Prokofiev’s “Classical” Symphony

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.

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