Christmas Piano Music

By Frances Wilson, Interlude

With Christmas just around the corner, here is a selection of festive piano music to bring good cheer and warmth, peace and joy.

© Garry Gay

J.S. Bach: Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring (arr. Myra Hess)

Myra Hess

Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring is the English title of the 10th movement from Bach’s cantata “Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben,” BWV 147. The British pianist Myra Hess published her transcription for solo piano in 1926 and later followed it with a version of piano 4-hands. Its simple elegance is underpinned by a resonant bass line which brings grandeur to one of Bach’s most enduring and popular works. 

Percy Grainger: Sussex Mummer’s Carol

Percy Grainger

Percy Grainger had an avid interest in British folk songs and was a key figure in the folksong revival movement at the turn of the twentieth century. He made many wonderful transcriptions of folksongs from the British Isles, through which he introduced these pieces to concert audiences. The Sussex Mummers’ Carol is known to have been sung in the English county of Sussex as early as the 1800s and possibly even earlier (“mummers” were players who would go round villages re-enacting Biblical stories and folk tales for the local people). Grainger’s refined and peaceful transcription is a world away from the original setting in which a carol like this would be performed. Here, he demonstrates his skill in elevating a rustic tune into a concert miniature. 

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: December – Noel from The Seasons

Tchaikovsky composed his twelve character pieces for piano, The Seasons, at the same time as he was writing his popular ballet, Swan Lake. December: Noel is scored in warm A-flat major and opens with a sweetly decorated melody. The piece evokes the good cheer and antics of Christmas.

Franz Liszt: Weihnachtsbaum (Christmas Tree)

Composed in 1873-76, Franz Liszt’s suite of 12 miniatures for piano was dedicated to the composer’s first grandchild, Daniela von Bülow (1860-1940; daughter of Cosima and Hans von Bülow). While some of the pieces directly reference well-known Christmas carols, including In Dulce Jubilo (No. 3) and Adeste Fideles (O Comes All Ye Faithful; No. 4), or evoke Christmas bells Chimes (No. 6), others are not connected with Christmas at all. The overall style and mood of the suite is reminiscent of Schumann’s Kinderszenen. The first recording of Weinachtsbaum was made in 1951 by Alfred Brendel. 

Julian Yu: Jangled Bells

A witty, off-key take on that evergreen Christmas song by Chinese-Australian composer Julian Yu. After suggesting the well-known tune in the opening the music descends into a discordant middle section before the melody returns. The entire piece lasts just under 1 minute!

Leroy Anderson: Sleigh Ride (arr. Andrew Gentile)

Leroy Anderson

Composer Leroy Anderson had the original idea for Sleigh Ride during a heatwave! The work was completed in February 1948. Andrew Gentile’s dazzlingly imaginative transcription for solo piano is a masterpiece of virtuosity, complete with Lisztian flourishes and glittering glissandi, while honouring Anderson’s orchestral original. No Christmas playlist should be without this joyful, uplifting piece!

Who Got It Right and Who Got It Wrong? Critics and Composers

by Maureen Buja

We were looking at a book of musical quotations the other day and found some things that make one so glad to have a sense of perspective.

Here, John Gregory, writing in 1766 in his A Comparative View of the State and Faculties of Man with Those of the Animal World, had this to say about what composer?

‘[The style of COMPOSER] sometimes pleases by its spirit and a wild luxuriancy … but possesses too little of the elegance and pathetic expression of music to remain long in the public taste.’

Hmmm. So we want a mid-18th century composer who had spirit and a sense of luxury but lacked elegance…. Mozart? Hummel? No, they’re too late. Gregory was referring to the style of the music of Haydn, who, of all composers of his era, has remained in the public taste where so many of his contemporaries have vanished.

Hardy: Joseph Haydn, 1791

We have two composers with two very different views of conductors. The first, a composer, suffered poor performances in the hands of bad conductors:

‘Conducting is a black art.’

The other, a conductor himself, downplayed the difficulties in a letter to his 10-year-old sister:

‘It’s easy. All you have to do is wiggle a stick.’

It was Tchaikovsky who held the first opinion, given in 1909, and Sir Thomas Beecham in the second quote.

