Violin Concerto in D major, Op.35

The Valse-scherzo, Op.34 - which is not to be confused with either of the two Valses-scherzo for piano - was written in 1877 and dedicated to Iosif Kotek, the young violinist friend who was to give Tchaikovsky so much help and inspiration in the composition of the Violin Concerto a year later. If Kotek was disappointed that he was not asked to give the first performance of the Valse-scherzo, he must have been even more distressed when the dedication of the Concerto was awarded to Leopold Auer, who promptly declared it “unplayable.” Kotek actually played the Concerto “marvellously,” as Tchaikovsky acknowledged, but - apparently for fear of gossip about the relationship between the composer and the violinist - never in public.

Anyway, there must have been some consolation for Kotek in being associated with a work as delightful as the Valse-scherzo in C. It owes its double-barrelled title to the fact that, while it is in waltz-time throughout, its demeanour is teasingly playful. A different figuration is applied to the cheerful main theme on every occasion it appears and even the more expressive middle section in A flat major has its capricious asides in the violin part. The transition back to C major and the re-entry of the main theme is made by way of a dramatic cadenza.

Both version of the Valse-scherzo, for violin and orchestra and for violin and piano, are by Tchaikovsky himself.

Gerald Larner©

Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, one of the most attractive works of its kind, owes its existence to the composer’s young violinist friend Iosif Kotek. A pupil of his at the Moscow Conservatoire, Kotek and his violin turned up at Tchaikovsky’s lodgings at Clarens in Switzerland just at that point in March 1878 when the composer was making painfully laborious progress on a piano sonata. Within two days he had put aside the sonata and started work on a violin concerto and within three weeks he had completed it. “I would have been able to do nothing without Kotek,” said Tchaikovsky.

Partly because of Kotek’s influence, this is by no means an example of the conventionally heroic concerto. That much is clear from the modestly wistful and not at all sensational introductory melody on first violins. Although it is almost immediately pushed aside by the orchestra’s eager anticipations of the coming main theme, it is a clear indication of the comparatively lyrical and intimate character which the work is about to assume. The second subject of the first movement, introduced by the soloist after a cadenza, is pure poetry.

There is no question in of any sort of grandiose treatment of the essentially lyrical material of the Canzonetta. Approached by a gentle chorus of woodwind and horns, it is a piece of characteristically melancholic beauty with an achingly nostalgic folk song as its main theme.

Even in the final rondo, which is linked to the end of the Canzonetta by an echo of the woodwind chorus, the soloist is not cast as the conventional romantic hero. Here he is the virtuoso country fiddler, as he immediately demonstrates by improvising a cadenza and then skipping off in a lively Russian dance. He changes his tune in the first episode and even slows down the pace, but only to accelerate it again, encouraged by orchestral simulations of the off-beat clapping or stamping of a peasant dance. This time it is the woodwind that introduces the lyrical element, with an expressive version of the new theme, and the violin proves sympathetic. Otherwise the soloist prefers outdoor exercise to introspection, and the more vigorous the exercise the better.

Tchaikovsky’s two most popular concertos - the Piano Concerto in B flat minor and the Violin concerto in D major - have one curious feature in common. Both of them open with a melodic inspiration which, though more than interesting enough to be a main theme, proves to be no more than a preliminary and is never heard again. Both openings are valuable, however, in that the so effectively set the scene of the work to come.

In direct contrast to the heroic beginning of the Piano Concerto, the opening theme of the Violin Concerto is wistful rather than sensational and, though it is almost immediately pushed aside by the orchestra’s eager anticipations of the main theme, it is a clear indication of the comparatively lyrical and intimate character the Violin Concerto is to assume. When, for example, after a short cadenza, the soloist definitively introduces the main theme it is at a tempo rather slower than the orchestra had anticipated. The other first-subject themes are more playful than heroic and the second subject, also introduced by the soloist after a cadenza, is pure poetry.

There is no question in either the solo part or in the orchestra of any sort of grandiose treatment of the essentially lyrical material of the Canzonetta. Approached by a gentle chorus of woodwind and horns modulating from the D major of the previous movement to the G minor of this one, it is a piece of characteristic melancholy beauty with an achingly nostalgic folksong as its main theme.

