Any composer’s Opus 1—their first published work—can be assumed to be their most youthful, perhaps unpolished, piece of music. Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 1 is indeed fresh and effervescent, though it does not lack compositional prowess. Rachmaninoff was only seventeen when he took on the task of writing this piano concerto. Already a virtuoso pianist, the decision was sensical. The young composer was working to complete his conservatory training, and his composition degree required various large-scale works be completed before graduation. Planning to complete his first symphony and opera in his final year of training, Rachmaninoff set out to complete his concerto in 1890, one year prior to finishing his studies at the Moscow Conservatory. 

Rachmaninoff would perform the first movement of the concerto in 1892, though a premiere of the full, original work likely took place as late as 1901. The second and third movements of the concerto were written in a two-day creative explosion in 1893; Rachmaninoff was rumored to have composed for fifteen hours at a time, completing them in an inspired frenzy. His fated first opera and symphony were thus delayed to 1892 and 1895, respectively, as the concerto took longer than Rachmaninoff had planned (in part due to a severe bout of malaria). The fledgling composer would tinker for years—as became his modus operandi—but Rachmaninoff finally finished revisions to the concerto in November of 1917, mere weeks after the Bolshevik revolution forced the composer and his family to escape Russia. 

By 1917, audiences already knew Rachmaninoff as a fully fledged composer. His beloved Second Piano Concerto had gripped pianists and concertgoers alike, he had survived the turmoil of a disastrous premiere of Symphony No. 1, and he regained his compositional confidence (with the help of hypnotism) after a well-received premiere of Symphony No. 2. Piano Concerto No. 1 is a synthesis of young and not-so-young Rachmaninoff; the exuberance of teenaged Sergei is miraculously retained by the forty-four year old who revised the final work. As with nearly all Rachmaninoff revisions, the result is thinner orchestration and a more efficient melodic structure. Much to his chagrin, Rachmaninoff’s changes were successful but underwhelming to his audience. The composer believed that the edits made the work not only more playable, but still more youthful and fresh. He programmed the First Concerto many times, but always knew his audiences preferred the Second or Third Concerto to his First. Rachmaninoff lamented that “nobody pays it any attention.” The composer’s sulky disposition is, unfortunately, not wrong. Piano Concerto No. 1 is not programmed nearly as frequently as the Second Concerto or the Variation on Themes by Paganini, though it remains a major work in piano concerto literature. 

Though, it is in Edvard Grieg that Rachmaninoff found his first concerto; Rachmaninoff’s first movement opens with a theme not dissimilar to Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor. Rachmaninoff admired Grieg’s work both as a composer and pianist and studied the elder’s form and structure while pursuing his composition studies in Moscow. The outer movements are especially reliant on Grieg’s example, suggesting that young Rachmaninoff owes some of his concerto writing to imitation more so than his own compositional plan. Here we are reminded of Pablo Picasso’s famous line: good artists copy, great artists steal. 

The second movement is incredibly short—seventy-two measures over the span of six minutes—and apexes to episodic cadenzas that were also heavily revised. This deeply intimate, tender movement is introduced by the French horn solo whose dotted rhythm is echoed in the soloists’ entrance soon after. The main theme is sentimental; its slow ascent to a repeated note creates a sense of restrained longing that develops into a more gentle cadenza, rife with triplets that seem to exude from the piano with perfect pacing. Woodwind entrances are superimposed over the solo as it swells and diminishes around the orchestral texture. The Andante ends subtly, with the piano leading the strings in two final D-major chords. 

In the final movement, Allegro vivace, the piano solo erupts after just one measure of grandiose orchestral introduction. Here the solo is frantic, a flurry of sextuplets, but controlled. It is hard to remember that this is Rachmaninoff’s first work as the piano solo weaves back and forth through the string texture in effortless conversation. Later joined by the principal flute, clever Rachmaninoff offers a false ending just before the Tempo I. As an articulate and evermore capricious coda unfolds, the full orchestra emulates the piano solo with repeated staccato notes and brass fanfares which lead to powerfully spirited final bar.