## Scriabin: Sonata No. 6, Op. 62 > [!tip] Piece at a Glance: Sonata No. 6, Op. 62 >- Composer: Alexander Nikolayevich **Scriabin** (1872-1915) >- Year Composed: 1911, published 1912, premiered March 1912 (1915?) by Elena Bekman-Shcherbina >- Period and Style: Modernist, Russian symbolist >- Nicknames and Subtitles: (none known) >- Tonality: Main octatonic set $\{G, A\flat, B\flat, B, C\sharp, D, E, F\}$ (with G taking a slight tonic function) >- Length: $11$-$14$ minutes >- Movements: $1$ (Modéré, roughly in sonata-allegro form with coda) With the writing of his Sixth Sonata, Op. 62, Alexander Scriabin firmly settled into his final compositional period, which began immediately after the Fifth Sonata, Op. 53. In this late period, Scriabin abandoned the traditional major-minor binary and replaced the major mode with the acoustic scale, and the minor mode with the octatonic scale. Central to both these modes is Scriabin's famous *Mystic chord,* which features prominently within these late works as a basic consonance, instead of (traditionally) as a dissonance which needed to be resolved. Scriabin's late harmonic language and style is inextricably connected to his philosophical and religious beliefs. Though his beliefs are far too nuanced to be summarized in these notes, among other things, he was generally pantheistic in his beliefs about God; in particular, Scriabin was quite insistent[^1] that his beliefs were made known. Starting in 1903 (which we would consider as Scriabin's middle period), he began to work on his ultimate masterwork, *Mysterium,* a massive production that will bring together all of humanity at the foothills of the Himalayas. Furthermore, he believed that after finishing the planned week-long performance of *Mysterium,* the world would end and all of humanity will be transformed into "nobler beings." Clearly, we are still human, which meant that Scriabin's plan to end the world failed. Indeed, he died suddenly of sepsis from a facial infection in April 1915. With this, *Mysterium* was left unfinished. Nonetheless, Scriabin's work on *Mysterium* led him to write the five late sonatas (Op. 62, 64, 66, 68, 70) as preliminary exercises; indeed, these late sonatas often figured in the sketches of what he had of *Mysterium.* These late sonatas can be partitioned into two subsets: the Sixth and the Seventh Sonatas were written as a pair in 1911-12, and the Eighth, [[Scriabin Sonata 9|Ninth]], and [[Scriabin Sonata 10|Tenth]] Sonatas were written as a trio in the winter of 1912-13. Despite the numbering of the sonatas, which accords with Scriabin's desired publication order, Scriabin finished the Seventh Sonata, Op. 64 before the Sixth.[^2] The Seventh Sonata bears the title *Messe blanche* (in English, *White Mass*), and is a work of blinding light. The Sixth Sonata is diametrically opposed to the light of the Seventh: the composer himself described the harmonies of the Sixth as "nightmarish, fuliginous, murky, dark and hidden, unclean, \[and] mischievous." While the nickname *Messe noire* (*Black Mass*) is attached to the Ninth Sonata, Op. 68, the Ninth Sonata arguably has its redeeming moments of light, while the Sixth Sonata is a work of pure darkness: it is the most obscure of the ten sonatas, and Scriabin himself refused to play the work, fearing the music he had written. Indeed, the Sixth Sonata is couched in darkness even from the first note: the piece opens with the ghoulish chord[^3] $\{D_1, A\flat_2, F_3, B_3, F_4, C\sharp_5\}$, which functions as the dominant in the piece's tonal system. Indeed, the first subject area consists of harsh maneuvering around this sonority, up until the growling ceases with the delicate second theme. Scriabin marks the beginning of the secondary subject area in the exposition with the French "*le rêve prend forme (clarté, douceur, pureté),*" i.e., "the dream takes shape: clarity, sweetness, purity." Here, the piece takes a more expressive turn, and the harmonies are more lush, though it carries the same sinister undertone as the primary subject area. In the development of the sonata, the corruption of the themes in the exposition begins to take place. We hear upsurges of horror[^6], demons evaporating into thin air, and poisonous, rapturous sweetness that culminates in a twisted celebration, commemorating the "blossoming of mysterious forces" (in the score, *epanouissement de forces mystérieuses*). The development implodes with a "sudden collapse" (*effondrement subit*) as we are violently slammed into a plain repeat of the primary subject area, this time a whole tone lower. However, by far the creepiest passage in the sonata is the secondary subject area in the recapitulation, which carries the disarming marking, *tout devient charme et douceur* ("all becomes sweetness and grace"). Despite this marking, this passage is the most technically challenging in the entire sonata: the pianist undertakes the daunting task of carrying six independent lines spread across three staves, with two hands. Furthermore, almost all of this is to be done in a hushed *pianissimo* and within an polyrhythmic ebb and flow that must sound fully natural. These bars are also difficult from an interpretational standpoint: Scriabin clearly intended this section to sound nurturing — we can deduce this from Scriabin's marking of the passage mentioned above — as well as the fact that within one of the independent voices, there is a sub-voice that "generates" the second theme note-by-note. However, it seems like Scriabin intended this passage to evoke the imagery of a nursery of unclean beings,[^4] for the piece ends with an "upsurge of horror \[mingling] with the delirious dance." With this, the Sixth Sonata fades into oblivion, and the horror introduced in the development will not be resolved until the opening chords of the Seventh Sonata. The Sixth Sonata, as one quickly sees (or hears), has no redeeming qualities in terms of what one initially thinks of as "beautiful." All the purity in this piece is corrupted and perverted by darkness, the piece opens and ends questioningly, and parts of it are initially difficult for the ear to digest. However, this is what gives the Sixth Sonata a unique voice among Scriabin's works, as well as the piano repertoire as a whole: in a pianistic culture dominated by Romantic works, the Sixth Sonata is a rare work which, when interpreted properly, challenges the *status quo.* The tale of the Sixth Sonata is twisted and subverts the notion of "prettiness" in music, yet a closer study[^5] of the *structure* of this sonata reveals its beauty and its underlying compositional philosophy. #scriabin [^1]: Often, this was to the point of harassment: innocent bystanders were not immune to Scriabin's ranting and raving. [^2]: Likewise, Scriabin finished the Tenth Sonata before the Ninth, and trailing behind both of these was the Eighth. See my notes on the [[Scriabin Sonata 10|Tenth Sonata]] for more details. [^3]: For those who care about the Forte class of this chord, it is 5-31, and it is an octatonic subset (in fact, of the main octatonic set that the sonata is based off of). [^4]: For the science fiction (or fantasy) readers, you may perhaps find it helpful to think of a secret lab where biologists are growing living, grotesque balls of flesh. [^5]: And many, *many* listens back to back! [^6]: This is Scriabin's own wording (in French) in the score.