Alexander Alexander Scriabin

As a composer of orchestral music, Alexander Scriabin is best known for his last two idiosyncratic symphonies, the Poem of Ecstasy and Prometheus: The Poem of Fire, which are essentially symphonic poems, not symphonies in the conventional sense. The Symphony No. 1 (1900) and the Symphony No. 2 (1901), however, are more recognizable as symphonies in their multiple-movement forms, and their durations are comparable to the expansive symphonies of Scriabin's contemporary, Gustav Mahler. They also share the post-Romantic tendency toward Wagnerian harmonies, rhapsodic melodies, and lush orchestration, which, in Scriabin's case, were developed to express heightened emotional states and mystical transcendence. This 2016 double SACD by Valery Gergiev and the London Symphony Orchestra presents each of the symphonies on its own disc, and the high-quality multichannel sound is ideal for bringing across the subtle nuances of tone color and the shifting of dynamics that are characteristic of his style.]

It may seem unlikely that Nikolai Roslavets would have consciously composed works in imitation of Alexander Scriabin, so that both composers would have pieces that could be matched up, title for title, as they are on this album by pianist Anya Alexeyev. But once one hears the music, the influence of Scriabin is obvious and omnipresent, so such a gesture on Roslavets' part as naming and numbering his pieces after Scriabin's doesn't seem farfetched. Roslavets' Two Poems, Five Preludes, and Three Etudes correspond to the identically named Scriabin works, which are paired here, and …….

Blair Sanderson @ Allmusic

Complete sets of the Scriabin sonatas are not as unusual as they once were (e.g., Ashkenazy, Laredo, Hamelin, Szidon, Taub, Kasman). Austbo makes his contribution as well. Those who like a more docile timid approach to the sonatas will like Austbo's versions. Even in the fortissimo parts Austbo, at times, seems to play "quietly"; he plays with little volume.

With this final volume in their three-album series of the symphonies of Alexander Scriabin, Vasily Petrenko and the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra present the Symphony No. 1 in E major, Op. 26, and Prometheus: The Poem of Fire, Scriabin's last completed orchestral work, sometimes referred to as the Symphony No. 5 in F sharp major, Op. 60. These works bookend the cycle, yet they are quite different in style and form. The six-movement Symphony No. 1 was completed in 1900, and inhabits the lush sound world of Wagner, so the languid melodies, constantly modulating harmonies, and rich orchestral sonorities suggest something of the fin de siècle nostalgia of late Romanticism.

In this first volume of Alexander Scriabin's symphonies on the LSO Live label, Valery Gergiev and the London Symphony Orchestra begin in media res with the Symphony No. 3, "Le Divin Poème," and the Le Poème de l'extase, which is unofficially counted as the Symphony No. 4. These works date from Scriabin's middle period (ca. 1902-1908), which marks a transition from his youthful Romantic phase to his final visionary works. The Symphony No. 3 reflects a lingering attachment to the symphonic conventions which influenced Scriabin's first two symphonies, particularly in its three-movement structure and relatively clear tonal scheme, though it already hints at the organic development and greater harmonic complexity of the single-movement Le Poème de l'extase, which strains the boundaries of form and key. These effusive works demand a calculated control that may seem at odds with their volatile and languorous expressions, though Gergiev and the London Symphony Orchestra deliver the music with rhythmic precision and focused tone colors to bring across Scriabin's kaleidoscopic soundworld with brilliance.

Since his 2007 Cleveland International Piano Competition victory, Alexander Ghindin has attracted attention for the powerful technique, wide dynamic range, and ardent temperament he brings to Russian repertoire, as this Scriabin recital amply bears out. The various Poèmes are massively textured, generously pedaled, and generally quite spacious in relation to, say, Pascal Amoyel's chaster, more classically proportioned interpretations.

Gergiev's is a Rite of Spring with a difference. He stresses the primitive barbarism of Stravinsky's groundbreaking score–the strange wheezings of the winds, the wild yawps of the tubas, and the deep rumblings of the bass drum. It's a Rite that stands out at a time when so many internationalized western orchestras give the piece an overlay of sophisticated polish that can rob it of the shock factor that drove the audience at the Paris premiere to riot. There are also numerous personal touches that can be controversial, such as the pause before the final chord, which may bother some but which work in the context of the interpretation. Gergiev's Rite faces strong competition from recorded versions by Markevitch, Dorati, Monteux, and Stravinsky himself, but it's definitely among the top choices. The Scriabin's less compelling, though still fascinating. Gergiev's approach tends to sound sectional, as the overall line is subordinated to momentary thrills. –Dan Davis