Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64, Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Ten years passed between the composition of Tchaikovskys' fourth symphony and the fifth symphony. During those intervening years his international reputation was consolidated, and he became the leading voice of Russian composers. He was experiencing difficulty with inspiration for new works, and wrote to his patroness, Nadeja von Meck, "I am dreadfully anxious to prove not only to others, but also to myself, that I am not yet played out as a composer.
As was typical of Tchaikovsky, his feelings about the Fifth Symphony vacillated between grudging admiration for what he had achieved and downright loathing. After two performances of the piece in Saint Petersburg and one in Prague, he wrote ".I have come to the conclusion that it is a failure.It was clear to me that the applause and ovations referred not to this but to other works of mine, and that the Symphony itself will never please the public. All this causes a deep dissatisfaction with myself." Sometime later, after a highly successful performance of the Symphony in Hamburg, where the musicians were delighted and enthusiastic, Tchaikovsky changed his mind, writing to his nephew "The Fifth Symphony was magnificently played and I like it far better now, after having held a bad opinion of it for some time."
Tchaikovsky begins the Fifth with a foreboding introduction. The tempo is slow, the instrumental colors dark(low clarinets and low strings), and the theme, almost funereal, is easily remembered. Some critics and historians have labeled it the Fate theme. The rhythm is distinctive enough to be recognizable by itself, and that will prove invaluable to the listener as the piece proceeds. The introduction gradually subsides, coming to a suspenseful stop.
When the body of the first movement begins, the tempo is faster and the theme is new. Both melancholy and graceful, the tune is presented by the clarinet and bassoon. This builds to a very loud climax and goes without pause into a new anguished theme for strings, punctuated with the composers' typical little ornamentations for woodwinds. By using these materials he builds a strong, energetic movement, which, however, ends in complete despair.
The second movement begins, after a brief introduction, with one of the most beautiful and memorable French horn solos in the entire orchestral repertoire. The tempo increases and a new, wistful melody is presented by the clarinet which is expanded by the bassoon and the stings. Suddenly, this wonderful lyricism is almost brutally interrupted by the Fate theme, played by the trumpets. The music stops, almost as if stunned. Heroic pizzicato chords bring back order, and the violins play the glorious horn melody from the opening of the movement. There is a large climax, and once more the Fate theme is intoned, this time by the trombones. The nostalgic mood is shattered, and the movement ends with pleading, broken phrases.
In the third movement Tchaikovsky pens a graceful waltz, but with an underlying aura of melancholy. There are rapid, darting passages from the strings and winds, and just before the end, the Fate theme is heard in a ghostly murmur in the lowest part of the orchestra.
The Finale begins with the Fate theme, played by the strings, but now transformed into a triumphant song in the major key. A timpani roll leads to the Allegro vivace, an almost violent Russian theme of great energy. The Fate theme reappears, just as a rhythmic figure, and then, after a suspenseful buildup, it blazes forth in a broad, majestic march of triumph, a thrilling moment for both performer and listener. The music rushes into a Presto, propelling itself toward the conclusion, where once again it broadens into the rousing final pages.
