[3]
Progress Publishers Moscow
__SUBTITLE__ About Himself and His Times [4]Compiled by L. Grigoryev, Ya. Platek ~
Translated from the Russian by Anj>;us and Neilian Roxburgh ~
Designed by V. I. Chistyakov ~
CBOPHHK Ha aittjitiicKQ
__COPYRIGHT__ © «CoBeTCKnft KOMno3HTOp», 198090103-327
5e3 oQ-bXBJi.
4905000000
'For many years now," wrote Dmitry Shostakovich, in 1965, 'it has been on my mind that I should start writing my memoirs, that I should write about the people who have been important in my life and for my music.' This intention was never realised. Eight years later the composer noted: 'What a pity I have not kept a diary or note-book, or written memoirs. I have met many interesting people and seen many interesting things... No, I cannot say that I live in the past; I live now, and will live longer-a hundred years! But it is important also to remember one's past. However, I have not given up hope of returning to this.' Now, of course, as the life of this great contemporary of ours sinks gradually into the past, we are bound to feel sorry that he left no detailed autobiographical material, which might have served as an in' valuable commentary to his monumental musical legacy.
But did he really leave nothing? Certainly, Shostakovich did not keep a diary, and the reminiscences which he noted down from time to time are fragmentary. Over a period of almost fifty years, however, i. e. throughout his adult life, the composer wrote many articles for the press, spoke at various conferences and was interviewed by hundreds of journalists. He spoke about many aspects of his life and times: about the global problems of music and those which directly affected him; about the defence of his country and the struggle for peace; about the content of his own works, his reasons for writing them and his plans for the future; about the great musicians and writers of the past and about his friends and contemporaries; about important events and fleeting, but vivid, impressions... In short, his utterances were extremely diverse, covering almost everything that closely affected his own life, his country and the world-that world which is embodied so profoundly in his music. Shostakovich's words, then, are also part of his legacy, affording us deeper insight into his music.
In his youth, Dmitry Shostakovich made a pledge to himself: '/ shall work ceaselessly in the field of music, to which I shall dedicate my whole life.' And indeed, even when struck down by illness, he continued to compose. 'One must work continuously,' he asserted, ''and thai applies to every composer. If ata_gwen time you A cannotjarrit^ anything great, then write somethim_small._a_bagatelle^ Coming from Shostakovich's lips, these were not merely fine words: both in his youth and in old age he devoted himself utterly to music.
This being the case, it is remarkable that Shostakovich managed to find any time at all for public speeches, for meeting journalists and for writing articles. Of course, these activities were not at all regular: some years, for various reasons, they slackened off considerably, while in other years his `non-musical' output was quite prodigious. But taken in sequence, all his statements, his 'diary entries', allow one to retrace the life of a composer who could not conceive of himself without society, out of touch with people.
6 __RUNNING_HEADER__ IntroductionEven when arranged in chronological order, of course, Shostakovich's speeches and so on are devoid of any system, and lack the intimacy of a diary. On the contrary, they are mostly the composer's response to certain concrete, and isolated events. But they do build up a fairly complete picture of Shostakovich's views and principles, showing their constant development. His appraisals of many things, and his attitudes to the work of certain composers (e.g., Scriabin and Wagner) evolved considerably over the years. Taken together, Shostakovich's articles, speeches, notes and interviews allow us to follow the course of his musical career, to feel the atmosphere of his age, and to sense the impulses which inspired his muse. Not least, they conjure up a vivid picture of one of the century's greatest musicians - both as an artist and as a man. Basically, his utterances amount to a kind of 'Master's diary' -not an intimate, private diary, but a diary open to all, `written' in front of our eyes. This, perhaps, is where the unique importance of Shostakovich's literary legacy lies.
Finally, the enormous quantity of written material left by Shostakovich testifies equally to the extent of his public activities and to the constant attention given him by the press. Over several decades, the main Soviet newspapers---Pravda, Izvestia, Literaturnaya Gazeta, Sovetskaya Kultura and various local papers from Moscow, Leningrad and other cities-regularly published interviews with the composer and articles by him. The purpose of this book is to bring many of these together and make this 'open diary' available to all who hold the name of Dmitry Shostakovich dear.
It was a similar aim that determined how the collection was compiled. The book contains all sorts of writings of various importance-^rom extracts taken from important articles to short notes on topical matters; they are arranged, irrespective of importance, in strict chronological order, according to year and (with very few exceptions) date of publication. This principle is not strictly academic, but serves the book's main purpose-to present the composer's utterances in their natural time sequence.^^*^^
It should be pointed out that this book is not an exhaustive collection of all Shostakovich's writings. The academic analysis and publication of the whole of his '' literary' legacy is a task for the future. We feel, however, that the extracts included here are not unrelated, and for all their diversity they are united by the integrity of the composer's personality.
The compilers have included only material intended for publication by Shostakovich himself, more or less ignoring his personal correspondence (with the exception of _-_-_
^^*^^ The entire text is reproduced here in the form in which it was first published in Shostakovich's •j lifetime, preserving the names of works, musical terms and quotations as originally used by the composer. ;'\1 The transcriptions of recorded speeches are published in the same farm,-Ed.
7 a few fragments whose publication was approved by Shostakovich himself). We felt it would have been wrong to include the composer's correspondence because of the attitude to this delicate question which he himself exhaustively and unambiguously expressed in his. article on Chekhov: '/ am very sorry that Chekhov's correspondence with Olga Knipper has been published, much of it being so intimate that one would rather not see it in printed form. I say this particularly because of the writer's extremely exacting attitude to his works, which he never would publish until they were brought to perfection'The principle by which the book was compiled also dictated the nature of the commentaries which accompany the selected texts for each year. They, too, are not scholarly in the strictest sense, but merely a first attempt to outline the most important facts and landmarks from Shostakovich's life and music, as a background to the main section-the composer's own words. This is their only function. And for this reason the commentaries - a year-by-year account of the main events in the composer's life, taken from various periodicals - are by no means comprehensive or particularly detailed.
There is an enormous quantity of material available, and it has only just begun to be studied. The composer's future biographers will have great scope. Meanwhile, this book offers Shostakovich's admirers only a brief sketch of his life.
The reader will notice how the character and content---and, to a certain extent, the language and style - of Shostakovich's ''diary entries' change over the years. This is inevitable. His views evolved, his interests, likes and tastes all developed. Much that seemed essential in his youth moved into the background; extreme views were often tempered, and things said, perhaps, on the spur of the moment were displaced by mature, firm convictions. But Shostakovich's unshakable belief in the great mission of art, the passionate belief of an artist and humanist, can be heard clearly in utterances separated by several decades. And in these utterances we can discern the most essential traits of Shostakovich as artist, citizen and man, traits which remained constant throughout all these decades: honesty before himself and others, high principles, a gentle disposition, reluctance to compromise in his art, frankness, and a complete lack of affectation or ostentation.
In analysing Shostakovich's life and music, one cannot avoid the question of the composer's attitude to criticism and self-criticism. From the very outset, of course, his music gave rise to heated arguments, which continued right through his life, though they were gradually drowned by a chorus of praise. Like any composer of his stature, Shostakovich found neither immediate nor universal recognition. And the criticism that came his way was not always meant kindly. This, as we have said, was almost bound to happen, as it did with Beethoven, Brahms, Wagner, Glinka, Chaikovsky, Mussorgsky, Prokofiev... But what is most striking is Shostakovich's own attitude 8 towards criticism. Unlike some of his colleagues, who publicly-declared that the critics did not interest them, but secretly built up a bitter hatred of them, Shostakovich always-even when the criticism was manifestly unfair, and when he could not agree with it---tried to extract some benefit from it and saw it as a stimulus to look again at his own course and perhaps take corrective measures. For this reason, Shostakovich's words about Prokofiev, a composer whom he valued extremely highly, can equally be applied to himself: (A man of immense creative powers, Prokofiev was able to pick out from the melee that surrounded his works those arguments which were fair and of value, and paid close attention even to the most insignificant comments. But Prokofiev did not follow criticism blindly. He boldly defended those works which he considered to require no alteration.'
Dmitry Shostakovich was cast in the same mould. For all his mildness, delicacy
and sensitivity, when it came to questions of principle, when it came to the essence of
his life,..music, he would stand absolutely firm. His statements, too, illustrate both
his delicacy and his intolerance of shortcomings and of everything that seemed to him
i foreign to the high ideals of Soviet life and socialist art.
One of the composer's biographers once noted that Shostakovich did not like speaking about himself or his works, because everything was already said, fully and eloquently, in his music. Almost all those who knew the composer had this impression, especially as his natural modesty, shyness even, always seemed to hinder him from speaking about himself. Now, however, looking at all his statements as a whole, one begins to doubt the truthfulness of this idea-at least partly. Perhaps Shostakovich really did not like speaking about his music, but nonetheless he often did so (though probably rather reluctantly), apparently aware of the needfulness and usefulness of such comment for many listeners, as well as to avoid misrepresentations (his remarks on programme music are particularly characteristic). The brilliant composer's personality and work were always indivisible. As the conductor Yevgeny Mravinsky said, 'For me, Shostakovich's greatness lies above all in the significance of that social and moral idea which runs all through his work.'
Always, even in times of serious illness, Dmitry Shostakovich remained accessible and open to people. And it is this quality., we feel, that makes it both possible and justifiable to compile many of his statements from various years as a kind of `diary'. For it would be hard to name another artist who was so closely, linked to life, who drew so much from its fullness and impulses, while enriching it,- influencing it and repaying it a hundredfold with his music.
L. Grigoryev
Ta. Platek
It was in 1926, with his student days behind him, that the twenty-year-old Dmitry Shostakovich began his independent adult life. = By chance, it was in that year that he wrote his first autobiographical note---his curriculum vitae.
Let us try to sketch in the main landmarks in the composer''! life, starting from that year...
