Sergei Prokofiev was born in the Ukraine and grew up happily there, learning to play the piano well by the age of six and having composed his first opera at nine. He was also an excellent chess player. Glière (Russian Sailor’s Dance – November concert, 1995) became his teacher and Sergei’s progress was so good that by the age of 13, he successfully applied to the St. Petersburg Conservatory with a portfolio of four operas, a symphony and many other pieces.
He always retained a child-like sense of fun and rather enjoyed shocking people with his music, thus earning himself a reputation of enfant terrible. And whereas many composers start out relatively conservative in their compositions and develop a more radical style in later life, Prokofiev reversed this trend (compare, for instance, his two violin concertos).
After graduating in 1914, he visited London where by chance he met Diaghilev of the Ballets Russes, then returned to the Conservatory to avoid being conscripted into World War I. After the revolution in 1917, of which he approved though was not directly involved, he wanted to travel and the following year was able to reach, with difficulty since the war continued, the United States. During the next fifteen years he lived in various places – mainly Paris – until returning to Russia (Moscow) more or less permanently. The Stalin years were not happy ones for most Russian composers, although Prokofiev fared a little better than most. He died just three hours before Stalin, his death getting scant attention by comparision!
Winter Bonfire was one of several pieces the composer wrote especially for children – this one being not only about children but involving children (as the chorus) too. His best-known piece in the genre is of course Peter and the Wolf. Prokofiev’s genius for writing melodies and orchestrating them in a simple, modern, and thoroughly engaging style makes Winter Bonfire one of his most charming. It depicts a day in the life of some "Young Pioneers" and describes an expedition to the country in winter. Though he was by this time terminally ill, the train music in "Departure" and "Return", the ice-skaters’ waltz, and the march with so many different themes are some of the very best music of his entire life’s work.
Throw more brushwood on the bonfire, Let it blaze up like the sun. Pioneering Moscow schoolboys Gathered for the country fun. On the bonfire throw more branches, See the flames leap higher and higher. All the country folk will help us, Then will join us round the fire. Hark! The fire is crackling, raging, Sparks are flying all around. Let us sing a song together To the happy burning sound.
Welcome, Welcome, Every Guest: Southern Harmony, ed. Marie Stultz
Praise the Lord with Cheerful Noise: Georg Frideric Händel (from Esther), ed. Victoria Meredith
Hodie, nobis de caelo: Alessandro Grandi, ed. William Tortolano
The Water is Wide: American Folk Song, arr. Luigi Zaninelli
Red Tail from Reflections of Youth: Mark Hierholzer
As Fair as Morn: John Wilbye, ed. John Haberlen
The Frost is Here: Arthur Egerton, text, Tennyson
Ding Dong! Merrily on High: 16th c. French, arr. David Wilcocks
What Child is This?: English, arr. R. Vaughan Williams, carol text added by Marie Stultz
A La Nanita Nana: Spanish Carol, arr. Sherri Porterfield
Hine ma tov (Psalm 133:1): Hebrew Folk Song, arr. Henry Leck
Three Rounds for Christmas: arr. Jan Patterson
The Heav’nly Prince of Peace: French Christmas Song
Masters in this Hall: Old English
Christmas is Coming: English Nursery Rhyme
From our 20th century vantage point, it is hard to believe how so many of today’s best-loved composers struggled to gain a foothold in the musical world. How could this possibly be true of the man who gave us the 1812 Overture, Nutcracker, the Pathétique, his first piano concerto and all of his many other popular works – and yet it is so. As a young man, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was consumed with self-doubts, reinforced by having his works reviled by those whose praise he craved most. He suffered from what he called "apoplectic strokes," hallucinations and various phobias. All this was exacerbated by his sexual orientation, which to the degree by which it was suspected by the musical community only made matters worse – for Czarist Russia was certainly not a nation of tolerance.
His biggest challenge in his early years, however, was to gain the respect of the musical elite, in particular Anton Rubinstein and Zaremba, his teachers at the St. Petersburg Conservatory, where he enrolled once he was sure that being a lawyer was not for him. Fortunately, he had already won the admiration – and employment – of Anton’s brother Nicolai, the founder of the Moscow Conservatory. At the time, the nationalist style was considered an expression of nobility and other national virtues, typically embodying folk themes. The chief proponents of this style were established in St. Petersburg and were known as the "Kutchka," "Mighty Handful," or simply the "Five": Balakirev, Cui, Rimsky-Korsakov, Borodin and Mussorgsky. It was against this standard that the young Tchaikovsky’s music, with its occasional moodiness and introspection, was so harshly judged.
In 1866, after some useful experience of mainly piano works and one overture, Tchaikovsky decided to try his skill at a full symphony. Bear in mind that potential symphonic composers, especially in Europe, were still in awe of Beethoven, particularly the 9th – even Brahms, seven years Tchaikovsky’s senior, didn’t dare challenge the master until 1875. It proved no easy task – causing him more anguish than any other composition. Before its completion, Tchaikovsky submitted it to his erstwhile professors for, he hoped, constructive criticism. Rubinstein and Zaremba tore it to shreds, requiring rather than suggesting wholesale revisions. When it was complete, incorporating all the "suggestions," he showed it to them again. They again attacked it, and Tchaikovsky decided to restore all his original music for publication – except for the second theme of the first movement, as he had by then forgotten what he had originally written! At its first complete performance (Moscow in 1868) the audience approved enthusiastically (especially the adagio) and, perhaps even more importantly, Balakirev himself praised it. Even so, it wasn’t heard again in Moscow until 1883 and has never been as popular as his fourth, fifth and sixth symphonies (there is a seventh – the Manfred – which chronologically preceded the fifth but which is also infrequently performed).
One of the "faults" which Rubinstein & Zaremba complained of was that it was too modern, especially the instrumentation. It’s hard to imagine what they were complaining of, unless it was the addition of tuba in the fourth movement (quite possibly its first use in a symphony, as opposed to opera or band). Indeed, the adagio could easily have been scored by Mozart himself (of whom Tchaikovsky was a great admirer).
Despite the title – Winter Reveries (or Daydreams) – and the two subtitled movements, this is not programmatic music. Nevertheless, some of the themes are quite suggestive, for example the opening of the first movement (violins) suggests the shimmering of the sun on snow, followed by the rather breathy entrance of flute and bassoon which could perhaps be the rustling of an early morning breeze among the pine needles. Later subjects give a feeling of movement appropriate to a journey.
The second movement, adagio cantabile (i.e. slow/gentle like singing) is quite beautiful, evoking a feeling of spaciousness and grandeur. Whether it was a conscious decision to write a movement with essentially one theme (as Ravel set out to do in Bolero) is unclear but it is surprisingly effective. The full 21-measure theme is only heard three times but each treatment is quite different, particularly the accompaniment: first we hear it plaintively in the oboe, with bassoon counter-melody and flute descant; later the whole cello section renders the theme somewhat more assertively, with chords and arpeggio accompaniment from the woodwinds and other strings; finally, two horns triumphantly sound the theme against flutes and tremolo strings.
The third movement is a scherzo (joke), which includes a lovely lilting waltz in the "trio" section. Although both sections are in 3/8 time, the rhythm and shape are quite different. The scherzo proper is very Slavic in nature – each two-measure phrase contains three equal "feet" (i.e. a hemiola) but here they are syncopated too: eighth notes in a 1-2-2-1 pattern.
The finale alternates its movement among the lugubrious opening and several versions of allegro. In parts it is rather fugue-like, eventually getting faster and faster until it ends rousingly with full orchestra fortissimo. Overall, this symphony is one of Tchaikovsky’s most uplifting and inspirational works.
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