Piano Concerto No.2 in C minor, Op.18

The score of Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto in C minor carries a discreet dedication “à Monsieur N. Dahl” – without whom, it might honestly have been added, the work would not have been written. Devastated by the disastrous first performance of his First Symphony in St Petersburg in 1897, the young composer had suffered a breakdown so severe that it could have ended his creative career. It was only through understanding treatment by a specialist in hypnosis, Nikolay Dahl – after two visits to Tolstoy had made matters actually worse – that he was able to start composing again. The first thing he wrote as he recovered was the Piano Concerto in C minor. The second and third movements were encouragingly tried out in December 1900 and the complete work was first performed in Moscow eleven months later.

Although Rachmaninov clearly wasn’t ready to perform the first movement when the other two were tried out by themselves, he must have had a very precise idea of what the opening Moderato would be about. Few concertos have such a detailed network of thematic cross-references running between the first movement and the last; still fewer are so effectively designed to heighten the profile and intensify the emotional impact of their ultimate climax.    While there is more than enough melodic interest and keyboard virtuosity to occupy the attention in the first two movements, what the work is aiming for is the very loud and very grand last appearance of the big tune of the finale.

The work begins with the famous series of bell-like chords from the soloist and the main theme of the Moderato passionately presented by unison strings over flowing arpeggios on the piano. The rather more lyrical second subject is introduced by the piano alone – but not before the suddenly exposed violas offer a short but expressive rising and falling phrase which, though it has little meaning at this point, is a actually a clear anticipation of the big tune of the last movement. Together with an increasingly prominent percussive motif of something like the same melodic shape, that phrase is firmly integrated into the rest of the movement.

The Adagio sostenuto is in a world of its own – once, that is, the opening sequence of chords has moved from C minor to an area quite remote from the issues of the first movement. Over gentle piano arpeggios a solo flute introduces the first part of the main theme and a clarinet adds an even more expressive extension. Although it is the flute’s material which has a phrase in common with big tune of the last movement, the soloist is more interested in what the clarinet has to say, developing it at some length in a dramatic approach to a cadenza and then a reprise of the opening section.

The orchestral introduction to the last movement both echoes the percussive motif from the Moderato and anticipates the theme duly taken up by the soloist as the C minor first subject.    But the event we are waiting for, because of the preparations made earlier in the work, is the introduction on oboe and violas of the deeply nostalgic second subject. Although it is repeated by the piano, Rachmaninov wisely doesn’t make too much of it at this stage. It is only towards the end of the movement, after a short piano cadenza, that the melody is allowed to fullfil its emotional potential in full-orchestral colours, the soloist adding a brilliantly percussive counterpoint derived from the other main theme.    A lively coda confirms that the decision in favour of C major is final.

Though scarcely less remarkable than Shostakovich’s, Rachmaninov’s First Symphony enjoyed nothing like the same kind of instant success. In fact, its first performance in St Petersburg in 1897 was such a humiliating disaster that the young composer suffered a breakdown almost serious enough to end his creative career. It was only through understanding treatment by a specialist in hypnosis, Nikolay Dahl - after two visits to Tolstoy had made matters actually worse - that he was able to start composing again. The first thing he wrote as he recovered was the Piano Concerto in C minor. The second and third movements were encouragingly tried out in December 1900 and the complete work was first performed in Moscow eleven moths later. The score carries a discreet dedication “à Monsieur N. Dahl” without whom, it might honestly have been added, the concerto would not have been written.

Although Rachmaninov clearly wasn’t ready to perform the first movement when the Adagio sostenuto and the Allegro scherzando were tried out by themselves, he must have had a very precise idea of what the opening Moderato would be about Few concertos have such a detailed network of thematic cross-references running between the first movement and the last; still fewer are so effectively designed to heighten the profile and intensify the emotional impact of their ultimate climax. There is more than enough melodic interest and keyboard virtuosity to occupy the attention in the first two movements of the Piano Concerto in C minor but what the work is aiming for is the very loud and very grand last appearance of the big tune of the finale.