In the early spring of 1926 Shostakovich and his fellow-student at the Leningrad Conservatoire Pavel Feldt (the future conductor) played a four-handed piano version of his First Symphony to the Director of the Conservatoire Alexander Glazunov, to be judged as Shostakovich's diploma work in the Department of Composition. The examiners unanimously agreed to recommend him for post-graduate work.
The main event of the year was undoubtedly the premiere of the symphony in the Grand Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonia on 12 May. The composer attended the rehearsals with his tutor Maximilian Steinberg, who noted in his diary on 10 May: 'Dmitry's symphony sounds good. He himself is in raptures at the richness of his music, and I could hardly hold him back from gesticulating excitedly to give vent to his feelings? Apart from Shostakovich's fFirst Symphony) the concert, conducted by Nikolai Malko, included Joseph Schillinger's March of the Orient, and Julia Weissberg's cantata The Twelve. The audience, performers and critics welcomed the new work with one accord, sensing its premiere to be an event of great importance. '/ have the feeling? said Malko after the performance, 'that I have turned over a new page in the history of symphonic music?
Towards the end of May the composer gave two private performances of the piano version of the symphony in Moscow, first for Nikolai Myaskovsky, then at P. Lamm's flat. In June Malko conducted the symphony at a concert in Kharkov.
Shostakovich made many public appearances as a pianist at this time. In Kharkov on 12 July he played Chaikovsky's First Piano Concerto with an orchestra conducted by Nikolai Malko, and three days later gave a, solo concert, including his own compositions and works by Liszt.
In the autumn Shostakovich completed his First Piano Sonata, which he performed on 2 December in the Small Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonia. In the middle of the month, under the guidance of Leonid Nikolayev, he began working on his repertoire for the approaching International Chopin Competition in Warsaw.
The year also saw the first publication of Shostakovich's works, including the piano pieces Three Fantastic Dances_£Q/>. 5^.
__b_b_b__I was born on 25 September (new style), 1906 in St. Petersburg, the son of Dmitry Shostakovich, head of the Petersburg Chamber of Standards. In 1915 I was enrolled at Maria Shidlovskaya's Private College of Commerce, where I remained until the middle of 1918. Then I attended grammar school No. 13 for a year, and completed my secondary education at school No. 108. I began to study music at the age of nine: before then I had shown no interest in it. My first piano lessons I received from my mother, Sophia Shostakovich. I progressed so quickly in the first summer that my mother began to think seriously about giving me a musical education, and immediately sent me to lessons with Ignaty Glyasser. After three years with him, I began to study with Professor Alexandra 10 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1926 Rozanova, and in the autumn of 1919 I entered her class at the Conservatoire. A year later, I transferred to Professor Leonid Nikolayev's class, and in 1923 graduated from the Piano Department.
My ability to compose began to show very 'early, almost as soon as I started playing the piano. In the summer of 1919 Professor Petrov coached me for the entrance examination to the Composition Department of the Conservatoire. In the autumn I joined Professor Maximilian Steinberg's class in special harmony. I also studied harmony, instrumentation, fugue and the first class in form under Professor Steinberg, and in 1925 graduated from the Conservatoire in composition. I have composed the following works: Scherzo for Orchestra (1920), 8 Piano Preludes (1919-20), Variations for Orchestra (1921-22), Two Krylov Fables for Voice and Orchestra (1921-22), Three Fantastic Dances (1922), Suite for Two Pianos (1922), Scherzo for Orchestra (1923), Trio for Piano, Violin and Cello (1923), 3 Pieces for Cello and Piano (1923-24), Symphony (1925), and Prelude and Scherzo for String Orchestra (1925). The Fantastic Dances, Symphony and Octet have been accepted for publication by the Music Section of the State Publishing House.
After my father's death in 1922 I was very hard-up, and had to do a great deal of 'hack work', including working in the cinema. All this undermined my health and nervous system. Now I am not working anywhere, and however hard-up I may be I shall not go back to the cinema, as it takes up every evening and the task of mechanically reproducing 'human passions' on the piano is very exhausting. My work in the cinema sapped away my time, health and energy. On 12 May Nikolai Malko conducted my symphony at the Philharmonia, with great success. The success and fine sound of the symphony inspired me with courage and hope. If only I can manage to make ends meet, I shall work ceaselessly in the field of music, to which I stn*H dedicate my whole life. As for the present, I need to take a summer holiday and restore my health.^^1^^
11 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1927 __ALPHA_LVL1__ At the beginning of the year Shostakovich was in Moscow.At the beginning of the year Shostakovich was in Moscow. = On 9 January he performed his Piano Sonata in the Mozart Hall (now the Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko Musical Theatre) and again a few days later in the Beethoven Hall, specially for an audience of musicians. Meanwhile, he continued to prepare for the forthcoming Chopin Competition, and on 14 January participated in a concert given by the future competitors in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire. On the 21st the Soviet delegation left for Warsaw.
Shostakovich's performance at the First International Chopin Competition (28-30 January 1927) brought him a diploma of merit (Lev Oborin was outright winner, Grigory Ginzburg won fourth prize, and Yuri Bryushkov a diploma of merit). After the competition Shostakovich gave concerts in several Polish cities, played his Sonata at the Warsaw Conservatoire, and then went with Oborin to Berlin, where he played some of his own works and met the conductor Bruno Walter.
On his return home, fie gave many concerts. On 11 March he took part in an evening given by Professor Nikolayev's pupils in the Philharmonia, and again a week later in the Moscow Conservatoire. Shostakovich also frequently appeared with chamber ensembles, playing, e.g., Schumann's Piano Quintet and Stravinsky's Les Noces, and accompanying the singer Lidia Vyrlan.
The musician's main interest was still composition, however. Shortly after returning from abroad, he composed Aphorisms, a piano cycle. In the spring he was commissioned to write a symphonic work to mark the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution. The composer used poetry by Alexander Bezymensky as the basis for this, his second symphony. The Dedication to October, as it was called, was completed by the summer, after which the composer began work on the libretto, and then the music, for his opera The Nose.
It was in this year that the young composer met Sergei Prokofiev for the first time, during the latter's visit to Leningrad in February. Later, Prokofiev noted in his Autobiography: 'Theyoung Leningrad composers showed me their works. The most interesting of them were Shostakovich's sonata and Gavriil Popov's septet? * X^ The 27 October saw the start of rehearsals of the Second Symphony., which won the highest award in the Leningrad Philharmonia's competition for the best sym\.phonic work to mark the tenth anniversary of the Revolution. The work was first performed on the eve of the anniversary in the Grand Hall of the Philharmonia, conducted by Nikolai Malko, and on 4 December it was conducted by Konstantin Saradzhew in the Columned Hall of the Moscow's Trade Union House. On 22 November Shostakovich's First Symphony was heard for the first time abroad-in Berlin, conducted by Bruno Walter,
__b_b_b__Until I began to learn to play the piano I expressed no desire to learn, although I did feel a certain interest in music. Sometimes when a quartet was playing next door I would listen with my ear to the wall.
Seeing this, my mother, Sophia Shostakovich, insisted on my taking piano lessons. I put up every kind of opposition. In the spring of 1915 I went to the theatre for the first time, to see The Tale of the Tsar Saltan. I enjoyed the opera, but this still did not overcome my reluctance to study music.
12 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1927'Learning to play is such a bitter pill to swallow,' I thought to myself. But my mother insisted, and in the summer of 1915 began to give me piano lessons. Things progressed quickly: I proved to have perfect pitch and a good memory. I could learn the notes and memorise them quickly-they imprinted themselves on my memory-and I could read music easily. It was then, too, that I made my first attempts at composition. Seeing my success, my mother decided to send me to the music school of Ignaty Glyasser (who died in 1925). I can remember playing almost half of Ghaikovsky's Children's Album at an examination concert. The following year (1916) I transferred to Glyasser's class; until then I had been taught by his wife. In his class I played Mozart and Haydn sonatas, and the next year Bach's fugues. Glyasser had a very sceptical attitude towards my compositions and did not encourage me to carry on with them. Nonetheless I did carry on and composed a great deal at that time. In February 1917 I grew tired of Glyasser's classes, and my mother decided to take both my sister and myself to an audition with Professor Rozanova at the Conservatoire, who had once taught my mother music. She accepted us both as pupils. From 1917 to 1919 I studied under Professor Rozanova and in autumn 1919 entered her class at the Conservatoire. She considered that I should study composition as well as the piano. For this purpose we were advised by a music-teacher we knew to approach G. Yu. Bruni, who gave lessons in improvisation. When 1 was taken to see him, Bruni sat me at the piano and asked me to improvise a Blm Waltz- Satisfied by my improvisation, he then asked me to play something oriental. This did not work out so well, but nevertheless Bruni thought I showed promise and took me as a pupil. The lessons consisted of the following: Bruni would walk around the room, asking me to improvise, and then, dissatisfied, drive me^Sway from the piano and start improvising himself. These lessons lasted the spring and summer of 1919 and then I gave them up. In the summer, in view of my persistence in composing, I was taken to see Alexander Glazunov. I played my compositions and Glazunov said I must without fail study composition. He advised me to enter the Conservatoire. A month before the entrance examinations my parents realised I would have to be coached in elementary theory and solfeggio. Professor Petrov agreed to teach me these subjects. At the same time I was taken to Professor Steinberg who after listening to me approved my decision to enter the Conservatoire and agreed to accept me into his class. In autumn 1919 I matriculated at the. Conservatoire-with Rozanova for piano and Steinberg for composition. In autumn 1920 I transferred from Rozanova to Nikolayev, from whose class in piano I graduated in 1923. I graduated in composition in f925, under Professor Steinberg, with whom I had studied harmony, instrumentation, fugue and form. I also studied counterpoint and fugue with Professor Sokolov.
