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In 1855, when he was only eighteen years old, Mily Balakirev moved from his family’s home in Nizhny-Novgorod to St. Petersburg to pursue music.  He was a relative amateur, with little formal training, but he had considerable talent and enormous ambition.

There were two opposing musical ideals in Russia at the time.  On one side stood the conservatory composers, like Tchaikovsky.  Steeped in western tradition, their musical output was majestic, but hardly unique to Russia.  On the other side was Mikhail Glinka, whose opera A Life for the Czar, composed in 1834, reflected a new, purely Russian movement in music.  A Life for the Czar was the first opera with a Russian story, a peasant hero, and Russian folk songs quoted throughout.  And it was this opera that inspired the young Balakirev to devote his life to music.

Balakirev’s strong opinions about music and national spirit quickly attracted the attention of the musicians in St. Petersburg.  Almost immediately a group began to form around him.  César Cui, Modest Mussorgsky, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and Alexander Borodin each joined the circle one by one.  None of them was a professional musician, but their collective curiosity and passion made them a force in Russian music nonetheless.  The group made great use of each other, constantly sharing their work to solicit criticism and advice.  Together they pored over the great musical scores of the past, analyzing their form and orchestration.  Most importantly, they began to create music and philosophy that was deeply nationalistic and uniquely Russian.  With Balakirev at their helm, The Five became a well-known force in Russian music.

The dedicated amateurism of The Five provoked the ire of the musical establishment.  Balakirev believed that conservatories robbed musicians of their cultural heritage and their creativity.  The conservatories believed that The Five lacked dedication to musical knowledge and that they were ultimately a joke.
“What a sad thing!” wrote Tchaikovsky. “How many talents from whom it is futile to await anything serious!”

Yet there was a kind of aching respect for what The Five were accomplishing.  In the same letter, Tchaikovsky wrote this small conceit.
“Even a Mussorgsky, by his very lack of discipline, speaks a new language.  It is ugly, but it is fresh…”

Regardless of their reception at the time, the impact that The Five made upon musical development in Russia was substantial.  The national character that they drew into formal music is elemental in most of the major compositions that have come out of Russia since.  The group has truly earned their moniker, “The Mighty Five.”

Mily Balakirev - Overture on Three Russian Folk Songs

The Overture on Three Russian Folk Songs is a prime example of Balakirev’s emphasis on Russian nationalism in his music.  The three melodies at play in the piece have deep eastern routes and they flavor the music unmistakably as it transitions from one theme to the next.  With Balakirev’s thoughtful orchestration, the Overture is equally at home in its periods of quiet beauty as it is in the explosive moments.

César Cui – Orientale

Cesar Cui was the first to find Balakirev in St. Petersburg.  His musical contributions, aside from Orientale, have not stood the test of time, but his work in musical criticism is still highly regarded as an important record of the philosophies and thoughts of The Five.  Orientale has a strongly eastern feeling, brought on mostly by its characteristic melody, which is reiterated throughout with waxing and waning orchestral accompaniment.  The piece was originally written for piano and flute and has seen many orchestrations.  Today’s performance makes use of an orchestration by Carmen Dragon, a notable Hollywood composer of the mid-twentieth century.

Alexander Borodin - Polovtsian March from “Prince Igor”

Alexander Borodin was a capable chemist and made his career as one even as he devoted more and more of himself to music.  His magnum opus (a piece that he never actually finished) was the opera Prince Igor, which Borodin wrote over the course of eighteen years.  The opera tells the story of the Russian Prince Igor Svyatoslavich and his military campaign against the advancing Polovtsian tribes.  Much of the opera was edited and re-written by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and Alexander Glazunov after Borodin’s death.
The Polovtsian March heralds the success of the Polovtsian army in defending Prince Igor’s attack.  The martial aspects of the march are well balanced with the enthusiasm of the music.

Modest Mussorgsky – Songs and Dances of Death

Easily the most radical of The Five in his compositional style, Modest Mussorgsky often pushed the boundaries of acceptable harmonization and rhythmic structure in his music.  The Songs and Dances of Death are a supreme example of Mussorgsky’s anti-traditional technique.  The song cycle is based on a group of poems written by Mussorgsky’s close friend A. A. Golenishtchev-Kutusov.  Each poem features the character Death in a new surrounding, luring those around him into Death’s kingdom.  The music is hauntingly programmatic.  Dmitri Shostakovich, who admired Mussorgsky deeply, orchestrated the version of the song cycle that the Philharmonic will play.

