A rhythmic detail in Scriabin’s Sonata no. 6
Emil Medtner (1872-1936), critic, writer and conservative, brother of the composer, wrote press criticisms of Scriabin that could be fairly harsh, especially as regards a lack of physical strength in the sound, under the pseudonyms of ‘Wolfing’ and Э. For example (Muzyka IV.38, March 2 1913):
Without even mentioning the fact that Scriabin’s gifts do not correspond to [the demands of] the Great Hall of the Nobles’ Society [now the Hall of Columns in the building still known as the House of Unions, with a façade on Okhotnyi Ryad] one can say with assurance that his gifts are not suitable either to certain definable pieces in excessively fast tempi (obviously to the seventh sonata) or to pieces demanding a big sound.[But later in the review:] By the end of the evening, Scriabin seemed to have mastered the instrument to the extent that some things even scintillated (Etrangeté, PoèmeSatanique, played incomparably from the point of view of the rhythm, which was iron-hard to the point of ecstasy).
‘Э’ spoke less harshly of Scriabin the composer. In Modernism and Music (1912) he distinguishes between “modernists” and “Innovators”: the second group, he said, “only partly broke the bounds of tradition”. In presenting a copy of the book to Scriabin he referred to tradition periphrastically as “that higher will which unites us who think differently.” The Sixth Sonata was written in 1911–12, and certainly was the most startling piano work of Scriabin up to that point. A small detail in the coda, which might suggest itself more readily to minds (and hands) accustomed to playing the Chopin études as well as the later Scriabin repertoire, gives an example of how radical rethinking of simple means gives an effect which is entirely new.
Here, nearly at the end of the sonata, is the “delirious dance” into which “Terror” merges, the famous place where Scriabin writes a top d which the keyboard doesn’t contain, but which is demanded by the harmony (the first chord of m. 365 is identical with the second chord of m. 366 – all these chords are formed from segments of the octatonic scale . )
One of the difficulties is co-ordinating the left-hand rhythm with the right. Both should be light, the right-hand chords like crisp snow, the left a muffled steady tread. The left should be heard to play in a steady three to the right hand’s four (notated as two bars of two beats). A sure-fire method for early-stage practice will be to count 1,2,3,4,5,6,/1,2,3, 4,5,6/etc. for the left hand’s three and 1,2,3,4,5,6/ for the right hand’s four. Medtner’s ‘iron to the point ofecstasy’ should apply here in the rhythm.
While the pianist is engaged with this task, the study by Chopin in E minor op. 25 no. 5 may come to mind – the middle, major mode section.
Chopin Etude op 25 no 5 E min. mm. 81–84. Schirmer/Mikuli
Here, as in the Scriabin example, the right hand has four groups of three in the same time as the left hand’s three groups of four. It does not sound as a cross-rhythm, except a little in the fourth bar, but it comes over clearly as such if the pianist is practising the right hand part in chords (which brings it closer to the Scriabin example.) There is, of course, a further difference. In accordance with the Symbolist principle of suggesting rather than revealing, Scriabin’s left hand plays in hemiola (1,–,3,/–,2,–) etc) – as in a deux-temps waltz, the famous episode in the Schumann piano concerto finale for example. Thus a principle (a favourite word of Scriabin’s which he always pronounced as in French) was transformed, remoulded, to produce something to which applies another favourite expression for Scriabin: ‘A new nastroenie’ [mood, atmosphere].
With thanks to Professor Wei-Ling Cheong who endorsed this idea at an early stage.
Any and all subsequent errors are of course mine.
Simon Nicholls