, or, which is the same, before the inscrutable predestination of Providence. Allegro (I) Murmurs, doubts, plaints, reproaches against xxx. (II) Shall I throw myself in the embraces of faith?

This Providence theme provides the Andante introduction of the Symphony’s first movement, with dual clarinets playing the legato line in unison while underscored by soft string pulses outlining the plagal motion of resignation. The theme has a sense of constancy, as though whether it were audibly sounding or not, some sense of it remains present. After this introduction, the plagal motion continues in the strings, over which the clarinet and bassoon begin the rollicking 6/8 tune that is the primary theme of the movement. If this theme is the “murmurs” alluded to in Tchaikovsky’s outline, then the answer to it and the interjecting fortissimo lines might be heard as the “doubts, plaints, reproaches.” The contrasting lyrical rising string figure and its woodwind reply might then fulfill the “embrace of faith” from the outline, sending the first movement into its second theme. Although Tchaikovsky offers no other clear ideas about the remainder of the symphony, the Providence theme returns time and again as if to reinforce its constancy.

The second movement begins with a lyrical, romantic horn solo that swells to intertwine longingly with first a solo clarinet, and then a more playful oboe. Sweeping strings pick up this theme, with constant ebb and flow in tempo until a threatening and forceful reiteration of Providence – this time driven by unified winds – marches through to reassert itself with dominating character. The main theme resumes, growing broader and grander to a sweeping, climactic tenor with perhaps more passion and yearning than before. Again, a ringing interjection of Providence inserts itself with double reeds, trumpet, and low brass hammering out its insistence and inescapability, until the entire orchestra is consumed by the grand boiling-over of Fate. The lyrical and sweeping strings return, ebbing in resigned acquiescence to the strength of Providence’s demands and fading out to the very edge of audibility.

The third movement provides a sprightly waltz that is reminiscent of Tchaikovsky’s ballet scores. Although there are brief bursts of lighter, happier moments, they are fleeting; the entire movement carries along with an air of the same lush grandiosity that has pervaded the previous movements. This time, however, Providence fails to impose itself over the movement’s ideas. Instead, the now-familiar theme can be heard just in the closing bars of the waltz, as if a persistent reminder of its inescapability.

The symphony’s finale, marked Andante maestoso – Allegro vivace – Moderato assai – Presto, lifts the main theme from minor to major, and carries it with ever increasing haste towards its grand finish. The familiar tones of Providence are carried out in forceful chords and a flowing woodwind theme, transforming the character of the theme from the foreboding inescapability of its previous iterations into something triumphant and exuberant. The Providence theme is developed with growing confidence, before a sweeping largamente statement envelops the movement and provides the starting point for another surge in energy and emotion, building strongly to a racing Presto that ends in a slower, majestic trumpet fanfare of the movement’s opening subject. The finale has thus taken the forbearing inescapability of the Providence theme and embraced it fully, giving in to its demands and elevating it to a point of celebration rather than an ominous warning, and perhaps revealing Tchaikovsky’s hopes for his outcome should he throw himself in the embraces of faith.