The ‘Unplayable’ Concerto That We Can’t Live Without

Tchaikovsky in 1893, as painted by Nikolai Kuznetzov. Public Domain

On Christmas Eve 1874, in a room at the Moscow Conservatory, a piano concerto that would become one of the most popular and highly regarded works of its kind was premiered by its composer for an audience of two: the finest pianist, then alive in Russia and his housemate, who was a professor of music theory.

Its sweeping, three-beat melody in the orchestra and crashing chords in the piano have come to mean the very essence of Romantic-era piano concerto, as opposed to Classical-era concertos, which feature the trading of themes back-and-forth between orchestra and soloist.

The reason for this unique performance: The composer was not a particularly good pianist and wished to get the perspective of a piano virtuoso on the practicality of his score. The composer wished to ensure that the piano part was indeed playable and “pianistic”—true to the nature of the instrument and the capabilities of its players.

The composer played a one-piano reduction of the first movement and waited for comments from the eminent pianist. According to the composer, the pianist, the world-famous Nicolai Rubinstein, erupted in hostile fury:

“My concerto, it turned out, was worthless and unplayable; passages were so fragmented, so clumsy, so badly written as to be beyond rescue.”

Nikolai Rubinstein, a close friend of Tchaikovsky, in 1872. Public Domain

Rubinstein continued his tirade for several minutes, making it clear that the concerto had no future.

The composer was Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, and the concerto was one that for more than a century now has held a central place in the repertoire: Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor. Fortunately, Tchaikovsky chose to dismiss Rubinstein’s dismissal and to proceed to orchestrate his score for an eventual premiere in Boston by the pianist-conductor Hans von Bülow, who apparently did not find it “clumsy” and “unplayable.”

The moral of the story is twofold: 1) Never assume that an expert is always right in his field of so-called expertise, and 2) Sometimes the best new work in any field is made by people outside that field. Tchaikovsky was not a concert-level pianist, but without his Piano Concerto No. 1, concert pianists would have one less bravura concerto to perform.

Let’s Listen

What makes this piece so special? We’ll consider why, step-by-step, illustrated with references to a 2014 performance by the great Martha Argerich, with Charles Dutoit conducting the youthful Verbier Festival Orchestra, found here.

The first movement, marked at the beginning “Allegro non troppo e molto maestoso,” (“Fast, but not too fast, and very majestically”), at the 0:15 mark, starts with a theme so familiar that many will recognize it without knowing whence it came. Its sweeping, three-beat melody in the orchestra and crashing chords in the piano have come to mean the very essence of Romantic-era piano concerto, as opposed to the more expositional first movements of Classical-era concertos.

Two things stand out about the opening theme—one is odd and the other just puzzling. The puzzling thing is that the theme is not in the announced key of the score—B-flat minor—but in what is called a relative major, D-flat major. (They are “relatives” because they share the same key signature; in this case, both have five flats.)

But the truly odd thing is that this memorable theme that grabs the ear and won’t let go, this world-famous melody that everyone knows, is merely an introduction. After it, and Tchaikovsky’s brief treatment of it, concludes (at 3:38), we immediately hear the horns intone a single pitch, followed by gentle transitional measures from the piano and trumpets, at last landing on a new tempo (“Allegro con spirito“ or ”Fast, with spirit") and the movement’s main theme, a tune borrowed from Ukrainian folk music that has been called the “hopping theme” because of its bouncy character (at 4:35). We never hear the famous introduction again.

The theme of the introduction played by piano. The original score was performed on Oct. 25, 1875 in Boston, conducted by Benjamin Johnson Lang and played by Hans von Bülow. Public Domain

At the 6:15 mark, woodwinds (Tchaikovsky’s go-to for color and warmth) introduce a second, melancholy theme that the piano picks up and plays with a simplicity that strongly contrasts with what has gone before. At 7:03, the orchestra introduces the closing theme. The remainder of the movement develops these three themes.

At 16:14, the piano begins a three-minute cadenza—an unaccompanied solo—that leads to a recurrence of the closing theme, which ends with the pianist flashing double octaves. The introduction included a mini-cadenza that also featured double octaves. These occur when the pianist is required to play rapid octaves in both hands. Octaves in one hand at lightning speed are demanding; rapid octaves in both hands are the sign of extreme virtuosity.

Contrasts and More Octaves

At 20:38 the second movement, marked in the video as “Andante semplice“ or a ”Simple Walking” tempo, begins with a songful solo melody from the flute, which the pianist takes up, changing a single note but retaining the rest of the melody and elaborating on it. There will be a Prestissimo (as fast as possible) interruption of the quiet tune (at 23:56), making its return at 25:45 after yet another cadenza (this one soft and reflective, having the effect of coming home after a tumultuous day).

The final movement starts at 27:39. Its marked “Allegro con fuoco“ or ”Fast, with fire,” and the strong accents given the second beat in this ferocious three-beat melody—again borrowed from Ukrainian folk music—indeed ignites a musical flame. The flame is stilled by a contrasting, waltz-like tune at 28:41, and at 30:01 comes a whirling dervish of a closing theme. The three combine and vary until at last, the movement and the concerto itself end with still more flashing double octaves down and back up the keyboard, starting at 33:50.

Tchaikovsky would go on to complete a second piano concerto and part of a third, but nothing could surpass for sheer popularity his “unplayable” work for virtuoso pianist with orchestra.

Portrait of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky by Emile Reutlinger, circa 1888. Public Domain

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