The work begins with the famous series of bell-like chords from the soloist and the main theme of the Moderato passionately presented by unison strings over flowing arpeggios on the piano. The rather more lyrical second subject is introduced by the piano alone - but not before the suddenly exposed violas offer a short but expressive rising and falling phrase which, though it has little meaning at this point, is a actually a clear anticipation of the big tune of the last movement. Together with an increasingly prominent percussive motif of something like the same melodic shape, that phrase is discreetly but firmly integrated into the rest of the movement.

The slow movement is in a world of its own - once, that is, the opening sequence of chords has moved from C minor to an area quite remote from the issues of the first movement. Over gentle piano arpeggios a solo flute introduces the first part of the main theme and a clarinet adds an even more expressive extension. Although it is the flute’s material which has a phrase in common with big tune of the last movement, the soloist is more interested in what the clarinet has to say, developing it at some length in a dramatic approach to a cadenza and then a reprise of the opening section.

The orchestral introduction to the last movement both echoes the percussive motif from the Moderato and anticipates the theme duly taken up by the soloist as the C minor first subject. But the event we are waiting for, because of the preparations made earlier in the work, is the introduction on oboe and violas of the deeply nostalgic second subject. Although it is repeated by the piano, Rachmaninov wisely doesn’t make too much of it at this stage. It is only towards the end of the movement that, after a short piano cadenza, the melody is allowed to fulfil its emotional potential in full-orchestral colours, the soloist adding a brilliantly percussive counterpoint derived from the other main theme. A lively coda confirms that the decision in favour of C major is final.

The Piano Concerto in C minor has nothing to do with Romeo and Juliet. It does, however, have amorous associations - not only those posthumously foisted on it by David Lean’s Brief Encounter but real ones resulting from Rachmaninov’s use in the slow movement of material from a Romance he had written for his cousin Vera Skalon in 1890. Vera’s marriage in 1899 might well have contributed to the depression which, ever since the humiliating failure of his First Symphony in 1897, had severely depleted his creative powers.

It was only through understanding treatment by a specialist in hypnosis, Nikolay Dahl - after two visits to Tolstoy had made matters actually worse - that he was able to start composing again. The first thing he wrote as he recovered was the Piano Concerto in C minor. The second and third movements were encouragingly tried out in December 1900 and the complete work was first performed in Moscow eleven moths later. The score carries a discreet dedication “à Monsieur N. Dahl” without whom, it might honestly have been added, the concerto would not have been written.

Although Rachmaninov clearly wasn’t ready to perform the first movement when the Adagio sostenuto and the Allegro scherzando were tried out by themselves, he must have had a very precise idea of what the opening Moderato would be about. Few concertos have such a detailed network of thematic cross-references running between the first movement and the last; still fewer are so effectively designed to heighten the profile and intensify the emotional impact of their ultimate climax. There is more than enough melodic interest and keyboard virtuosity to occupy the attention in the first two movements of the Piano Concerto in C minor but what the work is aiming for is the very loud and very grand last appearance of the big tune of the finale.

The work begins with the famous series of bell-like chords from the soloist and the main theme of the Moderato passionately presented by unison strings over flowing arpeggios on the piano. The rather more lyrical second subject is introduced by the piano alone - but not before the suddenly exposed violas offer a short but expressive rising and falling phrase which, though it has little meaning at this point, is a actually a clear anticipation of the big tune of the last movement. Together with an increasingly prominent percussive motif with something like the same melodic shape, that phrase is discreetly but firmly integrated into the rest of the movement.

The slow movement is in a world of its own - once, that is, the opening sequence of chords has moved from C minor to an area quite remote from the issues of the first movement. Over gentle piano arpeggios a solo flute introduces the first part of the main theme and a clarinet adds an even more expressive extension. Although it is the flute’s material which has a phrase in common with big tune of the last movement, the soloist is more interested in what the clarinet has to say, developing it at some length in a dramatic approach to a cadenza and then a reprise of the opening section.

