It strikes me that Alexander Scriabin is perhaps the least heard of all acknowledged great composers, partially because, like Chopin, he wrote almost exclusively for the piano (with the notable exception of five orchestral works), and because his musical language evolved so far, so quickly.
It’s cold. It’s dark. The ground is a little icy from a slick of snow. It’s a good night to be moving toward the light.
Whether they knew it or not, that’s where patrons of the San Francisco Symphony’s first concert of two at Hill Auditorium were heading Thursday evening: out of darkness toward dawn and radiant day via Mahler’s Symphony No.
