excerpt from 'Sergey Prokofiev diaries: 7 January 1916' pp. 66 (146 words)

excerpt from 'Sergey Prokofiev diaries: 7 January 1916' pp. 66 (146 words)

part of

Sergey Prokofiev diaries: 7 January 1916

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urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

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66

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In the evening I attended a performance of works by Gnessin, organised by the 'Contemporaries', with whom I have had a falling-out and therefore have not been going to their concerts. All Gnessin's music is cast in the same mould: a minor tonality that maintains an unvarying equilibrium, never deepening to tragedy nor rising to radiance, and is thus terribly fatiguing to listen to, not to mention the fact that it is all terribly turgid because there are never any quick tempos. But it is well-written music. What one would not give for just one song by Stravinsky with a spark of life in it! Alchevsky sang wonderfully well. He would be the perfect Alexey: a fine voice and temperament to burn, and such an eager, upturned nose - but he is rather stout, our Alchevsky, could do with massging away some of that stomach, perhaps?

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excerpt from 'Sergey Prokofiev diaries: 7 January 1916' pp. 66 (146 words)

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