Symphony No. 1 in D major, Op 25 was designated “Classical Symphony” by Prokofiev when it premiered in 1918, in Petrograd. “Neo-classical” would be more appropriate. Prokofiev said it was a symphony “that Haydn would compose if he lived today”. There are no quotations from Haydn in the work, however, and the melodies are unmistakably Prokofiev, with his usual sardonic humour. The work must be hard for a conductor to interpret, because the three recordings I have all feel rather different. I have two vinyls: one by Jean Martinon, which is performed at breakneck speed, and an old Soviet recording by Gennady Rozhdestvensky which is done a little more respectfully. On CD, I have Neeme Järvi’s set of the complete symphonies, with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. I find this one the most satisfying.
Like most of Prokofiev’s music, the symphony is intellectually stimulating, but calls up no unambiguous emotions. Are the folk-dance-like polonaise and gavotte meant to put across innocent pleasure, or are they sarcastic? Tonalities shift like quicksand in a supposedly simple “classical” form. Prokofiev was a psychological puzzle to everyone who knew him, and to his biographers. He gives the impression of a man overstuffed with talent, but unable to think of some clear purpose to pursue with it. His incredibly stupid return to the Soviet Union, only to serve as one of Stalin’s docile slaves, is perhaps one of the most bizarre choices ever made by a creative artist. But that lay long in the future from this youthful first symphony, in which he attempted, successfully, to inhabit both the 18th and the 20th centuries.
0 Comments.