Classical Music Listening Guide: Symphony No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 36 by Tchaikovsky

Classical music is more than just background for daily activities, it’s a fascinating artistic format that combines the depth of human expression with centuries old techniques to create experiences that transcend language and cultural barriers. 

It’s not often considered that, when we listen to a classical piece, whether it’s Bach or Stravinsky, and find ourselves moved by what we hear, we join the ranks of people that, across decades, have experienced the beauty of these musical compositions. 

I firmly believe that more people should have the opportunity to access and enjoy this music, but to make that happen, we need to dispel the myths that classical compositions are boring or inaccessible. All people really need to do is give them a chance. That is the purpose of this series of articles: to provide a listening guide that can help new audiences to navigate their first listen through a classical music piece. Think about it as a tour guide through a museum, but for music and, for this first edition, we are going to be covering the fourth symphony of the legendary composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

A fateful symphony

Although he is more commonly associated with ballets such as Swan Lake and The Nutcracker (which he actually disliked), the work of Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky remains some of the most significant of the 19th century. Born in 1840 in a small town east of Moscow, Tchaikovsky is renowned for his charming melodies and bright orchestrations. Though he later actively rejected the association, his music was closely related to the artistic nationalism movement of his time—music meant to capture the identity of a culture. In Tchaikovsky’s case, that culture was Russia. As a result, his compositions often feature embedded folk melodies and references to traditional music, making them accessible to audiences of his era.

This listening guide focuses on Symphony No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 36, a piece written between 1877 and 1878. It is part of Tchaikovsky’s last three symphonies, which take a darker and more dramatic turn. According to the composer, it has a somewhat programmatic character—meaning it tells a story—and focuses on the theme of fate. In fact, some countries nickname the symphony as “Fate.”

Tchaikovsky composed the symphony during the end of his tumultuous marriage to Antonina Miliukova, and it was one of the first pieces he wrote during his close friendship with his patron Nadezhda von Meck. Von Meck, a great admirer of his work, agreed to support him financially, provided they never met in person. The symphony has four movements, which, in classical music terms, is the equivalent of an album with four distinct tracks. Let’s break them down with this recording conducted by the legendary Leonard Bernstein with the New York Philharmonic.

Andante sostenuto

The symphony opens with a dark fanfare representing fate. In a letter to Von Meck, Tchaikovsky outlined some of the meanings behind the movements, referring to this fanfare as “that fateful force which prevents the impulse to happiness from attaining its goal.” The ominous fanfare gives way to an anxious melodic response that gradually takes over the orchestra and morphs into a waltz resembling nostalgic circus music. However, the fanfare interrupts, much like fate, dispelling any sense of calm. This dramatic first movement showcases repetitions of different themes, a common feature in Sonata Form, where contrasting themes are repeated and modified.

Andantino in modo di canzona

The second movement of a symphony is traditionally slower and more melodic. In this case, it is also more nostalgic, featuring a repeating melody that resembles a song. It is introduced by the oboe and passed around different instruments with slight variations each time. In the letter, Tchaikovsky described the overarching theme of this movement as nostalgia for the past and a certain tiredness. He wrote: “Many things flit through the memory… there were happy moments when young blood pulsed warm and life was gratifying. There were also moments of grief and of irreparable loss.” That sorrow is very present, but joy also appears with a gleeful middle section. Yet, once again, yearning is back. Notice how the original melody, introduced by the oboe at the beginning, passes to the violins at the very end.

Scherzo: Pizzicato ostinato

The third movement is a lot of fun. The strings play pizzicato throughout, meaning they pluck the strings without using the bow. The entire character is more playful and fast-paced than its predecessor. The timbre of the pizzicato makes it feel more dynamic. It’s important to notice how the woodwinds and the strings take turns in the spotlight. No melody lingers for too long; they all move like blurry images in the imagination, which makes sense given that, according to the composer, this movement aims to evoke drunken gleefulness.

Allegro con fuoco

By the fourth movement, this gleefulness turns into outright euphoria. In an explosive beginning in F major, the entire orchestra shines with virtuosic passages. It feels like a celebration, as if the gloomy meditation on fate is finally over. This movement also features a folk song. The woodwinds quote the tune of “In the Fields There Stands a Birch Tree” in the middle of the joyful march. Why is there happiness now? Well, Tchaikovsky said in his letter that, no matter what you can find happens when you share time with others. Yet, just when it seems nothing can go wrong, the fanfare of fate returns, as powerful as ever, interrupting the festive character with its ominous darkness. But despite its might, the music does not return to its gloomy nature. In a moment of triumph, it rejects the darkness and returns to its gleeful celebration.

Header image: Public domain image from the Wikimedia Commons.