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov – Suite, “The Snow Maiden”

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov was a military man with a deep-seated dedication to his country.  It was Balakirev who brought the real musician out in him, but of The Five, Rimsky-Korsakov was the closest to having a formal career in music.  He even spent some time as a professor of Practical Composition and Instrumentation at the St. Petersburg conservatory.  Rimsky-Korsakov was a master of orchestration.  He often helped the others in the group to expand their scores beyond the piano and his own orchestral compositions glow with skill.

Rimsky-Korsakov wrote both the music and the libretto for his opera The Snow Maiden.  He later reduced the music into a Suite for orchestra.  The opera tells the story of a young, beautiful sprite who leaves the ethereal world to live among humans.  The music intersperses the motifs of the fairies with Russian folk song, representing the villagers.

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov – Capriccio Espagnol
Rimsky-Korsakov wrote his Capriccio Espagnol in an attempt to emulate Spanish folk styles.  It is not difficult to hear Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Russianness” in the piece, but this very fact is a testament to the similarities of folk traditions throughout the world.  The Capriccio is full of energy and beautifully orchestrated, with splashes of color coming from each section of the ensemble.

One of the fun parts of a Seattle Philharmonic concert is that each program is usually a blend of the familiar and unfamiliar. That can be unfamiliar composers or unfamiliar works from familiar composers, each piece coming with their own quirks. During one of the rehearsals recently, someone had asked about a curious marking in the second movement of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Suite from “The Snow Maiden”. At the very beginning of the Danse des Oiseaux (Dance of the Birds) is a time signature of 2/4 while in parenthesis 7/2 is written--2/4 noting two beats per measure, with the quarter note being worth the value of one beat. Given this, the 7/2 didn’t really seem to make sense mathematically; it wasn’t until Maestro had pointed out that it is because the phrase lasts seven measures that it all fell into place. Perhaps one of the more interesting parts of this modern day is how one is able to help further their understanding about a piece outside of rehearsal by listening to recordings or, especially now, watching a multitude of videos. This goes for enthusiasts as much as musicians, and sometimes it’s fun to compare and contrast how another may interpret the same piece. We’re always receiving insight each week during rehearsal but the vast majority of us don’t have the luxury of having our personal maestro to help enlighten us with wonderful tidbits of information. Take, for instance, the aforementioned 7/2 marking. I was bouncing around, looking for a performance of the “Snow Maiden” Suite to hear what it sounded like in a more complete form and actually found one where the conductor made use of the 7/2 marking. At the very beginning he starts the orchestra beating the two beats of each measure, but quickly relaxes into a seven pattern. Here’s what it looked like:

It was a small but amusing discovery (and we violists are prone to being easily amused), and the fun of these small moments is, I suppose, akin to listening to dialects. There is the defined concept structure that is the music, but the way a piece can be interpreted, whether right or wrong, shows that there’s more than one way to communicate an idea. Sometimes what doesn’t make sense at first suddenly does with just a little bit of insight. We hope that a need for intimate knowledge of any of the works on our programs doesn’t really deter someone from exploring unfamiliar pieces—we learn from exploring, and perhaps it’s even worth noting that everything we play was brand new at some time. No scholarly texts were available during the world premiere. There was a time when people couldn’t preview new and upcoming composers by watching music videos they had on the Internet. It was a truly fresh experience, and sometimes our first rehearsals can be a similar affair. Opinions will always vary, and when questions get asked, discoveries can be made. It’s a pretty good cycle of learning, yes? Luckily, we don’t keep this learning within the confines of our rehearsal space. Did you know that at the end of every concert you can ask Adam questions about the various pieces? Was there something that piqued your curiosity? Ask about it! It’s the perfect time to interact about the performance and for our upcoming concert, “The Mighty Five”, we invite you to stick around in the concert hall afterwards for the post-concert talk. So let your curiosity lead you to something familiar and especially to something new—come to our next concert!

10 April 2010

I was helping with the Don Bushell Concerto Competition, an annual event that I never really bothered to help with until that year. I'm not sure what made me decide to wake up that early on a weekend but of the few things I can remember that day was being very glad I did.

Of the many wonderful performances, there was one that stood out. Visually, musically, emotionally. One of the performers, Marié Rossano, took to the stage wearing notably red shoes and I distinctly remember the thought, "this would be a perfect outfit for the Shostakovich." But I only said it half-jokingly to myself. Not being part of the judging committee, I had the luxury of enjoying performances all day without having to make any decisions. When her accompanist started playing, I didn't recognize the piece until she drew the bow. It was the Shostakovich.

