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Rating: Many know the great ballets, the 1812 Overture, Tchaikovsky's sixth symphony, all compositions that have wide distribution and programming in concert and opera halls. Much less known, however, are the four symphonies that precede the "Pathétique" and the 5th, and I tell you sincerely, this is an undeserved shame! Certainly, the use and overuse of the more famous pieces make them more suitable for reception by the "general" public—I put that in quotes as I'm not referring to the delirious masses convened at pop or rock concerts, but rather those who appreciate Classical music, who still represent an elite minority of music lovers—, which definitely works to the disadvantage of works considered lesser or secondary like this first symphony from our Russian hero.
And yet, at its first complete performance (previously only a couple of movements had been performed) on November 15th, 1868 by the great conductor Nicholas Rubinstein, a close friend of the composer, at the Russian Music Society, thus a very demanding symposium; it had a success described at the time as "tremendous," as the audience applauded for ten minutes, loudly demanding the composer’s appearance, who finally and with considerable embarrassment presented himself to the public, nervously fidgeting with the hat in his hand. The most curious thing was that the version represented was the first conceived by the author’s genius, who cut the additions and substitutions "suggested" in the meantime by Anton Rubinstein and Nikolai Zaremba, both teachers of the young Pyotr and certainly reference points for the Russian music aristocracy, so basically it was all his own work, stripped of embellishments added to please the potential audience.
Nevertheless, the first symphony did not enjoy great popularity even in Tchaikovsky's time and was only performed again 16 years after the "premiere." To try to understand or better interpret the reason, it's better to delve into the details of the symphonic work, classically composed of 4 movements: the first (Allegro Tranquillo) dubbed "Daydreams on a Wintry Road" is supported by a decidedly catchy and insistent motif so much that it could easily evoke a Russian folk tune and the early compositions of Borodin, though here and there one can already appreciate the touch of a more mature Tchaikovsky. The second movement (Adagio cantabile, ma non tanto) quite reflects the composer's intent to describe: "A dark land wrapped in mist," a circumstance underlined by the frequent heavy passages of the strings, even though folkloristic echoes emerge here and there, the very calm and serene finale gives way to the Scherzo, decidedly more animated and enlivened by the continuous repetition of the same melodic figure, which may appear almost "amateurish," but on the contrary, it has notable sound effectiveness and is followed, at the end of the third movement, by the first of a series of waltzes that later made the master famous, already in the second half of the nineteenth century.
The finale is opened by an 'Andante Lugubre,' in the true sense of the word, but which nevertheless soon gives way to a coda in various somewhat repetitive and decidedly "booming" moments, especially in the end, proving thus, in my humble opinion, the least successful part of the work; unlike the first, which conversely gripped me from the first or second listen. But let us return to the crucial question: why did the 1st symphony appeal so much at its debut, while shortly afterward and up to our days, almost no one paid any attention to it? My thesis is that on first listen it is "not bad at all"; especially the first two movements are imbued with motifs certainly dear to the educated Russian public of that era, then, upon relistening, the "limits" become apparent—I would never dare write defects—of the symphony, namely an excessive repetitiveness and pomposity of the winds, furthermore, if having to choose, it’s clear that if you really have to represent a Tchaikovsky symphony you end up opting for the 5th or the 6th, certainly more mature and evolved.
Regarding the interpretation, I based it on one of those considered a reference both in terms of performance and especially for its timbre and sound quality of an excellent level, considering even the year of production (1969), that of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Lorin Maazel, who recently passed away, which is part of the complete symphonic work of the Russian composer published by Decca on 5 vinyls which has the inevitable flaw of fragmenting the listening.
My judgment is certainly severe, but unfortunately, having to round a 3.5, I chose to round down, leaving the maximum ratings for the masterpieces—not few—of the Russian musician and the one just below for the numerous qualitatively better works than this, which however I suggest not to underestimate and overlook, especially for those who want to have a more complete idea of Tchaikovsky and who will certainly not be disappointed, indeed on the first impact it will represent a "pleasant surprise."
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