Reutlinger: P.I. Tchaikovsky, c. 1888

Sir Thomas Beecham, 1948

Richard Strauss, on the other hand, felt that certain sections of the orchestra needed to be quelled at all times:

‘Never let the horns and woodwinds out of your sight. If you can hear them at all, they are too loud.’

Igor Stravinsky , himself a composer and a conductor, saw danger in the field of conducting:

‘”Great” conductors, like “great” actors, soon become unable to play anything but themselves.’

and

‘Conducting is semaphoring, after all.’

Richard Strauss conducting

Stravinsky conducting

He also viewed conductors as the ‘lapdogs’ of musical life…which poses an interesting question of which side of Stravinsky was making that statement!

Very few composers or performers had anything good to say about critics.

Richard Wagner thought that ‘the immoral profession of musical criticism must be abolished,’ whereas Beecham saw the problem as one of lack of musical feeling, saying ‘…so often they have the score in their hands and not in their heads.’

Aaron Copland thought that ‘if a literary many puts together two words about music, one of them will be wrong’.

And the critics strike back:

George Bernard Shaw, when accused of being too critical: ‘No doubt I was unjust; who am I that I should be just?’

Eduard Hanslick, who wielded great power as critic, took an uncritical view of himself: ‘When I wish to annihilate, then I do annihilate.’

Eduard Hanslick

Oscar Wilde found Chopin to be too emotional: ‘After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own.’

Sometimes composers are most caustic about their contemporaries. Wagner wondered this about the legacy of Rossini: ‘After Rossini dies, who will there be to promote his music?’

Stravinsky pondered about South American music: ‘Why is it that whenever I hear a piece of music I don’t like, it’s always by Villa-Lobos?’

Some composers write about what they are proudest of. Modest Mussorgsky, known for his songs as much as his symphonic music and opera, said in a letter in 1868 ‘my music must be an artistic reproduction of human speech in all its finest shades’.

Puccini, understating his talents simply said ‘God touched me with His little finger and said “Write for the theatre, only for the theatre.”’

Giacomo Puccini

Rossini, never one to understate his skill, remarked ‘Give me a laundry-list and I’ll set it to music.’

Stravinsky, who was often so far ahead of his contemporaries musically as to be in another world, said ‘Silence will save me from being wrong (and foolish), but it will also deprive me of the possibility of being right.’

Elisabeth Luytens, who parlayed her contemporary sound into really effective music for British horror films, called her own style ‘eerie weirdness’.

Elizabeth Lutyens

Opinions, opinions … everyone has opinions. Some of them can make us ponder (‘Wagner has lovely moments but awful quarters of an hour’ – Rossini), others make us laugh (‘Hell is full of musical amateurs’ – George Bernard Shaw), and others make us angry (‘There are two kinds of music: German music and bad music.’ – H.L. Mencken) – what’s your opinion?

Tchaikovsky - Piano Concerto No 1 - Barenboim, Celibidache, MPO (1991)

Tschaikowsky: Schwanensee-Walzer / Karel Mark Chichon / DRP

613,957 views  May 8, 2018  Peter Tschaikowsky ∙ Walzer aus dem Ballett „ Schwanensee“ op. 20

Deutsche Radio Philharmonie

Dirigent: Karel Mark Chichon

E-Werk Saarbrücken ∙ Sonntag, 18. September 2011

Der "Schwanensee"-Walzer

Die Direktion der Moskauer Oper, schrieb Peter Tschaikowsky im September 1875 an Nikolai Rimskij-Korsakow, hat mir den Auftrag erteilt, die Musik für das Ballett „Le lac des cygnes“ zu schreiben. Ich habe diesen Auftrag akzeptiert, einesteils weil ich das Geld sehr nötig brauche, und zum anderen, weil ich seit langem den brennenden Wunsch hege, meine Hand einmal an solcher Art von Musik zu versuchen. So entstand Tschaikowskys erstes abendfüllendes Ballett Der Schwanensee op. 20 in der Zeit

von August 1875 bis April 1876, kurz vor der vierten Sinfonie und der Oper Eugen Onegin.