When, in February 1922, my father died, rny family found itself in difficult financial straits. On top of that, at the beginning of the next year I developed tuberculosis of the bronchial and lymphatic glands, and the doctors found it necessary to send me to the Crimea for treatment. When 13 I returned, there were debts to be cleared. At the end of 1923 I had to take work in a cinema. But before I could do this I had to obtain a qualification as a silent-film accompanist in the Art Workers' Union. The test was very similar to my first visit to Bruni. First I was asked to play a Blue Waltz and then 'something oriental'. At Bruni's I had not been able to play in an eastern style, but by 1923 I already knew Rimsky-- Korsakov's Skeherazade and Cui's Orientate. I passed the test and in November started work at the Svetlaya Lenta cinema. It was hard work, but since the cinema had two pianists I managed somehow or other to combine , • my work there with visits to concerts and theatres. Since, during my two t months of work at the Svetlaya Lenta, the cinema paid me my wage only once, I was forced to leave and seek other sources of income, while appealing to a court of law to obtain the wages I was due. It was not until 1924 that I found more work, and again it was of the same type. In the Splendid Palas cinema a pianist went on leave for two months and I took his place. A couple of months later I was out of work again. But even when working I was able to go to concerts because I shared the job with another pianist. At last at the beginning of February 1925 I found permanent work in the Pikadilli. Then the management decided that both pianists should work from the time the cinema opened until it closed each day, changing over half-way through each showing. This clever arrangement was put into force after one pianist had fallen ill and there had been no other to take his place. As a result of it, however, I stopped going to concerts and theatres entirely. In the end I left the cinema; so far I have not returned, and I hope I shall never have to.
My cinema work completely paralysed my musical pursuits. It was only once I had left the cinemas for good that I could start composing again. At the beginning of 1925 my Three Fantastic Dances, two pieces for string octet and Symphony were accepted for publication. The Symphony was first performed on 12 May, 1926 by the Leningrad Philhar-, monia under Nikolai Malko. In the autumn of 1925 I was accepted for post-graduate work at the Leningrad Conservatoire.
In January 1927 I travelled as a member of the Soviet delegation to the Chopin Competition in Warsaw. I was also in Berlin. It was an unsuccessful trip, as I fell ill with appendicitis on the first day in Warsaw, and the pains were with me right through till the operation, which was carried out only at the end of April in Leningrad.
Towards the end of 1926 I had written a Piano Sonata, and when I returned from abroad I composed a piano suite - Aphorisms, At the end of March I was commissioned by the Music Section of the State Publishers to write a symphonic composition to commemorate, the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution. I composed a Symphonic Dedication to October, my Second Symphony.^^1^^
__*__I have just got back from a rehearsal, where the Philharmonic Orchestra under Malko was playing my October Symphony for the first time. It 14 sounded great, and there were no misprints in the score. Today they rehearsed it without the choir; the choir practice will be on Friday or Saturday, I have spoken to some of the singers and they said that the parts are easy and well-suited to their voices. The first performance will be on 6 November, The programme of the concert is:
Gnesin: A Symphonic Monument
Shostakovich: Symphonic Dedication to October
Deshevov: Suite from the ballet Red Tornado
My work will be sung by the State Academic Choir.^^2^^
__*__Yesterday and the day before (5th and 6th) my Symphonic Dedication t October was performed at the Philharmonia. Let me describe it to you ii detail. There were only six rehearsals. The first was a preliminary one and I was not even informed, but I attended all the others and gave Malko instructions. I didn't think I need mention the sound: everyone liked it, especially the beginning and middle section. It turned out very well. The choir harmonised excellently. By the way, there is a short interlude in the choir part after the words '...the name of our fate was `` struggle''^^1^^. The strings categorically refused to play pizzicato. I would stake my life on the fact that that pizzicato is playable, but when a young composer writes something difficult the players always say it is impossible. I had to give way, and agreed. to let them play it area. It turned out fine. But I still hope that someday the passage will be played properly. In his Requiem, Mozart wrote a trombone solo which no trombonist at the time could play. So they replaced it by a bassoon. Nowadays the trombone copes with the solo perfectly.
Both concerts were preceded by meetings. On the 5th the meeting began at 9 o'clock and finished at 11. My Symphony was not played until 11.45, by which time the orchestra-and the audience-were exhausted by having to wait so long. Despite all that, everything went splendidly. The choir, the orchestra and the conductor all rose to the occasion. The success was quite considerable. I was called onto the stage four times, and even then they went on clapping, but I did not go up again. I was hoping that it would go even better on the 6th, but it turned out differently. After six rehearsals and two concerts the orchestra was dead beat. That evening the meeting started at 7 and finished at 9. They started playing my piece at 10,15. It came off considerably worse this time-one could feel the exhaustion of the performers, who put less into it than on the 5th. The audience, too, was tired after the meeting. It was fairly successful, but less so than on the 5th, I took two bows..^^3^^
15 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1928 __ALPHA_LVL1__ Right at the beginning of the year (8 January) Shostakovich accepted Vsevolod Meyerhold's offer of the post of musical director and pianist at his theatre in Moscow.Right at the beginning of the year (8 January) Shostakovich accepted Vsevolod Meyerhold's offer of the post of musical director and pianist at his theatre in Moscow. = This work interfered with his composing,, however, and in the spring he returned to Leningrad. In the summer he completed his opera The Nose and also compiled a suite from the opera for soloists and orchestra. In June the State Theatre Board signed a contract with him on the staging of the opera.
It was at this time that the first of Shostakovich's articles appeared in the press. The magazine Novy Zritel and the evening newspaper Krasnaya Gazeta published what he had to say about his new opera.
In the autumn the composer started composing a vocal suite to the words of Japanese poets (completed in 1932). At the beginning of November he acquainted Nikolai Malko with his opera The Nose, and on 25 November the conductor included some of Shostakovich's latest compositions in a concert at the Moscow Conservatoire: the suite from the opera The Nose, an orchestral version of the foxtrot Tahiti Trot and two pieces by Domenico Scarlatti (Pastorale and Capriccio) rearranged for wind instruments. In December Shostakovich signed a contract for music to be played during performances of the film New Babylon---something unheard of in those days of silent films.
Shostakovich regularly saw the critic Ivan Sollertinsky, who had become one of his closest friends, and also Marshal Mikhail Tukhachevsky, Commander of the Leningrad military district (they had first met in Moscow, while Shostakovich was preparing for the Chopin Competition).
Shostakovich was gaining fame in America: on 2 November his First Symphony was performed by the Philadelphia Orchestra under Leopold Stokowski,, and shortly afterwards it was conducted in New York by Artur Rodzinski.
__b_b_b__I was attracted to The Nose because of its fantastic, absurd content, presented by Gogol in a very realistic manner. I did not feel the need to back up the satire in Gogol's text with irony or parody in the music---- indeed, on the contrary, the musical accompaniment is perfectly serious. The contrast between the comic action and the serious symphonic music is meant to create a special theatrical effect; this device seems all the more justified since Gogol himself describes all the comic incidents in the plot in an intentionally serious, elevated tone. The language of The Nose is the most expressive of all Gogol's 'Petersburg Stories', and I was very attracted to the challenge of expressing the feel of Gogol's words in music-and that was my basic principle. While composing the opera I was guided least of all by the fact that opera is concerned with music. In The Nose the elements of action and music are equal: neither one nor the other predominates. In this way I hoped to create a synthesis of music and theatre.
The music is not divided into numbers, but is written as an unbroken symphonic stream, but with no system of leitmotifs. Each Act is a movement of a unified musical-dramatic symphony. An important part is played by the choir and ensembles (the yardkeepers' octet).
The orchestra is greatly reduced in size, with only one of each of the 16 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1928 wood-wind instruments, and only one trumpet, one French horn and one trombone in the brass section. On the other hand, many percussion instruments are used (there is a separate interlude for nine percussion instruments). The orchestra also includes domras^^*^^, balalaikas and a flexatone.
The main thing required of the performers is crystal-clear enunciation. The most important parts are the Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov ( baritone), Ivan Yakovlevich (bass), Praskovia Osipovna (soprano), the policeman (tenor-altino) and the Nose (tenor).^^1^^
_-_-_^^*^^ Domra---Russian stringed instrument,---Tr.
[17]
18
__CAPTION__
Childhood
19
20
__CAPTION__
Youth (early 1920s)
21
__CAPTION__
First year at the
22
__NUMERIC_LVL1__
1929
__ALPHA_LVL1__
As Dmitry Shostakovich, completed his post-graduate course at the Leningrad
Conservatoire, his creative work became even more intensive, with the main stress failing
on his music for the theatre and cinema.
As Dmitry Shostakovich, completed his post-graduate course at the Leningrad Conservatoire, his creative work became even more intensive, with the main stress failing on his music for the theatre and cinema. = Although the composer had turned down a permanent post at the Meyerhold theatre, he did not lose touch with it. That winter, on Meyerhold's suggestion, he wrote music for a production of Vladimir Mayakovsky's play The Bed-Bug (the premiere was on 13 February). The composer met Mayakovsky himself, who appeared to be satisfied with the music for the play.
At about the same time, Shostakovich was beginning to take an active interest in the Leningrad Young Workers Theatre, through which he tried to contribute to the rejuvenation of the traditional theatrical style. This aim was realised in several works, the first of which was the music for Bezymensky's The Shot, successfully premiered on 14 December. In this connection, the magazine Zhizn Iskusstva published an article written jointly by Shostakovich and others involved in the show, in which they set forth the new principles and devices employed in the production.
On 20 February Shostakovich finished the music to accompany Kozintsev and Trauberg's film New Babylon, and a month later the film was released. The directors and composer did not entirely succeed in their original plan, however: the cinema orchestras could not cope with such a difficult score. The music was therefore played in its entirety only in one cinema, where the orchestra was conducted by F. Krish. Shostakovich's interest in the problems of cinema music can also be seen in his address to a conference on the work of the cinema, published in the journal Sovetsky Ekran.
