by Krithika Shekhar
As Candlelight concerts prepare to bring in a multi-sensory musical experience featuring Tchaikovsky’s music this week and later in August at the Victoria Theatre, we travel back in time to discover a little more about one of our favourite composers. From the joyful, warm feel that the dance of the sugar plum fairy exudes, to Symphony number 6, named ‘Pathetique’ but boasting of confidence and energy, the range of his emotions made his music put Russia on the map. What makes his music relevant even today? What sets him apart from other classical composers?
Tchaikovsky is an enigma. His personality seems to defy the general aura that seemed to surround classical musicians in the 1800s. We always hear about their genius, their rigorous practise, and the accolades that were bestowed upon them. Tchaikovsky, on the other hand, may be one of the easiest composers to relate to. What makes this 18th century Russian composer’s music feel like he felt just the way we do today? It is probably the fact that he regarded his life and experiences to be ordinary, and channelled it into extraordinary music.
He seemed to have suffered from imposter syndrome. While he is one of the world’s most celebrated musicians, his correspondence with his family and friends suggests he was crippled with self-doubt, especially when his First Symphony came under the scrutiny of his former teachers, and they suggested multiple changes. A letter to his sister tells us he was insecure about starting as a musician at an age he considered was too old - a mere 21. In his later life, his sexual preferences seem to have hindered what might have otherwise been an indestructible rise to the top, even leading to theories that he may have taken his own life due to this. Tchaikovsky lived in Russia at a time when homosexuality was illegal, and one can only imagine how this must have affected his music. He did go on to compose concertos and symphonies, but just like his life, his music reflects the ups and downs, and the emotions that fuelled his ideas are there for us to find.
His life was also riddled with events that we only speculate about - a generous donor who provided him with a stipend on the condition that they never met, several undocumented meetings with Leo Tolstoy, an Italian book in his library which he claimed he stole, a marriage that lasted only a few weeks, a very deep attachment to his family, and an academic position that led nationalist composers to be wary of him. Although deemed to be highly emotional, Tchaikovsky seems to have written his own rules.
Srimal Weerasinghe is a musician, teacher, conductor, and visiting faculty at the University of Performing Arts, Sri Lanka. He recently conducted a Tchaikovsky Violin concerto and excerpts from the Nutcracker. We asked him about what makes Tchaikovsky relevant today, decades after his music was first composed. He says, “Tchaikovsky’s music shows very introverted sections. If you listen to his violin concerto, which he composed after his failed marriage, the first movement opens with uncertainty. The music builds up as it progresses - , he sometimes cries, he sometimes rejoices in his experiences. In the second movement, you can see very intimate representations of what I think is unfulfilled love. The third movement, which moves directly from the second without an interruption, builds up to an enormous climax of triumph and joy. These experiences are relatable to any human being”
There is much to learn from the elusive, emphatic music of Tchaikovsky. Experiencing its movements allows us to experience his playfulness and his pain, while giving us the chance to reflect on our own emotions through music. His compositions in Swan Lake are a perfect example of how music can make you feel love, sacrifice and rumbling conflict all at once. Do check out the Candlelights’ concerts on Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake this Sunday 19th June 2022 and 11th August 2022 at the magnificent Victoria Theatre. In the words of Tchaikovsky himself: “Whether I write well or badly, one thing is certain beyond any doubt, and that I compose from an irresistible inner urge. I speak the language of music because there is always something for me to say.”
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