Das Libretto erzählt die Geschichte des Prinzen Siegfried und der Schwanenprinzessin Odette. Sie ist von dem Bösewicht Rotbart verzaubert worden und kann nur durch die Liebe eines Mannes erlöst werden und so ihre menschliche Gestalt wieder zurückgewinnen. Siegfried verspricht, Odette zu heiraten und zu retten, wird jedoch selbst von Rotbart und dessen Tochter Odile getäuscht. Erst durch seine Bereitschaft, zusammen mit Odette und den anderen Schwanenmädchen im See zu sterben, bannt der Prinz den bösen Zauber.

Bei der Moskauer Premiere im Februar 1877 war Tschaikowskys Ballett-Erstling wenig erfolgreich. Erst mit mehreren Aufführungen, die Anfang 1895, über ein Jahr nach dem Tod des Komponisten, im St. Petersburger Marinskij-Theater stattfanden, konnte sich Schwanensee durchsetzen und wurde allmählich zu einem der beliebtesten Ballette des Repertoires und zum Synonym für das romantische Ballett schlechthin.

Zu Beginn des ersten Aktes feiert Prinz Siegfried auf der Terrasse seines Schlosses seinen 21. Geburtstag. Die eintreffenden Gäste stellen sich in einem festlichen Walzer dar, der neben dem Blumenwalzer aus dem „Nussknacker“ zu einem der beliebtesten Konzertstücke aus den Balletten Tschaikowskys wurde.

Tchaikovsky：Waltz of the Flowers－Daniel Barenboim

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and His Circle of Friends

 by Georg Predota, Interlude

Pyotr Jurgenson

To his extensive entourage, fellow colleagues, and large circle of friends, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was “a sweet and caring man, full of excellent manners.” Yet in his own words, the composer considered himself almost antisocial. “By nature, I am a savage,” he writes, “every new acquaintance, every fresh contract with strangers has been the source of acute moral suffering.”

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (ca. 1888)

For a composer seeking public recognition and an artistic career, this turned out to be a bit of a problem. Only his closest friends were aware of his state of mind, and that included Tchaikovsky’s principal music publisher Pyotr Jurgenson (1836-1904), to whom he writes, “I feel at my best when I am alone.” Jurgenson had initially provided financial assistance to Tchaikovsky’s fledgling career by giving him various commissions and assignments. And in 1867 he published Tchaikovsky’s Opus 1, and in the end acquired the rights to publish the composer’s works in Russia and throughout the world. In essence, Jurgenson managed Tchaikovsky’s business affairs, and he recognized the importance of preserving the manuscripts of the composer. He also proved to be a highly supportive friend in the wake of Tchaikovsky’s failed marriage.

Herman Laroche

Herman Laroche (1845-1904) was an incredible musical talent. He wrote his first compositions by the age of ten, and by age twelve he was invited to enroll at the newly found Saint Petersburg Conservatory. He first met Tchaikovsky in 1862, and the two students became lifelong friends. Tchaikovsky found in Laroche an unofficial guide and mentor, while Laroche became the first critic of Tchaikovsky’s school compositions. Initially, he seemed to have been pessimistic about Tchaikovsky’s composing prospects, but Tchaikovsky placed the greatest confidence in his judgment. After graduation, both worked as professors at the Moscow Conservatory, but Laroche increasingly turned to music criticism. He contributed a good many articles to various publications, and after the composer’s death, Laroche wrote a number of valuable studies and memoires of his friend. Laroche was somewhat inexperienced in earthly matters, which not only amused Tchaikovsky, but also gave him the opportunity of helping and advising his friend. When Laroche’s second marriage failed, he suffered a creative crisis. During this period Tchaikovsky assisted him with his articles, and he orchestrated sketches for Laroche’s Overture-Fantasia in 1888.

Emiliya Pavlovskaya

Emiliya Pavlovskaya (1853-1935) performed on a number of European and Russian operatic stages, and she had long-term contracts at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow and the Mariinsky Theatre in Saint Petersburg. Tchaikovsky considered her an exceptionally talented, clever, and gifted singer, and he was a frequent guest at Pavlovskaya’s house. In her memoirs, she recalled a conversation in May 1885. “Pyotr Ilyich once came to me,” she writes, “frightfully worked up, and told me that he had just been to see Anton Rubinstein and had come straight to me to ask my advice. He had been invited to become director of the Moscow Conservatory and Rubinstein was trying to persuade him to accept this offer; Pyotr Ilyich was terribly worried and didn’t know what to do. I resolutely set about dissuading him from accepting the offer, as I knew very well his forgetfulness, his soft character, his nervousness, and the complete absence of any administrative streak in him.” Following this conversation, Tchaikovsky apparently sat down immediately to write a telegram to Rubinstein declining the offer. The friendship soured when Tchaikovsky’s opera The Enchantress failed because Pavlovskaya had given an unsatisfactory performance as the heroine Nastasya. Pavlovskaya accepted blame for the fiasco and suggested that Tchaikovsky pick another Nastasya. And she was aware that Tchaikovsky was angry at her, writing, “Something has happened between us (on your part), some dark cloud has come over me… I don’t understand… but I can feel it, and it hurts me very, very much.”

