Scriabin organized his preludes in a homogeneous series, starting with the 24 Preludes op. 11 (1888-1896). The composer displays here a wide expressive range, together with an efficient use of all the piano resources.

The creative debt incurred by the 24 Preludes opus 28 of Chopin is manifested in both the musical language and the global architecture of the collection. Despite the substantial adherence to the chosen model, there is no lack of glimmer of originality. Where can we predict the future Scriabin? Perhaps in the delicate chromatic style of Preludes Nos 2 and 10; in the air spirals of No. 3 (which overlaps binary and ternary figurations); or the fierce drama of No. 6, digging in the low register of the instrument with its imitative octaves. We will have to draw attention also to the original rhythmic construction of some numbers: as the 15/8 of the impetuous prelude nº14, or the metric alternation between 5/8 and 4/8 of the mysterious prelude No. 16, and the one that also occurs between 6/ 8 and 5/8 of nº 24. It is not surprising, in this sophisticated context, to find the refined simplicity of Prelude No. 15, reminiscent of the most sober Liszt.

After opus 11, Scriabin had planned to write another collection of twenty-four preludes, but the editor objected to the commercial viability of a second collection of these characteristics. Preludes op. 13, 15, 16 and 17, written in the space of two years (1894-1896) for a total of twenty pieces, are possibly the scattered remains of that great project. To this, the 4 Preludes op. 22, of 1897, must be added. There is a widespread consensus on the relevance of these preludes with regard to opus 11, but these reserves should not detract attention from some undoubted successes, as the Prelude op. 13 No. 2, whose transfigured lightness results in a volitional final, a very common phenomenon in Scriabin's temperament; or the tense Prelude op. 13 No. 6, which looks like the first draft of a sonata movement. Prelude op. 16 nº 1 is a nocturne that could have been stolen from Chopin, but whose lunar lightness belongs to Scriabin. The mood changes in Prelude Opus 16 nº 2 are also representative of this Russian composer’s style.

Preludes op. 27 (1899-1900) marked a transition to a more personal and mature language, whose first signs can be seen in Preludes op. 31, 33, 35, 37 and 39, written almost entirely in 1903. These pieces present an increasingly tormented profile and a destabilizing chromatic language. Also, the last period of Liszt had surrendered to the sibylline charm of chromatic music, but in parallel with the search for a progressively more laconic and essential writing. The Lisztian chromatic language had an ascetic taste: it represented the enigmatic background of things when the consoling and obliging veil of appearances is removed. On the contrary, Scriabin’s chromatic style is steeped in voluptuousness; it arises due to an overload of impulses, desires and feelings. The composer does not reach it by reduction or containment, but quite the opposite: by multiplication of changing and contradictory effects.

Scriabin scores' own appearance, with almost as many altered notes as natural notes, is symptomatic: the proliferation of signs and accidental notes on the paper communicates to the interpreter a sense of esoteric density which makes a direct reading difficult.

Prelude op. 33 # 1 is the expression of a voluptuous and uncertain lyricism that still finds a temporary break in the tonal resolution of the closing stages. At the beginning of the pieces, the presence of almost poetic and expressive indications that the listener doesn’t know, but that the performer must somehow internalize is even more frequent. "Daring, bellicose," writes the composer at the beginning of the Prelude op. 33 No. 4, and seems to return to the Greek doctrine of ethos. Preludes op. 35 No. 2 and op. 39 No. 2 have instead the indication "High". They are almost cosmic dark spaces of reflection, where melody and harmony converge towards a single space, they are configured as horizontal and vertical axes of a single sound substance.

The four Preludes op. 48 (1904-1905) culminate the process undertaken in previous collections. No. 1 is a wild and impetuous outbreak of energy; No. 2 is a lyrical study of the slight dynamics (between p and ppp); No. 3 hosts capricious and arduous impulses (overlapping of binary and ternary figurations); No. 4 has the features of a festive and Dionysian celebration.

The order of pieces suggests the image of a condensed sonata in minimum space, but it would not be absurd to contemplate an alchemical reading of the pieces as sound allegories of the four elements: earth, water, air and fire. The optimistic closing of opus 48 reflects a key aspect of Scriabin’s poetics. Life in the Universe -and by extension, the music that represents it- is based on the struggle between opposing principles: light and dark, good and evil ... As dramatic as it may be, this conflict is positive as long as it involves a principle of transcendence, of conquest, of impetus forward thanks to cosmos and to the individual progress towards new and expanded horizons.

With the 2 Preludes op. 67 (1912-1913) and the 5 Preludes Op.74 (1914) we enter the final stage of Scriabin, the most visionary and personal one. Prelude op. 67 nº 1 develops, on a regular and hypnotic movement, a type of metaphysical regret that responds to the restless dynamism of prelude No. 2. The mystic chord -based on the superimposition of fourths- is already an achieved fact; its presence helps to blur the gap between the thematic axis and the harmonic axis, creating new connections and relationships between sounds.

The 5 Preludes op. 74 are the last work written by Scriabin, who died months later from septicaemia. Perhaps, the composer had wished to end his catalogue in a great and incomparable way (in fact, he worked on the project Mysterium). This does not mean that only these six minutes of music are among his most revolutionary productions. Here, as in the Sonatas for Piano No. 9 and 10 or en Vers la Flamme, the fusion between technical and spiritual principles is absolute, and the sound material draws landscapes that seem from other worlds. From the excruciating pain of Prelude No. 1, through the immobile and obsessive contemplation of No. 2, to the restless spirals of No. 3, and finally, the opaque and timeless litany of No. 4. By contrast, No. 5 offers a fierce and warlike conclusion, with its ascending arpeggios and its imperious and eager impulses.

Scriabin's trajectory is closed this way with a final act of rebellion, enshrining the full identification of the author with the mythical figure of Prometheus, who dared to challenge the divine mandate and gave fire to man, thus giving rise to civilization. With his music, Scriabin intended to deliver to posterity another no less important fire, able to reveal to man through the sounds the ultimate essence of the Universe and the Divine.

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Stefano Russomanno