Okay, so I know this blog is a little bit of a self-indulgence, but bear with me. My favorite cello concerto (and yes, I have a favorite cello concerto) is the one whose name is typed out in the title, and whose name I do not wish to have to retype ever again. This piece, in my opinion, is one of the best and most under appreciated concertos I know. So I'm actually very excited to dissect it, which I've never tried before.
The entire movement is about ten minutes long, which is a very average length for a concerto movement. I also know that Prokofiev wrote two versions of this concerto; one was a bit simpler than the other for less talented musicians. Fortunately, the one I heard live was the more complex version.
The opening starts with some simple but dissonant short notes from the winds, and then BAM! The cello breaks loose and all goes silent, save for the soloist breaking into a chromatic scale, then gliding across the strings as violently as conceivable and hitting as many notes in one beat as can possibly be fathomed. After a while, it simplifies into a beautiful and haunting melody, but retaining its power. Then it basically continues on its power trip from the beginning, with some lighter sections thrown in for dynamic means. But my absolute favorite part is about six and a half minutes when the orchestra drops away completely and the soloist attacks the cello, completely exposed, harmonic stretches and all. For that minute and a half of time, my mind just marvels at the skill of the player and most importantly, the composer's bravado for including this section. Believe it or not, this piece makes me think about the way people approach life.
Think about it: many of us go into our adult lives as sharks in a fish tank, attacking everything we see in order to gain the best advantage at success we can. I know I have every intention of being tough and cutthroat when I get out into the "real world". But I wonder if Prokofiev is unconsciously portraying a message that we can interpret as, "the one who attacks life goes at it as a soloist, with no accompaniment to hide their mistakes".
And then I wonder, is that really what I should want? All success and no wiggle room for slip ups, and also no people who I've become connected to in order to get to where I've gotten? I know it's a somewhat cliche thought, the meditation on love versus respect. But Prokofiev's piece brings it up in a surprising new way for me. Because in his time, this was probably not an issue. So then I wonder, is my mind just trying to tell me something? Because obviously he did not mean to make this statement in his work... Is this all like current dream theory, which states that they have no meaning beyond what we infer from them?
To be honest, what I'd really like to know is what other people think about everything I've mentioned. I'd like to think that I won't go through life as a soloist, but I really won't know which path in life is right for me to take until it's way to late to turn back and switch. Who knew Prokofiev could make us think so much? I certainly didn't.
Here's a link to the best YouTube performance of this movement I could find. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyTkvFMvPnc&feature=related
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