~ Fast Forward ~

2 April 2011

Maestro Stern couldn't make the rehearsal on Wednesday, March 30th, so we re-scheduled one for Saturday, the 2nd of April. While we understood that there would be a chance that a few would not be able to make it that day, an email from Adam went out to the orchestra saying, "I would appeal to you all to try to be on hand for this rehearsal, as it is our first with Marié Rossano…and i would like for her to feel as comfortable as possible in her role as soloist." And for those that were able to make it, what a treat it was.

By that day we had been working on the orchestral parts for a good eight rehearsals or so, tackling accidentals, deceptive rhythms-sometimes stacked upon each other, and a devilish load of off beats. When it all came together for the first time that day, things were making a lot more sense--a large puzzle was coming together and the picture was becoming so clear and so wonderful. Yes, this dark, deep work was starting to develop like a photograph, an image was emerging from our sheet music paper that, by the end of our run-through, was generating a buzz among the orchestra musicians.

I'm pretty sure we all felt we had a pretty amazing concert on our hands--and this was only one piece!

One could almost feel an enthusiastic trade of energy bouncing between orchestra and soloist (in addition to our counting and trying to maintain the off-beats), it was definitely a great experience for us to hear such a commanding and communicative interpretation. For me, at least, even if it was "just a rehearsal," it was definitely inspiring.

6 April 2011 On our last rehearsal before the sound check, we gave it a run-through. Only two rehearsals with full orchestra and soloist (and I'm pretty sure a few meetings here or there between Adam and Marié) brought us to this day and we were yet to hear the cadenza. We didn't hear it this day, and I've listened to many recordings of this concerto over the years (including an interpretation by David Oistrakh, which is also viewable on YouTube), I was curious as to how she would play it.

The rehearsal time came, went, working on a few more details, and then the next time we would meet would be on Sunday. During the days that would follow, it was going to be hard not to hype the concert without coming off as overly confident but I know a bunch of us were telling all of our friends through whatever medium we had available because each rehearsal just reinforced in us that something really, really good was coming together.

10 April 2011 (Concert Day)

One year after the competition (to the day), we found ourselves at an empty Meany Hall trying to get a feel for volume levels and just getting accustomed to the sound of the performance space in general. The dress rehearsal/sound check isn't a place to overdo things, so we worked only a few passages with Marié and after that we checked through the other pieces on the concert, ironing any thorny passages that were left. After we finished the last few items on the Shostakovich, Adam gave us all one very important piece of advice: not to get so lost in the moment during the cadenza--to keep in touch, so to speak, and not miss that very important entrance to the finale! And it turned out to be some very good advice.

The hall filled with people, and after playing the J. C. Bach, we arranged ourselves for the Shostakovich. As we played the piece, it wasn't until the concerto that we were able to finally relax a bit and enjoy some of the concert ourselves. It was a really fresh interpretation, most definitely, and it was also hard not to feel that everyone in the hall (including us) were captivated by the performance--there were moments of silence that were so quiet that I'm sure even the slightest shuffle of paper would shoot through the air. But none of that happened. It was a most intense silence, the tension was amazing. So amazing that I often found myself starting to crack a smile**, thinking, "this just went in a completely new and awesome direction," yet it maintained character, maturity, and held true to the piece. Even during the (admittedly) startling punctuating chords it was all fresh and new yet dark and focused.

I've always said I'm no musicologist, but I hope nobody shoots me for saying that that performance didn't take a musicology degree to know it was extraordinary.

Everyone kept in touch, and as Marié launched us into the finale, we sprinted toward what felt like a breathless finish; the last note didn't even get a full ring before everybody erupted in applause. There isn't much more that can be said about that; the moment really spoke for itself.

I think it set the tone for all of us for the second half, featuring three different works, all by Stravinsky--concluding with a Suite from "The Firebird." I know I'm shorting the other pieces on this concert by talking about the Shostakovich (I'm sure you've read enough by now anyway :), but, rest assured, that the whole experience has been a comprehensively wonderful one, challenging to say the least, filled with its share of frustrations, triumphs, and musical growth.

Throughout all of this, I'm willing to risk speaking for the whole orchestra when I say that the best motivation, the reason why we challenge ourselves to play music like this is not because of the people that sit in front of Adam, but those that fill the seats behind him.

To everyone that shared that concert with us: we send you a most heartfelt thank you.

We have another one tomorrow at the Centerstage Theatre in Federal Way--if you missed our first performance of the Beethoven "Emperor" Piano Concerto, come join us! Otherwise we really hope to see you at our next concert in May. We've gone through the music once already and I could spot some grins of excitement already...

~ = ~

**My apologies, Marié, if the smiling was distracting. That cadenza was so awesome!