Music in the Middle of Nowhere

It's more than a mini-masterpiece. It's an experience!

I love when a piece of music can transport you to a strange place. That is what I feel in “In the Steppes of Central Asia,” a mini tone poem by Alexander Borodin. Borodin wrote it in 1880 and dedicated it to Franz Liszt.

The music is a kind of snapshot of two groups of people, one Russian and the other Asian, crossing the immense steppes of Central Asia. The first melody you hear is the Russian theme — hearty, military, cheerful. Then — this happens at 1:33 in the video — you hear the Asian melody. The music has a different timbre to it, languorous, Middle Eastern, exotic.

Get the two themes in your head, and you can follow what happens. Both get closer. The second time you hear the melodies, they are louder and more distinct. Eventually they pass each other. The melodies are intertwined — you hear them both at the same time. Then, gradually, they fade off into the distance. The final notes you hear are Russian.

Now this is funny. I have seen this music a certain way all these years, and now I find I was wrong.

Here is what I thought happened. I thought the caravans were coming from different directions and passed each other. I am sure I heard that somewhere — probably from my father, who loved this piece. In any event, this made sense to me. You imagine the Russians and Asians acknowledging each other as they pass. You would like to think they waved at each other. Who knows. In any case, it is over in a minute. Both caravans go their own way. Their respective melodies fade off into the distance — And the bittersweet adventure comes to an end.

Now, just checking a few rudimentary sources, I see that there is apparently only one caravan — a group of Asians crossing the steppes under the protection of Russian troops. The caravan passes us and then continues on its way.

I wanted to argue this version of events. However, apparently Borodin himself sketches out that scene in his notes to this little masterpiece.

In the silence of the monotonous steppes of Central Asia is heard the unfamiliar sound of a peaceful Russian song. From the distance we hear the approach of horses and camels and the bizarre and melancholy notes of an oriental melody. A caravan approaches, escorted by Russian soldiers, and continues safely on its way through the immense desert. It disappears slowly. The notes of the Russian and Asiatic melodies join in a common harmony, which dies away as the caravan disappears in the distance.

Whatever, the music is like looking at a painting, and Borodin carried it off beautifully.

One thing about Borodin, music was not his full time job. He was a distinguished chemist and physician, an educator and researcher. He has a place in the scientific history books. An asteroid was named after him. Lists of his scientific achievements are long, if you can wade through them.

So that was his main life. He wrote music when he had time off from his scientific job, such as when he was sick and had to take off.

There was a joke about that.

His friends would say to him, “Alexander Porfiryevich, I hope you are ill!”

Instead of “I hope you are well!”

Because if he was ill, he might be taking the day off from his chemistry, and he might be writing music.

Lucky for all of us!