Yesterday evening I went with Max to Scriabin's concert. Absurd as it may seem, I have not been to a single concert so far this season; the Scriabin concert is literally the first I have been to. I did not think much of the 24 Preludes, Op. 11, but I was fascinated by the Seventh Sonata. The sonata is deeply interesting, it has more substantial material than the Fifth, not frightening and ultimately without aggression. A defect is that there is quite a lot of rehashing of material from earlier opuses. I was most interested to hear his account of the Poème satanique which was masterly except for those passages that call for powerful sound and grandeur. Half of the audience could not understand the sonata at all; the other half was making a great effort to understand it.