Symphony #6 by Tchaikovsky

The Supplement by Paul Rumsey

If there are moments when I feel jealous of orchestral musicians, it’s definitely when I listen to Tchaikovsky. I would actually have a very hard time deciding between Symphony no. 5 and no. 6 as my favorite orchestral work, but as I write this, I am probably leaning towards no. 6. Considered by himself as one of his finest works (arguably his own favorite), Symphony no. 6 is an emotional journey that can take anyone from the most joyful moments to the deepest depths of despair and sadness. I have known this work for a while now, I studied it in music styles class in my undergraduate years, and since then, it has become one of my all-time favorite compositions. Every time I listen to it, I don’t fail to get goose bumps. The usual meaning that is given to this work comes from several music scholars that say that this work was composed as a suicide note. Although officially it is said the death was because of cholera, other sources suggest that Tchaikovsky committed suicide 9 days after conducting this work's premier. One cannot but wonder about its true meaning. Indeed, its tragic ending is a big surprise and a challenge to the usual last symphonic movement which is composed in a style that has all sorts of sparks, loudness, and brilliancy. Instead, Tchaikovsky takes us to the lowest register possible of the orchestra, and presents the theme one last time while the debilitating basses continue to lose their strength as if mimicking a dying palpitating heart. The first time I heard this work live was in a concert of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra. I remember being at the edge of my seat the whole time. It was an out of earth experience. The most significant part was definitely at the end. The excruciating pain Tchaikovsky must have felt was communicated to the audience. I teared up and I my mood changed for the rest of the evening. Music can really impact you and that way… It is one of those moments that you wish you didn’t need to clap, because it honestly ruins the moment. The conductor kept his arms up, the pulse of the bow caressing the strings is no longer there, you know what is happening but at the same time you don’t. It’s special, and these moments are what make music unique. 
Carlos Bedoya, 10/06/23
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