Uploaded November 2015 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
- Composer: Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev (23 April 1891 -- 5 March 1953)
- Orchestra: Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra
- Conductor: Gennady Rozhdestvensky
- Year of recording: 1965-1967 (?)
Symphony No. 6 in E-flat minor, Op. 111, written between 1944-1947.
00:00 - I. Allegro moderato (E-flat minor)
13:14 - II. Largo (A-flat major)
27:33 - III. Vivace (E-flat major)
The symphony, written as an elegy of the tragedies of World War II, has often been regarded as the darker twin to the victorious Symphony No. 5 in B-flat major. Prokofiev said of the symphony, "Now we are rejoicing in our great victory, but each of us has wounds that cannot be healed. One has lost those dear to him, another has lost his health. These must not be forgotten."
In 1945, Prokofiev had an accident, a fall caused by a heart attack, resulting in a brain concussion. He later suffered a stroke and would be plagued with ill health for the remaining eight years of his life. Prokofiev was no longer able to conduct, and composing became increasingly difficult. He did, however, manage to continue working until his death, and began working on the Symphony No. 6 not long after the accident. The work was actually sketched out in the summer of 1945, but other projects demanded the composer's time, and the symphony was not orchestrated until two years later. The work shares an opus number with Beethoven's last piano sonata, and Prokofiev, profoundly influenced by Beethoven and specifically by the Op. 111 sonata, is said to have considered dedicating this symphony to Beethoven. The Symphony No. 6, though, owes more to Prokofiev's earlier symphonies than to Beethoven; it is especially close to the composer's own Fifth Symphony. The two works are almost identical in instrumentation, and are similar in texture and character.
The Symphony No. 6 is a work in three movements, instead of the usual four. The form suggests the pre-Classical sinfonia, a work with two fast outer movements and a slow middle one.
- The symphony begins with an Allegro moderato movement in sonata-allegro form. For an opening movement however, it is a little grim, with nostalgic themes and a recurring funeral procession. Nonetheless, the lyricism that one associates with some of Prokofiev's music is still present.
- The second movement is a Largo, and the mood of the opening movement is maintained through dark timbres, solemn thematic material, and subdued dynamics.
- In the third movement, a quick Vivace, the work brightens considerably as Prokofiev uses dance rhythms and a march to invigorate the final themes. Themes from the opening movement return recontextualized in a coda as the work draws to its conclusion. The composer himself commented on the austerity of the first movement and on the similarities between the third movement of this work and the style of the Symphony No. 5.
In 1948, the Central Commission of the Communist Party condemned of most of the leading Soviet composers, accusing them of decadence. Prokofiev, however, was lucky: due to his ill health and to his lack of involvement in any official organizations, he suffered less than his colleagues. Though the Symphony No. 6 was not among those singled out for condemnation in 1948, he was hardly in favor with the Party. Ten years later, however, Prokofiev was "posthumously vindicated," and his favorable evaluation restored.
- Composer: Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev (23 April 1891 -- 5 March 1953)
- Orchestra: Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra
- Conductor: Gennady Rozhdestvensky
- Year of recording: 1965-1967 (?)
Symphony No. 6 in E-flat minor, Op. 111, written between 1944-1947.
00:00 - I. Allegro moderato (E-flat minor)
13:14 - II. Largo (A-flat major)
27:33 - III. Vivace (E-flat major)
The symphony, written as an elegy of the tragedies of World War II, has often been regarded as the darker twin to the victorious Symphony No. 5 in B-flat major. Prokofiev said of the symphony, "Now we are rejoicing in our great victory, but each of us has wounds that cannot be healed. One has lost those dear to him, another has lost his health. These must not be forgotten."
