22
The piano plays a central role in Prokofiev’s oeuvre. Not only are his works for piano solo or piano with orchestra numerous, but they also rank among his more important compositions. The piano was the first instrument Pro-kofiev heard and the only one he mastered.
Early in his creative life, Prokofiev developed a highly individual way of writing for the piano. Though the di¤erences between the piano textures of his early and late works are palpable, the main qualities of his piano writing are recognizable throughout.
One can easily discern two types of piano texture particularly favored by Prokofiev: motoric, driven (usually fast) passages and meditative, lyrical (mostly slow) ones. His fast music is always rhythmically active; it often em-ploys a uniform motion of running fast notes, frequently in scalar patterns.
Usually it is based on well-articulated, active fingers, often playing non legato (Exx. 0.4a, 0.4b, 0.4c). The wrist is frequently employed as well, with textures ranging from non legato single notes to double stops to chords (Exx.
0.5a, 0.5b, 0.5c). The resulting sonority is quite dry and transparent. When Prokofiev aims for a more powerful sound, he usually turns to scales and arpeggios, often spanning a wide range of the keyboard (Exx. 0.6a, 0.6b).
Chordal harmonic writing reminiscent of Rachmaninov’s can be found mostly in Prokofiev’s earlier works (Exx. 0.7a, 0.7b), along with octaves, a mainstay of piano virtuosity in the nineteenth century (Exx. 0.8a, 0.8b).
Ex. 0.4b Concerto No. 4 for Piano (left hand), mvt. 1
Ex. 0.4c Sonata No. 7, mvt. 1
Ex. 0.5a Concerto No. 1
Ex. 0.5b Toccata, op. 11
Ex. 0.5c Concerto No. 5, mvt. 3
Ubiquitous, on the other hand, is the kind of chordal writing in which a sin-gle voice carries a melodic line or a brief ostinato motive while the other voices either move continuously, often chromatically, or repeat the same pitches. This texture can be found throughout his piano output, from the early Suggestion diabolique, op. 4 (Ex. 0.9), to the last movement of Sonata No. 7 (Ex. 0.10). Big, audacious leaps and jumps are characteristic of Prokofiev’s music throughout his oeuvre (Exx. 0.11a, 0.11b).
In his slow music the texture can be quite di¤erent. The most striking fea-ture is a long, curvy melodic line that often evokes the lyrical pages of Prokofiev’s ballets (Ex. 0.12). Equally frequent are pure, naive, lyrical mel-odies presented in an utterly simple fashion, often with two hands playing
69
f
3 3 3 3 3 3
71
dim.
3 3 3 3
73
3
Ex. 0.6b Sonata No. 7, mvt. 2
Ex. 0.7a Concerto No. 1
Ex. 0.8a Concerto No. 1
Ex. 0.8b Concerto No. 2, mvt. 4
in unison with a merely rudimentary accompaniment (Exx. 0.13a, 0.13b).
Prokofiev’s lyrical pages of a more outspoken, openly expressive kind are often suggestive of orchestral sonorities. The writing can encompass a vast range, sending the melody very high and making it diªcult for a pianist to produce a singing tone (Ex. 0.14). The texture of these lyrical passages is of-ten polyphonic; the melodic line is frequently passed from one voice to an-other in di¤erent registers of the piano.
Many pages of Prokofiev’s oeuvre continue the important tradition of Russian music based on fairy tale–inspired imagery. Prokofiev often em-ploys opposite ends of the piano range or sustains the same type of texture or
Ex. 0.9 Suggestion diabolique, op. 4, no. 4
Ex. 0.11a Concerto No. 3, mvt. 2
uniform rhythmic patterns for evoking the feeling of a spell or an enchant-ment, as well as for creating a mysterious, frightening atmosphere (Exx.
0.15a, 0.15b).
The Russian tradition of suggesting the sonority of church bells in emo-tionally charged moments is also well represented in Prokofiev’s piano
mu-
sic, especially in each of the “War Sonatas” (Ex. 0.16). This goes hand in hand with the “epic” quality mentioned by Heinrich Neuhaus (see below), a feature of Prokofiev’s later style.
Finally, the neoclassical streak of Prokofiev’s music is expressed in mock Baroque or Classical textures, such as an allusion to Alberti bass in the finale of Sonata No. 5 (see Ex. 5.2a). Anti-Romantic austerity is sometimes ex-pressed by unaccompanied, or barely accompanied, running passages (Ex.
