About Me
"Alexander Nikolayevich Scriabin, the noted Russian composer, was born on Christmas Day and died at Eastertide -- according to Western-style calendrical reckoning, 7 January 1872 - 14 April, 1915. No one was more famous during his lifetime, and few were more quickly ignored after his death. Although he was never absent from the mainstream of Russian music, the outside world neglected him until recently. Today, there is worldwide resurgence of interest in his music and ideas.
Scriabin wrote five symphonies, including the Divine Poem (1903), the Poem of Ecstasy (1907), and the Poem of Fire or Prometheus (1909). His ten piano sonatas are staples of many pianists' repertoire, with the Fifth being perhaps the most popular, while the Seventh (White Mass) and Ninth (Black Mass) follow close. Vladimir Horowitz in his late sixties began playing the Tenth, and it remains today in vogue among more daring virtuosi.
Scriabin's hundreds of preludes, tudes and poems are considered masterpieces of 20th century pianism, and his "titled" pieces such as Fragilit, Satanic Poem, Etranget, Dsir, and Caresse Dans, are greatly admired. Scriabin's style changed enormously as he progressed. The early pieces are romantic, fresh and easily accessible, while his later compositions explore harmony's further reaches. It is thought by scholars, that had Scriabin lived beyond his brief 43 years, he would have preceded the Austrian school of duodecaphony, and Moscow would have become the center of atonality.
Immediately upon Scriabin's sudden death, Sergei Rachmaninoff toured Russia in a series of all-Scriabin recitals. It was the first time he played music other than his own in public. In those days Scriabin was known as a pianist and Rachmaninoff was considered only as a composer. Scriabin, thus, was posthumously responsible for his friend and classmate's later pianistic career in Europe and America.
Scriabin's thought processes were immensely complicated, even tinged with solipsism. "I am God," he once wrote in one of his secret philosophical journals. He embraced Helen Blavatsky's Theosophy. In London he visited the room in which Mme. Blavatsky died. Scriabin considered his last music to be fragments of an immense piece to be called Mysterium. This seven-day-long megawork would be performed at the foothills of the Himalayas in India, after which the world would dissolve in bliss. Bells suspended from clouds would summon spectators. Sunrises would be preludes and sunsets codas. Flames would erupt in shafts of light and sheets of fire. Perfumes appropriate to the music would change and pervade the air. At the time of his death, Scriabin left 72 orchestral-size pages of sketches for a preliminary work Prefatory Action, intended to "prepare" the world for the apocalyptic ultimate masterpiece. Alexander Nemtin, the Russian composer, assembled those jottings and co-created the Prefatory Action. Its three vast movements have been performed with great acclaim under conductors Cyril Kondrashin in Moscow and Vladimir Ashkenazy in Berlin with Alexei Lubimov at the piano."
-Scriabin Society of America's Bio on Scriabin
Scriabin says:
I am God.
How you will envy me. You bemoan the fact that you cannot find new words for love and caresses. l have, though, and oh, what words they are! When I see you, I will speak them to you, which means I will play them for you. I have never made such love before.
Ruling omnipotently over the earth
Come all peoples everywhere
To Art.
Let us sing its praises
I would not have perished without Koussevitsky, but he surely would have without me.
You allow yourself to talk this way to me! You forget art. We are artists. We create it, and you, you merely fidget and strut about its edges selling it. Without us who would want even to know you? You would be less than... than nothing on earth!
Scriabin's response to Diaghelev when he told Scriabin that he could have easily had noone show up for the performance of the "Great Russian Historical Music (from Glinka to Scriabin)"
In love's godlike breathing, there's the innermost aspect of the universe.
My 10th Sonata is a sonata of insects. Insects are born from the sun... they are the sun's kisses.
Etokatastrofa!
-Scriabin's words when he found out the pimple on his had turned into a furnacle and was leading blood poisoning.
Scriabin's views on other artists:
Not even the tragic break with Georges Sand could precipitate a new note in Chopin's creations... He was overpowered by nationalism; it was too deeply rooted in him...
Trash!
-Scriabin's view on Prokofiev
Boiled ham!
-Scriabin's view on Rachmaninoff's work
Minimum of creativity. How busy his Petrushka is. It's a toy, a plaything. What a mass of insolence... minimum tvorchestva.
-Scriabin's view on Stravinsky and his work
Quotes about Scriabin:
My god and idol... I loved him to distraction... charming elegance, the air of fine breeding... Lucidly serene and restfully calm... not only a composer, but an occasion for perpetual congratulation, a personified festival and triumph of Russian culture.
-Boris Pasternak
When Scriabin played the Fifth Sonata, every note soared. With Rachmaninoff, all the notes lay on the ground. This performance caused considerable agitation. Alchevskii, the tenor, a friend of Scriabin's, cried out, 'I'm going backstage to tell him how it should be played!' "I tried to be objective, and pointed out that although we were used to Scriabin's own playing and preferred it, obviously there were other possible interpretations and performances. I held him by the coattails, but was dragged along to the artist's room where he grabbed Rachmaninoff. After the explosion, I tried to soothe the ruffled Rachmaninoff by saying, 'All the same, Sergei Vassilievich, you played it very well.' Rachmaninoff froze in his tracks, and replied icily, 'You, and you thought I could play badly?
-Prokofiev's description of Rachmaninoff's performance of the Fifth Sonata and what took place that evening
Our bitterest musical enemy.
-Shostakovich's view on Scriabin's music
Scriabin is the singing of a falling moon. Starlight in music. A flame's movement. A burst of sunlight. The cry of soul to soul... a singing illumination of the air itself, in which he himself is a captive child of the gods... All his music is light itself.
-Balmont's description of Scriabin's musicIt is not a piano he plays, but a beautiful woman, and he caresses her."
Yet another of Balmont's descriptions
Scriabin always said that everything within his later compositions was strictly according to 'law.' He said that he could prove this fact. However, everything seemed to conspire against his giving a demonstration. One day he invited Taneyev and I to his apartment so he could explain his theories of composition. We arrived and he dilly-dallied for a long time. Finally, he said he had a headache and would explain it all another day. That 'another day' never came.
-Faubion Bowers
Scriabin comes so close to the twelve-note system that it seems probable he would have taken it as the next logical step.
-Ellon Carpenter
And finally, anecdotes about Scriabin:
The notoriously absent-minded composer Alexander Scriabin once arrived at a party wearing a pair of brand new rubber boots. Some time later, he returned from the party wearing old boots.
Of particular interest in this case are two remarkable facts:
1) Scriabin was not excessively drunk.
2) The boots which Scriabin left with... did not match!
Alexander Scriabin was notoriously absent-minded. His publisher, Belaiev, often tried to persuade him to pay closer attention to detail in his compositions. He also lost so many gloves, umbrellas, and other articles that he finally instructed his family to give him nothing that had not been purchased second-hand...
One day Scriabin received two letters - one from Rimsky-Korsakov and one from Liadov - playfully berating him for his inattentiveness. He was not amused and promptly set to work composing lenghthy replies explaining himself. Several days later, he received a second letter from Liadov; enclosed was Scriabin's letter to Rimsky-Korsakov!
