Classical Music Discussions: Symphony #4

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Previous threads:

Symphony #1
Symphony #2
Symphony #3

Wow, it’s been two weeks since I started the Third Symphony thread. I’ve been a little busy, so I’m sure the six people who are still reading are happy I’m back. :smiley:

I mentioned Mendelssohn last time late in the thread, so I thought I’d start off the Fourth Symphony thread with a discussion of his fourth, the “Italian” Symphony. Following the visit to the British Isles that inspired the “Scottich” Symphony, Mendelssohn’s travels took him to Italy, and in a few shorts months he had already made good progress on the symphony. However, it was not finished for at least three more years. Although he conducted several performances, he continued to revise the score and it was not published until after his death.

The exuberant opening movement begins with such energy that it seems to have started in mid-stride, as though part had been omitted. Woodwinds in thirds introduce the gently flowing secondary theme. The development section adds a new fugato subject that is eventually combined with the main theme. The andante con moto second movement moves along without getting bogged down and consists of a chorale-like theme over a “walking” bass line. Of particular interest is the two flutes weaving independent counter-melodies over the primary theme.

In a work with such brilliant outer movements, a scherzo would be completely unnecessary, so Mendelssohn opts for a traditional minuet that provides a gentle contrast to the energetic Saltarello that follows it. The fourth movement opens with a set of A minor chords before introducing the jaunty triplet dance-like theme. The finale contains a sense of gaiety, but not without melancholy in the veiled reference to the theme of the first movement. However, the music vanishes away before the recapitulation can establish itself.

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If only to bump the thread, I’ll mention that my favorite Fourth is probably the aforementioned “Italian” by Mendelssohn (sheer joy), with the runner-up being Tchaikovsky’s 4th, which has some great Tchaikovsky Special Effects (like the horn fanfare at the beginning, and the pizzicato and woodwind sections of the Scherzo).

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4th symphonies seem to be where composers go a little nuts. Shostakovich’s is a 70-minute thing for immense forces, and was adventurous enough for him to ‘withdraw’ it under pressure from Stalin’s authorities, getting close to him being arrested.

Sibelius’ has to be heard to be believed. It works its way in the usual manner, except the finale wilts away, moving from major to minor, and ending mezzoforte. A very very strange piece - but the triumphalism of the 5th makes much more sense once you know this predecessor.

Beethoven’s 4th is unjustly overlooked. It’s also a little mad. :slight_smile:

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Gorillaman’s characterization may work for other composers, but not for Brahms.

His fourth symphony starts a heartbeat before the first note has sounded, with a theme consisting of a repeated iambic fourth/fifth intervallic call of the violins. Simple though it may appear, the theme is full of unfulfilled longing. After some typically stormy development, we are led into the second theme, which is more of a processial nature. Noteworthy are the fragments of counterpoint during the development. Thereafter the theme returns, in a striking gesture, upside down. Because of the nature of the theme this doesn’t sound like a fancy counterpoint show-off, but rather as a ‘sadder-but-wiser’ return. The movement ends on a

The strings dominate the first movement; the passages where the wood instruments take over blend in perfectly, while the brass mostly serves to provide background support. In the second movement Brahms makes up by offering brass and wood plentiful space for presenting and working through the thematic material. This increases the surprise when after a few minutes the strings suddenly rise up with a long melodic line, as if an angel ascends to heaven. Then the original themes return with the same gentle mood as at the beginning. Halfway through Brahms seems to change his mind, and starts a much more robust treatment of the material, with some fortissimo fragments supported by an repeated, almost ostinato bass note, traces of counterpoint, and self-assured lyrical moments. Then the andante mood of the beginning returns, and the movement ends.

The third movement, allegro giocoso, is a scherzo. The ostentative gaiety doesn’t hide the seriousness underneath.

The final movement is a passacaglia: a piece based on a simple, slow, eight-bar bass theme, one note per bar, which provides the player or composer the opportunity for showing off his skills in numerous variations. The brass introduces the theme, which subsequently is taken up in the fashion typical of orchestral variations. Soon the theme seems to get lost under the flood of ideas. After a sudden lull, the flute retrieves the reworked theme while the orchestra keeps quiet. The variation that is now taken up by the other instruments resembles the iambic theme of the first movement, the same fourth-fifth interval. In the subsequent variations the wild development of the second movement seems to return. This leads into a battle between brass and string sections which ends with them racing together to the finish. A few fortissimo closing notes, and it’s over.

Even though the movements themselves do not always show a clear structure, the symphony as a whole is a coherent work, tied together by the singular vision of a composer who is sure in his craftsmanship.

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And GorillaMan, I’ve never managed to figure out Sibelius’ fourth. It almost sounds like the preliminary sketches of a symphony, instead of a finished work. My opinion wavers between it being above my powers of comprehension, and it being a failed experiment. It may be both.

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I’ll chip in two of my faves.

Bruckner - his 4th is my favorite symphony after his 8th. From the Alpine-sounding melodies in the first movement those fantastic 'cello themes in the second movement to the “going hunting” music in the third…and the finale is just amazing. I’ve heard it played on record many, many different ways, and no matter what it always just seems to work. I’m not a spiritual guy by any means, but Bruckner manages to get me pretty close.

