Sergei Prokofiev Free Sheet Music, Program Notes, Recordings and Biography

The Prodigal Son of Soviet Music

In 1914, the final examination at the St. Petersburg Conservatory was a momentous event. Graduating students typically performed a classic concerto to showcase their mastery. But Sergei Prokofiev, a spiky, supremely confident 23-year-old already known for his provocative music, had other ideas. He informed the stunned faculty he would be playing his own work: the explosive, percussive, and ferociously difficult Piano Concerto No. 1. The conservative professors, including his former teacher Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, were aghast at the "cubist" cacophony. Yet, the performance was so electrifying, so undeniable in its power and originality, that they were forced to award him the Anton Rubinstein Prize, their highest honor. This single act perfectly defined the man: an audacious original, a master of his craft who played by his own rules, even when it put him on a collision course with the establishment.

The Enfant Terrible of St. Petersburg

Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev was born on April 27, 1891, on a rural estate in Ukraine. A pampered only child, his musical gifts were nurtured from birth by his mother, a talented amateur pianist. He composed his first piano piece at age five and an opera at nine. Recognizing his prodigious talent, his parents arranged for the composer Reinhold Glière to spend two summers tutoring him. At the astonishing age of 13, Prokofiev arrived at the St. Petersburg Conservatory with four operas, two sonatas, and a symphony in tow.

He found the conservatory curriculum stifling, and his arrogance and sharp wit did not endear him to his teachers or fellow students. He was, however, a brilliant student who absorbed everything he needed from his studies. It was during this time that he began to develop his signature style, characterized by motoric rhythms, sharp dissonances, lyrical outbursts, and a touch of sardonic humor. Early works like the "Scythian Suite," with its barbaric, pagan-inspired energy, and the famously wild Piano Concerto No. 2, caused riots and scandals, cementing his reputation as the enfant terrible of Russian music. At the same time, he could produce a work of elegant wit like his "Classical" Symphony, a pitch-perfect homage to Joseph Haydn that showed his deep connection to tradition.

Revolution and a Flight to the West

The Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 threw Russia into chaos. Prokofiev, an artist, not a politician, decided he could not compose in the midst of such turmoil. With the official blessing of the new regime's Commissar for Education, he set out for the West, traveling through Siberia to Japan and finally to the United States. He arrived in New York expecting to be hailed as a celebrity, but found the American musical scene more conservative than he anticipated. While he had some successes, he struggled to gain a foothold.

In 1920, he moved to Paris, which would be his base for the next decade and a half. Here, he was more at home among the artistic avant-garde, working with the great impresario Sergei Diaghilev and his Ballets Russes. He composed several major works during this period, including the opera The Fiery Angel and the monumental Piano Concerto No. 3, a brilliant synthesis of his percussive and lyrical styles that became one of his most popular works. Yet, despite his fame, he always felt like an outsider, a Russian composer in exile. He felt his creative wellspring was drying up away from his native soil.

The Prodigal Son Returns

Beginning in the late 1920s, Prokofiev began making concert tours to the Soviet Union, where he was welcomed as a cultural hero. The Soviet authorities, eager to claim a composer of his international stature, offered him commissions and promised him ideal working conditions. Contrasting the adulation he received in Moscow with his perception of dwindling interest in the West, and perhaps naively underestimating the true nature of Joseph Stalin's regime, Prokofiev made a fateful decision. In 1936, he and his family relocated permanently to Moscow.

Initially, the move seemed a tremendous success. Freed from the pressures of his émigré life, he entered a period of astonishing creativity. He produced some of his most beloved and enduring masterpieces, including the enchanting symphonic fairy tale for children, Peter and the Wolf (1936), and the magnificent ballet score for Romeo and Juliet (1938). The latter, filled with unforgettable melodies like the powerful "Montagues and Capulets" (Dance of the Knights), is now considered one of the greatest ballet scores ever composed.

Life Under Stalin: Triumph and Tragedy

Composing in the Soviet Union meant navigating a treacherous and unpredictable political climate. The doctrine of "socialist realism" demanded that art be accessible, optimistic, and supportive of the state. While Prokofiev tried to adapt, his individualistic style often put him at odds with the authorities. His relationship with the state was a rollercoaster of triumph and condemnation. He produced patriotic cantatas and film scores, including the celebrated music for Sergei Eisenstein's film Alexander Nevsky.

During World War II, he composed some of his most profound music, including his epic opera based on Tolstoy's War and Peace and a trilogy of piano sonatas (Nos. 6, 7, and 8), now known as the "War Sonatas." These works captured the anxiety, violence, and heroism of the era with stunning power. However, as the war ended, the state's grip on the arts tightened. In 1948, in what became known as the Zhdanov Decree, many of the Soviet Union's leading composers—including Prokofiev, Dmitri Shostakovich, and Aram Khachaturian—were officially denounced for "formalism," a vague charge for writing music that was deemed too modern or complex for the common people. The public humiliation was a devastating blow to the proud Prokofiev, exacerbating his already failing health.

Later Years and Posthumous Legacy

Prokofiev spent his final years as a semi-recluse at his dacha outside Moscow, his music rarely performed and his income drastically reduced. He continued to compose, producing works of great beauty like his Symphony-Concerto for Cello and Orchestra and the Seventh Symphony, which won a Stalin Prize.

In one of history's most poignant ironies, Sergei Prokofiev died of a cerebral hemorrhage on March 5, 1953—the very same day as his longtime tormentor, Joseph Stalin. The dictator's death consumed the nation's attention entirely. Prokofiev's passing went almost unnoticed; only a handful of mourners could attend his funeral, as the streets were cordoned off for Stalin's rites. For decades, his music, particularly from his Soviet period, was viewed with suspicion in the West. Today, however, he is rightfully recognized as one of the titans of 20th-century music, a composer whose vast and varied output is defined by its melodic genius, rhythmic vitality, and profound emotional depth.

Section 4: References and Further Reading

References and Further Reading

• Nice, David. Prokofiev: From Russia to the West, 1891-1935. Yale University Press, 2003.

• Morrison, Simon. The People's Artist: Prokofiev's Soviet Years. Oxford University Press, 2009.

• Prokofiev, Sergey. Sergey Prokofiev: Diaries 1907-1933: Prodigious Youth. Translated by Anthony Phillips. Cornell University Press, 2008.

• Jaffé, Daniel. Sergey Prokofiev. Phaidon Press, 2008.