In the spring the composer wrote two additional numbers for the Maly Opera House''s production of Erwin Dressel's Columbus (entr'acte and finale). On 16 June the premiere of the opera The Nose - at first in a concert version - took place on the same stage.
In the second half of the year Shostakovich devoid himself enthusiastically to two important new compositions. He wrote his Third May Day Symphony, using poetry by Semyon Kirsanov, and began a ballet, The Golden Age, commissioned by the State Theatre Board (based on a libretto by the film producer A. Ivanovsky, originally called Dynamiad).
Also in 1929, Shostakovich*s fame was spread further when Nikolai Malko included two of his works-the First Symphony and the suite from The Nose-wi the programme of a concert tour of South America.
__b_b_b__...It is time to take cinema music properly in hand, to get rid of sloppy, unartistic vamping, and thoroughly clean up the Augean stables there...
...The only real solution is to write special music for each film, as is being done for more or less the first time, if I am not mistaken-with New Babylon...
...When composing the music for New Babylon I aimed not to illustrate every individual episode, but to suit the music to the main episode in any sequence.
For example, at the end of Part Two the most important episode is the 23 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1929 attack of the German cavalry on Paris. The scene ends with a deserted restaurant; utter silence. But despite the fact that the cavalry is no longer on the screen, the cavalry theme is still there, reminding the audience of the approaching threat.
A similar principle was followed in Part Seven, where a soldier comes into a restaurant in which members of the bourgeoisie are making merry after the defeat of the Commune. Here the music, despite the merriment in the restaurant, is determined by the tragic emotions of the soldier, looking for his loved one who has been sentenced to death.
The principle of contrast is widely used. For example, the soldier (a Royalist) who encounters his beloved (a Communard) on the barricades falls into deep despair. But the music becomes more and more triumphant, finally turning into an exhilarating, almost bawdy waltz, reflecting the victory of the Royalists over the Communards.
An interesting device is used at the start of Part Four, which shows an operetta being rehearsed. The music plays Hanon's exercises, which take on different nuances depending on the action: sometimes they sound jolly, sometimes languid, sometimes menacing.
Much use is made of dances of that period (waltz, cancan) and melodies from Offenbach's operettas. Some French popular and revolutionary songs (fa Ira, Carmagnole) can also be heard.
Based on a wide variety of musical sources, the music maintains an unbroken symphonic tone throughout. Its basic function is to suit the tempo and rhythm of the picture and make the impressions it produces more lasting.
Bearing in mind its novelty and unusualness (especially for cinema music hitherto), I tried to make the music dynamic and convey the passions of the film.'
__*__The 'external technique' of the Young Workers Theatre actor is not limited to movement and words. He also has to learn to play musical instruments. Significantly, in The Shot, the appearance of the `bosses' is marked by a deafening march played by a brass band, whose instruments are played by the actors. Similarly, the appearance on stage of the three secretaries requires the actors to play balalaikas. Finally, in the scene of the meeting, members of the orchestra go up on stage and are used as actors. The transformation of musician into actor and of actor into musician signifies the increasing musical saturation of drama.^^2^^
24 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1930 __ALPHA_LVL1__ This year was marked by the first performances of several of Shostakovich's important works, including The Nose and the Third Symphony.This year was marked by the first performances of several of Shostakovich's important works, including The Nose and the Third Symphony.
The Nose had its first 'trial run' on 14 January, when three scenes from, the opera were performed to an audience of workers at the Moscow-Narva House of Culture in Leningrad. The performance was accompanied by comments and explanations by the composer himself and the music scholars Yulian Vainkop and Ivan Sollertinsky. Four days later the official premiere took place at the Maly Opera House (conductor Samuil Samosud, producer Nikolai Smolich, stage-sets by Vladimir Dmitriev). In the audience was Sergei Kirov, who commented that 'one should not be afraid to take a risk if one sets oneself a great goal'. The opera gave rise to a lively debate in the press.
On 21 January The Third May Day Symphony was heard for the first time, also in the Moscow-Narva House of Culture. It was performed by the Leningrad Philharmonic and the State Academic Choir, conducted by Alexander Gauk. The following day the symphony was repeated in a concert for young people in the Grand Hall of the Philharmonia.
On 19 March Alexander Gauk conducted a suite from the new ballet The Golden Age, completed by Shostakovich in the spring. On 9 May the Leningrad Young Workers Theatre put on a new play by Gorbenko and Lvov called Virgin Soil, with music by Shostakovich. Finally, on 26 October, the Academic Theatre of Opera and Ballet staged The Golden Age ballet, produced and performed by young choreographers and dancers, including Vassili Vainonen, Leonid Yakobson, Galina Ulanova, Konstantin Sergeyev and Vakhtang Chabukiani, the stage-sets were by Valentina Khodasevich and the orchestra conducted by Alexander Gauk.
Despite his growing popularity and success, Shostakovich did not rest on his laurels, but strove to accomplish even more demanding tasks. In the autumn he began work on the libretto for his future opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk and on the ballet Bolt. He also continued to give concerts, although AV public appearances grew less frequent as fie devoted more and more time to composing. At a concert in Rostovon-Don Shostakovich performed Chaikovsky's First Piano Concerto for the last time; thereafter he restricted himself almost exclusively to performing his own music.
One of the most interesting of the composer's few published statements this year was his reply to a question in the magazine Proletarsky Muzykant, concerning the fight against ''petty-bourgeois, gypsy foxtrot ensembles' and his attitude to l light music' (by which was meant the wealth of commercial music, as a rule of a low ideological and artistic quality, which was popular at the time). Despite the sharpness and extremeness of his judgements, the composer's reply reflects his fundamental point of view on the matter, which was developed further in later public statements.
__b_b_b__I first conceived of the opera The Nose in summer 1927, and in the summer of 1928 it was completed.
...Since I felt that an opera based on a classical plot would be most topical today if that plot were satirical, I set about looking for my subject among the three leading lights of Russian satire-Gogol, SaltykovShchedrin and Chekhov.
In the end I plumped for Gogol's The Nose.
25 __CAPTION__ After the war, in the
26
__CAPTION__
Poster for the premiere of
AHBIFH i -ill.
FOCYflflPCTB. MflflbIM OnePHbiM TEflTP
(, > k 1 D 1 1
B CYBBOTY 18 HMB/\P« 1930 r.
27
__CAPTION__
Sketch of the stage-set for
28
Why, then, The Nose, of all Gogol's works?
Above all, I am convinced that of all Gogol's short stories, The Nose is the most powerful satire on the age of Nicholas I. Secondly, I felt that, not being a specialist in literature, I would find it easier to adapt this story for opera than Dead Souls. In general, I find the shorter literary genres easier to adapt for the stage.
Thirdly, the language of The Nose, is more vivid and expressive than in Gogol's other 'Petersburg Stories' and poses the interesting problem of how to transform the text into music. Fourthly, the story was full of potential for the stage.
About the libretto. The libretto is composed according to the principle of literary montage. The main differences from Gogol are as follows: 1) the scene which in the story takes place in the merchants' arcade (but which Gogol had originally set in Kazan Cathedral, until this was forbidden by the censors under Nicholas I) is transferred to Kazan Cathedral; 2) the scene in which the Nose is recaptured, which Gogol only adumbrates, is developed fully.
...The music in this opera exists not as an end in itself but as a means to put over the text. I should add that the music is itself not intended as a parody. No, although the action is comic, the music is not. I think this is as it should be, since Gogol relates all the comic events in a serious tone. This is one of the great merits of Gogol's humour. He does not 'crack jokes', and the music also tries to avoid `jokes'.^^1^^
__*__[In the Third Symphony] ... I tried to corMiy only the general mood of the International Workers' Day festival. I wished to portray peaceful construction in the USSR. I would point out that the element of struggle, energy and ceaseless work runs through the whole symphony like a red thread.^^2^^
__*__First of all, I thoroughly welcome the campaign initiated by the Proletarsky Muzykant against this genre of so-called 'light music'. I propose the following means of opposing it:
1. The authorities in charge of the publication and performance of music should be requested to issue a decree categorically prohibiting the publication and performance of 'light music'.
2. The article stating that membership of a composer's society is open to anyone who can prove that his works are performed publicly should be deleted from the rules of these societies.
3. In view of the fact that 'light music' is particularly widespread in working people's clubs, on radio programmes, etc., and therefore is extremely harmful, poisoning the musical consciousness of the broad masses, a campaign should be launched in the clubs and on the radio to explain 29 the harmfulness of listening to this miserable genre oi' 'light music', and, most important of all, to explain its class essence.
4. Of course, 'light music' as a style will not be eradicated by administrative measures alone. The suppliers of musical works will surely be loath to give up their comfortable positions among those entitled to the royalties. Not only will they force upon us gypsy songs and foxtrots. No, they will also give the gypsy songs lyrics which are 'a hundred per cent ideologically sound'... As a result, the Soviet public may often be caught off their guard and swallow the musical poison together with the ' ideologically sound' lyrics. In order to combat this genre, the progressive section of the musical public must call on the help of the Party, the Komso^ mol, the trade unions, the radio, the club activists and the organisers of musical entertainments. Only by launching a comprehensive campaign to explain the class essence of 'light music', will it be possible to liquidate / the genre.^^3^^
30 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1931 __ALPHA_LVL1__ As in all his younger years, in 1931 Shostakovich was working concurrently on several compositions.As in all his younger years, in 1931 Shostakovich was working concurrently on several compositions. = In March he signed a contract with the Nemirovich-Danchenko Theatre in Moscow and started work on the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. The first act of the opera was completed on 5 November.
