Johannes Brahms and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky were both born on May 7, seven years apart. Brahms, the older of the two, was born in 1833; Tchaikovsky in 1840.
Given this double birthday, it seems appropriate to write about their relationship. The two men exhibited a mutual respect and even met twice. They had contrasting musical styles, though, and didn’t care for one another’s work.
Despite this professional dislike, their compositions often appear together side by side in recordings today.

First Meeting: Leipzig, 1888
Brahms and Tchaikovsky first met in Leipzig, Germany, on New Years Day 1888, at the house of Adolph Brodsky. Tchaikovsky wasn’t enthusiastic about meeting Brahms, having previously called the composer a “scoundrel” and a “self-inflated mediocrity.” He entered the rehearsal room and heard Brahms playing his new Piano Trio No. 3. The two spoke, and the Russian later wrote that he was impressed by Brahms’s modesty: His “manner is very simple, free from vanity, his humor jovial, and the few hours spent in his society left me with a very agreeable recollection.”Tchaikovsky didn’t record exactly what they said to one another, but the novelist Klaus Mann (author Thomas Mann’s son) filled in the details for us. In his 1948 book “Pathetic Symphony: A Novel About Tchaikovsky,” Mann presented a conversation between the two men just before Brahms began playing his Piano Trio.
“‘We’ll have a little music later on,’ said the German master. … ‘I hope you won’t be bored, Herr Tchaikovsky.’
“‘I should be very proud if I might be allowed to hear your new trio.’ Peter Ilyich bowed slightly.
“‘Well, perhaps it won’t be altogether to your taste. … It is not highly seasoned; there is nothing brilliant about it.’
“‘I am convinced that it is beautiful,’ said Tchaikovsky, and was annoyed with himself for having answered so ineptly.”
Mann writes a conversation that grows increasingly awkward. Brahms’ self-deprecating comments were filled with “a tinge of mockery,” echoing negative things he knew Tchaikovsky had said about his work. The Russian’s forehead began to flush as they discussed international styles and influences. Just when Tchaikovsky felt himself being provoked to “make a distressing outburst which he would never be able to live down,” Brahms wished him a pleasant stay in Leipzig and brought the conversation to an end, “as a royal personage might terminate an audience.”
Though fictionalized, Mann’s interpretation of their meeting is remarkably true to the two men’s known characters.
Second Meeting: Hamburg, 1889
The two met again a year later, in Hamburg. This time Brahms attended a rehearsal of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5. There is an anecdote that Brahms supposedly fell asleep during the performance but no direct evidence of it. The incident isn’t mentioned in official biographies of Brahms, and it seems to have been confused with a time when Brahms fell asleep while listening to Franz Liszt.After the rehearsal, they went out to lunch together. Brahms frankly told Tchaikovsky he didn’t like his symphony, and Tchaikovsky expressed continued indifference towards Brahms’s music. Despite this, they remained amicable. Although they never met again, each man spoke of the other with respect and expressed an admiration for his personal character.

Contrasting Musical Styles
Tchaikovsky’s high opinion of Brahms’s polite and honorable character didn’t change his low opinion of the German’s music.For his part, Brahms was measured in his view of Tchaikovsky. He expressed mild appreciation for certain movements of the Russian’s work and didn’t publicly insult the Russian’s style, though he was forthright in his indifference.
Tchaikovsky was more openly critical of Brahms. In a letter to the Grand Duke of Russia in 1888, Tchaikovsky described exactly what he disliked about the German’s music. He said some complimentary things, admitting that Brahms’s compositions were “lofty” and not “trivial,” that all he wrote was “serious and noble,” and that he “commands our respect.” But he also thought “there is something cold and dry” about Brahms “which repulses me. He has very little melodic invention.” His compositions were full of “unimportant harmonic progressions and modulations,” and Brahms didn’t “speak the language which goes straight to the heart.”
So, there we have it. Brahms didn’t write good melodies, and he wasn’t emotional enough. In other words, he didn’t write like Tchaikovsky.

Both men broadly fell into what we now call the “Romantic” era of music, a period spanning the mid to late 19th century. But German Romanticism was very different from Russian Romanticism, and the term isn’t all that helpful in describing the very different musical styles of the two composers.
Two Violin Concertos
In 1878, Brahms and Tchaikovsky each composed a violin concerto, the only one either of them ever wrote. Both works are considered masterpieces and remain in the repertoire today. They often sit side by side in collected recordings of violin concertos. In the case of a recent recording by violinist Artur Kaganovskiy, which features the National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine, the two concertos are the only works on the album.Each piece is highly demanding technically on the violinist. They even displays folk music influence—Russian, obviously, in the case of Tchaikovsky, and Hungarian in Brahms’s case.
As one might expect, though, they are night and day. Tchaikovsky’s concerto is full of lyrical melodies. Composed during a period of crisis in his life, the violin solos exhibit passion and drama. Brahms’s concerto features a more integrated violin part, where the soloist is in equal dialogue with the orchestra. While there are moments of intensity, Brahms’s concerto demonstrates a serenity that contrasts with the emotional turbulence of Tchaikovsky’s work.

The contrast between the two works is, again, profound. In the case of Brahms, it is complex and technically demanding. Tchaikovsky’s piece is, again, based on a simple Russian folk melody. Leo Tolstoy, who was sitting next to Tchaikovsky during the premiere, found it so emotionally moving that he burst into tears on hearing the Andante Cantabile movement.
In the hands of performers today, these two great Romantic composers, though rivals in life are now joined in death as creative partners.