The orchestral introduction to the last movement both echoes the percussive motif from the Moderato and anticipates the theme duly taken up by the soloist as the C minor first subject. But the event we are waiting for, because of the preparations made earlier in the work, is the introduction on oboe and violas of the deeply nostalgic second subject. Although it is repeated by the piano, Rachmaninov wisely doesn’t make too much of it at this stage. It is only towards the end of the movement that, after a short piano cadenza, the melody is allowed to fulfil its emotional potential in full-orchestral colours, the soloist adding a brilliantly percussive counterpoint derived from the other main theme. A lively coda confirms that the decision in favour of C major is final.

The first that was ever heard of Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto just the second and third movements played by the composer himself in a concert Moscow in December 1900. It was a strange way to introduce a major new work, but Rachmaninov was in a strange situation. Devastated by the distastrous first performance of his First Symphony in St Petersburg in 1897, the young composer had suffered a breakdown so severe that it could have ended his creative career. It was only through understanding treatment by a specialist in hypnosis, Nikolay Dahl - and, some say, the affectionate attentions of Dr Dahl’s daughter - that he was able to start composing again.

As he recovered, he started work on the Piano Concerto in C minor, making good progress on the slow movement and finale. Unable to finish the first movement, however, he took an enormous risk and found the courage to present the Adagio sostenuto and the Allegro scherzando by themselves. Had those two movements met with the kind of response accorded the First Symphony he would surely have been plunged back into impotent despair. In fact, reactions were so encouraging that he was able to complete the work and perform the whole thing eleven months later - again to an enthusiastic reception from the Moscow audience.

One significant factor in the success of the risky partial performance must have been the unusually impressive shape of the last movement. In most concertos the structural weight is so distributed that the centre of gravity is in the first movement. In this case it is in the last movement, where the most expressive material is to be found and where the major climax occurs. Listeners on that occasion in 1900 must have heard the slow movement as a kind of prelude to the finale, which clearly made sense to them. In fact, it makes sense to approach the complete work in the same way and to hear not only the Adagio sostenuto but also the opening Moderato as preparation for the closing Allegro scherzando. While there is more than enough melodic interest and keyboard virtuosity to occupy the attention in the first two movements, what the work is aiming for is the very loud and very grand last appearance of the big tune of the finale.

The first movement has its own introduction, in the shape of increasingly sonorous bell-like chords on the piano, before the strings launch themselves into the fervent main theme against a background of surging arpeggios sustained by the soloist. The rather more lyrical second subject is introduced by the piano alone - but not before the suddenly exposed violas offer a short but expressive rising and falling phrase which, though it has little meaning at this point, is a actually a clear anticipation of the big tune of the last movement. Together with a prominent percussive motif of something like the same melodic shape, that phrase is firmly integrated into the rest of the movement.

The introduction to the Adagio sostenuto on strings and woodwind was presumably not included in the partial performance in 1900, since its function is to make a smooth transition from the passionate C minor of the first movement to the romantic E major which is about to prevail in the second. Over gentle piano arpeggios - taken from an amorous Romance written for a cousin some years earlier - a solo flute introduces the first part of the main theme and a clarinet adds an even more expressive extension. While it is the flute material which has a phrase in common with the big tune of the last movement, the soloist is more interested in what the clarinet has to say, developing it at some length in a dramatic approach to a cadenza and then a reprise of the opening section.

The orchestral introduction to the last movement both echoes the percussive motif from the Moderato and anticipates the theme duly taken up by the soloist as the C minor first subject. But the event we are waiting for is the introduction on oboe and violas of the deeply nostalgic second subject. Although it is repeated by the piano, Rachmaninov wisely doesn’t make too much of it at this stage. It is only towards the end of the movement, after a short piano cadenza, that the melody is allowed to fulfil its emotional potential in full-orchestral colours, the soloist adding a brilliantly percussive counterpoint derived from the other main theme. A lively coda confirms that the decision in favour of a triumphant C major.

Rupert Avis©2002