In 1945, Prokofiev had an accident, a fall caused by a heart attack, resulting in a brain concussion. He later suffered a stroke and would be plagued with ill health for the remaining eight years of his life. Prokofiev was no longer able to conduct, and composing became increasingly difficult. He did, however, manage to continue working until his death, and began working on the Symphony No. 6 not long after the accident. The work was actually sketched out in the summer of 1945, but other projects demanded the composer's time, and the symphony was not orchestrated until two years later. The work shares an opus number with Beethoven's last piano sonata, and Prokofiev, profoundly influenced by Beethoven and specifically by the Op. 111 sonata, is said to have considered dedicating this symphony to Beethoven. The Symphony No. 6, though, owes more to Prokofiev's earlier symphonies than to Beethoven; it is especially close to the composer's own Fifth Symphony. The two works are almost identical in instrumentation, and are similar in texture and character.
The Symphony No. 6 is a work in three movements, instead of the usual four. The form suggests the pre-Classical sinfonia, a work with two fast outer movements and a slow middle one.
- The symphony begins with an Allegro moderato movement in sonata-allegro form. For an opening movement however, it is a little grim, with nostalgic themes and a recurring funeral procession. Nonetheless, the lyricism that one associates with some of Prokofiev's music is still present.
- The second movement is a Largo, and the mood of the opening movement is maintained through dark timbres, solemn thematic material, and subdued dynamics.
- In the third movement, a quick Vivace, the work brightens considerably as Prokofiev uses dance rhythms and a march to invigorate the final themes. Themes from the opening movement return recontextualized in a coda as the work draws to its conclusion. The composer himself commented on the austerity of the first movement and on the similarities between the third movement of this work and the style of the Symphony No. 5.
In 1948, the Central Commission of the Communist Party condemned of most of the leading Soviet composers, accusing them of decadence. Prokofiev, however, was lucky: due to his ill health and to his lack of involvement in any official organizations, he suffered less than his colleagues. Though the Symphony No. 6 was not among those singled out for condemnation in 1948, he was hardly in favor with the Party. Ten years later, however, Prokofiev was "posthumously vindicated," and his favorable evaluation restored.

![Maurice Ravel - Piano Concerto for the Left Hand
- Composer: Joseph-Maurice Ravel (7 March 1875 28 December 1937)
- Orchestra: Orchestre de la Société des Concerts du Conservatoire
- Conductor: André Cluytens
- Soloist: Samson François
- Year of recording: 1959
Piano Concerto in D major (for the left hand), written in 1929-1931.
Between 1929 and 1931, Ravel, despite his failing health, worked feverishly, his imagination as powerful as ever. Among the works completed during this period are the two piano concertos: this extraordinary work and the scintillating Piano Concerto in G major [uploaded on this channel].
This concerto was commissioned by the prominent Austrian pianist Paul Wittgenstein, brother of the celebrated philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, who had lost his right arm due to a wound sustained in World War I. It is indeed a tragic irony that Ravel, who also served his country in World War I, and Wittgenstein were enemies in this terrible conflict. Nevertheless, Ravel, fascinated by the technical challenge of composing a concerto for the left hand, approached the project with immense interest and enthusiasm. In addition, Ravel admired Wittgensteins determination to continue his career as a concert pianist. Piano works for the left hand were certainly not a novelty, as compositions by Scriabin, Alkan, Godowsky and Lyapunov attest, but Ravel wanted to create a unique work which would not merely demonstrate how a pianist can compensate for a physical handicap. He wished to compose a work which would stand out as a unique piano concerto. The outcome of Ravels efforts is one of the great piano concertos of the twentieth century.
However, the Concerto, completed in October or November of 1931, failed to please Wittgenstein, who only gradually developed an appreciation for Ravels work. Furthermore, when the Austrian pianist premiered the work in Vienna, in 1932, he took certain liberties with the score, to the composers extreme consternation. Despite Ravels frustration, he conducted the orchestra in Wittgensteins Paris premiere of the Concerto in 1933. Because Wittgenstein had sole rights on the work for six years, Ravel had to wait until 1937 to hear a performance (by Jacques Février), which satisfied him.
