Born
May 7, 1840, Votkinsk, Vyatka, Russia

Died
November 6, 1893, St. Petersburg, Russia

Instrumentation
solo piano, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, and strings

Duration
36 minutes

Composed
November 1874 - February 21, 1875

World Premiere
October 25, 1875, Boston, with Hans von Bülow as soloist and B.J. Lang conducting

Something interesting to listen for:
One of Tchaikovsky's greatest skills as a composer was his ability to create attractive melodies.  The opening of this concerto begins in an unusual fashion for Tchaikovsky's time: a cadenza in the solo instrument.  The opening is exciting and engages the audience immediately.  Throughout the rest of the concerto listen for the melodies that draw us in and create the forms that belong in the concerto.

Some of the melodies are original with Tchaikovsky.  Others borrow from the Ukrainian fold tunes he heard while living in the region of Kyiv.  He isn't quoting exactly, nor is his intent to educate about the fold music he was so familiar with.  The melodies serve to reinforce both the structure he is building and the power of the work.  Melodies that are particularly connected with Ukraine include the opening theme of the first movement which follows the cadenza and the opening theme of the last movement.

Program Notes
Written by Anna Vorhes

Mentors played a very strong and important role in the life of Tchaikovsky.  Two held especially important roles as this composer made his way through life, especially since he struggled with  his mental health frequently.  There have been various writers who have characterized the composer's difficulties as depressive or bi-polar, designations that had no meaning in his day.  He might have been called melancholy by his peers who would have considered it a personality type rather than something to be treated and discomfort alleviated as much as possible.

In that context, the importance of people around him who could be supportive and encouraging held importance as it does for most of us.  Through his life his brother was a constant anchor, helping the composer solve practical problems (and not so practical ones, like his disastrous marriage).  In composition he had a strong relationship with Nicolai Rubenstein with whom he studied composition and shared his new works.  Financially and emotionally, Tchaikovsky's relationship with Nadezhda von Meck supported the composer's work.  Due to this unusual friendship which was conducted entirely on paper we have insight into many of his thoughts about his work and about the people around him.

Hi first piano concerto was a source of great angst for Tchaikovsky.  On Christmas Eve in 1874 he presented it to Rubenstein as a kind of gift.  Only a mentor can know how exciting it is to be presented with the product of your work with a learner, and how disappointing it is when that effort doesn't fit what the mentor thinks will succeed.  This was the situation with this concerto.  Tchaikovsky played and Rubenstein was left speechless with dismay after hearing the work.  He was convinced that the concerto was unplayable and in poor taste.  According to Tchaikovsky's account of the event, Rubenstein couldn't speak when the work was finished.  The composer asked for feedback, and Rubenstein tried to begin gently, but the overall effect was too overwhelming, and soon the response was "growing more and more into the sound of Jupiter."  In his account of the incident to von Meck we can hear Tchaikovsky trying to hold onto his self-esteem in the face of criticism from an admired teacher:
"The chief thing I can't reproduce is the tone in which all this was uttered.  In a word, a disinterested person in the room might have thought I was a maniac, a talentless senseless hack who had come to submit his rubbish to an eminent musician.  Having noted my obstinate silence, Hubert (music critic Nicolai Hubert, also present) was astonished and shocked that such a ticking off was being given a man who had already written a great deal and given a course in free composition at the conservatory, that such a contemptuous judgment without appeal was pronounced over him, such judgment as you would not pronounce over a pupil with the slightest talent who had neglected some of his tasks..."

Fortunately for  us the combination of trust in his own skills and rage at his mentor led Tchaikovsky to publish the concerto just as he had presented it to Rubenstein. He did change the dedication, and took the concerto to Hans Von Bülow, probably the best conductor of the era and an accomplished pianist.  Von Bülow performed the concerto with joy, including in Boston on a tour there.  Tchaikovsky had requested that the work be premiered as far from Moscow as possible, and Boston fit the request.  The work was successful.

As a good mentor often does, Rubenstein rethought his reaction.  In the course of a long teacher/student relationship there are often missteps on both parts, and in good relationships eventually hurt feelings can be patched over.  Rubenstein admitted that the concerto was much more valuable than his first impression.  It was a new structure, unusual in comparison with other works, and when a student takes a step that the mentor hasn't taken it's often disoncerting.  Rubenstein conducted the Moscow premiere of the work and performed it himself many times.  And von Meck and Rubenstein remained important to Tchaikovsky as he developed as a composer, offering support, encouragement, and necessary criticism.

The first movement offers not only the opening cadenza, now so familiar to audiences as to be highly anticipated.  There are two melodies, but not a strict sonata form.  The first melody, based on a Ukrainian fold tune, is attractive.  The second melody is a rocking tune that musicologist Dan Brown believes is in tribute to Desirée Artôt, a French soprano Tchaikovsky admired.  Indeed, the notes of the opening are D flat, called Des in Germany and A.

The second movement should be slow but Tchaikovsky can't resist offering a scherzo for a middle section.  Paul Serotsky writing for Music Web likens it to trying to put children to sleep.  The beginning offers a lovely lullaby in the flutes, then in the middle we hear a scherzo when the children dash about laughing and teasing.  Finally, we return to the lullaby.

The final movement offers a classical rondo form, ABABA with a crescendo to bring us to a fitting end after the opening cadenza.  The effect is triumphant and offers the audience a chance to respond accordingly.