Music has charms to soothe the savage breast, to soften rocks or bend a knotted oak.
- William Congreve
So as previously mentioned, my classical music rep is somewhat lacking, particularly for someone with a music degree. My first inclination for this first concerto spot of the year was the 3rd piano concerto instead, based solely on the film Shine. After reading a bit about both the 2nd and 3rd concerti, I decided to go with this one instead; while the 3rd is one of the most technically challenging pieces within the genre, the 2nd is decidedly a stronger piece for the audience by most accounts.
As a young pianist, my exposure to Rachmaninov was somewhat limited. His music seemed often to be eclipsed by other Romantics – my favorite being Brahms. Debussy’s preludes were captivating yet simple in most aspects, Chopin’s nocturnes were legendary and alluring, Tchaikovsky’s ballets instantly recognizable and immensely accessible. Rachmaninov however, was barely touched on; I think primarily because most of his music was of the orchestral scale and thus not practical for the budding musician that I was. That and the man had freakishly huge hands and wrote music that required the same.
Listening through the work, I find myself repeating the age old adage; “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” While the writing is beautiful and moving, relaying that in words is inherently difficult. Furthermore, I am compelled to write an analysis of the work, but again, that defeats the purpose of this project as a whole: to become acquainted and exposed to the music, not to dissect it and analyze it. Regardless, here are my relatively unfiltered thoughts.
The opening chords, oft described as the brewing of the tempest that is to come, drive forward in a series of sonorities that lead to brilliant arpeggios over a simple statement in the strings of the first major theme. When the focus shifts back again to the solo, the melodies run over an arpeggiated left hand in true romantic 2-against-3 rhythms. The harmonic language seems less complicated than particularly those of Chopin and Debussy, but I think some of that is just the nature of the concerto form. The focus is on the dialogue between the orchestra and the soloist and the technique of the pianist, not the complexity of what either one is saying individually. The “March” section occurring about a third of the way through the first movement is decidedly Russian in nature. Perhaps cultural stereotypes play in, but the dark, military march plays to imagery of the Old Regime parading through the square proudly. The following section seems to contrast sharply – very mellow and subdued, in a fashion more frequently reserved for the slower second movement. I however, like Rach’s contrasts; they seem to flow so seamlessly and keep the listener engaged by the changes of texture.
The second movement starts with a chorale theme in the strings, followed by a beautiful, melancholy theme in the flute followed by clarinet, both over triplets in the piano and soft strings behind. The triplet figure is reminiscent of Beethoven’s “Moonlight” sonata, but the hollow tone of the woodwinds lends itself moreso to the soft sighs of the melody presented than I ever hear in Beethoven’s familiar piece. When the roles switch and the piano restates the theme over arpeggiations in the winds, it seems a pale recollection of the original statement, almost nostalgic. I’ve always been a sucker for slower movements/works, be it second movements of classical works, pop love tunes, or jazz ballads. Perhaps it’s because there seems to be more time to digest the music than feel as if one is being bombarded by it. This is no exception. The first movement felt as if it was primarily a display of the soloist “showing off,” where the second movement has more to convey emotionally. Even toward the second half of the movement, the cadenzas of the piano seem fueled by the previous outpourings of emotion than by mere displays of virtuosity, and even then seems to abruptly become aware of itself and return to a calmer display of the opening theme, now in the strings.
The staccato opening string and bassoon phrases take on a very playful nature, whereas the sweeping piano entrance dances around a tension building repetition of German sixth and V chords (very reminiscent of the celeste lines found in Tchaikovsky’s “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies…” and I’m going to stop on the theory talk before I lose people :-P ) As the piano builds into a fury and the orchestra returns en masse, I find myself noticing just how absent the brass section has been thus far. While the brass section very often seems to take a back seat in the orchestra (figuratively, as well as literally,) up until this point (not far into the 3rd movement) the strong powerful statements where the brass is typically employed has been driven instead by the strings. I wonder how intentional this reservation is and how much it may just be Rachmaninov writing primarily for those instruments he’s more familiar with. Likewise, the percussion has been unsurprisingly absent for the most part. The following section seems almost formulaic, returning to a brief period of dialogue between the pianist and the orchestra over a harmonic progression – no, pattern – that seems to almost write itself. I confess, upon multiple listenings, there are large portions of the music that I just tuned out; were I sitting in a concert hall, these would be the moments where I pull out the program and read the bio of the soloist or the notes from the conductor. Perhaps it’s the ADD in me creeping to the surface. Regardless, the heroic final minutes snap me back to attention at once – their statements reminiscent of Tchaikovsky again or perhaps prefiguring Gershwin; both regal and stately, commanding the listener in that same, military Russian fashion.
Next up - Off the Wall (Michael Jackson)
Next week - “Surprise” Symphony No. 94 (Josef Haydn)
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