The work, which is really in one movement, begins deep in the bass register, with the contrabassoon, along with the basses, presenting a subdued theme, which elicits a mournful response from the horns. The initial mournful mood is gradually, almost imperceptibly, transformed into an insistent, somewhat manic, musical idea. The piano enters with a simple statement, creating pentatonic resonances, which disappear, but remain in the background. As the initial somber atmosphere lifts, the piano gradually establishes a mood of exquisite lyricism, which pervades the middle section. Ravels writing is so subtle and technically ingenious that the listener hears a gentle melody with a hypnotically diaphanous, but seemingly elaborate, accompaniment; it is easy to forget that one hand does all the playing. The energy behind the third section, in which the piano engages the orchestra, often mimicking particular instrumental sonorities, profoundly differs from the wave-like, fluid, ascending motion of the Concerto in G major; here, the energy is discontinuous, manifesting itself in obstinate, repetitive figurations and phrases which, if only for brief moments, conjure up the spirit of his Boléro. At the same time, Ravel devotes truly marvelous pages to the piano, particularly in the cadenza-like part of the final section, in which the left hand leads an engaging and richly developed melody into a glowing orchestral finale.
The piano concerto is dedicated: à Paul Wittgenstein. Maurice Ravel - Piano Concerto for the Left Hand](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gjiSSWubIuU/mqdefault.jpg)



![Lili Boulanger - Psalm 24 La terre appartient à lÉternel
- Composer: Marie-Juliette Olga Lili Boulanger (21 August 1893 15 March 1918)
- Orchestra: BBC Symphony Orchestra
- Choir: BBC Symphony Chorus
- Accompaniment: Simon Preston (organ)
- Conductor: Nadia Boulanger
- Year of recording: 1968
Psalm 24 for chorus, orchestra & organ, written in 1916.
Referring to Lili Boulangers Psalm 24, Psalm 129 (1916), and Psalm 130 (Du fond de labîme; 1914-17), Christopher Palmer noted, The composers best work is to be found in the three psalm-settings; together they form a triptych of epic proportions. With those works, Vieille Prière Bouddhique (1917), and Pie Jesu [uploaded on this channel], dictated on her deathbed to her sister Nadia Boulanger, in 1918, deserve to be included. While their power and originality are startling especially emanating from a frail and chronically ill young woman who died at 24 and there is no denying Boulangers precocious genius, those final masterpieces emerged from a background of unpublished choral Psalm settings made between 1907 and 1909, that is, beginning in her 14th year, if not earlier.
Using the Psalmist as the mouthpiece for a startling truculence was not new Florent Schmitts gargantuan Psaume 47, dating from 1904, is the fountainhead of the genre, while the figure of Salomé, whether in Strauss opera (1905) or Schmitts incidental music-cum-symphonic poem (1907-1910), led the way to the gamy expressive possibilities of hoary Biblical lore seen through contemporary eyes and garlanded with quasi-oriental glees. Boulanger was au courant and certainly knew those works, but a certain fastidiousness, a taste for Debussy-esque atmospherics, and above all a mystical vein emerging in glowing contrast to often strident trenchancy lift her music beyond the realm of hot musical properties and blockbuster crudities to a demesne of the incisively exquisite.
Psalm 24, for instance, justifies its brevity by the potent succinctness of its ideas. Drums setting off clamorous fanfares highlight declamatory choral assertions of godly authority (The earth is the Lords and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein...) before yielding to a brief but ecstatic tenor solo (He will receive blessing from the Lord, and vindication from the God of his salvation) whose serene promise of benediction conveys a sense of imminent expectation. The note of martial triumphalism returns for one of the grandest passages of the Psalms Lift up your heads, O gates! and be lifted up, O ancient doors! that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts.... This is worked to a brief again, succinct conclusion rounded with a conventional cadence. The obverse faces of the divine, majesty and beneficence, are suggested by the sparest of forces, those instruments usually accompanying French worship: drums, brass, harps, and organ. Lili Boulanger - Psalm 24 La terre appartient à lÉternel](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/iGr7iq1YN_Y/mqdefault.jpg)