Meanwhile, work was finished on his ballet Bolt, which was premiered on 8 April in the Academic Theatre of Opera and Ballet under the direction of Fyodor Lopukhov (conductor Alexander Gauk). The ballet did not prove to be popular, however, and performances were discontinued in the middle of June.
Early May saw the premiere---by the Young Workers Theatre in Leningrad---of Piotrovskf s play Rule Britannia!, for which Shostakovich composed the music. The composer tried his hand at yet another genre: he wrote the full score (35 numbers) for a production of Condition ally Murdered, a play by Vsevolod Voyevodin and Yevgeny Ryss, at the Leningrad Music Hall. The premiere took place on 20 October, conducted by Isaak Dunayevsky: the cast included the famous musichall actors Leonid Utyosbv, Klavdia Shulzhenko and Vitaly Koralli.
Continuing his work with Grigory Ko&nlsev and Leonid Trauberg, Shostakovich wrote music to accompany the'film Alone, which was released on 10 October. On 6 November---the eve of the anniversary of the Revolution---another film, Golden Mountains, was premiered in Moscow. This was the first Soviet sound film, and marked the start of a long collaboration between the composer and Sergei Tutkevich, a hading film director.
In the summer, during a visit to Leningrad, the conductor Leopold Stokowski, a great populariser of Shostakovich's music, met the composer, who presented him with the score of his Third Symphony. Meanwhile, Arturo Toscanini had included the composer''s First Symphony in his repertoire. Soon Shostakovich was visited by an American journalist, Rose Lee, a correspondent o/~The New York Times. On 20 December, her interview with Shostakovich (the first by a foreign journalist) and a detailed article about the composer and his music appeared in that paper. Shostakovich ended his conversation with the journali^with a reference to his interest in folk music as an important means of injecting new life into the language of music.
The composer spent the autumn months of September and October in the Caucasus---in the towns of Gudauti, Batumi and Tbilisi---where he had time to relax and work on Lady Macbeth. He returned home towards the end of the year.
__b_b_b__During my two months holiday I thought a good deal about my work as a composer.
For the past three years I have been working only as an `applied' composer, writing music for plays and films. I have done a lot in this field: New Babylon (Eccentric Actors Factory), The Bed-Bug (Meyerhold Theatre), The Shot, Virgin Soil, Rule Britannia! (Leningrad Young Workers Theatre), Alone (Eccentric Actors), Golden Mountains (Yutkevich), Conditionally Murdered (Music Hall); I have signed contracts for Hamlet ( Vakhtangov Theatre, 'producer Akimov), The Concrete Sets (Moscow Film Studios, producer Macheret) and The Negro (operetta, lyrics by Gusman and Marienhof).
31 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1931During this time I have also written two ballets (The Golden Age and Bolt), and the May Day Symphony.
Out of all these works, the only one which, to my mind, can lay claim to a place in the history of Soviet music is the May Day Symphony, despite all its imperfections. In saying this I do not wish to imply that all the other works mentioned above are worthless, but simply tha^t, being written for the theatre, they should not be considered as independentworks.
Experience has shown that an opera or ballet should be complete before it is ever brought to the theatre. The theatre should then accept it (or reject it) in its entirety, and stage the work in its ready-made form. This was done with my opera The Nose and the result, thanks to the theatre's first-rate performers, was an excellent production. Afinogenov and Kirshon also produced fine examples of proletarian drama without the `help' of the theatre!
Let music play the leading role in the musical theatre! l
__*__There can be no music without ideology... The old composers, whether they knew it or not, were upholding a political theory. Most of them, of course, were bolstering the rule of the upper classes. Only Beethoven was a forerunner of the revolutionary movement. If you will read his letters you will see how often he wrote his friends that he wished to give new ideas to the public and rouse it to revolt against its masters.
On the other hand, Wagner's biographies show that he began his career as a radical and ended as a reactionary. His monarchistic patriotism had a bad effect on his mind.
We, as revolutionists, have a different conception of music. Lenin himself said that music was a means of unifying broad masses of people. It is not a leader of the masses, perhaps, but certainly an organising force... Even the symphonic form, which appears more than any other to be divorced from literary elements, can be said to have a bearing on politics.
Thus we regard Scriabin as our bitterest musical enemy. Why? Because Scriabin's music tends to an unhealthy eroticism, mysticism, passivity and escape from the realities of life...
Music is no longer an end in itself, but a vital weapon in the struggle. Because of this, Soviet music will probably develop along different lines from any the world has ever known.
__*__I consider that every artist who isolates himself from the world is doomed. I find it incredible that an artist should want to shut himself away from the people, who, in the end, form his audience. I think an artist should serve the greatest possible number of people. I always try to make myself as widely understood as possible, and if I don't succeed, I consider it my own fault.^^2^^
32 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1932 __ALPHA_LVL1__ Shostakovich considered the resolution issued by the Party Central Committee on 23 April 'On the Restructuring of Literary and Artistic Organisations' an important landmark in the histoiy of Soviet art, an important step towards consolidating the country's artistic forces in the name of creating a new, socialist art.Shostakovich considered the resolution issued by the Party Central Committee on 23 April 'On the Restructuring of Literary and Artistic Organisations' an important landmark in the histoiy of Soviet art, an important step towards consolidating the country's artistic forces in the name of creating a new, socialist art. = On 23 and 25 April he took part in a conference organised by Andrei Bubnov, the People's Commissar for Education, to discuss topical problems affecting the country's musical life. Later he became one of the founders of the Leningrad composers' organisation, and was elected to its governing body together with other respected musicians such as Boris Asafiev, Mikhail Gnesin, Yuri Shaporin, Maximilian Steinberg, and Vladimir Shcherbachev. This marked the start of Shostakovich's lifelong participation in the official, public side of the country's musical affairs.
1932 was a year of intensive work on his opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk: Act Two was completed on 8 March, and Shostakovich showed what he had written to Mordvinov, a director of the Nemirovich-Danchenko Theatre. He began work on Act Three in Leningrad on 5 April, and continued during his summer break in Gaspra. The last act was written from October to December, and the opera was completed on 17 December - even earlier than the composer himself had hoped.
Though utterly engrossed in writing his opera, Shostakovich did not abandon all other work. On 19 May the Vakhtangov Theatre in Moscow staged the premiere of N. Akimov's new production of Shakespeare's Hamlet, with music by Shostakovich. This was the first time the composer had treated a Shakespearian theme. He also compiled an orchestral suite from the music for the play.
In the autumn, Shostakovich wrote the music for Ermler's film The CounterPlan, which included the popular 'Song of the Counter-Plan', with words by Boris Komilov. The film was released on 7 November.
At the very end of the year, once work on Lady Macbeth was completed, he began composing the cycle Twenty-Four Piano Preludes.
__*__In the first place I believe that the Third Regional Congress of the Art Workers Union should do its utmost to bring into effect the Communist Party's historic resolution of 23 April.
Secondly, it should devote considerable attention to questions relating to the actual creation of music.
Thirdly, it should deal with the everyday material needs of the composer.
Fourthly, it should strive in every possible way to promote the best musical works which have been written in our country since the October Revolution.
Fifthly, it should give every encouragement to the creation of largescale musical works, both instrumental (i. e. symphonies) and theatrical (operas, operettas and ballets).
Sixthly, we must revive one forgotten sphere qf music-works for various solo instruments (piano, violin) and for chamber groups (quartets, trios).
Seventhly, while encouraging and developing popular songs, it is also imperative to get rid of the domination of popular songs, since the proletariat also demands the creation of new forms.
33 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1932Eighthly, a highly qualified school of musical criticism must be created. At present this sphere is prone to too much dilettantism and phrase-mongering.
Ninethly, musical criticism must also be rid of leftist vulgarising tendencies, and even occasionally barefaced charlatanism, inherited from the days of the Russian Association of Proletarian Musicians {RAPM).
Tenthly, leading music scholars should be encouraged to write for our newspapers and periodicals.
Eleventhly, we should pay greater attention to our musical establishments: the concert halls, opera and ballet houses, etc.
And finally, I should like to wish the Art Workers Union further success in helping produce great art, worthy of our great age.'
__*__The Resolution of the Central Committee provides us with new impetus in our creative work, placing on each of us great personal responsibility, I personally see the Resolution as a sign of faith in composers who are not members of RAPM, a document which raises the development of Soviet music to new heights...
The Resolution is not a call for some kind of `liberalism', but a historically important document which will determine the future of Soviet music.
What I should like to see is the establishment in the near future of a Union of Soviet Composers.^^2^^
__*__I have been working on Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk for about two and a half years now. It is to be the first part of a trilogy about the position of women at various times during the history of Russia. The subject of the opera is taken from a story of the same name by Nikolai Leskov. This excellent story is a vivid, realistic and tragic portrayal of the fate of a remarkable, talented and intelligent woman who perished in the nightmarish conditions of pre-revolutionary Russia. Maxim Gorky once said: 'We must learn; we must get to know out country, its past, present and future.' Leskov's story is invaluable in giving us the kind of insight Gorky had in mind. It is an unusually powerful evocation of one of the darkest periods in pre-revolutionary Russian history. The story has endless potential for the composer. I was attracted by the vivid descriptions of the characters and the dramatic conflicts. The libretto was written by the young Leningrad dramatist A. Preis, with my collaboration, jit is based almost entirely on Leskov's work, with the exception of Act Three, where we diverged slightly from the text in order to give the opera greater social significance. The scene at the police-station was added, and Katerina's murder of her nephew was omitted.
I would call Lady Macbeth a tragic, satirical opera. Despite the fact that Katerina murders bolh her husband and her father-in-law, I still __PRINTERS_P_33_COMMENT__ 3-552 34 sympathise with her. I tried to paint her milieu in dark, satirical colours. By `satirical' I do not mean Tunny' or `scoffing'. On the contrary, in Lady Macbeth I wanted to unmask reality and to arouse a feeling of hatred for the tyrannical and humiliating atmosphere in a Russian merchant's household.