Ivan Klimenko

The composer and critic Alexander Serov hosted a popular salon in Saint Petersburg in the early 1860s, and it was at one of these gatherings that Tchaikovsky met the architect and amateur musician Ivan Klimenko (1841-1914). Their friendship became particularly close when Klimenko moved to Moscow and overlapped with the composer between 1869 and 1872. The relationship was not only highly intimate it also served as a sounding board for musical matters. Tchaikovsky writes, “As regards to ambition, I must tell you that I have certainly not been flattered of late. My songs were praised by Laroche, but Cui and Balakirev don’t think highly of them… My overture, Romeo and Juliet, had hardly any success here and has remained quite unnoticed. I thought a great deal about you that night. After the concert we supped, and no one said a single word about the overture during the evening. And yet I yearned so for appreciation and kindness! Yes, I thought a great deal about you, and of your encouraging sympathy.” At the request of Modest Tchaikovsky, Klimenko would eventually write a highly intimate account of his relationship with Pyotr.

Nadezhda von Meck

Nadezhda von Meck (1831-1894) gave birth to 18 children, and when her husband Karl von Meck unexpectedly died, she inherited a great deal of money. With her husband’s considerable fortune at her disposal, she indulged her musical passions and generously supported the Russian Musical Society. Through Yosif Kotek she came in contact with Tchaikovsky’s compositions, and the ensuing correspondence lasted almost fourteen years. Tchaikovsky and Nadezhda von Meck never met personally, but the relationship provided moral support and a regular financial allowance to the composer. Von Meck was a highly educated woman who had vast knowledge of literature, history, and philosophy, and she spoke a number of foreign languages. They corresponded on equal terms, without condescension or social snobbery. Tchaikovsky called her his “best friend,” and the platonic relationship with a great composer must have satisfied an important inner need in her. Through her generous financial support, Tchaikovsky was able to focus exclusively on his creative work, and he dedicated three of his compositions to her. Because of the private nature of their relationship even dedications had to be done secretly, so the set of pieces for violin and piano entitled Souvenir d’un lieu cher simply carry the inscription “dedicated to B,” identifying his benefactress’s estate at Brailov.

Nikolay Hubert

Nikolay Hubert (1840-1888) was a fine pianist who entered the St. Petersburg Conservatory at the age of 23. He studied orchestration with Anton Rubinstein, and he formed a lifelong friendship with Tchaikovsky, a fellow student. After graduating he held a couple of temporary jobs, but in 1870 became professor of music theory at the Moscow Conservatory. He was the only witness to the disastrous occasion when Tchaikovsky played his First Piano Concerto to Nikolay Rubinstein. Hubert replaced Laroche as the pre-eminent music critic at the journals Contemporary Chronicle and the Moscow Register during the 1870s, and Tchaikovsky was always ready to assist with writing one or the other articles. Hubert and his wife Aleksandra were among Tchaikovsky’s closest friends, and they made piano transcriptions of many of the composer’s orchestral works. In 1872, Tchaikovsky dedicated one of the Six Romances, Op. 16, to his close friend.

Tchaikovsky：Waltz of the Flowers－Daniel Barenboim

Tchaikovsky: Sleeping Beauty Suite - Alondra de la Parra & Staatskapelle...

Tchaikovsky’s house destroyed by Russian army in north-east Ukraine

6 April 2022, 15:02 | Updated: 6 April 2022, 16:23

Tchaikovsky stayed in Trostyanets in his 20s; the city is now destroyed. Picture: Getty

By Sophia Alexandra Hall, ClassicFM

@sophiassocials

 

One of Russia’s most famous composers once called Trostyanets home. Now the city lies in ruin. 

