Someone wrote about Swan Lake music:

Once ballet music leaves the stage and enters the concert hall or recording, it becomes a kind of group-form symphony. Yet, it lacks the weight of a true symphony or concerto, as the dance drama itself is inherently “light.” Composers have never used ballet to convey grand themes—after all, a fictional prince can leap and twirl, but imagine Peter the Great or Napoleon doing the same; the image borders on the absurd. It’s no surprise, then, that music historians have long undervalued ballet scores.

Still, for the general listener, ballet music often surpasses symphonies and concertos in popularity. Its vivid storytelling, rhythmic vitality, and colorful, free-flowing forms give it an immediate appeal.

“Swan Lake” is indeed very good. Its lush, romantic passages—such as the “Little Swan Dance,” the Prince and Odette’s pas de deux, the “Waltz,” “Hungarian Dance,” and “Neapolitan Dance”—are irresistibly charming that make people flow.

Original Version: https://www.gzhifi.com/audio/200810/5942.html

Huh, so the grandeur of a battlefield is the only canvas for musical greatness? To suggest that ballet music lacks the “weight” or “status” of symphonic works simply because it originates in dance is a view both rigid and historically myopic.

Yes, ballet music carries more structure—it must serve choreography, plot, gesture. But that’s not a constraint. It’s a foundation. The composer writes not only with form, but with breath—with space for motion and physical architecture. The music must speak to the ribcage, the arm’s curve, the foot’s weight, as well as the ear. That’s not “light” at all. That’s embodied complexity.

Tchaikovsky knew this. So did Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Ravel. All of them chose ballet not despite its demands, but because of them—as a stage for some of their most inventive, emotionally charged work. Peter the Great need not do 32 fouettés—but perhaps that’s only because true power can be rendered with far more nuance than a cannon blast in C major.

The assertion that ballet music is “popular” precisely because it lacks complexity is a charming inversion of cause and effect. More accurately: it is popular because it communicates its complexity through beauty, rhythm, and immediacy.

And excuse me—referring to the “Little Swan Dance” as merely one of “lush, romantic passages”? You can feel the velvet curtain of expectation drop: as if anything not weighted with gods, doom, and five hours of thematic density must be featherlight fluff. That misses the point entirely. Ballet is about spending 120% of effort to appear effortless. Just because it glitters doesn’t mean it doesn’t cut deep. Refined beauty demands just as much depth and discipline as drama. Every flawless step—backed by a quiet duet of harp and oboe after 57 bars—can take a decade to build.

As if all ‘major subjects’ moved with such technique, grace and complexity. But of course, one must first be capable of listening carefully enough to hear that kind of power.