Prokofiev Symphony 3

Aside from having been published consecutively, there isn't much to link Prokofiev's Waltz Suite, Op. 110, with his Symphony No. 6, Op. 111. The waltzes are delightful, charming, elegiac, a little bit creepy, but always ingratiating. The Symphony No. 6 is powerful, lyrical, tragic, very scary, and always monumental. The only thing they really have in common is Prokofiev's skill as an orchestrator and his powerful idenity as a composer. In this 1994 recording by Theodore Kuchar and the National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine, both works are fully characterized and completely compelling. The waltzes are fey and affectionate with dancing rhythms and enchanting melodies. The symphony is massive and frightening with achingly beautiful themes and deeply tragic structures.

Beyond all argument, Prokofiev's Symphony No. 5, Op. 10, is his biggest, his grandest, and his greatest symphony, a massive and monumental work that celebrates the triumph of all that is decent and virtuous over all that is depraved and immoral. But while Prokofiev's symphonic suite The Year 1941, Op. 90, is perhaps not his loudest and dumbest symphonic work, it is as bathetic, as bombastic, and as banal as the Symphony No. 5 is good, decent, and virtuous. The great thing about this disc is that both works are on it and both works get the best possible performances from Theodore Kuchar and the National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine.

If Prokofiev's Symphony-Concerto for cello and orchestra and Shostakovich's Second Concerto for cello and orchestra had heretofore seemed to be late works shot through with nostalgia and bitterness, that's certainly entirely understandable. Rostropovich, the works' dedicatee who gave both their world premieres, played them that way in his recorded performances and most subsequent cellists have naturally followed his lead.

These symphonies, recorded between 1984 and 1985 have justifiably dominated the Prokofiev catalogue both individually and as a set ever since. The combination of Jarvi at a particularly vibrant time in his recording career coupled with a rejuvenated Scottish orchestra and both truthfully balanced and enhanced by Chandos' outstandingly clear recording technology makes for a potent mix. All the symphonies are very rewarding musically with the probable exception of the second which earned a famous critical comment from the composer himself - see below.

Prokofiev’s Symphony No 3 is dedicated to Myaskovsky and first performed by the Orchestre Symphonique de Paris on 17 May 1929. It is one of Prokofiev’s most intense works, unleashing a barrage of confrontational energy that carries with it as much relentless forward momentum as pulverising anxiety. ‘I had never before felt anything similar when listening to music,’ remarked Prokofiev’s colleague, the pianist Sviatoslav Richter, on hearing the piece; ‘it felt to me like an apocalypse’.

Chandos’s previous Prokofiev series, recorded in the 80s with Neëme Järvi and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, is still probably the most recommendable complete cycle available. Chandos now seem to feel the need to start again, the reason possibly being that they are now using ‘authentically’ all-Russian forces. Whatever the company’s motivation (or if indeed it is to be a complete cycle), the results are impressively powerful, and the coupling stimulating and generous.

The third album on The Cleveland Orchestra’s label follows the ‘old-new’ pairing of their previous release, showcasing recordings of Prokofiev and Schnittke that cover both pre- and post-pandemic music making.

The three works gathered here date from Sergei Prokofiev's last years. Despite his declining health as well as the oppressive political climate, the composer could count on the support of great musicians, in particular the cellist Mstislav Rostropovitch. The relationship contributed to the writing of works for cello. The first was the Symphony-Concerto, an improved reworking of a much earlier cello concerto.