Program Notes: Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto

AUGUSTA HOLMÈS 
La nuit et l’amour (Night and Love) 
BORN: December 16, 1847, in Paris
DIED: January 28, 1903, in Paris 
WORK COMPOSED: 1888
WORLD PREMIERE: First performed on March 4, 1888, in Paris, conducted by Jules Auguste Garcin. 

Augusta Holmès lived a life thriving outside of societal expectations, chasing ambitions that defied the prevailing attitude of the era that, as a woman, she should adhere to writing modest salon fare and party songs, if anything at all. At age 11, upon the death of her mother — who allegedly discouraged young Holmès’ aspirations — she persuaded her father to let her begin serious music study through piano and voice lessons. An eventual disciple of César Franck and close friend of Franz Liszt, who admired her work, she achieved success as an accomplished pianist, vocalist, composer and poet, and was acknowledged early on amongst Parisian artistic circles. Her output included the 1875 opera Héro et Leandre, a dozen large-scale secular cantatas, four symphonic poems, and many songs, choral works and piano pieces. Her work was mostly published under her own name, an anomaly in her day. 

Holmès’ La nuit et l’amour (Night and Love) is an orchestral interlude from Ludus pro patria (Patriotic Games), that had its Paris debut in 1888. An example of the French symphonic ode, the five-movement work takes elements from the symphony, opera and oratorio. Inspired by the painting of the same name by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes, it unites French patriotic ideals with Romantic lyricism. 

The first few measures of the interlude can be heard as a repeated motif throughout, especially in the final moments of the work. The harp’s expressive ascending and sweeping figures lead to the cellos’ main melody, reaching the central unison section and segueing into an extensive più forte, or a passage where the playing gains strength and volume. With its overlapping phrases and emotional swells, parallels can be drawn between La nuit et l’amour and Wagner’s compositional style, most notably in the Prelude to Lohengrin. Wagner’s influence was publicly recognized by Holmès and is made apparent in her style of writing for strings.  

Anna James © 2025 

PIOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY  
Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35 
BORN: May 7, 1840, in Kamsko-Votkinsk, Russia 
DIED: November 6, 1893, in Saint Petersburg 
WORK COMPOSED: 1878 
WORLD PREMIERE: December 4, 1881, in Vienna. Adolf Brodsky was the soloist, and Hans Richter conducted the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra.  

In 1878, Tchaikovsky took a much-needed vacation to restore his spirits and mental health and recover from the fallout of his failed marriage. While he was staying in Clarens, Switzerland, on his way back to the Russian homeland, he played through Edouard Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole with violinist Iosif Kotek, one of his erstwhile students. Inspired by Lalo’s irresistible lyricism and flair for color, Tchaikovsky soon began composing what would become his much-loved Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35. Work proceeded quickly; indeed, he sketched the entire concerto in 11 days and spent another two weeks working out the details of orchestration.   

Kotek gave the composer invaluable advice, but Tchaikovsky dedicated the new work to famed violinist Leopold Auer. This turned out to be a mistake: Auer — eventual teacher of violinists Mischa Elman and Jascha Heifetz — initially declared the demanding work to be too difficult and un-violinistic and refused to perform it. (Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto was also met with initial rejection by its original dedicatee, Nikolaus Rubinstein. Happily, both Rubinstein and Auer came around!)  

The opening Allegro moderato starts quietly, entrusted to only the first violins. A brief introduction anticipates the main theme; there is no extended symphonic exposition. The soloist presents the songlike initial theme against a simple accompaniment. The pace increases slightly and with a series of virtuosic flourishes, approaches the second equally lyrical theme, marked con molto espressione, or with much expression. The development is filled with violin acrobatics and fireworks, culminating in an extremely effective and difficult cadenza. The orchestra returns softly with a recap of the movement’s basic themes.  

The composer had doubts about the concerto’s original middle movement and in only one day, wrote a lovely replacement marked Canzonetta: Andante. (Luckily, he saved the excised movement, later publishing it as Souvenir d’un lieu cher, Op. 42, No. 3.) His mysterious longtime correspondent and patroness, Nadezhda von Meck, critiqued the Andante severely, but Tchaikovsky kept it intact as it was written and rightly so; this beguiling movement never fails to charm audiences old and new. 

