The Philosopher and the behind ’s Early Piano Music

by Xuefei Liu

A thesis submitted to the Moores School of Music, Kathrine G. McGovern College of the Arts in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Musical Arts

in Piano Performance

Chair of Committee: Paul A. Bertagnolli

Committee Member: Tali Morgulis

Committee Member: John L. Snyder

Committee Member: Todd Van Kekerix

University of Houston May 2021 2021, Xuefei Liu ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to make a brief comment on the history of my research and I am grateful to those who have influenced or helped me along the way. My first exposure to Scriabin’s music came from my first piano teacher back in China, Mr. Xu Ning, who assigned me the Etude in C-sharp minor, op. 42, no. 5. During my undergraduate years, I came to admire Vladimir Horowitz’s performance of the Etude in D-sharp minor, op. 8, no. 12, recorded at the famous Carnegie Hall recital in 1968. The profoundly expressive harmonies and the dazzling tone colors of this music were a source of endless fascination to me. Through my study over the years, I became familiar with other works of Scriabin, and I have learned and performed many of his works.

I would like to express my sincerest thanks to my supervisor, Dr. Paul A. Bertagnolli and all members of my research committee, Dr. Tali Morgulis, Dr. John L. Snyder, and Dr.

Todd Van Kekerix for their patience and advice during this journey. I have been fortunate to have a committee with a vast amount of experience and knowledge in all fields relevant to my thesis. In the early stage of my research, I worked with Dr. Barbara Rose

Lange, and I am extremely grateful for her support. Without their guidance, this thesis would not have come to fruition. I would also like to thank the staff at the Moores School of Music Library, especially Ms. Madelyn Shackelford Washington, who helped me with research materials during the Covid-19 pandemic.

My heart-felt thanks to all my applied teachers throughout my college years, Dr. Tali

Morgulis, Mr. André-Michel Schub, and Dr. John Olsen. My debt to them is evident

iii throughout. For the challenge and inspiration of their teaching and scholarship and for their generosity and concern as friends I shall always be grateful. Without their support this thesis might not have been completed.

Last but not least, I wish to thank my parents and family for their love and encouragement, without whom I would never have enjoyed so many opportunities. To my many friends, you should know that your support and encouragement was worth more than I can express on paper.

iv ABSTRACT

Analyses of Alexander Scriabin’s (1872-1915) music and discussions of his spiritual beliefs typically center around his middle and late periods, which started after 1903. By contrast, musicians often designate the music of his early period before 1903 as late-

Romantic because it follows the footsteps of Frédéric Chopin. This thesis will argue that

Scriabin’s early compositions share many influences that are generally associated with his later music. Scriabin’s emerging philosophical interests are essential to an understanding of his early compositions. In addition, as an accomplished pianist and performer, Scriabin’s performance style also influenced his compositions and provides vital insight into his individual convictions. This thesis will draw on Scriabin’s piano roll recordings and recollections of his performances, as well as letters and notebooks of

Scriabin, memoirs from Scriabin’s students, and reviews of Scriabin by his contemporaries to show a strong connection between Scriabin’s early music and his spiritual beliefs.

v TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... iii

ABSTRACT ...... v

TABLE OF CONTENTS ...... vi

LIST OF FIGURES ...... viii

LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES ...... viii

Introduction ...... 1

Chapter 1: Biographical Context and Developing Philosophy...... 4

Further Studies and Early Career ...... 7

Scriabin’s Spiritual Beliefs and Developing Philosophy...... 11

Conclusions ...... 16

Chapter 2: Philosophy in Scriabin’s Performance Practice ...... 17

Scriabin’s Russian Musical Education ...... 17

Scriabin as Performing Pianist and Teacher ...... 20

Scriabin’s Piano Rolls...... 25

Rubato ...... 27

Dynamics ...... 37

Pedaling ...... 38

vi Articulation and Phrasing ...... 40

The Philosophy Behind Scriabin’s Performance ...... 44

Conclusion ...... 49

REFERENCES ...... 51

APPENDIX A: Scriabin’s Piano Roll Recordings ...... 53

vii LIST OF FIGURES 2.1 Tempo changes per half note in Alexander Scriabin’s Welte-Mignon piano roll recording of the Prelude, op. 11, no. 1 (1910) ...... 27

viii LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES 2.1 Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 33-48. Tempo changes in performance. Scriabin, Welte-Mignon piano roll recording, 1910 ...... 29 2.2 Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 1-3. Tempo changes in performance. Scriabin, Welte-Mignon piano roll recording, 1910 ...... 30 2.3a Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 1, mm. 1-2. Notations in the score ...... 32 2.3b Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 1, mm. 1-2. Rhythmic alterations in Scriabin’s performance ...... 32 2.4a Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 7-10. Notations in the score ...... 33 2.4b Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 9-10. Rhythmic alterations in Scriabin’s performance ...... 33 2.5a Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 62-64. Notation in the score ...... 34 2.5b Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 63-64. Rhythmic alterations in Scriabin’s performance ...... 34 2.6a Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 14, m. 18. Notations in the score ...... 35 2.6b Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 14, m. 18. Rhythmic rendition in Scriabin’s performance ...... 35 2.7a Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, m. 13-16. Notations in the score ...... 41 2.7b Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11 no. 2, m. 16. Articulations in Scriabin’s performance . 41 2.8a Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 19-24. Notations in the score ...... 41 2.8b Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, m. 24. Articulations in Scriabin’s performance ...... 42 2.9 Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 37-40. Articulations in Scriabin’s performance ...... 42

ix Introduction

The music of the Russian pianist-composer Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915) is the product of a special and complex mind. Scriabin’s obsession with his own spiritual beliefs earned him a reputation in history as an eccentric, but his philosophy also had a significant impact on his performance style and compositional process. Russian musicologist Boris de Schloezer discerned a “special relationship between his philosophy and his artistic aims,”1 which is most noticeable in the works of Scriabin’s middle and late periods. Analyses of Scriabin’s music and discussions of his extra-musical convictions typically center around these two complex periods, which began after 1903.

By contrast, musicians often overlook the music of his early period before 1903 because its late-Romantic style follows in the footsteps of Frédéric Chopin. A few studies of his early music focus on analysis without considering its philosophical influence. However, despite the fact that Scriabin’s early music sounds superficially more traditional than his later music, it laid the foundations for his transcendent style in the middle and late periods. As Schloezer observed, “Scriabin realized very early in life that his art was completely integrated with his philosophy.”2

This thesis will argue that Scriabin’s early compositions share many influences that are generally associated with his later music. Scriabin’s emerging philosophical

1 Boris de Schloezer, Scriabin: Artist and Mystic, trans. Nicolas Slonimsky (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 56. 2 Schloezer, 101.

1 interests are essential to an understanding of his early compositions. The nineteenth- century Russian social environment, cultural influences, and his personal experiences all contributed to his artistic growth. In addition, as a skilled pianist and performer, he inherited the traditions of the Russian piano school. As a result, Scriabin’s performance style influenced his compositions and provides important insight into his spiritual beliefs.

Drawing on Scriabin’s piano roll recordings and recollections of his performances, as well as letters and notebooks of Scriabin, memoirs from Scriabin’s students, and reviews of Scriabin by his contemporaries, this thesis will argue that there is a stronger connection between Scriabin’s early music and his spiritual beliefs than has been previously acknowledged. Aspects of Scriabin’s playing style, as recorded in the piano rolls that he made between 1908 and 1910, likewise suggest that his philosophical beliefs inspired his early works, and not just his later compositions.

Chapter 1 will examine the biographical and philosophical setting of Scriabin’s life and career before 1900 using translations of Scriabin’s notebooks, his letters, and personal recollections of his close acquaintances. Russian cultural trends, such as

Mysticism and Symbolism, were present in in the late nineteenth century, and they also influenced the development of Scriabin’s early philosophical beliefs.

Chapter 2 will focus on Scriabin’s performance practices as a pianist during his early years. The context of this topic will include the traditions that Scriabin acquired from his teachers and from his studies at the . Reviews of

Scriabin’s performances and teaching provide information on his pianism. Additionally,

2 the piano roll recordings that Scriabin made for Welte-Mignon and Phonola player pianos provide more details on his performance style. Aided by a metronome, my aural analysis of Scriabin’s recordings of Preludes, op. 11, nos. 1, 2, and 14 will not only expose the attributes of his unique performance style, but also demonstrate the connection between his performances and his spiritual beliefs.

