Overview
Introduction
Alexander Scriabin completed his 2 Preludes, Op. 67 in 1913. These murky, brief works add up to slightly more than two minutes in total duration. They constitute a strange aside for the composer, who was prone to outbursts of ecstatic, adventurous harmonies. Between the two wisps of music the first movement, Andante, is almost turgid, but not boring, and demands further hearings. The second prelude of this set, Presto, is just over a half minute long, and, while hardly mercurial, picks up the pace only slightly. These works are not in keeping with the general output of Scriabin, but they do have an explicable place among the late works. The Russian composer's sound was synonymous with the musically colossal in his day, as well as mystical and perhaps quite insane. These movements are not the works of a deranged mind, nor are they colossal. The mold of the composer's visionary pretensions somehow became less fixed in the last years of his life. (He died of an infection in 1915.) His catalog suggests that it became clear to him that if his did not write something that was free of his distracting, eccentric persona, he would be forgotten. Acting insane was a large part of Scriabin's career. Like Dali, it kept him among the topics of conversation in his day, though Russia was a more difficult place to extend an international career from. Nonetheless, the diminutive Russian's conduct fired the imagination of many listeners, with his bigamy and crazed programming, which often included colored lights and incense. The early work had a cosmic largeness to it, but most of what he was doing was only almost as original as his almost original persona. He was clearly capable of astounding things; with no university training, he taught himself how to be a world-class composer. In spite of his small stature and hands, he wrote works that were of unprecedented difficulty and could play them as well as the rest of the piano repertoire. Essentially, his was an exceptionally gifted person, but his eye-popping insanity, which may or may not have been genuine, was directing his work down a path that was more grandiose than lasting. Finally, late in life, works such as his 2 Preludes reveal an original voice that emerges from natural originality, rather than the will to be original. The egomania is absent, the work itself is free of fireworks, very hard to play, and would not strike anyone as revolutionary at first. But nothing else sounds like these preludes. No one else could have written these absorbing gems, which show a sensitive understanding of piano literature's history. They demand a sober imagination and tender rewards for the alert listener. Few people will discover these preludes early on, but they count among the more valuable finds of those interested in early twentieth century chamber music.
Parts/Movements
- Andante
- Presto
