It is often remarked that Prokofiev’s music started out spiky, and became more lyrical and harmonically conservative later on—especially after his return to Russia in the mid-1930s. While many of the earlier works are angular (e.g., the Scythian Suite) and many of the later works (e.g., Romeo and Juliet) are unabashedly melodious, there are also plenty of pieces that defy this categorization. For example, the Classical Symphony and Violin Concerto No. 1 are both early works, but their tunefulness is undeniable. And late works like “War Sonatas” show that the punchy, dissonant strain never really went away.
For me, it is the very presence of these divergent tendencies that makes Prokofiev’s output so interesting. The lyrical aspect of his writing is exemplified by Romeo and Juliet, op. 64—one of the great ballet scores of the twentieth century. Unless you are watching the actual ballet, however, I think the best way to hear the music is to listen to the three Suites. There has been some criticism about the Suites’ relationship to the plot (as the numbers are out of order), and some conductors have chosen to make their own arrangements of the highlights. What ultimately matters is the memorable music, which is fully capable of withstanding scrutiny even when divorced from the theatre context: the ardent string lines in the “Balcony Scene”, the characterful wind solos in “Juliet as a Young Girl” and “Friar Laurence”, the drama of “Death of Tybalt” and “Montagues and Capulets”. It’s all splendid.
Although he often composed for the stage, Prokofiev could also be quite introspective. The String Quartet No. 1, op. 50, which ends slowly and quietly, is likely underrated for this reason. Prokofiev is not really known as a chamber music composer. While it is true that he didn’t write much music for small ensembles, the works that he did finish are generally excellent. The Quartet begins with a taut, extroverted first movement, but it leaves us on a sombre note.
As does the Violin Sonata No. 1, op. 80. The finale starts with an animated idea in alternating, asymmetrical metres but comes apart, returning to the spectral violin scales and bell-like piano chords that conclude the opening movement. Prokofiev himself described the music as “wind passing through a graveyard”; fittingly, the first and third movements (the third is a mostly dreamy interlude, though it also ends darkly) were played at his funeral. Colourful anecdotes aside, the Sonata is one of Prokofiev’s finest pieces—a testament to his compositional mastery, as well as a memento of the gloom and dread pervading Soviet society in the late 30s and early 40s.
As mentioned earlier, the “War Sonatas” for piano (Nos. 6-8, Op. 82-84) are proof that Prokofiev’s later music is not all soft-edged. These are forceful and frequently dissonant works. Listen, for instance, to the clash of major and minor—over a stomping tritone bassline—at the beginning of the Sixth Sonata. Or the frenetic finale of the Seventh.
To conclude on a lighter note, I recommend the Classical Symphony (a.k.a. Symphony No. 1, Op. 25). The Symphony has long been one of Prokofiev’s most popular works, and it is easy to see why. Its tone is bright and uninhibited. The composer’s hallmark lyricism and rhythmic acuity are there in spades. And even though the Symphony is self-consciously inspired by Haydn and Mozart, the style is unmistakably that of Prokofiev himself—just refracted through the lens of Viennese classicism. It is no eighteenth-century pastiche (or “Bach on the wrong notes”, as Prokofiev once put it).
In sum, what makes Prokofiev great (and indeed what makes many of the other “greats” great) is his combination of versatility with distinctiveness. At first glance, the works that I’ve mentioned may seem like a rather diffuse collection. But close listening will show the through line. Although the world—musical and political—changed dramatically over the course of Prokofiev’s lifetime and he adapted his style to different contexts, he never abandoned the core characteristics that make his music, early and late, so potent.