3 Chapter 1: Biographical Context and Developing Philosophy

Musicians often label Scriabin’s early compositions as late-Romantic and regard them as stylistically different from his later works. Most of his early works sound like pieces that in the style of Chopin.3 Many compositions have titles which Chopin used, such as mazurkas, preludes, nocturnes and so on. By contrast, the music he completed from 1903 onward has universally been considered more progressive and more obviously influenced by Russian artistic movements such as Mysticism and Symbolism. Scriabin’s own distinctive type of mystical philosophy also impacted his compositions after 1903.

However, this thesis will argue that Scriabin’s personal life, social environment, and spiritual beliefs also influenced his music before 1903.

Proof that Scriabin’s philosophy was already developing in the last decade of the nineteenth century appears in Scriabin’s personal documents and in recollections by his close acquaintances. Moreover, artistic movements such as Mysticism were emerging in

Russia in the late nineteenth century, and they share many precepts with Scriabin’s later beliefs, indicating that Scriabin may have absorbed the ideas from the world around him over the course of many years. The mystic, modern Scriabin we think of today did not suddenly emerge in his works after 1903. Instead, the foundations of his philosophy and musical style were already present in his earlier works, but as his career progressed, his

3 Hugh Macdonald, Skryabin (London: Oxford University Press, 1978), 11-14.

4 ideas evolved in complexity. The beginnings of this evolution become apparent in an overview of Scriabin’s early life.

Early Biographical Context

An essential element of Scriabin’s mature philosophy was his belief in predestination. Scriabin believed that he was chosen to transform humanity through music. Contributing to the idea of destiny is Scriabin’s date of birth, which is significant for the mystical element that became prominent in his music and personal beliefs.

Scriabin lived from December 25, 1871 to April 14, 1915 according to the Julian

Calendar (from January 6, 1872 to April 27, 1915 according to the new calendar).

Christmas Day is important in Christian mysticism, and it is probably for this reason that

Scriabin wrote in an incomplete draft of a letter from March 1914, “I have the pleasure of telling you that I was born on the 25th of December.”4 Since did not officially adopt the new calendar until 1918, which is after Scriabin’s death, it makes sense to accept Christmas Day as his birthday and to acknowledge the mystical meanings that he associated with this day. It is nonetheless interesting that in a natal chart completed by

Scriabin’s daughter Marina, she used the new calendar date of January 6 to determine

Scriabin’s personality and creative style through astrology.5

4 Faubion Bowers, Scriabin: A Biography of the Russian Composer, 1871-1915 (Tokyo: Kondansha International Ltd., 1969), 1:110. 5 Marina Scriabin, “An Astrological Study on the Natal Chart of Alexander Scriabin,” in Scriabin: Artist and Mystic, by Boris de Schloezer, translated by Nicolas Slonimsky (Berlin: Grani, 1923; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 21.

5 During his childhood, Scriabin’s inherent musical ability became increasingly apparent. Scriabin was raised by his aunt, Lyubov Alexandrovna Skryabina, as his mother suffered from poor health and died when he was only one year old. Aunt Lyubov brought

Scriabin to (1829-1894), one of the great Russian of the nineteenth century, who listened to Scriabin perform and improvise. He confirmed the young Scriabin’s natural talents: “perfect pitch, exceptional memory, outstanding ability to imitate anything by ear.”6 According to Aunt Lyubov, Scriabin was obsessed with music from such a young age, already foreshadowing his later obsessive personality traits.

In his youth, most of the people in Scriabin’s life encouraged and even adored his musical abilities. Aunt Lyubov took Scriabin to concerts in Moscow, rented him a piano every summer, and seemed interested in all aspects of his musical development.7 His teachers also gave Scriabin preferential treatment. When Scriabin enlisted in the Cadet

Corps from 1882 to 1887, the director released him from hard work and instead asked him to play the piano every day. While receiving piano lessons from

(1832-1893), Scriabin became his favorite student. When Scriabin prepared to enter the

Moscow Conservatory in 1888, Vassily Safonoff (1852-1918) allowed him to skip the entrance exam, gave additional lessons to Scriabin, and publicly praised Scriabin’s

6 Bowers, 114. 7 A. Eaglefield Hull, A Great Russian Tone-Poet: Scriabin (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., Ltd, 1916; repr., New York: AMS Press, Inc., 1970), 22-28.

6 pianism.8 Scriabin’s friends and even casual acquaintances admired his performances and early compositions. The constant admiration, Scriabin’s natural inclination towards music since childhood, and knowledge of his mystic birthday prove that Scriabin’s idea of predestination had already begun to influence him from an early age.

Further Studies and Early Career

Scriabin’s last year at the Moscow Conservatory was stressful. In the summer of

1891, Scriabin injured his right hand for the second time due to over-practicing.9 Doctors told him that it was no longer possible to pursue a career as a concert pianist, which led to his depression. Scriabin’s childhood had been troubled by his nervousness, and at the age of seven, he had been taken to a neurologist. The doctor assured Aunt Lyubov there was nothing specifically wrong, but Scriabin was subject to illness for the rest of childhood.10

The second hand injury only made his condition worse. Scriabin eventually recovered from the injury, but he worried about his hand throughout his career. Adding to this stress was a dispute between Scriabin and his composition professor, (1861-

1906). The incident took place in 1892 when (1873-1943) was allowed to graduate from the Conservatory after only four years of study because his teacher, (1863-1945), left the Conservatory. Scriabin asked for the same privilege, but Arensky refused. Scriabin was awarded only the Small Gold Medal for

8 Bowers, 132-35. 9 Bowers, 149. 10 Bowers, 113.

7 piano, in contrast to Rachmaninoff’s Great Gold Medal, after his final academic performance at the Conservatory. Scriabin left the Conservatory and graduated a year early with a diploma in piano, but not in composition.

In the spring of 1892, Scriabin began his professional musical career. From his graduation to the winter of 1897, he began composing more seriously. Over these six years, Scriabin was extremely productive. He also endured his first romantic love and heartbreak, made contacts that proved essential to his career, dealt with the frustration of his hand injury, and continued to be affected by his nervousness. He likewise firmly established his reputation as a professional composer and pianist. The majority of his famous and artistically mature works written before 1903 dates from these six years, during which he performed frequently and ventured on his first concert tour of Western

Europe. This period of productivity ended in the fall of 1897 when he married his first wife, Vera Isakovich.

One of the most important figures who significantly influenced Scriabin’s career was Mitrofan Belaieff (1836-1903). Belaieff was a leading music publisher in Russia during the last decade of the nineteenth century. He provided Scriabin with financial stability and facilitated Scriabin’s pursuit of a professional music career. Balaieff arranged opportunities for Scriabin to showcase his music, and to travel in Western

Europe. From May to August of 1895, Scriabin toured , Switzerland, and and composed numerous works, including some of the Preludes, op. 11, but he did not perform publicly. The following January, he went to Paris to launch his first concert tour

8 and made his Western European debut at the Salle Érard. He then traveled for the next few weeks and held concerts in various cities, including Brussels, Berlin, and

Amsterdam, before returning to Paris. Scriabin’s tours and surroundings gave him musical inspiration that stimulated his creativity.11

The first six years after graduating from the Conservatory were also full of romance and heartbreak. In 1891, Scriabin met the fifteen-year-old Natalya Sekerina while presenting a concert at the Conservatory. Falling in love, Scriabin spent time with

Natalya until her maid discovered a letter from Scriabin in March 1892. Informed of their relationship, Natalya’s mother disapproved of Scriabin’s affection for the young girl.12

However, Scriabin’s feelings did not disappear, and the couple continued to meet and write to each other. This romance again sparked Scriabin’s creativity. At the beginning of their relationship, he wrote a poem for Natalya and set it to music. This “Romance” is his only known song.13 Scriabin also wrote the Etude op. 8, no. 8 for her. The winter of 1893 saw the relationship in turmoil. Scriabin left a note to Natalya stating his pain: “Listen to this voice of a sick and tormented soul. Remember and pray for the man whose entire happiness is yours and whose entire life belongs to you.”14 The relationship ended when

Scriabin’s marriage proposal on December 12, 1895 was rejected because Natalya’s mother did not allow it. Most of the music that Scriabin composed from 1892 to 1895

11 Bowers, 194-225. 12 Bowers, 171. 13 Bowers, 173. 14 Alexander Scriabin, quoted in Bowers, 184.

9 was a result of this romance, the first in a series of problematic love affairs that had serious effects on Scriabin’s outlook. Thus, Scriabin’s first period of intense creativity was linked with thoughts of spiritual pain and religious consolation in prayer.

