Incomplete And Utter History Of Classical Music

BRING ME THE HEAD OF PYOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY!

T

he Tchaikovsky Mini-Quiz: Before we get on to Russia, where is Tchaikovsky? I don't mean geographically, I mean in the general scheme of things? (a) Where does he fit in? (b) Why did he write what he did? (c) Who were his mentors? (d) And did he really think his head was going to fall off?

Well, let me see if I can answer all those. Award yourself ten points each if you gave the answers, (a) sort of in-between, (b) er, why not? (?) oh, a bunch of people, really (I'll accept 'a number of people, actually') and (d) yes, apparenriy. Good. Quizette over. Now, let me magnify.

A litde overview, first. Wagner… is still HUGE. Gi-NORmous, with a capital NOR. So much so that a lot of composers are under his spell - Bruckner, for example. Many, though, aren't. One of many in the 'aren't' camp is Brahms, a very 'classical' romantic, shall we say? In fact, Brahms did everything that Wagner didn't, when you think about it. Brahms did chamber music, concertos, variations and symphonies, all without the huge, what he considered to be 'over the top', excesses of the real Wagnerian 'high romantics'. Beyond Wagner, though, the big thing is still 'nationalism' in music - that is to say, putting the sounds, smells, ideas and even tunes of your own country into your music. It's no longer just a 'colour', as it once was. It's now everything. Well, it would be - these are revolutionary times, still, and it is almost the done thiijig, de rigueur, to reflect your country's roots and traditions in your music. In the Russia of 1869, compos;rs divided straight down the middle. There were die Nationalists, led by the five composers whom Russian critic, Vlad Stasov, had dubbed 'The Mighty Handful', namely… On the other side, there were the 'Europeans', shall we say, who preferred to write in the western tradition. In this group, there was… er… Tchaikovsky. Balakirev, Borodin, Cui, Mussorgsky and Rimsky-Korsakov. As you can see, Tchaikovsky was the only significant member of the latter group. His music was much more a case of what HE, Pyotr Uyich Tchaikovsky, was all about, not what Russia was all about. By 1869, he had already lost the mother he doted on, and was living in the house of Nicholas Rubinstein, the pianist and composer, brother of Anton Rubinstein, the pianist and composer. (Musical lot, the Rubinsteins.) He was making his living as a teacher of harmony^ at the Moscow Conservatory. He had also been on the verge of marrying a Belgian soprano, Desiree Artot, which would have been somewhat disastrous for three reasons. Firsdy, he was gay. Secondly, Desiree was as famous for her sexual flings as she was for her voice. Thirdly, it's not good for a composer to be married to someone named after a potato. They parted company with no real harm done to the very sensitive Mr Tchaikovsky, although it was immediately following this episode that he produced his overture to Romeo and Juliet. Ironically, it was Balakirev who had put the idea of writing an R amp;J overture into his head, and it was to him that Tchaikovsky turned for help and advice as he was completing it. Tchaikovsky called the finished work a 'fantasy overture', which basically means it's not an overture in the strict sense of the word - with all the 'overture rules', etc - but more a flight of fancy in music. An overture where the composer is allowed to go off on one, whenever he wants. It has that gorgeous, lush tune in the middle, which has been used, ever since, when a film director has been in need of portraying something ULTRA romantic.

And that final question. Did Tchaikovsky really think his head was going to fall off? Well, yes, actually, he did. Tchaik was afflicted with several all-consuming neuroses, one of which was that his head was going to fall off if he conducted an orchestra too energetically. It's as true as I'm standing here! And - and this is no word of a lie - he was often to be seen, when he did conduct, witii one hand holding the baton, and the other holding on to his chin, for fear it would fall off. Honest!

Well, now. We're about to hit the '70s. But don't worry - your flares are safe in the wardrobe. This is the 1870s. Before we do, though, let's catch up witli Litde Richard and Big Joe. fl What a shame we don't have a non-musical job called 'teacher of harmony' ~ someone who just teaches people to love one another, and spread love. OK, I'll get down off my hippie soapbox.