Even in the final rondo, which is linked to the end of the Canzonetta by an echo of the woodwind chorus, the soloist is not cast as the conventional romantic hero. Here he is the virtuoso country fiddler, as he immediately demonstrates by improvising a cadenza and then skipping off in a lively Russian dance. He changes his tune in the first episode and even slows down the pace, but only to accelerate it again, encouraged by orchestral simulations of the off-beat clapping or stamping of a peasant dance. This time it is the woodwind which introduces the lyrical element, with an expressive version of the new theme, and the violin proves sympathetic. Otherwise the soloist prefers vigorous outdoor exercise to introspection.

Completed in 1878, the Violin Concerto was originally dedicated to Leopold Auer who, however, considered it unplayable as Tchaikovsky had written it. When the younger and far less famous Russian violinist Adolf Brodsky proved the opposite by giving a successful first performance in Vienna in 1881 Tchaikovsky very properly dedicated it to him instead. Happily, Auer’s re-written version, which was published after Tchaikovsky’s death and was widely used at one time, is now thoroughly discredited.

By rights, Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto should have been dedicated to his young violinist friend Iosif Kotek. A pupil of his at the Moscow Conservatoire and close enough to him to have acted as one of two witnesses at his ill-advised wedding in 1877, Kotek and his violin turned up at Tchaikovsky’s lodgings at Clarens in Switzerland just at that point in March 1878 when the composer was making painfully laborious progress on a piano sonata. Within two days he had put aside the sonata and started work on a violin concerto and within three weeks - having, on Kotek’s advice, supplied a new Canzonetta to replace the Andante he had written a few days earlier - he had completed it. “I would have been able to do nothing without Kotek,” said Tchaikovsky. “He plays it marvellously.”

Another inspiration was Lalo’s recently published Symphonie espagnole, which Kotek had brought with him to Clarens. Tchaikovsky admired it for its freshness and lightness and the composer’s concern “more with musical beauty than with observing established traditions.” His own Violin Concerto was written in the same spirit. That much is clear from the modestly wistful and not at all sensational introductory melody on first violins. Although it is almost immediately pushed aside by the orchestra’s eager anticipations of the coming main theme, it is a clear indication of the comparatively lyrical and intimate character which the work is about to assume. When, for example, after a short cadenza, the soloist definitively introduces the main theme it is at a tempo rather slower than the orchestra had anticipated. The other first-subject themes are more playful than heroic and the second subject, also introduced by the soloist after a cadenza, is pure poetry.

There is no question in of any sort of grandiose treatment of the essentially lyrical material of the Canzonetta. Approached by a gentle chorus of woodwind and horns modulating from the D major of the previous movement to the G minor of this one, it is a piece of characteristic melancholy beauty with an achingly nostalgic folksong, introduced in muted intimacy by the solo violin, as its main theme.

Even in the final rondo, which is linked to the end of the Canzonetta by an echo of the woodwind chorus, the soloist is not cast as the conventional romantic hero. Here he is the virtuoso country fiddler, as he immediately demonstrates by improvising a cadenza and then skipping off in a lively Russian dance. He changes his tune in the first episode and even slows down the pace, but only to accelerate it again, encouraged by orchestral simulations of the off-beat clapping or stamping of a peasant dance. This time it is the woodwind which introduces the lyrical element, with an expressive version of the new theme, and the violin proves sympathetic. Otherwise the soloist prefers outdoor exercise to introspection, and the more vigorous the exercise the better.

The Violin Concerto was dedicated on its publication not to Iosif Kotek - Tchaikovsky was afraid of the “gossip” that might have followed - but to Leopold Auer, the most influential violinist in Russia at the time. Auer, however, considered it unplayable. When a younger and far less famous Russian violinist Adolf Brodsky proved him wrong by giving a successful first performance in Vienna in 1881 Tchaikovsky very properly dedicated it to him instead. Happily, Auer’s re-written version, which was published after Tchaikovsky’s death and which was widely used at one time, is now thoroughly discredited.

Gerald Larner©