In 1896, shortly after Scriabin’s heartbreaking affair with Natalya, Belaieff arranged an overseas trip for him. Scriabin met another young girl, only known as

M.K.F., and proposed to her almost immediately. She accepted the engagement, and they spent time together while Scriabin was in Paris. He continued this relationship until

November of that year, when it became clear that her parents would not agree to the marriage.15 But by December, he fell in love again and proposed marriage to Vera

Ivanovna Isakovich, an accomplished pianist, against the advice of many friends. She nevertheless became Scriabin’s first wife a year later. This rapid succession of romantic relationships influenced Scriabin’s compositional output, fueling intense productivity and creativity during these years. But it also caused his close friends to express concern about his state of mind.16

Scriabin’s early compositions continued to be influenced by his nervousness, depression, and unstable mental state, partly due to his permanent hand injury, and partly due to his erratic romances. By 1896, Scriabin completed Etudes, op. 8; Impromptus, op.

7, 10, 12, and 14; Preludes, op. 11, 13, 15, 16, and 17. Scriabin wrote many long and personal letters to Natalya, confirming his mental turmoil. In a letter of 30 May 1893,

15 Bowers, 213-16. 16 Bowers, 227. Upon Scriabin’s returning to Moscow in 1896 after the first tour, Boris de Schloezer described his impressions of the composer’s frail and sickly appearance, and extraordinary nervousness.

10 Scriabin wrote, “What blackness I live in. The doctors have not yet given their verdict.

Never before has a state of uncertainty been such torture for me.”17 Despite this depression and instability, Scriabin had happy moments. The letters that he wrote while traveling, for example, show that nature often relaxed him and calmed his nerves. He was very happy when he visited his father in Europe in May 1895 and 1896.

In summary, Scriabin’s early professional activities and personal life played important roles in his artistic development. Belaieff provided him with opportunities and support for his emerging career. His hand injury and personal relationships affected his unstable emotional state, which influenced his musical decisions. For example, he was unable to decide on the publishing order of the preludes, as is indicated in his letters to

Balaieff. Scriabin’s compositional productivity during and between his first and second tours in Western Europe shows that he drew inspiration from his surroundings. In his early years, Scriabin’s artistic personality was beginning to establish traits that would remain important as he matured, and he was already using his music as an outlet for the expression of a troubled inner psychology.

Scriabin’s Spiritual Beliefs and Developing Philosophy

Another potential impact on Scriabin’s early works was his developing philosophy on life and art, which consumed him more and more as the years progressed. He believed

17 Scriabin, quoted in Bowers, 175.

11 that humanity would transcend its present existence and experience ecstasy through oneness with the Divinity, a task that he could accomplish through music. This philosophical outlook overtly influenced the music that he composed after 1903.18 In his unrealized Mysterium, for example, he envisioned a work which would unify “mankind in a single instant of ecstatic revelation.”19 However, the ideas had been germinating long before.

The main source of information on Scriabin’s philosophical beliefs is Scriabin:

Artist and Mystic, by Boris de Schloezer, a friend of the composer and brother of Tatiana

Fyodorovna Schloezer, who became Scriabin’s second wife in his later years. In this book, Schloezer offered many penetrating insights into Scriabin’s philosophical and mystical beliefs, based on his many conversations with the composer. Scriabin’s dream of uniting all humanity and achieving transcendence through his art appeared to be the main topic of their conversations. As Schloezer stated, “The difference between this early period, covering the last decade of the nineteenth century, and subsequent periods was that, although he [Scriabin] came to believe that the main purpose of his life was the realization of this dream, he did not initially limit this objective to a single work, such as the Mysterium, but attached equal significance to all his compositions.”20 Thus,

Schloezer confirmed that Scriabin was already contemplating his philosophy in the last

18 James M. Baker, The Music of Alexander Scriabin (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), vii. 19 Schloezer, 96. 20 Schloezer, 161.

12 decade of the nineteenth century, though without the directed purpose that he would develop more systematically in later years.

Many religious or philosophical movements in nineteenth-century Russia, including Symbolism, Messianism, and especially Russian Mysticism, influenced

Scriabin’s personal philosophy. Mysticism is an integral part of many religions in which people desire “to be one with ,”21 but the specific strain of Russian Mysticism entered its Golden Age during the nineteenth century. As radically new ideas spread from the West, the Tsars saw the Church as an essential tool for maintaining order, mainly among the Orthodox population. An expansion of monasteries across the country coincided with the rise of Mysticism and the dissemination of mystical concepts. Even though Scriabin left minimal evidence of his philosophy before 1900, his later beliefs shared many similarities with the earlier strains of nineteenth-century Russian Mysticism.

These similarities suggest that Scriabin’s psyche had already been influenced by nineteenth-century Russian Mysticism and that his philosophical beliefs were already developing in his early years.

Scriabin’s unfinished corroborates the early emergence of his Mysticism.

When Scriabin saw Schloezer in 1902, he had been working on the opera for two or three years. Only fragments of the libretto have survived, but Scriabin salvaged some of the musical material for other pieces.22 Scriabin explained his entire operatic vision to

21 Margaret Smith, An Introduction to Mysticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1977), 2. 22 Schloezer, 164.

13 Schloezer: the opera’s protagonist is a musician, poet, and philosopher who wants to create spiritual redemption and freedom through the “unification of all men in the spirit of joy.”23 The hero is a superman who could obtain universal joy through the power of his art. His ultimate joy is found in death, as Scriabin explained to Schloezer: “He dies in a state of ecstasy,” and this ecstasy is for the hero alone, because “only he can know bliss.”24 Scriabin’s operatic plot is plainly autobiographical: he is the protagonist who wants to foster spiritual redemption and freedom.

Another work that provides fuller insight into Scriabin’s creative ideas is the

Mysterium, conceived around 1902, while he was still sketching his opera. This project consumed him till the end of his life, but sadly, he never achieved his ultimate artistic goal of completing it. Therefore, the Mysterium exists as a philosophical concept rather than a musical composition. Nevertheless, information about the Mysterium derives from the text of the Acte préalable, which Scriabin started in 1914.25 These text fragments, representing a preliminary sketch of the Mysterium, show that Scriabin envisioned music that would unite all humanity with the Divinity and cause a transcendence of humankind to another state of existence.

By comparing the opera and the Mysterium, one can speculate on the nature of

Scriabin’s vision during his early period. In the opera, unity will be completed by the action of a protagonist, and this hero can achieve ecstasy in death by himself. The

23 Schloezer, 168. 24 Schloezer, 167-72. 25 Bowers, 270-77.

14 Mysterium instead transcends art through the unification of all humankind.26 In spite of the fifteen years that passed between the initial sketch of Scriabin’s opera and the unfinished Mysterium, the underlying theme of ecstasy through art and unity is essential to both projects.

The fact that the main ideology of the Mysterium is already evident in the opera indicates that many of Scriabin’s core beliefs were well-established by 1900. Scriabin devoted years of thought to the Mysterium before he sketched the Acte préalable, indicating that he meticulously formulated his ideas before committing them to paper.

Therefore, it is reasonable to argue that Scriabin composed his works before 1900 with his operatic philosophy in mind. Scriabin’s early philosophy was not entirely clear yet, but the fundamental beliefs were already developing.

Scriabin’s personal life in his early days was also integrated with his evolving philosophy. His intense nervousness and unstable mentality were possibly signs of a growing dissatisfaction with reality, as expressed in a fragmentary poem from 1887: “O country of visions! How different from this life/Where I have no place/But there, I hear voices…”27 Scriabin’s biographer, Faubion Bowers, claimed that the Prelude, op. 11, no.

4 embodies the thoughts of those words, but did not explain how.28 Perhaps Scriabin was already thinking of transcendence. Nonetheless clear is that Scriabin’s spiritual beliefs,

26 Schloezer, 167-74. 27 Scriabin, quoted in Bowers, 137. 28 Bowers, 137.

15 though not yet fully developed in his early years, were already pivotal to his artistic achievements.

Conclusions

During the first six years after graduating from the Moscow Conservatory in

1892-1898, Scriabin experienced a period of growth when he established a foundation for spiritual beliefs which he then developed over the course of many years. Not only did his close friend Boris de Schloezer testify to the early emergence of Scriabin’s philosophy in his earlier years, but nineteenth-century Russian Mysticism also seemingly contributed to the establishment of his beliefs. The desire to achieve the unification of mankind by creating a new form of existence and Scriabin’s idea that he was chosen for this task, as seen in his unfinished opera and work on Mysterium, reflected the ideas of Russian

Mysticism. Furthermore, his tumultuous personal life impacted his musical creativity and emotional state. All of these factors reinforce close connections among Scriabin’s early life, his emerging philosophy, and the compositions he completed before 1900.

