Sergei Prokofiev

Born: April 23, 1891 in Sontsovka, Ukraine (then part of the Russian Empire)
Died: March 5, 1953, Moscow

Symphony No. 7 in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 131

• Composed: 1952
  
• Premiere: October 11, 1952, Samuil Samosud conducting the All-Union Radio Orchestra
  
• CSO Notable Performances: 
  • First: January 1959, Max Rudolf conducting
  • Most Recent: February 1968, Max Rudolf conducting
• Instrumentation: 2 flutes, piccolo, 2 oboes, English horn, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, crash cymbals, glockenspiel, snare drum, suspended cymbals, tambour de Basque, triangle, wood block, xylophone, harp, piano, strings
• Duration: approx. 31 minutes

Sergei Prokofiev’s last years were anything but happy. Barely 60 years old, he suffered from a number of physical ailments, but the psychological consequences of a brutal attack from the Communist Party were equally devastating. In February 1948, the Central Committee issued a resolution that charged Prokofiev (along with Shostakovich, Khachaturian and three others) with “formalism”—a term whose meaning was never entirely clear, which did not make the accusation any less dangerous. The number of performances of Prokofiev’s works plummeted, and the composer soon found himself deeply in debt. His first wife, foreign-born and therefore suspect to the authorities from the start, was arrested and sent to a gulag where she was to spend eight years. Prokofiev was remarried to a much younger woman who took care of him and helped him do the only thing that could keep him going during these difficult times: work. [Read more about Prokofiev's first wife, Lina Prokofiev in "Letters and secret files reveal the tormented life of Lina Prokofiev" and a review of Simon Morrison's book "The Love and Wars of Lina Prokofiev."

Through all the hardships, Prokofiev continued to compose prolifically to the end of his life. After 1948, he wrote a new ballet score (The Stone Flower), several orchestral works and a magnificent cello sonata. He also revised several earlier pieces, such as the Fourth Symphony, or the Cello Concerto, which became the Symphony-Concerto, generally considered the greatest work of Prokofiev’s final years.

The Seventh Symphony was commissioned by a department within the Soviet national radio whose task was to create musical programs for young people. Prokofiev wanted to write something light and simple for this occasion. But it wasn’t going to be another Peter and the Wolf. The humor and immediacy of that unforgettable children’s story were replaced by a nostalgic view of youth from the perspective of old age. Prokofiev wanted to avoid any complications in his harmonic language so that he could be easily understood even by children (and stay out of trouble with the critics). As a result, the symphony is like a day of Indian summer; the sun, no longer scorching as in August, is mild and gentle, evoking feelings of warmth and serenity in the listener. The symphony remained the last major work Prokofiev was able to complete, and its first performance, with Samuil Samosud and the All-Union Radio Orchestra on October 11, 1952, marked his last appearance in public.

The work begins with an expressive melody to which Prokofiev adds some fast-moving countersubjects. A second theme follows, a broad legato melody in the Tchaikovsky-Rachmaninoff tradition that had been quite alien to Prokofiev’s earlier style. A third idea, introduced staccato (short, separated notes) by the woodwind and bells, is more in character with the old Prokofiev. These three ideas provide the material for a mostly lyrical and contemplative movement.

The second movement is a scherzo with many waltz elements. It starts with a leisurely Allegretto tempo that increases into Allegro and even Più mosso (“Faster”). The trio (middle section), by contrast, is more laid back, with its muted violins and sensitive oboe solo. At the return of the scherzo-waltz, a new variation is added where the theme is reinforced by the brass. After a varied repeat of the trio, the waltz returns and develops into a frantic closing section so that the climax of the movement comes at the very end.

The third-movement Andante espressivo is again based on two contrasting ideas. The first is of a legato character, emphasizing long melodic phrases that reminded at least one commentator of Friar Laurence’s music from Romeo and Juliet. The second idea is staccato and uses rhythm as its primary propelling force. The two ideas are then combined, and the legato melody returns, played by the solo flute accompanied by piano and harp. A quiet brass chord (a major triad with a pungent major seventh) closes the movement.

The finale is full of typical Prokofievian humor, recalling the upbeat days of Lieutenant Kijé, among other manifestations of the composer’s lighter vein. (According to Ukrainian conductor Kirill Karabits, this is a march of the young “pioneers,” or members of the children’s organization of the Communist Party.) The fun and frolic are, however, interrupted, as the broad Romantic theme from the first movement returns, followed by the staccato theme from the same movement. The music clearly takes a more mysterious turn at this point; the tempo slows down and the former cheerfulness gives way to a more solemn atmosphere. Prokofiev was “persuaded” to replace this ending with a more optimistic one; and in those days, “persuasion” was merely a euphemism for coercion. So he wrote an alternative ending, barely 20 seconds in length, in which the happy “pioneers’ march” returns.

In his 1998 book on Prokofiev, British musicologist Daniel Jaffé tells the tale of the two endings, based on recollections by the great cellist-conductor Mstislav Rostropovich, a close friend of Prokofiev’s during the composer’s last years: 

Prokofiev was convinced–by Samosud, according to Rostropovich–to write a much more upbeat end in order to win a first rather than a third-class Stalin Prize. Prokofiev told Rostropovich he did so in order to gain the much-needed 100,000 rubles: “But Slava, you will live much longer than I, and you must take care that this new ending never exists after me.”

Prokofiev’s Seventh was received positively at the premiere, although the composer never did receive the hoped-for Stalin Prize, any class. Instead, the work was posthumously awarded a Lenin Prize in 1957. By then, it had already started its international career, with a U.S. premiere given by Eugene Ormandy and The Philadelphia Orchestra in April 1953–one month after the composer’s death.

—Peter Laki