Prokofiev - Piano Sonata nr. 6

Spurred by the percussive firestorm unleashed by Helffer in his Bartok recital, I turned for a moment to one of my favourite sonatas, the Prokofiev Sixth. It's interesting to turn to this music after a rather prolonged diet of Bartok. Whilst the Prokofiev in its vehemence and occasional dissonance is not exactly easy listening, it struck me as quite digestible fare. I had a similar, stronger feeling when, a few years ago, I switched from Bach's keyboard works to Shostakovich symphonies. Suddenly these sounded like child's play!

It's obvious that Bartok put higher demands on the listener than Prokofiev. Bartok's music is so dense and absolute that it requires full attention to grasp it. And one cannot. Which is why it takes me so long to explore this body of work. And why I have the impression of a deepening mystery the more I listen. It's almost paradoxical how Bartok's folk-based inspiration meshes with an aura of almost jewel-like precision and absoluteness. Whilst Prokofiev's indulgence with an abstract form such as the sonata merely seems to disguise a musical temperament that is quintessentially dramatic and most convincingly flowered in film music, ballets and operas.

That being said, the three War Sonatas are a splendid body of work and I marvel at the amazing bout of inspiration that brought him to write these sonatas all at the same time in these stormy days of 1939. The reference to war, however, is not totally justified as Russia at that point was still not in conflict. But it was a tumultuous period, for sure, with Stalin's iron brooms causing untold suffering. Meyerhold was arrested in the very days when Prokofiev was working on the sonatas, and was shot a few months later, in 1940. However, as with Shostakovich it is impossible to tell to what extent the sonatas reflect Prokofiev's despair with the dramatic situation in Soviet society in those days.

The Sixth Sonata doesn't strike me as a particularly tragic work. The two middle movements - Allegretto and Tempo di valzer lentissimo - remind me of Lt. Kije and Romeo & Juliette, respectively. The first movement is, admittedly, martial, but the finale is mischievous rather than rebellious. At least that's how it strikes me when listening to two of the versions in my collection. The Pogorelich is a justly famous recording, and I have always loved it for its panther-like leanness, its brittleness and uncompromising clarity. But the early digital sound is dated and a little monochrome on the ears. Maybe the remastered version in the The Originals is better. Another great interpretation comes on the debut-disc of the Macedonian pianist Simon Trpceski (taped in 2001). It's very different from the Pogorelich. Maybe because Trpceski included it in a recital with other ballet scores - a transcription of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker and Stravinsky's Petrouchka - the Sixth sounds here a good deal lusher and more colourful. The impression is reinforced by the wonderful, rich sound of his instrument recorded in Potton Hall (which we have come to appreciate from the Belcea Quartet's recordings). But the reading is about more than only colour. Trpceski certainly has the measure of the larger structure.

The Sixth also featured on another debut recording, from the late 1960s, by the Brazilian pianist Roberto Szidon. (What happened to him? Judging from a few thumbnail pictures floating around on the web, he has put on a lot of weight). I only listened to the finale, which sounded Richter-like in its clenched-teeth concentration. But the record is in dire need of a KM treatment, so I'll revisit when I have it back from cleaning.

What is missing of course is a genuine Richter Sixth. There are some amazing tapes on the internet, but I wouldn't know where to find them in the record catalogues. Maybe JD will be able to help out here?