“My chief virtue (or if you like, defect) has been a tireless lifelong search for an original, individual musical idiom. I detest imitation, I detest hackneyed devices.” From an early age, Sergei Prokofiev was an innovator, happy to challenge convention, and was one of the leading Russian composers of the 20th century.
Born in 1891 to a mercantile family in a rural estate in what is now Ukraine, he was encouraged by Alexander Glazunov to apply to the St Petersburg Conservatory aged only 13. Much younger than the other students, Prokofiev was regarded as arrogant and cerebral, earning a reputation as an enfant terrible. He made early use of dissonance in his Op.2 Etudes and polytonality in his Op.17 Sarcasms, causing one audience member to declare, “To hell with this futuristic music! The cats on the roof make better music!” He was a skilled chess player, even beating the world champion José Raúl Capablanca in an exhibition match in 1914.
Like many Russian composers, Prokofiev left the country in the wake of the 1917 Revolution, but was homesick and one of the few to return (in 1936) and resume his career in the Soviet Union, flourishing creatively despite the oppressive regime. “I care nothing for politics – I’m a composer first and last. Any government that lets me write my music in peace, publishes everything I composed before the ink is dry, and performs every note that comes from my pen is all right with me.”
It wasn’t always plain sailing. Despite their status as pre-eminent Soviet musicians, Prokofiev, Shostakovich and Khatchaturian were among six composers denounced by the Zhdanov Decree in 1948, for the crime of musical “formalism” – described as a “renunciation of the basic principles of classical music” in favour of “muddled, nerve-racking” sounds that “turned music into cacophony.” Eight of Prokofiev’s works were banned, including the Sixth and Eighth Piano Sonatas. He had the misfortune to die on the same day as Joseph Stalin.
Prokofiev wrote for a variety of forms and in a variety of styles, from uncompromising dissonance to lush melodies to acerbic modernism, but his sardonic wit is a musical fingerprint detectable in much of his writing.
1Romeo and Juliet
One of the most popular ballets in the repertory, Romeo and Juliet was Prokofiev’s route back into the Soviet Union. Invited by the director of the Kirov (Mariinsky) Theatre to write a ballet based on Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers, Prokofiev accepted. A scenario was drawn up that adhered to government-imposed precepts of the drambalet, which focused on dramatic narrative rather than the virtuosic displays of classical ballet. The premiere took place outside the Soviet Union, in Brno, but a revised version was performed at the Kirov in 1940, establishing itself as an instant classic.
2Symphony no. 5 in B flat major
“I regard the Fifth Symphony as the culmination of a long period in my creative life,” wrote Prokofiev after its 1944 premiere. “I conceived of it as glorifying the grandeur of the human spirit... praising the free and happy man – his strength, his generosity, and the purity of his soul.” It marked a return to symphonic writing after a long break of 16 years and combines uplifting spirit with wartime patriotism. In 1945, when it had its US premiere, Prokofiev featured on the cover of Time magazine, which quoted conductor Serge Koussevitzky’s assessment that the symphony was “the greatest since Brahms and Tchaikovsky! It is magnificent! It is yesterday, it is today, it is tomorrow.”
3Piano Concerto no. 3 in C major
One of the greatest piano concertos of the 20th century, Prokofiev’s Third was composed in France in 1921, drawing on sketches dating back to 1911. It requires dexterity, but isn’t the virtuosic showcase that characterised his earlier concertos and contains crisp solo writing and wit. The neoclassical central movement contains a slinky theme and five variations. Prokofiev described the finale as an “argument” between soloist and orchestra, ending in a thrilling race to the finishing line.