Trostyanets is a city in the north-east of Ukraine, which once played host to Russian composer, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

Aged 24, the famed 19th-century Romantic composer stayed in a villa in the city of Trostyanets, then a part of the Russian Empire. It was here he composed his first symphonic work - the overture ‘The Storm’ (1864).

The villa, like the rest of Trostyanets, now lies in ruin following the capture of the city on 1 March 2022 during the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

After a month of occupation, where civilians were reportedly killed by Russian hand grenades, Ukrainian forces used heavy shelling to gain back control of Trostyanets.

Though the Russian army have now left after a brutal month, reminders of their occupation can be seen everywhere; buildings – including the villa – have been destroyed, and the letter ‘Z’ has been graffitied on ruins and cars across the city.

Since the invasion began in February, food and water have become dangerously scarce in Trostyanets, which has a population of 25,000.

Residents now have to line up in front of the Tchaikovsky Music School for Children, next to the museum of the same name, in order to collect food.

During the first days of the Russian invasion, the concert hall at the Tchaikovsky Music School for Children was used to register Ukrainian volunteers for the Territorial Defense Forces.

While waiting in line to collect food, citizens spotted reporters from international outlets in their city and ran to them. A cacophony of testimonies were given all at once to the reporters.

“They smashed my place up.” “They stole everything, even my underwear.” “They killed a guy on my street.” “The f*****s stole my laptop and my aftershave.”

The mayor of Trostyanets has said it is too early to give an estimate as to how many of his city’s citizens were killed.

Civilians in Trostyanets were reportedly targeted by hand grenades when they protested Russian occupation, which killed two.

Due to the harrowing testimonies from the city’s residents, and other parts of Ukraine, on Monday the President of the European Commission, Ursula von der Leyen, backed an investigation into reported Russian war crimes in the country.

After a call with Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, von der Leyen said that EU investigators will help Kyiv to probe reports from Ukrainian officials and NGOs that Russian forces massacred and sexually assaulted civilians in towns near the Ukrainian capital.

Statue of Tchaikovsky in Trostyanets central park. Picture: Wikimedia Commons

The Ukrainian Factor in Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1

by Georg Predota, Interlude

The Tchaikovsky family in 1848. Left to right: Pyotr (nicknamed Petya), Alexandra Andreyevna (mother), Alexandra (sister), Zinaida, Nikolay, Ippolit, Ilya Petrovich (father) © englishwordplay.com

Even at the best of times, the relationship between Russia and the Ukraine has been somewhat troubled. Although they share much of their early history, the Mongol invasion in the 13th century initiated a distinct division between the Russian and Ukrainian people. Tensions escalated over subsequent centuries, and from the mid 17th century, the Ukraine was gradually absorbed into the Russian Empire. In 1918, Ukraine declared its full independence from the Russian Republic, and it took two treaties to calm the military conflict. In 1922, both Ukraine and Russia were founding members of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and both were signatories to the termination of the union in December 1991. Ever since, acute and ongoing territorial and political disputes have shaped the tenuous relationship between the two countries. You only have to listen to the daily news to know what I mean!

The reason for this brief historical overview is simple. Textbooks on music history consider Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840–1893) “an outstanding Russian composer,” and rather conveniently overlook the fact that the composer had Ukrainian roots. His paternal grandfather Pyotr Fyodorovich Chaikovsky was born in the Ukrainian village of Mykolayivka, and he trained as a doctor at the Kyiv Academy. His military service took him throughout Russia, but his son Ilya Chaikovsky (1795–1880) remained close to the Ukrainian roots of his father. And the same is certainly true for his son Pyotr Ilyich. Although born in the Russian town of Votkinsk, Tchaikovsky annually spent several months in the Ukraine, where he composed over 30 works. Tchaikovsky wrote: “I found the peace of mind here that I had unsuccessfully sought in Moscow and Petersburg.”

Tchaikovsky knew and loved Ukrainian folklore for its melodiousness and profound lyricism, and these important cultural and musical influences found their way into some of his best-known compositions, including the Piano Concerto No.1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23.

