Symphony No. 3
At-A-Glance
Composed: 1936
Length: c. 36 minutes
Orchestration: piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, English horn, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, contrabassoon, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion (bass drum, cymbals, snare drum, tam-tam, triangle, xylophone), harp, celesta, and strings
First Los Angeles Philharmonic performance: August 14, 1973, Edo de Waart conducting
About this Piece
A year before George Gershwin’s death at the age of 37, the latest opus by another celebrated pianist-composer, Sergei Rachmaninoff’s third and last symphony, was completed and premiered on November 6, 1936, by The Philadelphia Orchestra under Leopold Stokowski. Except for the occasional revival by Stokowski and his Philadelphia successor, Eugene Ormandy, it failed to get many hearings elsewhere, as its composer continued to prosper and gain accolades as a pianist, often performing his own works.
It had been nearly 30 years since Rachmaninoff’s previous symphony, in E minor. But whereas the latter is a grandly scaled, meandering work—an hour in length—the new symphony was a relatively concise 40 minutes and less of an emotional steam bath. Then, too, the orchestration of the A-minor Symphony is more transparent and its trajectory straighter than that of its elder, more often performed predecessor.
One can wonder then at the relative neglect of the Third Symphony, with Rachmaninoff’s popularity. It’s hard to imagine that for much of the 20th century a critical fraternity regarded the composer as too overtly emotional, too conservative, too much of a throwback to the hyperemotionalism of the 1800s...to Tchaikovsky in particular, although it would be difficult to point out thematic and technical similarities. But the two Russians do share the same (dark) emotional world.
There are of course resemblances between Rachmaninoff’s Second and Third symphonies: the Third, like its predecessor, opens with a “motto” that will be heard again in subsequent movements, and which is initially sounded by clarinet, muted horn, and the cellos. It takes a while for the principal theme to make its presence felt, but when it does appear it hardly disappoints as purest Rachmaninoffian palpitating. The motto and the new theme are simultaneously developed and expanded, with the motto returning on its own—trumpet, bass trombone, pizzicato strings—having the final, dolorous say.
Movement two also begins with the motto, inverted and played by two horns accompanied by harp chords, ushering in a pair of themes—the first, announced by the solo violin in triplets, the second less expansive, by solo flute, subsequently joined by bass clarinet. The central scherzo section—marked allegro vivace—is sufficiently distinct from the surrounding material as to be regarded as a de facto third movement of a four-movement symphony; it distantly evokes the eeriness of the finale of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique, a score of which Rachmaninoff was particularly fond. The scherzo’s striking climax suddenly turns into a forceful march, followed by upward and downward scurrying chords, after which the harp offers a brief recollection of the Adagio’s opening. The motto theme, in inversion, brings the movement to a close in harp and pizzicato strings.
The finale begins with some flavorfully Russian marching strings. The main theme’s contrapuntal development is a technical tour de force, making one wish that counterpoint were more extensively employed elsewhere in the symphony. Several loud climaxes ensue, interrupted by a gently soulful flute solo set against the omnipresent motto, before Rachmaninoff continues on his triumphantly thunderous celebratory conclusion, all dark thoughts banished. —Herbert Glass