16 Chapter 2: Philosophy in Scriabin’s Performance Practice

Scriabin is remembered today primarily for his eccentric ideology and his compositions that cross the boundaries of tonality, but during his lifetime he was also respected for his pianistic abilities. Many of his music instructors believed that his main strength was not in composition, but in performance. In the previous chapter, we examined his early spiritual beliefs and their impact on his musical creativity. This chapter will show that Scriabin’s performance practice is essential for a deeper understanding of his artistic intent and ideology during his early years. After examining

Scriabin’s Russian musical heritage, reviews, and memoirs, analyses of his piano rolls will reveal his highly individualistic piano style at the beginning of his career. In addition, this chapter will argue that there is a strong link between Scriabin’s philosophy and performance in his early music.

Scriabin’s Russian Musical Education

From an early age, Scriabin’s pianism displayed signs of individuality. He preferred playing by ear rather than reading music and learning technique. Despite this natural talent and resistance to formal training, Scriabin began taking lessons in 1883

17 with Georgy Konyus (1862-1933). Scriabin studied with Konyus until early 1884 and learned how to read music and play scales and some short piano pieces.29

Sometime in 1884, Scriabin began studying with (1856-1915), director of the piano department at the Moscow Conservatory and a prominent teacher.30

Taneyev, interested in teaching Scriabin only theory and composition, suggested that

Scriabin study piano with Nikolai Zverev (1832-1893), a renowned piano teacher in

Moscow. Due to Zverev’s popularity, he expected his students to be exceptionally talented, especially those who lived and studied with him for free. Scriabin joined this group, but on a part-time basis, as he remained a student in the Cadet Corps. However,

Scriabin became one of Zverev’s favorite pupils. According to Matthew Pressman, another of Zverev’s students, Scriabin impressed the class with his “genuine artistic maturity.”31 Since Scriabin’s formal piano studies had lasted less than a year before he was accepted by Zverev, the recognition of his mature musicality has more to do with his natural talent than with his training with his first piano teacher, Konyus.

Scriabin studied with Zverev and Taneyev for three years from 1884 to 1887, when he began to compose various works. Many of these pieces are incomplete, but the famous Etude in C-sharp Minor, op. 2, no. 1, was composed during this time. Zverev tried to dissuade Scriabin from composing, as he believed Scriabin’s future was as a pianist. Ironically, Zverev focused on Scriabin and overlooked Rachmaninoff, who was

29 Bowers, 113-28. 30 Bowers, 127-36. 31 Bowers, 132-35.

18 also a member of Zverev’s prestigious group. Under Zverev, Scriabin expanded his classical repertoire, especially the works of Chopin. He learned quickly but always played more by ear than by sight, and was recognized for technical strength, virtuosity, and musicality. As a teacher, Zverev insisted on the clear articulation of notes during practice. During this time, Scriabin first performed in front of professional musicians when Zverev invited him to play at a concert at the Conservatory in 1885.32

Scriabin officially entered the Moscow Conservatory in January 1888, instead of the first semester in September. The new head of the piano department, Vasily Safonoff

(1852-1918), accepted Scriabin without an entrance exam after hearing his concert in

1885. In 1888, Scriabin became a student of Safonoff, who was a skilled pianist, teacher, and crucial representative of the Russian piano school. Technical efficiency was important for Safonoff’s teaching. He emphasized supple hand position and smooth, fluid movements. Safonoff opposed a rough tone, loud forte, and “harshness,” instead promoting refined tone quality, touch, shading and phrase shapes, subtle nuances, and emotional expressiveness. Safonoff taught that good pedaling is necessary for achieving clarity and for producing different tone colors. Although Safonoff was demanding and strict, he encouraged individuality from each student.33

Scriabin often performed at concerts and seemed to be Safonoff’s favorite student.

In addition to the regular group piano classes, Scriabin received private lessons from

32 Bowers, 132-38. 33 Anatole Leikin, The Performing Style of Alexander Scriabin (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2011), 23.

19 Safonoff. According to fellow students, Safonoff favored Scriabin and ignored his creative idiosyncrasies. Other piano instructors also recognized Scriabin’s abilities, and in his first-year piano jury, a judge called Scriabin a “genius.”34 His Conservatory recital programs confirm his piano skills. His solo concert in January 1891 included a Bach

Prelude and , Mendelssohn’s Variations sérieuses, op. 54, Schumann’s Papillons, op. 2, a Chopin nocturne, etude, mazurka and scherzo, and Liszt’s Piano Concerto in E- flat Major.35 After graduation, he pursued an active career as a performer. He gave his first professional concert in Russia, toured Western Europe as a solo performer, and became a piano instructor at his alma mater. Although he played standard repertoire from

Bach to Chopin as a Conservatory student, his concert repertoire soon consisted solely of his own compositions.36 Scriabin continued performing his works with great success throughout his life.

Scriabin as Performing Pianist and Teacher

Scriabin’s exceptional teachers in Moscow and at the Conservatory contributed to his growth as a pianist of remarkable individuality. Reviews and recollections of

Scriabin’s piano performances reveal a distinctive style that fascinated audiences throughout his career. When Schloezer first met Scriabin in 1896, he was “deeply moved

34 Bowers, 140. 35 Bowers, 141-55. 36 Faubion Bowers, The New Scriabin: Enigma and Answers (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1973), 195.

20 by his piano playing, so unusual, so different from what [he] was led to expect.”37 After a concert in March 1902, Prince Trubetskoy said: “Scriabin is the first authentically

Russian composer to have discovered a piano style which matches his truly lyric music mood.”38 Later in Scriabin’s life, Konstantin Balmont wrote that when Scriabin “began to play, it was if he emitted light, he was surrounded by an air of witchcraft.”39 All of these observations identified Scriabin’s performing style as distinctive, original, and even supernatural.

Scriabin was known for his use of soft dynamics, although his scores often featured extreme fff markings. However, although he could generate power and brilliance when needed, he also managed to produce many gradations within a quieter range of volume. Scriabin used different touches to produce numerous tone colors as well. He was also recognized for playing complex pieces quickly and accurately with minimal physical movements or exaggerations.40 Many of these traits were encouraged by his teachers.

For example, the concepts of beautiful tone and diverse colors were taught by both

Safonoff and Zverev, as well as the importance of controlled and efficient technique.

Avoiding harsh sounds and employing economic and fluid movements were taught by

Safonoff. According to an 1896 review from Paris, Scriabin’s “playing exemplifies that peculiar and indefinable charm of the Slavs who are the greatest pianists in the world.”41

37 Schloezer, 53. 38 Sergei Trubetskoy, quoted in Bowers, Scriabin, 288. 39 Konstantin Balmont, quoted in Leikin, 5. 40 Leikin, 39-44. 41 Bowers, Scriabin, 213.

21 Although instruction improved Scriabin’s technique and touch, many other features of his playing were part of his natural and personal style, and he apparently had mastered these skills before his formal training. Using Scriabin’s nickname, Safonoff recalled that he “taught Sashkina many things, but he had his own rare and exceptional gifts—tonal variety, pedaling refinement . . . .”42 Scriabin’s preference for softer dynamics was also natural to his technique. When Scriabin began his lessons with

Konyus, “he played the piano neatly and fluently, but weakly.”43 A review of the premiere of Scriabin’s Piano Concerto stated that the “orchestra held the main role.

Perhaps this was due to Scriabin’s weakness of power.”44 Descriptions of Scriabin often use the words “weak,” “fragile,” “delicate,” or “nervous,” all suggesting a light touch that seemed to be something unique to his playing as well as something inherent in his physical and psychological constitution.45

Another characteristic of Scriabin’s style was his constant deviation from the written score, not only in terms of dynamics and pitch, but especially in terms of the unmarked rubato. Simply put, rubato refers to changing the tempo, which can be achieved in several different ways. Both Sandra P. Rosenblum and Clive Brown refer to two types of rubato, although they use slightly different terinology in their descriptions.46

42 Vasily Safonoff, quoted in Bowers, Scriabin, 144. 43 Georgy Konyus, quoted in Bowers, Scriabin, 127. 44 Review quoted in Bowers, Scriabin, 244. 45 Bowers, 213. 46 Sandra P. Rosenblum, Performance Practices in Classic Piano Music (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988), 361-93; Clive Brown, Classical & Romantic Performing Practice: 1750-1900 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 372-415.

