Sergey Prokofiev diaries: 5 April 1913

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

361-362

text excerpt

I decided I would not go to Natasha Goncharova's, and instead went to the Belyayev Concert. I don't remember the last time I was at a symphony concert, it was so long ago, and therefore I found all the little trivial things enjoyable: seeing people I know from the world of music, even simply going up the staircase to go into the hall.

Scriabin's Divine Poem is a wonderful work, even if open to criticism for its occasional longueurs, indecent length and orchestration that is not always impeccable (for example, the lame attempt to reproduce the billing and cooing of doves; the opening of the second movement, and the grandiose repetition of the same theme at the end of the movement, where the strings do something incomprehensible instead of exploiting their timbre to breathe life into the brass's flaccid trumpeting of the theme).

The other items in the programme were a complete antidote to this work, in that they were marvellously orchestrated but utterly devoid of any inspiration in their content. They were: Glazunov's From Darkness to Light, Lyadov's Apocalypsis and some songs by Weisberg. I felt ashamed for the composers.

excerpt from 'Sergey Prokofiev diaries: 5 April 1913' pp. 361-362 (191 words)

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