A fiery orchestral introduction to the Finale leads to a cadenza anticipating a dance-like, light-footed rondo tune, well suited to symphonic development. Throughout this concluding movement, Tchaikovsky exploits the violin’s capacity for brilliance and agility, using the sustained melody of the episodes chiefly as a foil for the dazzling scales and dizzying leaps of the solo. The eminent and powerful Viennese critic Eduard Hanslick dismissed this energetic movement as “brutal and wretched,” adding that Tchaikovsky's concerto, “…gives us, for the first time, the hideous notion that there can be music that stinks to the ear.” Though this attack bothered the composer deeply — he carried the review on his person for months — his vivacious and completely unpretentious Violin Concerto has remained firmly in the Romantic violin concerto repertoire ever since.  

Steven Lowe © 2021, revised 2025 

ANTONÍN DVOŘÁK 
Symphony No. 8 in G major, Op. 88 
BORN: September 8, 1941, in Nelahozeves, Bohemia 
DIED: May 1, 1904, in Prague 
WORK COMPOSED: 1889 
WORLD PREMIERE: February 2, 1890, in Prague, with Dvořák conducting the Czech National Orchestra. 

A wave of national fervor spread across Europe throughout the 19th century. It was a veritable Pandora’s Box that released, on the one hand, ideas of self-governance and healthy pride about one’s culture, and virulent xenophobia on the other. One of the salutary expressions of Romantic nationalism lay in the wealth of new and often folk-inspired musical vocabularies that enriched the concert literature. Among a host of creative artists, Antonín Dvořák stands high as a spokesman for benign nationalism in music. He was emphatically a non-political nationalist, proud of his region’s rich cultural legacy, yet free of any of the “anti” dogmas that sadly were a corollary of the darker side of this same pride. 

For one thing, Dvořák, who had to fight to ensure that the Czech version of his first name replaced its German counterpart — Anton — on newly-published scores, was beholden to the enthusiasm of musicians and audiences in non-Czech areas, predisposing him toward an all-embracing humanity. Much of his early success was in England, and his chief advocate among fellow composers was Johannes Brahms. Dvořák’s own musical enthusiasms reached far beyond his Bohemian countryside; many of his early works bask in overt Wagnerism (for example, his Third and Fourth symphonies), while many more wed his natural/national tendencies toward a Brahmsian intellectualism most noticeable in the Seventh Symphony in D-minor and in many middle period chamber works. Yet whatever outside influences can be perceived, Dvořák’s love for the Bohemian countryside permeates his music, never more than in his Symphony No. 8. 

By the year of its composition, 1889, the composer was thoroughly enjoying the success wrought by his efforts and talent. Written during an annual retreat in the country, the Eighth luxuriates in winsome melody and bucolic writing for winds. A distinct national — i.e., Bohemian — fervor courses through the work, most tellingly in the brass-driven sonorities of the rousing finale. 

As positive and optimistic as the Eighth Symphony is, it is curious that the first movement opens in the minor mode, its flowing melody entrusted to the burnished timbre of the cellos. This expressive passage serves to introduce the movement’s main theme, announced by the flute. The second subject emerges in the wake of a brief horn solo after an energetic transitional section. A number of new themes make welcome appearances throughout the movement — a total of eight beguiling melodies that confirm Dvořák’s reputation as one of the 19th century’s great tunesmiths! 

The Adagio that follows is equally rich in mood changes and anticipates the emotionally labile world of Mahler and his 20th-century descendants. Poignant intimacy alternates with gestures of symphonic grandeur, creating a world of heightened emotional contrast. Perhaps that explains the comment of a New York Times reviewer who wrote after the 1892 U.S. premiere, “The music of the symphony is certainly modern and strange enough to meet the demands of most modern extremists.” One doubts that even the most conservative of modern concertgoers would so characterize this movement.

In 3/4 time, the delectably lilting third movement is in the style of an Austrian ländler, that rustic precursor to the Viennese waltz. This is Dvořák at his most dance-like, even though the music is tinged with melancholy. The writing for winds is especially endearing. As with the opening movement, a lengthy introduction in G-minor leads to the beguiling main theme in the major, sung by oboe against soft timpani and gently lifted aloft by syncopated chords in the strings. An up-tempo coda sweeps aside any traces of lingering sweetness and prepares the listener for the energetic and rousing finale. 

A blazing trumpet fanfare launches this concluding movement. As in the first movement, Dvořák gives the cellos a flowing theme that recalls both the immediately preceding trumpet call as well as the flute’s tune from the opening movement. All manner of theme variants follow, only to be interrupted by an odd little funeral march that sounds strangely cheerful. After an energetic development section, the bold main theme is reprised. An irrepressibly bounding coda ends the piece on a note of great jubilation. 

Steven Lowe © 2011, revised 2025