22 One type of rubato is flexibility of tempo, which is obtained by changing the basic pulse.47 This includes lengthening or shortening a single beat, speeding up or slowing down from a few beats to a few bars, or completely changing the basic tempo for a larger section. The other type of rubato is a modification of one voice against a more stable second voice.48 This technique usually involves altering the rhythms of the right hand so they do not always synchronize with the more stable left hand, as seen in many of

Chopin’s compositions. For example, pianists usually stretch the right-hand melodic line and take time when the harmony changes, while the left hand acts like a conductor to keep the pulse going.

Belaieff noted that Scriabin had difficulty maintaining a steady rhythm, which sometimes resulted in confusing performances. When Scriabin expressed a desire to conduct, Belaieff was against it: “My conviction is that a conductor must be very stable in rhythm. . . . I have not felt this requisite rhythmicality in you.”49 César Cui called

Scriabin’s playing “arhythmical, and at times unclear.”50 Scriabin avoided giving metronome marking for his music, and once wrote to Belaieff about one of his

Impromptus: “I put metronome marks as you suggest, although it is virtually useless to do so. In the second, the tempo constantly changes.”51 Even Scriabin’s students

47 Rosenblum, 382. 48 Rosenblum, 373. 49 Mitrofan Belaieff, quoted in Bowers, Scriabin, 282. 50 César Cui, quoted in Bowers, Scriabin, 197. 51 Scriabin, January 4, 1895, quoted in Bowers, Scriabin, 194. Scriabin composed 6 impromptus, op. 10, op. 12 and op. 14 between 1894 and 1895. Bowers does not specify which of them is mentioned in Scriabin’s letter.

23 developed the “inability to play in time,”52 as teachers who listened to Scriabin’s students often commented.

Scriabin’s time as a professor at the Moscow Conservatory provides additional insight into his method of performance. One of his students, Maria Solomonovna

Nemenova-Lunz (1878-1954), wrote revealing memoirs about Scriabin’s teaching. She insisted that Scriabin did not have a great fortissimo sound. He taught that the “deepest forte must always sound soft.”53 He was very concerned about tone quality and opposed an aggressive sound. As with Sofanoff’s teaching, Scriabin had students repeat the note several times to experiment with different touches in order to produce different colors.

Scriabin encouraged imagination and creative interpretation. “‘Flight’ was one of his favorite terms, so was ‘fragrance.’ Later, he would say, ‘très parfumé,’ meaning make it fragrant with this or that feeling.”54 This description may seem bizarre, but it suggests that Scriabin visualized extra-musical events during his performance. Many of the pronounced aspects of Scriabin’s performance style as shown above—his diverse tone colors, refined pedaling, and especially his many gradations of soft dynamics and unmarked rubato—relate to the idea of an incorporeal transcendence, something outside the normal spectrum of piano playing that equates with something beyond the mundane.

52 Bowers, Scriabin, 288. 53 Bowers, Scriabin, 287-94. 54 Bowers, Scriabin, 292.

24 Scriabin’s Piano Rolls

Scriabin’s musical heritage, education, and first-hand accounts of his performances are helpful in understanding his pianistic style. However, reviews and memoirs can be influenced by subjectivity, and they rarely contain specific performance details. Fortunately, Scriabin made a substantial number of piano roll recordings that contribute to a more complete assessment of his playing. In 1908, he recorded for

Hupfeld in on their Phonola player piano, and two years later, he recorded for

Welte in Moscow on the Welte-Mignon.55 During these two sessions, Scriabin recorded nineteen of his compositions.56 Most of the Welte-Mignon rolls were transferred to modern recordings and issued by the Pierian Recording Society.57

Anatole Leikin has published a valuable study of Scriabin’s performing style. For his research, Leikin analyzed and reproduced Pavel Lobanov’s transcription of Scriabin’s piano rolls.58 By analyzing the perforations of the piano rolls, Lobanov determined the exact tempo, dynamics, and rhythm that Scriabin observed. The following analysis of

Preludes, op. 11, nos. 1, and 2 focuses on elements of rubato, dynamics, pedaling, different types of articulation, and phrasing to complement Leikin’s research. I will also add my analysis of Prelude, op. 11, no. 14 because Leikin does not provide an analysis of

55 Leikin, 7-12. 56 See Appendix A for the list of pieces that were recorded by Scriabin. 57 Alexander Scriabin: The Composer as Pianist, Pierian Recording Society 0018, 2003. 58 Leikin, 76-133, 152-273.

25 this prelude. These three preludes were chosen because they were composed before 1896 and are available on the CD from Pierian.

These enlightening recordings enhance our understanding of Scriabin’s playing style, as previously described, while providing additional information on Scriabin’s performance practices, especially three different types of rubato: tempo fluctuation, rhythmic alterations, and desynchronization of musical lines. The analyses will also illuminate Scriabin’s choices of dynamics, pedaling, articulation, and phrasing. Study of these recordings reveals how liberally Scriabin interpreted his compositions, divulging the true character of his music. Most importantly, these analyses also help establish a relationship between Scriabin’s performance style and his philosophical ideas.

Piano roll technology. Piano rolls are perforated paper which provides musical information to a playback machine called a player piano. Early player pianos only played notes automatically, requiring a person to add dynamics, tempo shifts, and pedaling. As the player piano evolved, some companies found ways for these expressive features to be played from perforations on the roll. The goal was a fully automated system that played with the sensitivity of a pianist. These machines were called expression pianos or reproducing pianos. Welte built the first of this kind of machine around 1901. They started to replicate performances of pianists and turned the performances into piano rolls.

It is important to know that the reproducing piano records the movement of the piano parts rather than the actual sounds made by the pianist.

26 Rubato. Leikin lists three types of rubato in Scriabin’s playing: tempo flexibility, modification of the actual rhythm, and desynchronization of voices.59 The first type of rubato is prominent in Scriabin’s Welte-Mignon rolls. Figure 2.1 shows the tempo fluctuations in the first Prelude. The metronome speed refers to the half note, which reflects the alla breve time signature. The tempo marking in Scriabin’s autograph and in the first edition refers to the quarter note, which, according to the Belaeiff first edition, is inaccurate and has accordingly been corrected. Throughout the whole prelude, the right hand plays quintuplet eighth notes, while the left hand plays parallel quintuplets, rests, or slightly longer notes. Each musical phrase consists of four or eight of these quintuplets.

Visually, this repetition seems rhythmically square, but Scriabin does not perform that way. For each quintuplet, he applies some unmarked tempo changes. Each phrase also has a distinctive tempo interpretation.

Figure 2.1: Tempo changes per half note in Alexander Scriabin’s Welte-Mignon piano roll recording of the Prelude, op. 11, no. 1 (1910)

59 Leikin, 56-33.

27 The graph above shows Scriabin’s constant, unmarked tempo flexibility during performance. He starts the piece with the metronome speed of 46 beats per minute for the half note, while the final speed reaches 116. Occasionally the tempo fluctuates in every two measures, as in the first fourteen measures. In other parts, however, Scriabin changes to a steadier speed, as in mm. 15-18, which remains consistently at 84. In measures 19-

21, Scriabin pauses between each quintuplet in the right hand, bringing the tempo down to 66. Sometimes he suddenly changes speed, as in m. 19, in which he expands the tempo from 84 to 66.

Scriabin often uses diverse, unmarked tempo flexibility within a phrase or period, as seen in mm. 33-48 of the Prelude, op. 11, no. 2. Example 2.1 notates Scriabin’s tempo fluctuations. The arrows indicate obvious accelerandos and ritardandos. He begins by stretching mm. 33-34 with a dramatic ritardando, but he rushes the last beat of m. 34 before taking a noticeably faster and more regular tempo for mm. 35-38. Then, in mm.

39-40, he applies another exaggerated ritardando. When the same material is transposed and restated in m. 41, Scriabin begins more quickly and further accelerates into m. 43. He reaches a high tempo of 204 at m. 45 before retarding drastically over mm. 47-48 to his low speed of 48.

28 Example 2.1: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 33-48. Tempo changes per half note in Alexander Scriabin’s Welte-Mignon piano roll recording, 1910.

Moreover, in addition to unmarked tempo flexibility, Scriabin rarely follows his specified tempo changes as expected. In op. 11, no.1, it is interesting to note that the only tempo changes marked in the score are an accelerando in m. 22 and an ambiguous rubato in m. 7. This is ambiguous because Scriabin does not use more tempo flexibility in this measure than he does in the first six measures. Therefore, it is unclear whether this rubato was his indication of rubato throughout the piece, or whether it was actually a marking added at the request of his editor, without reflecting his interpretation.

