Prokofiev’s nine mature Piano Sonatas (a fragment of 
          a tenth is the last music to have fallen from his pen and an eleventh 
          was in the planning stages at the time of his death) are a good analogy 
          for a journey through his musical life. From the strangely anachronistic 
          and lyrical harmonies of the First Sonata before the Revolution, through 
          the passionate expressiveness of the so-called "War Sonatas" 
          (Six, Seven and Eight) to the somewhat pallid Ninth at the end of his 
          life, the Piano Sonatas mirror Prokofiev’s musical development and inspiration. 
        
 
        
Not that the First Piano Sonata was actually the first 
          work in this genre that the young Prokofiev had created – there are 
          at least six such sonatas among his ‘juvenilia’. However, it is the 
          first work about which the composer felt seriously enough to ascribe 
          an opus number to. Later in life he would refer to the work as forming 
          a watershed between his early period and his serious musicianship. Both 
          this and the Second Sonata show the influence of Myaskovsky, and there 
          is an unmistakable exploration of the ‘new music’ emanating from Scriabin 
          – an unavoidable influence on any Russian composer of the era. But in 
          the scherzo of the Second Sonata we can already hear the diabolical 
          technique and barely suppressed angst that will come to characterise 
          so much of Prokofiev’s music in the future. 
        
 
        
It is not the purpose of this review to catalogue the 
          history of all nine of these works. But the fact they are a progression 
          is best heard when comparing the beginning of disc one (Sonatas One 
          and Two) with the end of disc two (Sonatas Six and Seven). The angularity 
          of the "War Sonatas" is so vastly different from the youthful 
          Romanticism of the earlier works that it is difficult to believe they 
          came from the same mind – until, that is, one knows something of the 
          musical influences, social pressures and personal insecurities at work 
          on this artist. Then, miraculously, the music falls into place and ‘makes 
          sense.’ Prokofiev is a classic example of a composer whose music becomes 
          much more appreciable once the listener can put the composer’s personality 
          in perspective – and other than his symphonies I can think of no other 
          cycle of his works that lends itself as easily to such an exercise. 
        
 
        
Bronfman has a natural and well-known affinity for 
          Russian music, but his interpretations here progress beyond the merely 
          good to the almost revelatory. His performances of Six, Seven and Eight, 
          capturing the almost clinically cold nature of the discord while providing 
          a clear lyrical melodic line, are very possibly the best captured on 
          record. This is not to decry his performances of any of the other works 
          – but these three stand head and shoulders above the rest. The liner 
          notes tell us nothing about the dates of the recordings, but looking 
          at the original releases in the Sony catalogue reveals they were probably 
          made over a seven or eight year period. This may explain the identifiable 
          changes in style between some of the sonatas – or it may be Bronfman’s 
          conscious efforts to reflect Prokofiev’s developing musical personality. 
          Whichever the case may be, these are recordings that should be at the 
          top of every piano lover’s Want List – and Sony are to be congratulated 
          for releasing them under their "Essential Classics" 
          imprint. 
        
  Tim Mahon  
        
Prokofiev Biography