The music of Lady Macbeth differs greatly from that of my last opera, The Nose. An opera, when it comes down to it, is meant to be sung, and all the vocal parts in Lady Macbeth are melodious and contilena-like..;At certain climactic passages the orchestra builds up to enormous heights. A military band and various additional instruments are also incorporated.
So far, three of the intended four acts have been written. I hope to have the whole opera finished in three or four months.^^3^^
35 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1933 __ALPHA_LVL1__ Preparations for the staging of "Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk were underway in two theatres - the Nemirovich-Danchenko Theatre in Moscow and the Maly Opera House in Leningrad.Preparations for the staging of "Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk were underway in two theatres - the Nemirovich-Danchenko Theatre in Moscow and the Maly Opera House in Leningrad. = Shostakovich took an active part in the work of both. The stage rehearsals, however, did not start till the second half of the year, and so the composer had plenty of time to devote himself to his creative work and to give concerts.
In January the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra premiered the musical suite from the ballet Bolt. Meanwhile, the news came from Chicago that Shostakovich's Third Symphony had had its first performance in America, conducted by Frederick Stock.
A concert devoted entirely to Shostakovich's works, which took place in Moscow in April, was described by the newspaper Sovetskoye Iskusstvo as 'the greatest event of the musical season'. The programme included the First Symphony, the suite from the ballet Bolt (played in Moscow for the first time), and works for the piano. The press published rapturous reviews, but there were also criticisms; several reviewers reproached Shostakovich for lapsing into bad taste and frivolity, citing as an example his music for the ballet The Golden Age.
On 24 May, in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire, Shostakovich gave the first performance of his newly completed cycle of Twenty-Four Piano Preludes. (Soon, they were also played by Lev Oborin and Heinrich Neuhaus). He performed this work again in Baku in June. On 15 and 17 October his First Concerto for Piano, Trumpet and Orchestra was premiered at the Leningrad Philharmonia, conducted by Fritz Stiedry. The soloists were the composer, and the trumpeter A. Schmidt. The concert was performed again in Voronezh on 20 December.
By now, the rehearsals of Lady Macbeth were in full swing. In Leningrad they were directed by Nikolai Smolich, and in Moscow by Vladimir NemirovichDanchenko, who staged the first full dress rehearsal, in the presence of the composer, on 1 December. On 11 November, Shostakovich attended a concert of Polish music in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire, and wrote about his impressions of the concert in the newspaper Sovetskoye Iskusstvo.
A sign of Shostakovich's standing as a public figure was his election in 1933 to\\ a District Soviet in Leningrad. This was the first of many posts to which Shostako-' ' vich was elected.
__b_b_b__We must resolutely oppose the revengeful mood of those musicians who, after the publication of the Resolution of 23 April, on meeting each other embraced joyfully, and proclaimed - like the inhabitants of Sillyville learning that there had been a change in Mayor-Wow we'll show them!..,' Theirs is a vulgar conception. The class struggle is still taking place in our country, and still taking place in music, because music naturally reflects everything that is going on in the country... While giving the leftists a forceful rebuff, however, we must never forget the danger threatening us from the right.^^1^^
36 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1933The twelve months since 23 April, 1932 have been marked by the consolidation of the country's creative forces, and a steady rise in creativity. Two outstanding works are nearing completion: namely, the symphonies of Popov and Shaporin. Shcherbachev and Deshevov are both working hard. The first movement of Shebalin's grand new symphony entitled Lenin is completed. The list of achievements could be continued, but it would take up too much space, and is not my main intention here. What I would like to do is express some hopes for the future.
The Union of Soviet Composers should, of course, lead and guide all creative activity. This is a serious and responsible task. It has already achieved much in the sphere of consolidating creative forces, but as yet the Union's work remains largely abstract.
I once heard the following `aphorism' (I no longer remember who said it, or whether I read it somewhere): 'Critics are those people who, either through lack of talent or for some other reason, have not succeeded in joining the ranks of those who are criticised.'
One is involuntarily reminded of this unfortunate `aphorism' on reading through the musical sections of newspapers such as Rabochy i Teatr or Vechernyqya Krasnaya Gazeta. When a critic writes that in some symphony or other the Soviet office-workers are represented by the oboe and clarinet, and the Red Army men by the brass instruments, one feels like crying out 'It's just not true!'
I should like to conclude with a few words about myself. I am on the crest of a creative wave at the moment. I have finished my opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk and writen Twenty-Four Piano Preludes. Just now I am writing a piano concerto and music for a cartoon film The Tale of the Priest and His Helper, Dolt, based on Pushkin.^^2^^
__*__All the librettos I was offered were extremely schematic. Their stereotyped heroes aroused neither love nor hate in me. Several times I approached highly qualified workers, all of whom refused-for various reasons-such `trifling' work as writing a libretto for an opera. Nikolai Aseyev did at least write a libretto for a comic opera for me, but it was not really to my taste. Our best writers have a rather casual attitude to the musical theatre.
Given the specific nature of opera, the characterisation of the heroes must be clear and strong. It is impossible to write an opera about the five-year plan 'in general', or about socialist construction 'in general'; one must write about living people, about the builders of socialism. Our librettists have not grasped this yet. Their heroes are anaemic and impotent, and evoke neither sympathy nor hatred. They are too mechanical. This is why I turned to the classics (Gogol, Leskov). Their characters have the power to make us laugh and to make us weep,
I appealed to our leading writers to help us composers in the creation of a new Soviet operatic art. Several of them did: for example Osip Brik wrote excellent librettos for the opera The Kamarinsky Peasant and the 37 ballet The Gypsies. Very few, however, have followed Erik's example. Soviet opera will never be successful unless the specific nature of the musical theatre is taken into account. Composers ought to know the literary skills, and librettists should be musically `literate'.
The libretto for my future opera must satisfy the following requirements :
The libretto must reflect the heroism and inspiration of the remarkable life of the Soviet people.
The libretto should take into account the specific nature of the musical theatre. An opera is sung, not spoken, and consequently the text should be singable, and afford the composer every opportunity to create free, flowing melodies.
The libretto should excite the spectator by its tragic or comic situation, its captivating plot, and its swiftly unfolding action.
The libretto should take into account the psychology of the spectator, and must not include a large number of intervals between acts. It must be remembered that in an opera the music, not only the action, attracts much of the spectator's attention.
The composer should be able to introduce arias, duets, quartets and choral singing into the opera, and this should be to be done quite naturally, so as not to produce a ludicrous effect.
While adopting the best aspects of our classical heritage, they should be critically reworked, and not just blindly followed.
Our age demands and deserves new, wonderful art forms.
What is needed is more daring, boldness, and lively experiment!
What subjects do I want for my librettos?
I find it difficult to answer this question, but undoubtedly I want a libretto which reflects the great struggle of the victorious class, building socialism in our country.^^3^^
__b_b_b__I first became acquainted with the music of Karol Szymanowski a long time ago. He is a ver\ distinctive composer, with an excellent command of the orchestra's full potential. His miniatures are much more successful than his large-scale works, and in- general lyricism, reverie and contemplation are more suited to his talent than action, heroics and `big' themes.
Tadeusz Kassern's Concerto was, in my opinion, the least successful item in the concert. The composer has clearly not yet found his own musical language. His music is unexpressive, though technically fine.
Roman Palester's Polish Dance is just a charming bagatelle.
The concert was conducted in spirited fashion by the talented Grzegorz Fitelberg.
Whatever my impressions of the individual works may have been, for me the most important and most enjoyable aspect of the concert was that it acquainted us with the distinctive and interesting music of our Polish neighbours,*
38Nikolai Leskov portrays the heroine of his story Lady Macbeth of MtsensK as a demonic figure. He justifies her neither on moral nor on psychological grounds. My own concept of Katerina Izmailova is as a vigorous, talented, beautiful woman, who perishes in her dark, cruel family milieu in serf-owning Russia. In Leskov's story she is a murderess, responsible for the deaths of her husband, her father-in-law, and her husband's young nephew. The last of these murders appears particularly wicked and unjustified, motivated as it is by pure self-interest, by the desire to do away with the main claimant upon her husband's legacy.
I tried to give the principal characters psychological authenticity, and at the same time-in various mass scenes-to depict the social backdrop of Russia of that period.
Katerina's father-in-law, Boris Izmailov, is a typical stolid merchant of feudal Russia. He is an imperious despot, who takes great pleasure in wielding his power over all around him. His character is dominated by his inhuman cruelty (his part, written for a baritone, is lacking in lyricism). The music conveys his changes of mood without modulation; profound psychological changes are not part of his nature.
Katerina's husband, Zinovy, is a weak-willed, pitiful creature, who live"s in mortal fear of his father. Not possessing the strength of character to resist his father's despotic power, he tries to imitate him in everything he does, and has adopted a tyrannical attitude towards Katerina and all those below him. His part is written for a high tenor. To reveal his character I used the technique of 'exposure through music'. Thus, at the end of Act Two, in the scene in Katerina's bedroom before the entrance of Zinovy, who is now convinced of his wife's infidelity, the music is solemn, with fanfares, leading the spectator to expect a stormy, tragic scene. In fact, however, Zinovy appears as an indecisive, petty, slow-witted coward.
•'•*
Her love for the bailiff Sergei is the only ray of happiness in Katerina's dismal life. But Sergei himself is not a positive character: he is portrayed as a suave, sugary nonentity. He is a self-interested person, whose affair with a beautiful woman flatters him no less than his liaison with the mistress of the house. For the more romantic episodes, in which Sergei is the main character-his declaration of love to Katerina, etc.-1 used exaggerated musical devices, emphasising his sugariness and suavity. His part is sung by a tenor.
In Act Four, where Sergei behaves in a cruel, disgusting manner, I used vulgar, frivolous music to portray him.