In op. 11, no. 2, the metronome speed in the score is 138 beats per minute for the quarter note. Scriabin clearly does not follow this marking, which confirms his previous remarks about metronome markings being useless. Scriabin’s disregard for his own

29 marking is also obvious at the rit. and at the a tempo found in mm. 2-3 of op. 11, no. 2

(Example 2.2). Scriabin starts m. 1 slowly, but quickly accelerates to the downbeat of m.

2 before slowing down at the rit. Therefore, Scriabin’s ritardando returns to the prelude’s initial speed after acceleration, rather than the typical interpretation of deceleration from the original tempo. At the a tempo in the next measure, Scriabin takes a new, faster tempo instead of returning to the first tempo. Every time this introductory theme comes back, he follows the same pattern.

Example 1.2: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 1-3. Tempo changes in performance. Scriabin, Welte-Mignon piano roll recording, 1910.

Scriabin’s occasional tempo markings could give a partial suggestion of his way of applying tempo flexibility, such as in mm. 1-7 of op. 11, no. 2. Although these elastic tempo markings do not continue for the rest of the piece, a performer can assume that a similar pattern applies when the opening theme returns in mm. 17 and 49. The tempo markings of the first seven measures were likely Scriabin’s way of indicating that the tempo was expected to fluctuate throughout the piece whenever the opening theme

30 reappears. Still, many of Scriabin’s compositions have few or no indication of tempo changes, and his recorded rubato goes well beyond any markings in his published scores.

Scriabin imagined his music and presented it in a way that ignored mere notation. He said, “that it was impossible to indicate everything in the score.”60 This quotation may substantiate his reluctance to include expression or tempo markings. In some cases,

Scriabin took a long time to complete a score because it was probably difficult for him to notate how he heard the music in his mind (and how he performed it himself). By constantly avoiding a steady tempo, Scriabin allows listeners to focus on changes in musical ideas, mood, style, or texture, rather than metrical structures. The sectional tempo changes also reflect changes in mood, style, or texture.

The second type of rubato that Scriabin uses is the alteration of his notated rhythm. This generally refers to lengthening a note and shortening the adjacent one to create a dotted effect. This technique is audible in the third and fourth quintuplets of op.

11, no. 1. Example 2.3a and Example 2.3b show the difference between Scriabin’s performance and his written score. In the recording, Scriabin lengthens the first eighth of these quintuplets to a dotted eighth and shortens the second eighth to a sixteenth. Scriabin also changes the first two eighth notes in m. 6 to the same dotted rhythm. In this example, the lengthening or shortening of notes helps emphasize the third note of the quintuplet which is the metrical beat.

60 Scriabin, quoted in Leikin, 4.

31 Example 2.2a: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 1, mm. 1-2. Notations in the score.

Example 2.3b: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 1, mm. 1-2. Rhythmic alterations in Scriabin’s performance.

Throughout op. 11, no. 2, Scriabin also changes eighth-note pairs to a dotted eighth note followed by a sixteenth note. This dotting usually occurs at the last beat of a measure, for example in mm. 9, 25, and 53. In these examples, the shortened notes lead to the climax of the motive, emphasizing the arrival of the downbeat. Example 2.4a and

Example 2.4b compare Scriabin’s rhythmic alteration of the melody in m. 9 in his recording with the written score.

32 Example 2.4a: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 7-10. Notations in the score.

Example 2.4b: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 9-10. Rhythmic alterations in Scriabin’s performance.

Scriabin often plays unevenly, but the precise rhythm is sometimes difficult to determine. This unevenness is heard everywhere in his recording of op. 11, no. 1.

Although the piece has continuous eighth notes, Scriabin constantly changes their lengths. As a result, the right hand does not sound like it contains equal note values, and it is not easy to identify changes with any particular note value. This inequality is attributed to the constant manipulations of the tempo, which show how tempo fluctuation and rhythmic alteration are related. This note-by-note change in tempo also occurs throughout op. 11, no. 2. For example, Scriabin accelerates across the barline from m. 1 to m. 2, shortening the last note before the barline and lengthening the next downbeat. This pattern is found in most repetitions of the introductory theme. Across the barline of mm.

33 63 and 64, Scriabin plays with such exaggerated flexibility that it is difficult to determine the note values. His playing is closer to Example 2.5b than the score shown in Example

2.5a.

Example 2.5a: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 62-64. Notations in the score.

Example 2.5b: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm.63-64. Rhythmic alterations in

Compressing note values over a long section can change perception of the meter.

In the Prelude, op. 11, no. 14, the time signature is 15/8. The notation indicates three beats of five eighth notes per measure, but Scriabin’s rapid performance distorts the

34 subdivisions. In mm. 17-18, he seems to change the rhythm of the left hand to dotted quarter notes and eighth notes while eliminating the eighth rests from the right hand.

Scriabin’s rendition (Example 2.6b) contrasts with the printed score (Example 2.6a). The alteration creates a perception of a 12/8 meter and causes unaligned notes to sound simultaneously.

Example 2.6a: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 14, m. 18. Notations in the score.

Example 2.6b: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 14, m. 18. Rhythmic rendition in Scriabin’s performance.

The last type of rubato in Scriabin’s playing is the desynchronization of voices.

This technique refers to Scriabin’s compression of note values in op. 11, nos. 1 and 14.

The constant shortening of the note values causes notes to shift and overlap, aligning the

35 parts differently than what is indicated in the score. This misalignment occurs in the example already mentioned: m. 17 of op. 11, no. 14.

This rhythmic change in just one hand often leads to a Chopin-like rubato. In a passage with several parallel quintuplets in op. 11, no. 1, Scriabin plays various notes in the left hand a little earlier or later than the notes that are directly above them in the right hand. The subtlety of the desynchronization makes it a challenge to say which part comes first, but listeners can tell that the hands are not synchronized. In other cases, Scriabin changes the placement of the bass. Throughout the phrase in mm. 14-18, the left-hand bass note of each quintuplet sounds a bit later than the top note of the right hand. There is also a delay at the end of the next phrase in m. 18 to m. 22, as the left-hand octave Cs sometimes sound after the right-hand octaves. Scriabin probably delays the bass so that the melody can be clearly heard above the powerful octaves in the left hand.

Another type of desynchronization used by Scriabin is to break intervals or roll chords. There are many examples of this technique in op. 11, no. 2. For example, in m. 1,

Scriabin separates the first interval of the piece—a seventh between B and A in the left hand. In m. 30, he also breaks the right-hand seventh in the second beat, but more slowly.

The breaking of the intervals emphasizes the melodic leap. He also rolls chords from bottom to top in many places, as on the last beat of mm. 64 and 66. The notes of the final chord are also separated and played slowly from the bottom. The breaking of chords stretches the phrase and creates an ethereal atmosphere.

36 Scriabin’s use of tempo fluctuation was not exactly uncommon for his time, as rubato was a customary practice in the nineteenth century, especially in solo music. The analysis of Scriabin’s piano roll recordings gives a general overview of his choice of rubato. Scriabin usually increases tempo when the texture thickens and the volume gets louder. The tempo often slows down for gentle, soft, or languishing themes and increases for more powerful or livelier ideas. Despite the general nature of using rubato, Scriabin’s rubato is so extreme and full of idiosyncrasies that it seems to go beyond common practice or technical requirements. In his recordings, Scriabin seems to avoid a fundamental pulse, which explains why some of his contemporaries described his performance style as arhythmical. Scriabin’s rubato also sounds impulsive and almost improvised, as listeners are not able to predict Scriabin’s rubato choices. The tempo and rhythm in his performance differ in almost every measure from the written score. This illustrates Scriabin’s claim that in performance, “one can distort rhythm as much as one wants.”61

Dynamics. In the recordings of the Preludes, op. 11, Scriabin observes most of the dynamic markings in the Belaieff editions. However, there are some unclear crescendos and decrescendos in op. 11, no. 1. Throughout op. 11, no. 2, there are few dynamic markings and nothing above mf. Apart from the high points in mm. 30 and 62, Scriabin seems to keep the volume below forte. He also increases the volume of mezzo fortes,

61 Scriabin, quoted in Leikin, 31.

37 plays the pianos more quietly, and the two places marked pp are significantly softer.

Despite the limitations of the recording device, Scriabin offers a variety of tone colors within a more delicate dynamic. Scriabin performs the crescendos and diminuendos, although he sometimes softens slightly later than marked. By contrast, dynamic markings for op. 11, no. 14 are all mf or above, with the exception of the piano in m. 17. Scriabin keeps the volume at mf throughout the piece while playing louder at the f and ff markings.

