March 01, 2008

Between Glinka & Silvestrov

Over the past century, Russia has endured colossal upheavals that have had an incalculable impact on her development. There is at least one area, however, in which 20th century Russia was undoubtedly "ahead of the entire planet," as the popular anti-Soviet song goes. That area is music. The world’s best-known 20th century classical composers were Igor Stravinsky, Dmitry Shostakovich, Sergei Prokofiev, Alfred Schnittke and Sergei Rachmaninov. And this spring marks 135 years since the birth of Rachmaninov and the 65th anniversary of his death.

Rachmaninov is a composer whose very name is synonymous with music. His Piano Concerto No. 2 is on the short list of the most popular classical works of all time. However you may feel about this composer, you have probably heard his Vocalise, his Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, and his Prelude in C-Sharp Minor, among other works. In Russia and throughout the world, Rachmaninov remains one of the most performed composers, and when Russian orchestras tour overseas, they almost always include Rachmaninov in their repertoire. Maestro Valery Polyansky likes to recall how, during the Bolshoi Orchestra's American tour, he conducted Rachmaninov's Second Symphony 25 times in a row – and many times again during their following tour.

Rachmaninov is an example of how difficult it is to pigeonhole works of art in terms of chronology. Most of the composer's life was lived in the 20th century (he was born in 1873), and that century also saw the creation of most of his best-known works. Aesthetically, however, his works seem more at home in the 19th century. Rachmaninov is not alone. The same could be said of his contemporary, Richard Strauss, who lived until 1949 but was largely a composer of the preceding century. Gustav Mahler, on the other hand, is considered the first great composer of the 20th century, despite the fact that he only lived through a bit more than its first decade.

While they may have belonged to different musical epochs, Mahler and Rachmaninov did chance to share a stage. This happened in New York during Rachmaninov's first visit to the country that later would be such an important part of his life. It was there that Rachmaninov performed his Piano Concerto No. 3 under the direction of Mahler, whose genius the Russian greatly admired. "At the time, I believed that Mahler was the only conductor to rival Artur Nikisch," Rachmaninov later recalled.

While we are on the subject of Mahler, we should not fail to mention Rachmaninov's Symphony No. 1, which played a fateful role in the Russian's artistic biography. Performed in St. Petersburg in the fall of 1897 under the baton of Alexander Glazunov, it was seen as a devastating flop and led to a crisis in the composer's career. Neither the orchestra nor the conductor did what was needed to properly convey this complex and innovative piece to an unprepared audience.

Rachmaninov never returned to his first symphony, even though among his symphonic works it is the one that, despite having been written in the 19th century, clearly anticipated the music of the coming era (the Second and Third, on the other hand, seem to hark back to the era of Tchaikovsky). And if Gustav Mahler had heard Rachmaninov's First (Mahler would not have had an opportunity to hear it), his own Symphony No. 6 (sometimes referred to as the Tragic Symphony), written several years later, would probably been different: one of its most memorable motifs almost exactly replicates the chord progression from the opening movement of Rachmaninov's First Symphony. It appears that this motif was in the air of the epoch.

The score of Symphony No. 1 was not preserved. It was not until 1944, when Rachmaninov was no longer alive, that musicologist Alexander Ossovsky, who had been present at the symphony's ill-fated premiere, undertook a search through the archives of the Leningrad conservatory to find the sheet music for the symphony’s instrumental parts. The score was reconstituted from these individual parts, and in October 1945 the symphony again resounded, this time under the baton of Alexander Gauk. Today it is fascinating to read the words of critic Tsezar Kui, who wrote of its 1897 debut: "If Hell had its own conservatory, Rachmaninov would without a doubt be given first prize for his symphony, such were the diabolical dissonances with which he regaled us."

This lambasting contained a kernel of truth – Kui's keen ear does appear to have detected in Rachmaninov's work a portent of the music that was to come. In fact, many 20th century composers would have taken Kui's venomous review as a compliment. Today the symphony that was unjustly condemned has been rehabilitated. In recent years it has been conducted in Moscow by such greats as Valery Polyansky, Alexander Lazarev, and Valery Gergiev.

Among Rachmaninov's other early works that deserve note is the one-act opera Aleko. The opera, which is based on Pushkin's verse novel, The Gypsies, was composed in 17 days. Tchaikovsky wrote of the work to his brother, "I liked this lovely thing very much." Rachmaninov often met with Tchaikovsky during the last years of the latter’s life. The 1893 Trio Elégiaque was composed soon after Tchaikovsky's death. That same period saw the symphonic fantasy The Rock, Suite No. 1 for two pianos, Moments Musicaux, the songs “Sing not, O Lovely One," "In the Silence of the Secret Night," "Small Island," and "Spring Torrents."

By this time, Rachmaninov had started to gain greater and greater fame not only as a composer, but also as a conductor and outstanding pianist. He dazzled audiences in 1899 in France and in 1909 in America. We can appreciate his extraordinary mastery today through the numerous recordings that have survived.