I treat Katerina Izmailova as a complex, earnest, tragic character. She is an affectionate, sensuous woman, devoid of sentimentality. To outline her character and her moods, therefore, I have used deeply lyrical music. In the scene in Act Four, when Katerina is stripped of her illusions about Sergei, who so lightly and coarsely casts her aside for Sonetka, the music is dramatic, free from tearfulness and cheap sentiment.
The opera includes several crowd scenes, principally choruses of
labourers. In my interpretation, they are not intended as a contrast to
the merchant milieu; they are vulgar grovellers, feudal merchants in
39
__CAPTION__
A scene from Act One
Poster for the premiere of
the opera Lady Macbeth of
Mtsensk (Katerina
Izmailova)
40
__CAPTION__
A scene from Act Two
•
The cast for the premiere
of Lady Macbeth:
Sergei - Pyotr Zasetsky
41
__CAPTION__
Katerina - Agrippina
Sokolova
42
__CAPTION__
A scene from Act Three
Zinovy Izmailov-Stepan
Balashov
Zinovy's father
Boris---Georgi Orlov
43
embryo, who only think of how to become like Boris Izmailov. Sergei is
one of them, distinguished from the others only by his handsomeness.
The beginning of Act Four shows a convoy of prisoners heading for Siberia. The scene begins with a tragic prisoners' song, evoking a grim picture of tsarist Russia. The same chorus appears at the end of Act Four. It is consistent in style and character with convict songs of that period.
As composer, I am extremely satisfied with the Nemirovich-Danchenko Theatre's work on my opera. The collective recognises the leading role of the composer. Both the director Mordvinov and the artist Dmitriev base their work, above all else, on the musical content of the opera. There is not the slightest hint of unnecessary pomposity in the artistic design, which so often goes against the musical style of an opera. Much of the work on this production has been done by the theatre's artistic director himself, Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko.
__b_b_b__... At both of the concerts I gave recently in Moscow I played a work which I wrote between March and July 1932, my -Concerto for Piano, String Orchestra and Trumpet, This was my first attempt at filling an important gap in Soviet instrumental music, which lacks full-scale concerto-type works.
What is the basic artistic theme of this concerto? I do not consider it necessary to follow the example of many composers, who try to explain the content of their works by means of extraneous definitions borrowed from related fields of art. I cannot describe the content of my concerto by any means other than those I used to write the concerto...
I am a Soviet composer. Our age, as I perceive it, is heroic, spirited and joyful. This is what I wanted to convey in my concerto. It is for the audience, and possibly the music critics, to judge whether or not I succeded.^^5^^
44
__NUMERIC_LVL1__
1934
__ALPHA_LVL1__
The two premieres of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk took place in quick
succession: on 22 January in the Maly Opera House (conductor Samuil Samosud), and
on 24 January in the Nemirovich-Danchenko Musical Theatre (conductor Grigory
Stolyarov).
The two premieres of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk took place in quick succession: on 22 January in the Maly Opera House (conductor Samuil Samosud), and on 24 January in the Nemirovich-Danchenko Musical Theatre (conductor Grigory Stolyarov). = The opera went down well with both the audiences and the critics. It can be said quite categorically,' wrote Ivan Sollertinsky with characteristic enthusiasm, 'that in the history'of the Russian musical theatre there has been no opera of such scale and depth as Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk since The Queen of Spades.'
Over the next two years, the opera was performed 83 times in Leningrad-an almost unprecedented occurrence, testifying to the public's great interest in the work. From 16 to 20 February in the Leningrad Composers' Union, and in April in the Nemirovich Danchenko Theatre in Moscow, discussions of the opera took place, which soon developed into a serious and heated debate on the problems affecting the development of Soviet opera. Everyone, including those critical of Shostakovich's work, realised the stupendous scale of his talent.
Meanwhile, the composer was branching out into new spheres. His first chamber work---a Sonata for Cello and Piano---was premiered in the Small Hall of the Len- (, ingrad Conservatoire on 25 December. In was performed by the composer himself and the cellist Victor Kubatsky, to whom the work was dedicated.
On I April, Moscow's Vakhtangov Theatre staged a play based on Balzac's La Comedie Humaine, with music by Shostakovich. The ^avadsky Studio-Theatre also used music by Shostakovich in a production of a play by Louis Vemeuil and Georges Berr, L'ecole des Gontribuables. Shostakovich also continued to write music for the cinema.
Shostakovich was still giving regular concert performances. He performed his First Piano Concerto several times in the course of the year, in various Soviet cities.
Two conductors, Artur Rodzinski from the USA and Carl Sandberg from Sweden, came to the Soviet Union in the-*pring, and heard the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. On 23 November two excerpts from the opera were heard for the ' first time in the USA, performed by the New York Philharmonic' Symphony Orchestra under Rodzinski. Interest in staging the opera was growing in many countries.
__b_b_b__Why did I choose this particular subject for my opera?
In the first place because the classics of Russian literature have., as yet, been put to very little use in Soviet operas. But more importantly, because Leskov's story is rich in dramatic and social content. Indeed, there is no other work in Russian literature which so expressively characterises the position of women in pre-revolutionary Russia.
My interpretation of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk differs from that of Leskov. The very title of the work reveals the author's ironic approach to the events in the story. The title refers to an insignificant little corner of Russia, whose heroes, with their petty passions and interests, are of considerably lesser import than those of Shakespeare's, play. Furihermore Leskov, as a vivid representative of pre-revolutionary literature, could not give an accurate interpretation of the events which unfold in his story.
My role as a Soviet composer was, therefore, to explain those events
45
__CAPTION__
Poster for the premiere of
the Suite from The Golden
Age
Fe$tival Musical tie Leningrad.
CHMOOHHHECKHft KOHUEPT
OPKECTPA OHAAPMOHHH
4-VHTPOnyAOC
EOTEM PMBAAHCT (A-ep...) H
•MA. «pT p«cq. H P M A H y H 3 E M
n PO FPA M MA
1-0 OTACACHHe:
1. C. C DpoMc^MB (po4- • 1891 r.)---KASCCH*
iecK«n CHM90KKX. op. 25 (1916---17).
1. Allegro.
2. Larghetto.
3. Gavotte.
4. Finale (Moho vivace).
2. at 0. HlTei»«epr (poA- * 1883 r.)---
•apOAOP CCCP, AA« neHHn e OCR.
1. >T«Tapc«M* noAOH''.
2. Gyp«TCK*H necH» .BeAinl UBCTOK"
aanMCb H. fly
3. BeAopyccusH nacryiubn nccHb,
•anitcb H. H y H a e M.
4. VKpaMHCKan necHb---„ Hasan; Pesyxa''.
5. TlOpRCKail AIOOOMU* nt-CHb.
ft. T.I Tif>C K1H Ilrf Mb ,.4,VAeif,
»aoHCb M. fl y H 3 e
H7, Etp«AcK«)i necHb ,,riTH«iK«''.
8. ,
.,(t)MAOCO<I>",
HI n H. H y H ae H.
2-e OTjeAPMiie:
3 A. • B»«p«K (|».,i n 1^55 r,)---Tpayptia* nrriu.
AAM opKccrpa, 0|>. 20, IVjfl r, H t-6 pot).
4. A. K. FA*»y»o» (pojl. a lKt,.S r .)---Konurpi AAN
WpMnKM c opu . op. HZ
1. Moderate. I
2. Andante, i ««" nepepbin.,
3lAllcgro. |
ircn. E. Uiin6aAKf i.
*. j(. 4- m««T«MUn (pojt. a l'H)6 r.) CK-HT*
H3 AaAera .3oAorofl MK".
1. BcrroJieNMe.
2 B«AM.
a rioAMia.
4. TMMU coaeTCKoN m>MaH4bi.
I tried to achieve maximum simplicity and expressiveness in the musical language of the opera, I cannot accept the theory-at one time commonly held here-that there should be no vocal line in modern opera, or that the vocal line is merely a spoken part, in which intonation should be stressed. An opera is above all a vocal work, and the singers should attend to their immediate duty-of singing, not speaking, declaiming or intoning. All the vocal parts are based loosely on the cantilena style, exploiting the full potential of that rich instrument, the human voice. The musical development is always symphonic, and in this respect the work deviates from older operas built around separate arias. The flow of music is uninterrupted, breaking only at the end of each act, only to be resumed at the beginning of the next; the music does not trip along in short steps, but develops in a broad symphonic sweep. This ought to be taken into consideration when staging the opera, since every act, apart from Act Four, consists of several scenes, separated from one another not by mechanical pauses, but by musical entr'actes which should provide enough time for the scenery to be changed. The musical entr'actes between the second and third, the fourth and fifth, the sixth and seventh, and the seventh and eighth scenes in each case develop the preceding musical theme, and play an important role in characterising the events taking place on stage.^^1^^
__*__An extended holiday is a torture for me, I find it more difficult to rest than to do anything else. I fall ill if I go to a health resort. Only when I am up to my ears in work do I feel well.
__b_b_b__...I want to write a Soviet Der Ring des Nibelungen. It will be an operatic tetralogy about women, and Lady Macbeth will be its Das Rheingold, The main figure in the second opera will be a heroine of the People's Freedom Movement. The third opera will feature a woman of this century. Finally I will depict a Soviet heroine, endowed with the collective features of today's women and tomorrow's, from Larisa Reisner to Zhenya Romanko, the best woman construction-worker at the Dnieper Dam.^^2^^
__*__I faithfully read every issue of Rabocky i Teatr (The Worker and the Theatre). In my opinion the magazine's propaganda of Soviet art is basically correct. It could be improved, however, by expanding its musical criticism section, and by employing better critics. A newspaper review can be of great help to me when it is written by a highly qualified critic; this, unfortunately, is only rarely the case with Rabocky i Teatr. In general my links with the critics are very tenuous. I read their reviews, but there 47 is no permanent link between us. This is regrettable; there should be meaningful, permanent contact between the creative worker and the critic.