Mahler - the 4th of his is such a strange thing coming after the massiveness of his earlier symphonies - the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd symphonies go in ascending order of complexity and sheer size, and then comes the chamber-like 4th (no trombones or tuba - in Mahler!). The third movement is the one that gets me here - those last 6 minutes or so contain some of the most ridiculously sublime and meditative music I’ve ever heard.

I’m glad to have had the fortune to see both of these live with more than competent orchestras - the Mahler with the Chicago Symphony and the Bruckner with the Vienna Philharmonic.

I’d also like to mention Roussel’s 4th symphony, because I think it, and all of his other symphonies, are underrated and underplayed. I’m not as intimately familiar with this work as the other two, although I’ve seen it once live and have a recording I’ve listened to several times.

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I have nothing of substance to add, except that I just played Tchaikovsky’s 4th on Saturday. Carry on.

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Wow, I let this thread go… trying to recover from a weekend at ChiDope will do that to you.

That’s a little surprising, coming from an experienced professional such as yourself. Or maybe you’ve played it too many times to add any substance? I wish I had that problem. :slight_smile:

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Although I happen to prefer the third, Carl Nielsen’s Fourth Symphony is arguably his most famous and most “approachable.” Cast in one broad sweep, with all four movements linked together, “The Inextinguishable” again broke new ground in the symphonic repertoire. “Under this title,” Nielsen writes in the preface to his score, “the composer has endeavored to indicate in one word what music alone is capable of expressing to the full: The Elemental Will of Life. Music is Life, and like it, is inextinguishable.” As the composer wrote to a friend, “[the symphony] is meant to express the appearance of the most elementary forces among men, animals, and even plants,” he wrote. Even if the world were destroyed by fire and flood, he continued, nature would renew it, and “man’s aspiration and yearning would be felt. These forces, which are ‘inextinguishable,’ are what I have tried to present.” A tad heavy-handed, perhaps.

The opening of the first movement is disorienting: strings sustain C-naturals in octaves, the winds play in D minor, with the tympani pounding out tri-tones, the interval famous in music theory for its instability. As was typical of Nielsen, most of the movement is spent in search of a key, but never really finding a home base. After the jarring opening, a lyrical motif in descending thirds is introduced, but is repeatedly interrupted, first by a boisterous march, then a restatement of the opening. The second movement provides a brief respite, an interlude after the breathless energy of the opening.

The third movement, again flowing directly from the previous, is a drawn out and anguished theme presented as a fugue by the different sections. The winds add an urgent fanfare, but when it seems the movement has finally settled, there is a frantic scurrying passage in the strings that carries directly into the finale. For a time there is resolution, in the key of E, and in the form of a confident and victorious theme, but it is short-lived. Again there is harmonic and thematic exploration, culminating in an explosive duel between two sets of tympani on opposite sides of the stage. Finally the descending theme from the first movement returns (over the furious pounding of the tympani) and is allowed to reach its natural, glorious conclusion, inextinguished.

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Also got to do this one a few years ago, when the San Bernardino Symphony still had a conductor who would program adventurous music.

That timpani duel is really something to behold, sitting right in the middle of the string section, with one timpanist stage right and the other stage left.

Come to think of it, I think that was the same season we did Mendelssohn’s 4th and Brahms’ 4th as well.

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Since Jpeg Jones hasn’t shared any more, I’ll write a little about Tchaikovsky’s Fourth, probably the first symphony of his I ever heard. As my mom likes to put it, after writing his first three symphonies, Tchaikovsky went off somewhere and learned how to write. It’s not that the first three are bad, but the tone of his later symphonies is so much darker and more emotional than of the first three. I’ve only heard the Third (“Polish”) twice in my life, and the first time I was almost bored.

Actually, my mother isn’t far off. It’s not that Tchaikovsky learned how to write; he got married, in this case to a mentally unbalanced music student named Antonia Miliukova, who declared her love for him via letter. The marriage was a disaster; he even attempted suicide by standing waist-deep in a cold Moscow river. Miliukova would spend her last 20 years committed to a mental institution. However, it was at the same time that Tchaikovsky came under the patronage of Nadezhda von Meck, who would provide a subsidy for his composing.

The Fourth Symphony was based on the idea of Fate, an idea borrowed loosely from Beethoven’s Fifth.

The Fate that he writes about, of course, was his homosexuality, which he viewed as a deviation within himself. The symphony opens with Fate, in the form of a horn and bassoon fanfare leading into a restless syncopated theme representing (to the composer) a feeling of lonliness and depression. The momentary joy of the playful secondary theme is broken by the return of the Fate motive.

A plaintive and famous oboe melody comprises the primary theme of the second movement, but there is a gradual brightening in the form of a slow march-like theme in the strings. It is in the third movement where we get a true break from the heavy emotion of the first half. Tchaikovsky writes: “At first the strings play alone and pizzicato throughout. In the trio, the woodwinds enter and play alone. At the end, all three choirs toss short phrases to each other. I believe that the effect of sounds and colors will be most interesting.”

Perhaps the explosive opening to the fourth movement was intended to wake up those who had been lulled to sleep during the intermezzo; there’s no way to truly know. Certainly the movement is one of the most exciting in the entire symphonic repertoire. The secondary theme that follows in the bassoons is based on the Russian folk tune, “The Birch Tree.” Although the Fate fanfare appears again, threatening to drag the work back into the depths, a series of horn fanfares brings the music into the light and to a rousing conclusion.