Not long before the First World War, Rachmaninov developed a fascination with cars. The automobile was still a rarity in Russia; for the most part they were only encountered in the country's major cities. Rachmaninov made many long journeys by car, visiting friends and relatives who lived two or three hundred kilometers away. The composer always returned from such journeys in high spirits. (It is interesting to note that Mahler also drew inspiration from movement, although in his case his favorite means of transportation were the bicycle, rowboats, and his own legs, which took him on lengthy walks.) When Rachmaninov found time to relax, automobile travel was his favorite pastime. As a rule, however, he worked ceaselessly, performing and composing in the winter and using the summer to compose and prepare for future concerts.

In late 1917, Rachmaninov was invited to give several concerts in Scandinavia. He left with his family and never returned to Russia. At first the Rachmaninovs lived in Denmark, but in 1918 they made their way across the Atlantic.

In America, Rachmaninov was a stunning success. Indeed, both he and Igor Stravinsky are commonly viewed in the US as American composers. True, in the States, the fame of Rachmaninov the Composer was somewhat eclipsed by that of Rachmaninov the Concert Pianist. During the first years of Rachmaninov's forced emigration he did not produce a single composition. He also almost ceased to conduct, despite the fact that he was invited to take over the Boston Symphony and later the Cincinnati Symphony. He did, however, take the baton from time to time to conduct his own works.

One thing that did not change in America was Rachmaninov's autophilia. Rarely a passenger, Rachmaninov always wanted to be the one behind the wheel. His car was insured against everything imaginable – fire, breakdown, accident, and even death, in the event the composer ran into another car and killed someone. But Rachmaninov was an excellent driver and, a great lover of speed, he was living proof of Gogol's famous observation in Dead Souls: “What Russian doesn’t love fast driving?”

Sergei Vasilevich was in fact very protective of his car. He became extraordinarily upset over the occasional scratch, canceled trips if the weather looked bad, and almost never let anyone else in the driver's seat. The chauffeurs who worked for him later in life knew that nothing pleased the composer more than to have his car brought out to him washed and polished to a shine. During his time in emigration, Rachmaninov tried to hire only Russians to work for him.

A preoccupation that engulfed Rachmaninov somewhat later was tied to a plot of Swiss land that the composer purchased in the early 1930s. Located not far from Lake Lucerne, it was the site of the Villa Senar (an acronym put together from Sergei and Natalya – the composer's wife). The composer involved himself in every detail having to do with his future estate – the architectural plans for the house, the design of the boat dock, the layout of the garden. Senar became Rachmaninov's cherished refuge. Relaxing here, his cares melted away, leaving him with renewed strength for composition.

Today, one can still see the composer's study as it was then: a table, a pair of armchairs, and a Steinway grand piano. In 1934, during the first summer after the house was completed, Rachmaninov wrote here the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, which he performed on August 11, 1939 in Lucerne. The family left Europe for good immediately after this concert, hastened by the catastrophe that was about to engulf the continent. Rachmaninov's performance, however, marked the beginning of the now world-famous Lucerne Festival.

Among the composer's other well-known works written in exile are the Symphony No. 3 and the Symphonic Dances. Like the Symphony No. 1, this last work represents one of Rachmaninov's aesthetic forays beyond the 19th century - to which most of his oeuvre belonged - and into the 20th. Written in 1940, Symphonic Dances is a work of exceptional force that has little in common with the unhurried build-up of the Symphony No. 2 or Piano Concerto No. 3. The opening of the composition recalls an impending landslide or earthquake and immediately engulfs the listener, like a mountain avalanche. This was both a portent of the coming horrors of war and a belated recognition of the end of a musical era and a foreshadowing of the future. A few years later, Stravinsky's Symphony in Three Movements appeared, a work that has much in common with the Symphonic Dances.

But by and large, Rachmaninov was drawn to the 19th century and was not ashamed to admit it. He neither appreciated nor performed modern music, remarking sarcastically, "I haven't matured yet." His close relationship with Nikolai Medtner, the "Russian Brahms," speaks volumes. Medtner's book, The Muse and the Fashion, which expounds emphatically conservative views on the musical process, came out in 1935 and was energetically supported by Rachmaninov. Beside being Medtner's friend, Sergei Vasilevich had a high opinion of him as a composer and felt that Medtner had "taken his place among our 'immortals'."

Sergei Prokofiev had a different view of Medtner. After attending a performance of Medtner's works in Paris, Prokofiev wrote, "This was so dry, so antiquated, that I felt as if before me sat someone who had suddenly gone mad and, having lost any sense of time, was insisting on writing in the language of Karamzin." Undoubtedly, Rachmaninov had moved far beyond Medtner. Nevertheless, next to Prokofiev he looked like a stalwart of conservatism.

During the Second World War, Rachmaninov gave several concerts in the United States and donated the proceeds to the Soviet Army - a significant contribution. "I believe in total victory," he wrote. This evidently influenced how the Soviet government treated the memory and legacy of the great composer.

Just six weeks before his death, Rachmaninov performed Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 1 and his own Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Illness (an acute form of cancer) forced him to break off his tour. Rachmaninov died on March 28, 1943. Before his death, he received a telegram from Soviet composers congratulating him on his 70th birthday.