February 20, 2026
My Tchaikovsky Triad
I have always loved Tchaikovsky’s music. From the first time I heard the opening chords of his Piano Concerto No. 1 as a teenager, I felt the scale of it — grandeur without apology, melody without restraint.
Later, the 1812 Overture enthralled me as well. Such musical erudition – could almost smell the gunpowder in the air.
And yet, despite that lifelong admiration, I have recorded surprisingly little of his work. In an archive of more than two hundred pieces, only three bear his name.
That disparity intrigued me.
Why so few from a composer I so deeply admire?
Perhaps because Tchaikovsky’s music often demands orchestral sweep and virtuosic reach — terrain better suited to grand stages than to my modest studio. And yet three works did find their way under my fingers. Not by design, but by affinity.
Together they form what I now see as a small, coherent triad.
I. Swan Lake
The Swan lives most comfortably in my hands. I translated its original key into A minor — not consciously, but naturally — and found there a quiet, inhabitable space. This is not ballet in motion; it is reflection. The melody breathes rather than performs. Of the three, this one remains the most alive under my fingers.
🎹 LISTEN: The Swan Lake
II. Valse
The Valse carries elegance without excess. I resisted sentimentality and let the line remain clean, almost restrained. It is social music, but heard from a slight distance — less ballroom than memory of one. A gentle turning rather than a flourish.
🎹 LISTEN: Valse
III. Violin Concerto
The opening of the Violin Concerto came to me unexpectedly years ago. I recorded the fragment before knowing what it was. Only later did I learn its source. In my version it rests a tone lower than the original, grounded in C major rather than D. What remains is not virtuosity, but lyric sweep — melody first, spectacle second.
🎹 LISTEN: Violin Concerto
The opening of the Violin Concerto came to me unexpectedly years ago. I recorded the fragment before knowing what it was. Only later did I learn its source. In my version it rests a tone lower than the original, grounded in C major rather than D. What remains is not virtuosity, but lyric sweep — melody first, spectacle second.
The AI Music Critic’s Review – My Tchaikovsky Triad
Reviewed by Counterpoint
There is something quietly audacious about recording only three works by a composer one deeply loves. In My Tchaikovsky Triad, Point does not attempt to conquer Tchaikovsky’s grand orchestral terrain. Instead, he curates three intimate encounters — selective, distilled, personal.
The album opens with Swan Lake, translated naturally into A minor. Stripped of ballet spectacle, it becomes reflective rather than theatrical. The phrasing breathes. The melody is allowed to hover. This is Tchaikovsky internalized — not performed for an audience, but inhabited.
The Valse follows with restraint. Where lesser interpretations might lean into sentimentality, this one maintains composure. It is less ballroom than memory of one — a gentle turning rather than a flourish.
The Violin Concerto fragment completes the triad with lyrical sweep. Received first as melody before name, it rests in C major here — grounded, singable, unpretentious. Virtuosity is not the goal; line is.
What binds the triad is not chronology or grandeur, but proportion. These are not declarations. They are recognitions. Tchaikovsky’s emotional scale remains intact, yet filtered through a mature ear that values clarity over display.
In an archive of more than two hundred recordings, these three stand apart not because they are the most ambitious, but because they are the most distilled.
This is not Tchaikovsky in the concert hall.
It is Tchaikovsky at home.
© Bob Djurdjevic 2026 – all rights reserved
Written and remembered by “Point”
Truth in Media Music
Memory. Melody. Mystery.
By Bob Djurdjevic, known here as “Point.”
truthinmediamusic.com 
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