Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1 in D Major, “Classical”: Musical Time Travel

If Haydn had traveled 100 years into the future, what kind of music might he have written?

The 25-year-old Sergei Prokofiev provided a compelling answer with his Symphony No. 1 in D Major, Op. 25, widely known as the “Classical” Symphony. Filled with grace, elegance, exuberance, and humor, it is compact music, scored for the pared-down classical orchestra. Bold 20th century harmony meets traditional sonata form. In his autobiography, Prokofiev wrote, “It seemed to me that if Haydn had lived in our day he would have retained his own style while accepting something of the new at the same time. That’s the kind of symphony I wanted to compose.”

Completed in 1917, this sunny music is far removed from the societal turbulence of the Russian Revolution and the First World War. Prokofiev, who had just graduated from the Saint Petersburg Conservatory, had developed a reputation as the “bad boy” of Russian music. With their pounding dissonances, his Second Piano Concerto (1913) and Scythian Suite (1915) provoked riotous reactions with the public and within the academy. The First Symphony was equally shocking, but in a different way. It ran away from the heroic notion of the weighty Romantic “First Symphony” of Brahms and Rachmaninov, instead looking backwards. Always the provocateur, Prokofiev called his new work the “Classical” Symphony “out of naughtiness and a desire to ‘tease the geese.'”

Haydn was a master of humor and surprise, and Prokofiev follows his example. Conductor Kenneth Woods writes,

While his specific harmonic twists and turns remain specific to the 20th century, the constant undermining of harmonic expectation is, in fact, the most Haydnesque aspect of the work. Prokofiev’s early music consistently sounds more radical and provocative than it really is. The Classical Symphony inverts this paradigm in a way Haydn would have truly appreciated- this is music that has a charming and harmless surface layer which belies the layers of mischief and provocation that lay beneath.

The first movement (Allegro) springs to life with an ecstatic two-measure introduction which establishes the home key of D major. It is an allusion to the Mannheim Rocket, a crescendoing rapidly ascending figure which moves from the lowest register to the highest. The second theme brings the ornamental grace notes we might hear in an 18th century symphony, but here they embellish wild octave leaps. Meanwhile, the bassoon propels the music forward with a walking bass line. A spirited musical conversation unfolds amid a cast of instrumental voices. The development section erupts after a grand pause. The motifs are tossed and turned, and the climax arrives with an exhilarating rhythmic displacement resulting in a pileup of canonic counterpoint. The recapitulation arrives in the “wrong” key of C before righting itself.

The second movement (Larghetto) unfolds over a stately, unwavering rhythmic heartbeat. The first theme arrives with the violins floating in the stratosphere. The expansive melody is adorned with aristocratic trills and grace notes. Beginning with pizzicati, the second theme is filled with hushed anticipation. The climax is punctuated with the kind of fanfare rhythm we might hear at a similar moment in a Haydn symphony. Adventure abounds.

Rather than the traditional minuet, Prokofiev gives us a Gavotte (Non troppo allegro) for the brief third movement. Archaic by the Classical period, the gavotte originated as a French peasant dance. Prokofiev’s Gavotte lurches from one delightful harmonic surprise to the next. Rising over a drone, the trio section, with its sense of variation, is infused with the sound of Russian folk music. Written years before the Symphony’s other movements, this charming music was incorporated into Act I of Prokofiev’s 1935 ballet score, Romeo and Juliet, where it accompanies the guests leaving the Capulet ball.

Filled with sparkling virtuosity and swirling lines, the Finale (Molto vivace) is a jubilant sonata form. Discarding an initial attempt at the movement, Prokofiev was influenced by his friend, the musicologist Boris Asafyev, who observed that “there is no true joyfulness to be found in Russian music.” In Prokofiev’s words, the result is a movement “lively and blithe enough for there to be a complete absence of minor triads in the whole movement, only major ones…This kind of finale is quite appropriate to Mozartian style. I was hugging myself with delight all the time I was composing it.”

I. Allegro:

II. Larghetto:

III. Gavotte. Non troppo allegro:

IV. Finale. Molto vivace:

Five Great Recordings

• Prokofiev: Symphony No. 1 in D Major, “Classical,” Op. 25, Orpheus Chamber Orchestra orpheusnyc.org
• André Previn and the London Symphony Orchestra
• Neeme Järvi and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra
• Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra
• Yuri Temirkanov and the St. Petersburg Philharmonic Orchestra