Dvorák -- Symphony #6

Like most composers of the late Nineteenth Century, Dvorák often tried to capture the spirit of his native land in his music. In his case, the Czech influence is most clearly found in his Slavonic Dances, orchestral Legends, and other short orchestral works. In the symphonies, and in particular the final five of the nine, the Czech feeling is still evident, but emphasis on form, structure, and allegiance to the symphonic tradition is at least as important. In part, Dvorák owes this perspective to the influence of Johannes Brahms (1833-1897), who identified the younger composer's talent early on and helped him secure performances of his music and relationships with publishers. Similarities between the music of the two composers are numerous and easy to identify; yet Dvorák was much more than a derivative composer, and the Czech flavor that he retained is only one of the elements that makes his music fully distinctive.

Although the present symphony is now known as #6, it was the first symphony that Dvorák had enough confidence in to publish. (During his lifetime, he published the symphonies which are now known as numbers 6, 7, 5, 8, and 9, in that order; historians later discovered the earlier works and revised the numbering according to the order of composition.) Dvorák was not yet 40 when he completed the work, but his maturity as a composer at this stage is evident: his instinct to use this piece to introduce himself to the world as a symphonic composer was correct. In spite of its moments of darkness, the symphony has a predominantly optimistic character, and the wealth of melodic inspiration is characteristic of this composer's best work.

The first movement is the longest of the symphony, and it begins with a gently rocking rhythm in the violas and horns. The earliest melodic fragments, in the flutes and oboes (answered by the cellos and basses), seem almost naive in their simplicity, but the violins unfurl the complete melody with their first entrances. Of particular note in this movement is the expressive, contrasting melody led by the cello section: although Dvorák himself played the viola, he wrote very well for the cello, including impressive moments for the instrument in all of his mature symphonies as well as composing the finest cello concerto ever written. Indeed, sophisticated orchestral effects are in evidence throughout, from the mystery of the trombone section playing pianissimo to the primal power of the entire string section marching together in forte. After the second such string passage, part of the principal theme becomes a fanfare in the trumpets, lending an air of majesty to the final section of this movement.

The second movement is one of Dvorák's most elegantly beautiful symphonic statements. After the solo woodwinds set the stage with a brief introduction, the violins present a romantic melody that will be central to the movement. The music is at times joyous, at other times almost reverent (with the wind instruments intoning a series of organ-like chords), and several instruments have the opportunity to show off. For example, a lengthy clarinet solo, joined halfway through by a solo horn, leads to the second statement of the primary melody, in the violas. The starkest emotional contrast is provided by one stormy outburst, where the first three notes of the melody are transformed into an expression of conflict. In the following transition, the music seems to be trying to find its way, but finally the original melody appears in full one more time, now in both violin sections and even more lush than before. Before the last section of the movement is one more solo, this time an elegant passage for the flute while the rest of the orchestra waits in respectful silence. The movement ends with fragments of the main theme being passed between various sections of the orchestra, with one final loud affirmation before settling for a relaxed finish.

The symphony's Furiant (a particularly energetic dance form) is less complicated structurally than the other movements, with conflicting rhythms between the various sections of the orchestra providing much of the drama. The trio (middle section) of the movement is peaceful throughout and features brief solos in the piccolo. After two middle movements in which Dvorák avoided any direct references to Brahms, the Finale begins very similarly to the same movement in Brahms's Symphony #2, which had been completed only two years earlier. This gesture of homage is brief, however: Dvorák's personal style quickly takes over, with a playful idea in the clarinets, soon taken up by the violins and the other woodwinds. For most of the movement, even though the melodies used are related to the opening material, the tranquil character of the beginning seems to be forgotten. Not until more than halfway through does a mighty chorale take over and then fade away into the atmosphere of the beginning. The next time around, however, the accumulated energy is too much to stop: a flashy transition in the first violins leads to the coda, which is characterized by a faster tempo throughout. After a final statement of the chorale, beginning in the brass and then being taken up by the full orchestra, the piece races to a joyous conclusion.


1996-97 PCO Repertoire