On a cold winter’s evening, January 2009, I was coming home from a flute lesson when I heard a piece on the radio and missed what the announcer initially called it. I may have been primed to think flute repertoire, but the piece had a moment that sounded uncannily close to Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, a certain D-flat major gesture, that I mistook it for the piece! But a second later, the similarity evaporated and it became a totally different piece. I could not pin the composer whatsoever. Later in a climactic point, I was sure it was Wagner, maybe something from Tristan with a bold brass line, 4 rising chromatic notes. The suspense was literally killing me: what sounds like Debussy and Wagner but also something Russian like Tchaikovsky at the same time?

Well it turns out that Glazunov didn’t really know either. Around 1887, he had a piano piece called “Andantino” (a notoriously vague tempo marking in classical music!) which he wanted to orchestrate, but wasn’t satisfied with the name. He brought it to Tchaikovsky and asked him to name it once he had heard it. Rather than anything trite, Tchaikovsky offered a simple approach, without excess program or drama: Lyric Poem. The young man ended up premiering it some time later as its conductor, one of his first experiences at the podium, and noted how his baton shook in his hand before he went on stage. A young man trying his best to meet the expectations of his peers, finding his way as a musician and a composer.

I didn’t find out that story until about 6 or 7 years later, and it was not easy. I wanted to share it because these stories are not often found in biographical resources, let alone in English! But it showed me that while even I knew a piece for so long, I still had more insights to learn, more context to enjoy it within. Nor is Lyric Poem a piece that Glazunov is well-known for! But it was my introduction to him, my first impression. And the first impression made all the difference, which is why it holds a special place in my heart to this day.

I ended up asking my mom for a CD of the piece for my birthday that year (it was only a few weeks away). My ear did not deceive me: the key was D-flat major as I suspected (a key I’ve grown fond of over the years), but in that moment listening to it in my sunlit room, I only felt satisfaction at finding the piece. I listened through the Naxos Orchestral Works Volume 2 once, and put it away. “It’s really happy stuff” I told my mom, completely forgetting how I felt in that dimlit car ride just weeks before. In some way I don’t recall, I decided to pick it up again a few months later and it was the second listening that suddenly I was getting the emotional connections, like I was hearing something and someone important. After all, I was just a high school sophomore, I didn’t know that Glazunov wasn’t a famous composer! And I was hooked ever since, buying more and more CDs, reading more stories, and inadvertently stepping into something much larger, the world of the Russians at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries. These weren’t just pieces of music, these were people, and people who knew each other as friends, sometimes rivals. There was a whole network of Russian composers that I only knew a fraction of before, and Glazunov sat firmly in the middle, the “linchpin.” Conspiratorial airs of “the man lurking in the background of every photo” would not be too far from the truth! Over time, I hope to highlight more vignettes from my research, stories that show the human story behind every composition that Glazunov wrote.

So marking Glazunov’s birthday today, August 10, I share the Lyric Poem op. 12 that left such an impression on me then, and leaves me feeling nostalgic today. May this be a day where you can get back to your musical roots with Glazunov too. What was the first piece you ever heard? Did you dislike it even, and then what piece was it that won you over? I find these stories fascinating, so please share with me as you like! Best wishes.