He also emphasizes the sforzandos and the accents, as in mm. 2, 10, and 18. These recordings indicate that Scriabin’s dynamic markings in the Belaieff edition typically represent his performance.

Scriabin’s performance of crescendo to decrescendo hairpins also needs attention.

In op. 11, no. 2, Scriabin emphasizes the hairpin’s peak through rubato or increasing volume. In op. 11, no. 14, certain hairpins increase to a sforzando or accent before decreasing, such as those in mm. 1-2 and 17-18. Crescendo and decrescendo are not always clear, but he emphasizes the accents. Most of Scriabin’s hairpins occur before and after the barline, indicating a crescendo to the downbeat. Therefore, they specify high points in a phrase that should be emphasized rather than a distinct crescendo.

Pedaling. Because Scriabin rarely notated pedaling, his recordings provide valuable information about his practices. Although we cannot hear special pedal effects such as half pedals in the recording, we can form a general idea of his use of the pedal.

For example, Scriabin often uses the sustaining pedal generously. In op. 11, no. 1, the notes of the left hand of the first quintuplet can continue to be heard through rests during

38 the second quintuplet. This pedaling causes two groups of quintuplets to blend. However, instead of an unpleasant combination of sounds, Scriabin creates a transparent, floating quality through this pedaling. The longer pedaling is effective in this instance because of the light texture, softer dynamics, and slower tempo.

Scriabin was sometimes cautious with his pedaling. In op. 11, no. 2, especially in the B section from mm. 33 to 48, the sustaining pedal sometimes disappears for two or more beats, and in some cases, two or three measures, such as mm. 39-40. The waltz-like quality in this prelude could be the reason for Scriabin’s sparse pedaling, which would preserve the waltz’s clear distinction between melody and accompaniment. Because this prelude is more chromatic and polyphonic than the first prelude, too much sustaining pedal would blur voices and create unpleasant dissonances. Scriabin’s pedaling demonstrates his ability to create tonal variety without the pedal and his desire for a clear sound quality.

Scriabin also combines sparse pedaling with long sustaining pedaling, as shown in op. 11, no. 2. Other than the more chromatic section, he allows for notes to blend, usually when the tempo slows down or when the hand plays a large interval. When he approaches the end of a phrase, he stretches the beat and adds more sustaining pedal. The transition from a clear articulation to sustained sounds results in a momentary dreamlike quality.

Scriabin also uses this pedaling in op. 11, no. 1. For example, from m. 12 onward, the piece grows more agitated, and although Scriabin uses sustaining pedal in this section, he seems to clear the pedal with every quintuplet to clear the harmony. Scriabin’s alternation

39 between clear articulation and blurring of notes creates a variety of characters within a piece.

Lobanov precisely noted when the una corda was depressed, providing information on Scriabin’s una corda usage. Scriabin uses the una corda three times in op.

11, no. 1 and twelve times in op. 11, no. 2. However, in the second prelude, some of

Scriabin’s pianissimo moments are achieved without the una corda. Sometimes he uses the una corda in crescendos. Therefore, Scriabin uses the una corda mainly for tone color and not for controlling the volume. The use of the una corda at these moments supports the claim that Scriabin’s hairpins may be an emphasis instead of a crescendo.

Articulation and Phrasing. Most of Scriabin’s choices of articulation in his performance are not marked in the scores. In op. 11, no. 2, Scriabin applies different articulations under both long and short slurs. For example, Scriabin plays the first three notes in m. 16 separately and almost staccato. As written, these notes are part of the four- measure long slur (Example 2.7). In m. 24, he plays the four eighth notes as two slurred pairs rather than one slur, as is notated in the score (Example 2.8). Notes under long slurs, such as those in mm. 33-40, are performed with various articulations. These variable articulation styles are evident in mm. 37-40, where Scriabin changes from a non-legato to staccato and finally to a pedaled legato approach (Example 2.9). In this prelude, Scriabin does not treat his slurs as signs of constant legato.

40 Example 2.7a: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, m. 13-16. Notations in the score.

Example 2.7b: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, m. 16. Articulations in Scriabin’s performance.

Example 2.8a: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 19-24. Notations in the score.

41 Example 2.8b: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, m. 24. Articulations in Scriabin’s performance.

Example 2.9: Scriabin, Prelude, op. 11, no. 2, mm. 37-40. Articulations in Scriabin’s performance.

These preludes indicate that Scriabin’s slurs do not solely represent articulation.

As early as the start of the nineteenth century, composers were already using slurs more extensively to indicate not only legato, but also shaping and phrasing.62 Although

Scriabin’s shaping and articulation under slurs are not always indicated in the score, he does not ignore his markings that are actually present and he adds nuances by applying different articulations as shown in the previous examples. Leikin, however, suggests that when Scriabin plays non-legato under a slur, he “completely disregards his own directions.”63 This statement is not entirely correct, as slur markings in Romantic music

62 Brown, 236. 63 Leikin, 34.

42 do not necessarily indicate legato according to Clive Brown.64 Indeed, Scriabin exploited the various meanings of articulation markings in his recordings.

Furthermore, despite the lack of specific articulation markings, the slurs and phrases that Scriabin adopted in his scores help to define the general character of the piece. Visually, the long slurs in op. 11, no. 1 create a smooth and flowing character. The short slurs in op. 11, no. 2 make the music more detached with smaller melodic ideas. In both preludes, it is clear that Scriabin’s notated slurs do not solely mean legato, but also demarcate phrasings.

These aspects of Scriabin’s notation are matched in his recordings, where additional performance practices help shape phrases and even larger spans of music.

Within a long slur, Scriabin shapes a musical phrase with dynamic differences and tempo fluctuations. For example, in op. 11, no. 2, he phrases the long slur in mm. 33-40 by increasing both the volume (notated and recorded) and the momentum (recorded only) in the middle of the slur, then slowing down and decreasing the volume at the end.

Therefore, Scriabin’s slurs depict his shifting musical ideas.

The variety of articulations that Scriabin applied to his phrases in his piano rolls demonstrated his creativity, ingenuity, and eccentricity in performance. Perhaps he avoided marking his articulations in his scores because it would have been tedious to notate such a wealth of details; or he may have been unwilling to give any indication of

64 Brown, 236.

43 his unique style of performance; or he may have found the problem too complex for others to imitate. Like his tempo fluctuations, articulation and phrase shaping give

Scriabin’s music unique qualities. These qualities also relate to his developing philosophy as shown in the following assessment.

The Philosophy Behind Scriabin’s Performance

Understanding Scriabin’s performance practices establishes a connection with his

Russian musical heritage and reveals a unique aspect of his playing. His mastery of piano skills, beautiful tone, and control of dynamics are the hallmarks that link Scriabin with the Russian piano school. Deviations from the score partially show the common practice of the late nineteenth century, even as they reveal Scriabin’s unique personality and style.

His rubato and variable articulations expand the boundaries of commonly accepted practice, and his use of pedals for effects and colors is noteworthy. In addition, Scriabin’s ability to produce beautiful and varied tones at low volume is a hallmark of his style.

Contemporary accounts of Scriabin’s performances of his early music also help to establish a connection between his playing and his spiritual beliefs. Scriabin’s philosophical belief seems to have a clear echo in his performance. The element of his philosophy that resonated most clearly through his live performances was his belief in a reality beyond the material world. When Schloezer first heard Scriabin in 1896, Scriabin

“enchanted his listeners and held a select audience under the spell of his controlled,

44 precise, nervous and richly colored pianism.”65 Scriabin’s playing seemed to go beyond the material world to an enchanted, spellbound realm. In 1915, Schloezer described a concert when Scriabin’s mind appeared to be elsewhere: “an inexpressible otherworldly look flashed in his eyes as he played his Third Piano Sonata.”66 Scriabin confirmed

Schloezer’s statement, saying that he “felt completely oblivious of playing before an audience and he was not even conscious of what he was playing.”67 Although these transcendent performances that Schloezer described occurred later in Scriabin’s life, he sometimes played selections from his early compositions during these “moments of the highest spiritual transport.”68 Scriabin seemed to have experienced a transcendence to a less-material existence during these extraordinary moments.

Scriabin felt that his music should transcend the physical world, and he complained about the inability of some pianists to make the effects he wanted: “Why do they all play my pieces with this material-like, lyrical tone as though these had been written by Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninov? Here, at the very most there should be a minimum of material essence.”69 The “minimum of material essence” may refer to

Scriabin’s control of the softest dynamics, a feature of his playing that his contemporaries consistently noticed and is evident in his recordings, despite technological limitations.

