Modern psychiatry, on the whole, has been anything but
modest in advertising its achievements, although a certain
scepticism regarding its value still persists in some quarters.
The profession, however, has largely overlooked one brilliant
instance of its proven worth, of which the second piano con-
certo of Sergei Rachmaninov is the fruit.
The composer first began work on this concerto in 1899,
while still suffering from the mental and physical lethargy,
precipitated by the utter failure of his first symphony (in
March, 1897), that so hampered his creative powers. He
himself has related his feeling of anguish when on attending
the final rehearsal of the symphony he realized how far
short it fell of the music he had conceived. He describes
his despair as the hour of the concert approached, and tells
of holding his fingers in his ears to shut out the sounds of
the orchestra during the evening performance. Later he
fled the hall and rode about the city for hours before he
could bring himself to put in an appearance at the reception
Rernirteedtecriinee henigrs
Naturally such a harrowing experience made a deep im-
pression on the sensitive young man, and his relatives noted
to their alarm that he was shunning human companionship
and apparently suffered from a deep melancholia. Various
attempts to revive his interest in life were met by failure,
but late in 1899 Rachmaninov was persuaded to consult
with a certain Dr. Dahl whose successful treatment of various
nervous maladies had created quite a stir in Moscow. The
consultation resulted in a series of daily treatments extending
over several months—treatments which consisted of constant
repetition by the doctor of the words: “You will begin to
write your concerto . . . You will work with great facility . . .
The concerto will be of an excellent quality .. .”, uttered
while the young composer lay in a hypnotic doze in an easy
chair in the doctor’s apartment.
Soon Rachmaninov’s creative impulses were stirred to
renewed activity, and gradually his previous fluency was re-
stored to him. By autumn of 1900 the second and third move-
ments of the interrupted concerto were complete, and in the
spring of 1901 the whole work was ready for performance.
Rachmaninov, in gratitude to Dr. Dahl, dedicated the work
to him, a circumstance which caused much surprise and dis-
cussion as the services rendered by the doctor were not ger-
erally known.
Certainly the concerto itself more than justified the doc-
tor’s anticipatory description of it as “excellent”, and its
popularity has been constant over half a century. None of
the structural weaknesses that hamper some of the composer’s
other works detract from the concerto’s massive strength
and spacious romanticism. The broadly flowing themes are
flavored by a harmonic piquancy that removes any threat
of saccharinity and the balance between orchestra and soloist
is admirable. The opening eight great solo chords of the
Allegro Moderato have been described as a summation in
themselves of “all that is most noble in the pianoforte; a
sort of monument to the massive tones of the concert grand.”
The orchestra enters with a spacious theme, expanding it to
some length while the soloist contributes his individual tone
color to the whole. A climax leads to a striking cello passage,
and to the smoothly beautiful second theme which is consid-
ered and explored in the composer’s usual unhurried way.
The development at last permits the soloist to display his
technique, but not at the expense of the integrity of the
whole, for the pianistic fireworks are first of all a considered
part of the structure of the movement.
‘The Adagio sostenuto opens with an ethereal orchestral
passage leading from the C minor of the previous movement
into the key of E major. The piano introduces a serene mel-
ody later taken up by the orchestra while the soloist repeats
a motif borrowed from the previous accompaniment passage.
Gradually the tranquil mood gives way to one of greater an-
imation as two related themes are used in alternation to
achieve a climax. Now the pianist is heard again in a delicate
solo passage and, after a repetition of the first theme, in a
cadenza. Then an extended passage of serene nobility slow-
ly draws the movement to a close.
‘The last movement is dramatically brilliant, as exemplified
by the powerful glissando-like passage with which the soloist
enters. Although reflective passages are not lacking, it is
primarily the light-hearted proof of a virtuoso’s mastery of
his medium, bringing to a dazzling conclusion a work which
has demonstrated to the full in its earlier movements the
composer’s concern with weightier problems.
t. ©. STONE
Balakirev: Islamey—Oriental Fantasia
Mili Balakirev, who lived from 1837 to 1910, was the
leader and inspirer of the group of Russian nationalist com-
posers in the second half of the nineteeth century which in-
cluded Borodin, Mussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov and Cui. The
early works of Tchaikovsky were also affected by Balakirev’s
influence, though he later took up an independent position.
Balakirev’s fame as a teacher and as an influence have tended
to eclipse his actual compositions; these are few in number
in any case—Balakirev suffered for years from financial dif-
ficulties which made it difficult for him to find time for com-
posing—but the works which he did leave behind show a
strong individuality and real originality.
Perhaps his most famous compositions are two which are
based on Oriental themes, the “Oriental Fantasia” Jslamey
and the symphonic poem Jamar. Rosa Newmarch, who
first met Balakirev at St. Petersburg in 1901, says: “He did
not belong to the tall, fair type of Great Russia. There was
to my mind a touch of the oriental about him: Tartar, per-
haps.” The actual inspiration for these two Oriental works
dates from 1862, when Balakirev spent a summer holiday in
the Caucasus: he liked the district so much that he went back
‘again the next year. On both visits he spent some time noting
down Georgian and other folk tunes of the region, and his
use of these in his works began the whole Oriental tradition
in Russian music, which is alive to this day in the works of
composers like Khachaturian.
Balakirev seems to have thought of Islamey and Tamar
as complementary to one another. Jamar was begun in 1868
but it was not completed till 1882; meanwhile, in August-
September 1869, Balakirev wrote Jslamey, which he regarded
as a sketch for Tamar. Pianistically Islamey is extremely
brilliant and also extremely difficult. Balakirev, though a
good pianist himself, would never play it in public, and he
dedicated it to Nicolas Rubinstein, younger brother of the
more famous Anton, and himself a brilliant pianist. Islamey
was soon taken up by both the Rubinsteins and also by
Liszt’s pupils Hans von Biilow and Carl Tausig; Balakirev
was a great admirer of Liszt, whose works he recommended
to his own pupils as models, and he eventually dedicated
Tamar to him. The influence of Liszt can certainly be
observed in Islamey, both in the brilliant piano writing and
in the construction; the work is a miniature symphonic poem
based on a few simple themes which are treated with the
utmost ingenuity. *
(oo i Os CCL
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