“I am the way God created me, the way I have been formed by my upbringing, circumstances, properties of the century and the country I am living and acting in. I have not once betrayed myself.”
Tchaikovsky
The Nutcracker, Swan Lake, The Queen of Spades, Eugene Onegin, Children’s Album, many numbered pieces for orchestra, ensemble, piano and other instruments, as well as vocals – these are the pieces everyone remembers by the very sound, the tune, even if they cannot recall the name.
Music theoreticians, when analyzing his composition, cannot but wander off for a while to feel again the genius in his score. It is hard to explain scientifically, why one well-shaped and craftily built composition sounds astounding and another one would leave you cold. Tchaikovsky is but another reason to see it. His music is also unique in the way that a person of any age, nationality or education can understand and fall in love with it.
This populism does not in any way render Tchaikovsky vulgar, although it is easy to vulgarize his music – children in music schools have been involuntarily proving this all the way. Unfortunately, Tchaikovsky’s plays are the fair chance when the pedagogue finds it easy to ask: “What did the composer mean by this?” It is indeed interesting for a child to describe what the composer meant to say, let’s say, in his Seasons cycle. To what extent can words actually upset the mood of the music is not known. Pyotr Tchaikovsky himself on many occasions quoted Heinrich Heine saying “where words end, music starts”.
Musical Justice
Perhaps, Tchaikovsky truly became the symbol of the Russian music in 1958, when 23-year-old American Van Cliburn suddenly came out as the victor at the First International Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow. The situation was not unique simply because the winner had to be a soviet pianist. It was so special because the other was a U.S. national – a citizen of the country the USSR was in the middle of the Cold War with.
The members of the jury, which included the best of the Russian pianists of the time – Sviatoslav Richter, Emil Gilels, Lev Oborin among others, could not make this state-level decision on their own. They were charmed by both Cliburn’s Concerto 1 by Tchaikovsky, and the pianist himself – a slender blonde with a disarming smile, so unlike a spy… And yet, they had to address the authorities. His usual self, Nikita Khrushchev did not beat around the bush: “Is this Cliburn truly the best of the best?” he asked. “Then award him the first prize.”
In America, they were welcoming Cliburn home like a national hero – in New York, a parade was organized to honor him. Awards and decorations were pouring over him just like from a cornucopia, but the chief thing was the essence of the Cold War seemed a bit frail now. The Cultural Revolution set in motion by Van Cliburn and Tchaikovsky’s music cast the politics aside. There was nothing to be done about it – as much as it took over Americans, the just decision by the jury took over the rest of the world.
Sviatoslav Richter himself called Cliburn a genius, and the people on both sides of the border did not fully understand anymore why they needed the Iron Curtain in the first place, when there is such tremendous mutual understanding between the soviet people and a pianist from the most American of all states – Texas.
Naturally, starting 1958, Cliburn’s records with Tchaikovsky’s pieces on them sold like hot cakes. Naturally, the pianist could not forget his biggest triumph. He returned to Russia he confessed he loved on many occasions. Naturally, every time he came he played Tchaikovsky, whose music ever since was the symbol of his performance mastery.
Tchaikovsky and Russia
“Tchaikovsky is what we are!” Valery Gergiev claimed, making a speech at a festival commemorating the composer’s anniversary. What does that “what we are” entail for us? Probably the fact that the music will continue once the anniversary is over. However, the way they celebrate the birthday of the author of the Slavic March in Russia is doubtlessly noteworthy.
The celebrations surrounding the 175th anniversary of Pyotr Tchaikovsky are formally over on May 7, the day the First International Music Festival in Klin closes. In the memorial museum, Riccardo Muti conducted the performance of the Viennese Philharmonic Orchestra, and the piano pieces were performed by Tchaikovsky standard-setters Mikhail Pletniov, Vladimir Ovchinnikov, Denis Matsuev and Kirill Gerstein. Among other participants of the festival, there were the Big Symphonic Tchaikovsky Orchestra led by Vladimir Fedoseev, State Academic Russian Sveshnikov Choir, Mariinsky Theater Symphonic Orchestra and its irreplaceable Valery Gergiev. Also in Klin, the Academic Research Conference Tchaikovsky in the Global Culture of the 21st Century took place, with Tchaikovsky descendants, leading music scholars and cultural leaders taking part.
Festival aside, many accomplished musicians came to Moscow to commemorate. For instance, conductor Zubin Mehta together with the Florentine Maggio Musicale at the Kremlin Assembly Palace with the program featuring work of Tchaikovsky – Symphony 6 in particular, Mehta’s affection.
Heart-warming as it is, Tchaikovsky’s music has at the same time become the symbol of the putsch of August 1991. Those capable of reasoning in the early 1990’s would understand the question “What’s on TV – Swan Lake again?”
On August 19, 1991 we were sitting at a festive table, celebrating my relative’s birthday, when the phone rang and the congratulator said, stuttering more than usual: “Dude! Now you’ve made it into history!” We all started wondering what it was and he told us to turn on the TV. And we did. The screen displayed the dance of little swans from Swan Lake. We tried another channel to no avail. We turned it off and back on 15 minutes later – Maya Plisetskaya as the Black Swan fit perfectly. It was the sole case Tchaikovsky’s music was so negative contextually. It will be a long time before many of the TV-farce witnesses can listen to the ingenious music from the ballet, where by the way good triumphs over evil.
Away with Clichés
Tchaikovsky does not match the public perception of the truly Russian set of traits – somewhat careless and lazy. He was the opposite of Oblomov – I learned it studying documents in the archive of Klin. Back at Tchaikovsky Music School we all had to accomplish a traditional task – to scrupulously describe one day of the composer’s life according to archived documents, and his diary in particular. That was the first time I was taken aback by the German schedule culture he exercised, starting the day at 6 a.m., logging meticulously everything including meals and walks – let alone the hours at the piano or score.
For the first time back then did I realize that composition – even in life of a genius – is never merely a matter of inspiration, but, on the opposite, is hard and thorough work. “There is no doubt that even the greatest musical genii at times worked without the comfort of inspiration...” the composer wrote to his friend and patron Nadezhda von Meck. “I have been gifted with patience, and I have taught myself to never let reluctance set in. I learned to win against myself... I work daily and punctually. In this respect, I command invincible willpower, and should I have no particular willingness to practice, I am always capable of overcoming this reluctance and getting engaged.” Tchaikovsky’s correspondence is of extreme use to younger musicians for scaling down the green and easy a notch. Another tip to upstarts from the master: “...Talent is not enough – it is merely a blind and irrational instinct; one needs streamline their talent. Therefore, I am inclined to think that, in the end, a talented yet dim person will not go far.”
Meanwhile, his music is a source of powerful inspiration for many artists. “This resonant, symphonic philosophy of life, this sweet Russian symphonic existentialism belongs to ten odd best pieces ever created by human genius”, said winner of the first prize of 1994 Tchaikovsky Competition, pianist Andrei Gavrilov.
Tchaikovsky and his music are pivotal to Russian culture. It is hard to embrace, how in mere 53 years a man created so incredibly much of truly ingenious music, and, to top it, became a crucial figure for the Russian music school. It may very well be that the answer indeed lies in never betraying oneself.
Anna Genova