Scriabin’s ability to produce extreme pianissimo without the una corda pedal creates a

65 Bowers, Scriabin, 213. 66 Schloezer, 102. 67 Schloezer, 102. 68 Schloezer, 103. 69 Scriabin, quoted in Don Louis Wetzel, “Alexander Scriabin in Russian Musicology and its Background in Russian Intellectual History” (PhD diss., University of Southern California, 2009), 118.

45 light, floating atmosphere. His skillful pedaling plays an important role in this lightness, especially when notes are allowed to be blurred simultaneously, as in op. 11, no. 1. The constant mixing of the sustaining pedal with the soft dynamics produces overtones which can give the impression of a distant world. Furthermore, the extreme rubato seems to avoid an underlying tempo. His almost improvisational approach breaks the fundamental rhythmical grounding in each prelude, which disconnects the music from the physical world and creates a transcendent atmosphere. It is almost as if Scriabin is performing in a realm outside of rhythmic conventions.

Associated with the transcendence of material existence was Scriabin’s fascination with flight, which became an essential element of his philosophy. According to Bowers, Scriabin conducted flying experiments, and he considered this physical dematerialization as important in the body as in his music.70 Scriabin may have shown this interest in flight in his performances. As witness Leonard Pasternak, a prominent

Russian painter remembered, his hands often hovered above the keyboard as he allowed the pedal to sustain the sound.71 According to Prokofiev, when Scriabin performed, the sound seemed to soar above the piano.72 Leikin suggests that Scriabin sometimes shortened selected pitches with the fingers while the pedal helped to sustain the sound, which in turn created a floating atmosphere.73 While teaching at the Moscow

70 Bowers, 94. 71 Anatole Leikin, “The Performance of Scriabin’s Piano Music: Evidence from the Piano Rolls,” Performance Practice Review 1 (1996): 108-11. 72 Leikin, The Performing Style of Alexander Scriabin, 37. 73 Leikin, The Performing Style of Alexander Scriabin, 37.

46 Conservatory, “Flight” was one of Scriabin’s favorite words, suggesting that it was an integral part of Scriabin’s performance style before 1900.74

Scriabin’s philosophical interest in dualities such as “spirit and matter” is also reflected in his performance style. The most obvious implication of this dualism could be his rhythmic desynchronization and tempo flexibility. Rhythm is deeply connected with movement of the human body, from the unconscious beat of the pulse, to common actions of volition. Scriabin’s disruptions of tempo weaken or sever these deep connections, freeing the music from its attachment to bodily motions. When Scriabin destabilizes the beat through misalignment of parts in op. 11, no. 14, or when his tempo changes constantly, it seems as if he is attempting to reconcile opposing rhythmical dimensions that lie outside the constraints of conventional rhythm and meter. Similarly, his alternation between legato and non-legato, or blurred and sparse pedaling, also correlates with the choice between the existence of two different states and the concept of two worlds: the material and the transcendent.

Scriabin’s personality echoes in the way he performed and recorded his music.

His ever-changing tempo, varied articulations, and pedaling choices emphasize his ingenuity and creativity. The extreme flexibility of the tempo and the many departures from the printed score may imbue his performance with an eccentric quality. But his seemingly instinctive method of performance deeply reflects his approach to other

74 According to Scriabin’s student Nemenova-Lunz, “flight” was one of Scriabin’s favorite words when teaching. This information was mentioned above when discussing Scriabin as a teacher at the Moscow Conservatory.

47 aspects of his life. Schloezer argued that Scriabin acquired his philosophy primarily through intuition, not from his education.75 Scriabin also transcended the conventions of performance practice as he explored the limitations of philosophical creativity.

The traits of Scriabin’s performing style are documented mainly in accounts that date from his later periods, but they also likely apply to his early music. Boris Yavosky noted that although Scriabin’s performances differed from the score, he continued to play pieces the same way over the years.76 The average tempo may have changed over time, but his general shaping, touch, and interpretation remained the same. Therefore,

Scriabin’s outwardly eccentric style of playing, as recorded in the piano rolls in the early twentieth century, represents his performance style from the time that these works were composed, suggesting that his spiritual beliefs influenced his early works.

75 Schloezer, 72. 76 Leikin, 28-31.

48 Conclusion

Scriabin was distinguished from other musicians in the late nineteenth century by the fact that his music became a direct expression of his spiritual beliefs, including the artistic and mystical ideas that would be associated with his music. Although his evolving spiritual beliefs verifiably influenced his music after 1903, the difficulty lies in determining the extent of their influence during his early days. The first chapter examined the context of Scriabin’s career in the last decades of the nineteenth century, precisely when his spiritual beliefs developed. His evolving beliefs as shown in the unfinished opera and Mysterium reflected the ideas of nineteenth-century Russian Mysticism.

Scriabin’s tumultuous personal life also impacted his musical creativity and emotional state. Chapter Two showed the relationship between Scriabin’s style of performance and his personal beliefs. Through recollections from his fellow musicians and students, as well as piano roll recordings, we learned that his pianistic style combined personal, philosophical expressions and elements derived from his Russian musical heritage.

Although Scriabin came from the Russian piano school, he also developed individual performance idioms that demonstrate his personal and spiritual beliefs. His career as a pianist is just as essential to his career as a composer. Accordingly, Scriabin’s performance practices via the piano rolls give us a better understanding of his personality and artistic intentions.

49 In addition, the evidence suggests that Scriabin’s spiritual beliefs played a crucial role in his creative process even in his early years. Although there was a lack of primary sources during these years to clarify Scriabin’s thoughts, his Russian surroundings must have had an impact on him during his early period. From this time, his style of interpretation already resonates with elements that seem to anticipate his mystical and transcendent ideology. Therefore, it makes sense to advocate for an evolving philosophy in his early years, even if it is in an elementary stage.

Scriabin’s early piano music enchants audiences with its astonishing power, and modern pianists often include it on their recital program. Music from this period is nonetheless often neglected in analytical studies, perhaps because it sounds superficially similar to Chopin. But, as closer examination of Scriabin’s background, emerging ideology, and performing style has revealed, his early music has meaningful implications that illuminate two aspects of the composer: the philosopher and the pianist.

50 REFERENCES

Baker, James M. The Music of Alexander Scriabin. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986.

Bowers, Faubion. Scriabin: A Biography of the Russian Composer 1871-1915. 2 vols. Tokyo: Kodansha International Ltd., 1969.

_____. The New Scriabin: Enigma and Answers. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1973.

Brown, Clive. Classical & Romantic Performing Practice: 1750-1900. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.

Hull, A. Eaglefield. A Great Russian Tone-Poet: Scriabin. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner and Co., Ltd, 1916; New York: AMS Press, Inc., 1970.

Leikin, Anatole. “The Performance of Scriabin’s Piano Music: Evidence from the Piano Rolls.” Performance Practice Review 1 (1996): 97-113.

_____. The Performing Style of Alexander Scriabin. Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2011.

MacDonald, Hugh. Skryabin. London: Oxford University Press, 1978.

Rosenblum, Sandra P. Performance Practices in Classic Piano Music. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988.

Schloezer, Boris de. Scriabin: Artist and Mystic. Translated by Nicolas Slonimsky. Berlin: Grani, 1923; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987.

Scriabin, Alexander. 24 préludes pour piano, op. 11. Leipzig: M.P. Belaieff, 1897.

_____. Alexander Scriabin: The Composer as Pianist. Pierian Recording Society 0018, 2003.

Smith, Margaret. An Introduction to Mysticism. New York: Oxford University Press, 1977.

51 Wetzel, Don Louis. “Alexander Scriabin in Russian Musicology and its Background in Russian Intellectual History.” PhD diss., University of Southern California, 2009.

52 APPENDIX A: Scriabin’s Piano Roll Recordings

Hupfeld-Phonola (1908)

Preludes: op. 11, nos. 10, 13, 14; op. 17, nos. 3, 4 Poems: op. 32, nos. 1, 2 Mazurkas: op. 25, nos. 1, 3; op. 40, no. 2 Etude: op. 8, no. 8 Sonatas: op. 19, op. 23 Feuillette: op. 45, no. 1

Welte-Mignon (1910)

Preludes: op. 11, nos. 1, 2, 13, 14; op. 22, no. 1 Poem: op. 32, no. 1 Mazurka: op. 40, no. 2 Etude: op. 8 no. 12 Désir: op. 57, no. 1

Available on CD from Pieran

Preludes: op. 11, nos. 1, 2, 14; op. 22, no. 1 Poem: op. 32, no. 1 Mazurka: op. 40, no. 2 Etude: op. 8, no. 12 Désir: op. 57, no. 1

53