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Sergei Prokofiev (1891 – 1953)
Symphony No. 7 in C-sharp Minor, Op. 131

Approximately 31 minutes

Composer: April 27, 1891, Sontsovka, Bakhmutsk region, Yekaterinoslav district, Ukraine; died March 5, 1953, Moscow

Work composed: 1951-52

World premiere: Samuil Samosud led the All-Union Radio Orchestra at the Trade Union Hall of Columns in Moscow
on October 11, 1952

Instrumentation: piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, English horn, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, cymbals, glockenspiel, snare drum, tambourine, triangle, wood blocks, xylophone, piano, harp, and strings


For the last five years of his life, Sergei Prokofiev grappled with failing health, grinding poverty, and the loss of his artistic reputation (along with the banning of his music), thanks to one of Joseph Stalin’s cultural purges in 1948 (Prokofiev was not actually the direct target of Stalin’s ire; he just happened to be one of the artists caught up in the eradication that resulted from Stalin’s latest fit of cultural pique). In such circumstances, Prokofiev decided to try writing something that would win him the Stalin Prize, which came with a much-needed first-prize purse of 100,000 rubles. Accordingly, he set to work on a symphony intended for the Soviet Children’s Radio Division. 

Throughout his life Prokofiev had written several works for young listeners; his beloved Peter and the Wolf is the best-known example. During World War II, Prokofiev also composed a ballet based on Cinderella. He had a penchant for fairy tells and fantasy; both offered a welcome escape from the terrors of WWII and the constant anxiety of living under the thumb of an oppressive culture. Symphony No. 7 has something of this fairy tale flavor about it. The music evokes nostalgia, of looking back to simpler times; the primary theme of the Moderato, although it begins in a minor key (not the most cheerful or child-friendly music), sets the scene in much the way a fairy tale begins with the time-honored phrase, “Once upon a time…” The second theme, for winds and glockenspiel, has a jaunty bounce. The two themes alternate in a swirling collage, and the movement ends with the ticking of glockenspiel and xylophone, a nod to a nostalgia for times past. The graceful waltzing Allegretto contains hints of anxiety, moments of frivolity, abrupt changes of mood, and the timbral expressiveness characteristic of all Prokofiev’s music. The languid melody of the Andante espressivo has a calming effect, like a parent smoothing a child’s brow. In the closing Vivace, Prokofiev unleashes the unbridled energy of children at play. This seems like a proper ending for music aimed at children, but just before the conclusion, the horseplay stops, and Prokofiev returns to music from the first movement. In a hush, the music ends as softly as it began.

Samuil Samosud, who conducted the premiere, suggested Prokofiev write a more up-tempo ending instead of his original version; apparently Samosud thought a happier ending would boost Prokofiev’s chances of winning the first place Stalin Prize. Against his artistic judgment, but because he desperately needed the money, Prokofiev agreed, but asked Samosud to make sure the score was published with Prokofiev’s original ending: “Slava, you will live much longer than I, and you must take care that this new ending never exists after me.” Unfortunately, the score was published with the second ending, despite Prokofiev’s wishes. Some orchestras perform it with the second ending, but honor Prokofiev’s preference for the first ending. 


© Elizabeth Schwartz