Newly married and about to become a father, Sergei Prokofiev, who had left Russia shortly after the October Revolution in search of pastures new in which to pursue his career as a composer, decided in 1923 to settle in the City of Light. However, once in Paris, he would have to "compete" against another Russian expatriate, who had already built up a huge reputation: Igor Stravinsky. In the summer of 1924, having just been commissioned to write his Second Symphony by the famous maestro Serge Koussevitzky, Prokofiev received a second new commission: to write music for a travelling company of dancers who wanted to tour with a ballet consisting of short pieces of music played by a five-instrument ensemble. The composer, who, apart from his desire for artistic recognition, also dearly needed to supplement his income, proposed that he should write music for oboe, clarinet, violin, viola and double bass. The sequence of short pieces he would pen for the above combination of instruments would end up forming his opus 39 Quintet. However, the same music could also function as a ballet on the theme of life in a circus; in this form, it comprises Trapeze. The ballet was first performed in November 1925 in Gotha, Germany, while the Quintet received its première in March 1927, in Moscow.

The music of the Quintet is very often compared to and contrasted with that of Stravinsky's The Soldier's Tale, and with good reason: the two scores share the same playfully caustic, trenchant and eccentrically modernist writing. Complex rhythmic patterns, ironic melodies, a scattering of "wrong" notes that flirt with the grotesque, unorthodox choices of instrument, irritatingly dissonant harmonies and complex counterpoint make for a musical landscape that is as humorous as it is full of life and welcome surprises. Each instrument is given its own turn in the spotlight, but there is no shortage, either, of stunning dialogues between pairs of instruments nor, of course, of exuberant ensemble playing. The music of the Quintet is all ‘about’ acrobats, but it is also acrobatic in its own right, walking a tightrope which demands virtuosity, brilliance and brains from musicians who wish to make it safely to the last page.

"Listening to bad music sometimes inspires good ideas... After once hearing an unsuccessful piece for two violins without piano accompaniment, it struck me that in spite of the apparent limitations of such a duet, one could make it interesting enough to listen to for ten or fifteen minutes." This is what Sergei Prokofiev wrote, in 1941 in his autobiography, about the genesis of his Sonata for Two Violins, which is in C major – a key about which the composer had once quipped: "There are still many beautiful things to be said in C major". And the Sonata for Two Violins, which was written in 1932 as Prokofiev summered near St Tropez, truly is one of those “beautiful things”. The work was commissioned by Triton, a Parisian society founded to champion new chamber music. The Sonata was premièred on 16 December that year, at the Triton Society’s inaugural concert, by the French violinist Robert Soetens, for whom Prokofiev would compose his Second Violin Concerto three years later, and the Polish violinist of Jewish origin, Samuel Dushkin, who was a close collaborator of Igor Stravinsky. This was essentially the Sonata’s "Western" premiere, however, as the composer had given permission for the work to be performed three weeks earlier (on 27 November) in Moscow by two members of the Beethoven Quartet (Dmitri Tziganov and Vassily Shirinsky).

The four movements of the Sonata are arranged in a slow-fast-slow-fast pattern which clearly, if indirectly, references the structure of the baroque church sonata, or sonata da chiesa. This is revealing of the neoclassical aspect of Prokofiev's aesthetic sensibilities. The first violin begins the first movement unaccompanied; when the second violin makes its entrance, the two instruments intertwine in a melismatic line that recalls Eastern European songs – albeit in an abstract way. From the world of singing, we move into the world of dance for the second movement, a highly energetic and vigorous dance, very masculine, with aggressive chords and frenetic dotted rhythms. The next movement, the most lyrical of the four, is much more feminine is mood, with the two violins playing in low tones with mutes. The finale is a lively rondo, which also begins with the first violin playing solo. At first, the theme sounds like something Haydn could have written, but as the piece progresses, the discords become increasingly grating and the element of irony is foregrounded right up to the spectacular, frenzied coda that concludes the work.

Fanny Mendelssohn, the composer Felix Mendelssohn’s older sister, was a highly accomplished composer and pianist in her own right. Indeed, Fanny, who was extremely dear to the great German composer, was in many ways his equal, if not his superior. In May 1847, at the age of 41, she died suddenly of a cerebral haemorrhage; on hearing of her death, her brother suffered an emotional breakdown so profound, he could not even attend her funeral. His personal physician recommended a trip to Switzerland, where he might regain his mental and physical strength. While there in the company of his wife and brother, he composed his Sixth Quartet in F minor. It would be one of his last works, as he would pass away just a few months later, in November of that year; the loss of his beloved sister may have been a factor in his most untimely death. The Quartet was performed privately in October 1847, while its first public performance took place in November 1848 with the great violinist Joseph Joachim leading musicians from Leipzig’s famous Gewandhaus Orchestra.

The work’s dramatic first movement teeters emotionally between anguish and anger. A series of intense, dramatic gestures seek consolation, but in vain. Dark timbres predominate and the music almost never settles, either harmonically or emotionally. The Scherzo that follows has nothing in common with the gracefully playful "fairytale" scherzi that were the composer’s trademark. Stylistically, it is far closer to similar movements in works by Beethoven: rather than conjuring up the faery magic of other of Mendelssohn's works, the music seems to be summoning malevolent deities from the Underworld! The slow movement is the only one written in a major key. However, there is nothing optimistic or bright about its music, which is profoundly sad and clearly elegiac in tone. The finale resurrects the atmosphere of the first movement and takes it to places that are still gloomier and darker. "Despairing" would be the best word to describe a work that was clearly written by an artist is the most profound pain.