Ex. 0.13b Vision fugitive, op. 22, no. 10
0.17), or with both hands playing in unison two or three octaves apart (Ex.
0.18).
Prokofiev was universally recognized as an accomplished pianist. This is, in fact, surprising, given the lack of professional guidance during the early years of his studies. Reinhold Glière, his music tutor during the summers of 1902 and 1903, remembered that, as a youngster, Prokofiev “played the
pi-
Ex. 0.15a Concerto No. 3, mvt. 2
Vivo
pp
5
sf
Ex. 0.18 Concerto No. 5, mvt. 5
ano with great ease and confidence, although his technique left much to be desired. He played carelessly and he did not hold his hands properly on the keyboard. His long fingers seemed very clumsy. Sometimes he managed rather diªcult passages with . . . facility but at other times he could not play a simple scale or an ordinary arpeggio. . . . Seryozha’s chief trouble was the incorrect hand position. Technically his playing was careless and inaccurate, his phrasing was poor and he paid little attention to detail. . . . I must say that he was rather obstinate.”1
Having entered the St. Petersburg Conservatory in 1905, Prokofiev be-came a piano student of Alexander Winkler. He later remembered that, at his first lesson, Winkler “said that for some two weeks I would have to play only exercises aimed to strengthen the fingers and to develop the wrist. . . . At last, I have been harnessed: until then I played everything but did it rather carelessly, holding my fingers straight, like sticks. Winkler insisted on my playing accurately, holding my fingers in the rounded shape and putting them down with precision.”2
In 1909 Prokofiev entered the studio of Anna Esipova, the leading profes-sor of piano at the conservatory. She remained his teacher until 1914, the year of both his graduation and Esipova’s death. Their relationship was not easy, as Prokofiev himself testified:
At first we got along very well. Esipova even boasted outside the class that she had pupils who wrote sonatas (I completed Sonata, Op. 1, and played it to Esipova, who took it home and inserted pedaling). But before long trouble began. Esipova’s method of teaching was to try to fit everyone into a standard pattern. True, it was a very elaborate pattern, and if the pupil’s temperament coincided with her own, the results were admirable. But if the pupil happened to be of an independent cast of mind Esipova would do her best to suppress his individuality instead of helping to develop it.
Moreover, I had great diªculty in ridding myself of careless playing, and the Mozart, Schubert and Chopin which she insisted on were somehow not in my line. At that period I was too preoccupied with the search for a new harmonic idiom to understand how anyone could care for the simple harmonies of Mozart.3
On her part, Esipova recorded that her student “has assimilated my method only to a limited extent. He is very talented, but rather crude.”4 Ac-cording to Glière, “Once, in a fit of anger, Esipova declared, ‘Either you will place your hands properly on the keyboard or leave my class.’”5In spite of these frictions, Prokofiev made a great deal of progress, culminating in his winning the conservatory’s piano competition upon his graduation.
While still a student, Prokofiev started to appear as a pianist profession-ally, primarily as a performer of his own works. Later, during the years he spent outside Russia, piano performances played two critical roles: putting food on his table and popularizing his own music. In the beginning of his stay in the United States, Prokofiev was making his name (and income) pri-marily as a pianist, much to his distress. He certainly could not have appre-ciated the caption that appeared in Musical America under his photo with Stravinsky: “Composer Stravinsky and pianist Prokofiev.” Although occa-sionally he performed works by other composers (Chopin, Mussorgsky, Rachmaninov, Myaskovsky, Schoenberg, Scriabin, and Tchaikovsky, among others), his repertoire consisted mainly of his own compositions. Prokofiev was well aware of his persuasive powers as a pianist in advocating for his music. According to his first wife, Lina: “Many pianists got interested in his
music only after they heard the composer’s performance—such as Borov-sky, Horowitz, Gieseking, Rubinstein and many others.”6Yet Prokofiev al-ways knew that his main vocation was composing, and he frequently felt that his concertizing got in the way of it.
Prokofiev stopped performing publicly soon after he returned to the So-viet Union. The performances of the Sixth Sonata in the winter of 1940–41 were the last occasions for him to premiere his works. Mira Mendelson-Prokofieva testified that “in 1942 he told me about his intention to stop ap-pearing in concerts, as the preparation for them took too much of his time.
According to [Prokofiev], he learned pieces ‘relatively slowly’ and ‘memo-Fig. 2 Prokofiev’s hands. Photograph courtesy of Sergei Prokofiev Family.