The house where Tchaikovsky used to stay in Ukraine

Nikolai Rubinstein was generally regarded as the foremost Russian pianist of his time, and he greatly encouraged Tchaikovsky’s creative effort. However, their friendship became severely strained when Tchaikovsky dedicated, and presented his first Piano Concerto to Rubinstein. Tchaikovsky recalled that “I played the entire work for Rubinstein, but he did not say a single word. When he finally spoke, a torrent of insults poured from his mouth. My concerto was worthless and unplayable. Passages were so fragmented, so clumsy, so badly written that they were beyond rescue. The work was bad, vulgar and I had shamelessly stolen from other composers.” To consider the work unplayable is one thing, but to call it vulgar hints at a fundamental dislike of its Ukrainian influences. Needless to say, Tchaikovsky hastily changed the dedication to Hans von Bülow, who gave the first performance of the work on October 25, 1875 in Boston.

The first movement inscribed “Allegro non troppo” opens with a majestic introduction, broadly voiced in the orchestra and forcefully punctuated by widely spaced chords in the piano. This memorable tune—scored in the unusual key of D-flat major—is first heard in the orchestra and later taken over by the soloist. Surprisingly, the soloist proceeds straightaway into an extensive piano cadenza. Once the strings articulate the theme once more, the introduction comes to a close, and astoundingly, this theme is never heard again. Soft horn calls and a brass chorale announce the movement properly, with its first theme derived from an Ukrainian folk tune. Maintaining a perfectly balanced discourse between the orchestra and soloist, Tchaikovsky energetically emphasizes the rhythmic qualities of this tune. The lyrical contrast, which unfolds in two sentimental melodies, is first introduced by the orchestra and then repeated by the solo piano. A highly virtuosic interlude provides the segue-way for an extended development section, which continues to alternate passages of dramatic expression with virtuoso displays by the soloist.

A gentle and introspective dance, introduced by the flutes, opens the “Andantino” movement. For the most part, the piano performs an accompanimental function, as this lilting theme is sounded by the cello and oboe. However, in the central “Prestisssimo”, based on the French tune “Il faut s’amuser et rire” (It’s all fun and laughter), a very demanding piano part is reinstated, before a brief cadenza returns us to the opening dance.

The concluding “Allegro” opens with another Ukrainian folk-song, broadly contrasted by an expansive romantic theme, first sounded in the strings. Russian and French influences notwithstanding, it becomes immediately apparent that Tchaikovsky’s Ukrainian musical roots creatively shaped this venerable warhorse of the concerto repertory.

ABBA give an unexpected nod to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake in new ‘Voyage’ album

ABBA in 1974 after winning Eurovision. Picture: Alamy

By Sophia Alexandra Hall, ClassicFM London

@sophiassocials

 

While an ABBA x Tchaikovsky collaboration wasn’t on our bingo cards for 2021, we’re kind of here for it...

Swedish pop group sensation ABBA are back after a 40-year hiatus with their ninth and final studio album, Voyage.

And fans have noticed that the final track on the album, Ode To Freedom, has a familiar tune.

Not because it contains a call-back to a previous song composed by the band, but rather because the song references the the Waltz from Tchaikovsky’s ballet, Swan Lake.

Written by the Russian composer between 1875-76, Swan Lake is one of the most popular ballets of all time, and the Waltz in A flat major is one of the most recognisable melodies from the work.

Twitter was quick to pick up on the reference to the tune in ABBA’s final Voyage track, with listeners desperately trying to find the piece of classical music they were reminded of...

Despite its references to the waltz, Ode to Freedom is written in a time signature of 4/4, instead of the expected 3/4 found in Swan Lake, and the majority of other waltz forms.

Thus, the theme is pulled into a more conventional pop song format, while maintaining the low swelling string holding the melody similar to the original Tchaikovsky.

The vocals enter towards the end of the song, joining in on a typical ABBA-esque harmonic build on the main melody with the following lyrics.

The foursome sing about writing an ‘Ode to Freedom’, a piece of music ‘not pretentious, but with dignity’. In the ballet, the waltz underscores Prince Siegfried’s birthday; it is a moment of celebration for our principal dancer as he celebrates with his friends and villagers from his kingdom.

It seems fitting that Abba’s final album should end with an epic orchestral, albeit gentle, celebratory theme.

The band has achieved so much since forming in 1972, and they have every right to celebrate a long and successful career where they changed the face of the pop music industry forever.