In my opinion the magazine should become more involved in all aspects of musical life. The critics should be casting light not only on first nights and jubilees, but also on the everyday practical work of our musical organisations.^^3^^
__*__... And still we are not keeping pace with the rapid growth of our country. Occupied with higher things, the Leningrad composers virtually ignore 'consumer requirements'. The orchestra was playing traditional marches as we walked in to a meeting recently. We ought to march to the sound of our own music as we go to the next elections for the Leningrad Soviet. New romances and songs must be written, too.^^4^^
__*__In our times, when a day seems like a month, and ten years seems an age, one finds oneself making impossible demands on oneself.
From last October to this October a whole year has passed. I wanted to do so much in those months, but there was simply not enough time. This means that I will have to spend time on some of my unrealised plans this year.
The two premieres of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk (one in the former Mikhailovsky Theatre, the other in the Nemirovich-Danchenko Theatre in Moscow) unsettled me somewhat. Normal work was also hindered by the large amount of music I had to write for the cinema. I composed the music for two films this year.
One of these films was Love and Hate (scenario by Yermolinsky), directed by Gendelstein. The action takes place during the Civil War: General Denikin is in the Donetsk Basin and the coal miners are fighting the White Guards. It is a good film, in my opinion, and an interesting one from the composer's point of view. The other film (made in Leningrad), The Tale of the Priest and His Helper, Doit, is a cartoon based on the work by Pushkin. Tsekhanovsky was both artist and director.
The scenario, which has lost none of the verve and satire of Pushkin's great tale, is excellent. The cartoon is in the style of a folk farce, full of witty, exaggerated situations and grotesque characters. The film sparkles with gaiety, fun and Hghtheartedness, To write the music for it was a pleasure. The tale itself, and the artist's treatment of it, determined the nature of the music, which creates a farcical, fairground atmosphere in keeping with the rest of the film.
Perhaps when the film is released I will be rebuked in certain quarters for my frivolity and mischievousness, for the absence of real human emotions, which 'at last^^1^^ I had portrayed in Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk.
But what are human emotions? Only lyricism, melancholy and tragedy? Does laughter not deserve ihis noble title? I want to fight for the 48 right of laughter to be accepted in so-called `serious' music. I am not in the least shocked if a listener laughs out loud during one of my symphony concerts; on the contrary, I am delighted.
It is another matter if the listener does not find the music funny. Then the composer is at fault, for the kind of laughter on which he was counting was not, in fact, a real human emotion. His music was merely a trick, a formalist joke, in the tradition of certain contemporary Western composers.
A word about the West. We have basically got over the tendency, prevalent during the RAPM period, not to include anything which smells of the 'contemporary musical West' in our concert programmes. Yet our concerts still include only a negligible amount of Western music. We could, however, learn from contemporary Western masters such as Schonberg, Kfenek, Hindemith and Alban Berg, even if only in the sphere of composition technique, which has not reached a high enough level in our own country...
Just as we are willing to learn from the best foreign performers, it seems only sensible by analogy also to make use of what is best in Western composition technique.
This we do not do, although we import incredible amounts of jazz music which, together with our own home-produced jazz, threatens to swamp the Soviet variety stage entirely.
I am not against jazz as such. But I do object to the ugly forms which the universal, almost mindless enthusiasm for the genre has assumed. I react strongly to the vulgar trash which can be heard for days on end from every cafe, restaurant, public house, cinema and music hall. The former chaste horror at the word `jazz' has now given way to veritable `jazz-bacchanalia'. The irony of the whole things lies in the fact that we have not yet managed to assimilate the realjazz culture. What we have is largely very inferior. Yet the gullible public naively admires this provincial hotchpotch...
__b_b_b__... I would like to get my own work in order soon. It has developed rather haphazardly up to now. By work I do not mean only writing the music to sound films, etc., but everything which nourishes the artist's creative process. This includes both close contact with surrounding reality and detailed study of the heritage of classical music. I am becoming increasingly aware of how little we really know about the world's music.
I remember an incident that happened to me when I was a student. During the final examinations at the Leningrad Conservatoire, I had to sight-read a piece of music for four hands, together with my friend, also a composer. My partner made several mistakes upon which Glazunov, who was then head of the Conservatoire, asked him: 'Do you know what this piece of music is?' My friend shook his head, 'What about you?' To my shame, I did not know either. It turned out to be Schubert's Third Symphony. 'What lucky people you are!' sighed Glazunov enviously. 'Think of the pleasure the future holds for you!...'
49This incident is an illustration of the old system of musical education in the conservatoires, which, in their concern for professionalism, sometimes overlooked the importance of a general musical education for the student's creative development. As a result of this, there was a long list of `pleasures' in store for us.
I doubt whether knowledge would have made us less happy than blissful ignorance. I think that we Soviet composers should make sure we arouse envy in the future not because we still have much to learn, but because we know a great deal and are striving to find out as much as possible.^^5^^
__*__Looking back at what my fellow composers and I have achieved this past year, and summing up my impressions of all I have heard in the concert halls and opera houses, I feel like shouting aloud: what a busy, productive and plentiful year this has turned out to be!
New symphonies, new operas, new names... 1934 has been a year of `big' works. Large-scale forms have blossomed as never before.
Special mention should be made of Popov's new symphony and Shaporin's opera The Decembrists. These are both great, lasting works of art, which will occupy a firm place in our repertoire for years to come. I should also like to draw particular attention to the First Symphony of Timofeyev, a young and extremely talented composer. Timofeyev, as yet known only to a very narrow circle of professional musicians, has written a moving, captivating epic. It has the power and range of a true masterpiece.
Zhelobinsky's opera The Name-Day and Dzerzhinsky's opera And Quiet Flows the Don are of considerable interest. Despite the rather schematic and, in my view, somewhat immature nature of these operas, they are both interesting, and can expect to be well received by the public. As far as actual performances are concerned, what stands out most in my mind from 1934 is the Leningrad Music Festival, which was acclaimed in all the capitals of the world, in spite of a number of organisational shortcomings as regards choosing performers, repertoires, etc.
Town, regional and national competitions, Olympiads, factory ' conservatoires'... I cannot recall another year of such rapid qualitative growth in amateur activities in the USSR, Meanwhile in Germany, the home of great classics, of Bach and Beethoven, there is unprecedented break-up and collapse. All the best composers have either been expelled, or have emigrated. Schonberg went to America, Krenek has also left. And yet they could hardly be suspected of sympathising with communism!
The colourful Richard Strauss is the only worthwhile composer left in Germany---and he alone can hardly serve to cover up the pitiful state of fascist musical `culture'. There is complete confusion. What is there to write about? How and, more importantly, for whom should they write?
This is symptomatic for all Western European music today. Let us compare, for example, the hugely successful Leningrad Music Festival with the disastrous failure of the Festival in Florence. The latter was dull, __PRINTERS_P_49_COMMENT__ 4-552 50 grey, lifeless, and very poorly attended. No one wanted to listen. The programme was full of mediocre, average works, utterly lacking in inspiration. Not a single outstanding piece of music! -No, it was not a very bright year for the West.
I am by no means inclined to see everything with us through rosetinted spectacles. Our music, too, has many shortcomings. For example, the triumphant march of jazz has recently led to a kind of `jazzomania'. The result, as I have said, is a frivolous and indigestible provincial hotchpotch. I am not against jazz. I myself have written jazz music, and shall continue to do so. Recently I wrote three jazz dances. But the question is a serious one, for vulgarity and Philistinism are rearing their heads here and there. The symphony ensembles which used to play good-quality music in the cinemas are now being sacrificed to jazz. This is clearly going too far.
There are also serious shortcomings in the work of 'he country's highest musical institution, the Conservatoire, There is still too much scholasticism in the Department of Composition. In examining the works of a young composer, there is too much discussion about whether, for example, the music adequately conveys that the collective farm has fulfilled its plan by one hundred per cent. By vulgarising the essence of music in this way, the collective farm and other contemporary themes are themselves debased. Not enough stress is laid on `technical' proficiency, and as a result there are many gaps in the students' abilities on their leaving the Conservatoire. They are, as a rule, poor at orchestration, for example.
We must do away with the laissez-faire attitude towards the recruitment of young performers. Instead of admitting students at random, work should be done in scouting factories and villages, where there is a wealth of untapped talent. Surely it is'ltn important responsibility of the Conservatoire to search out and exploit this talent?
All these things are important, of course, but they should not undermine the main musical achievements of 1934.
__b_b_b__... Soon the Second Ail-Union Performers Competition is to take place. Violinists, trumpeters, cellists and trombonists from all over the country will display their skills. I would like to satisfy the competitors' request to write a few pieces which could be performed at the competition; then I shall be free to concentrate my thoughts and energies on my Fourth Symphony, which will be the main work for next year.
It should be a monumental programme work, full of deep thoughts and great passions. I have been nurturing it for many years, but I have not yet put my finger on the forms and techniques suited to it. I am not satisfied with the first attempts and rough drafts I wrote earlier. I shall have to start from square one again.
I also have plans for another major work: the second opera of the cycle about the position of women in the past. A. Preis is working on the libretto. The main sources are Saltykov-Shchedrin (Trifles of Life] and Chekhov.^^6^^
51 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1935 __ALPHA_LVL1__ The most important work composed this year was The Limpid Stream, Shostakovich's third and final ballet.The most important work composed this year was The Limpid Stream, Shostakovich's third and final ballet. = The composer did not consider his first ballets successful and, as can be seen from his comments reprinted here, pinned considerable hopes on this, his third, treating it as a very serious matter. His hopes would appear to have been borne out.
On 4 April The Limpid Stream had a successful premiere at the Maly Opera House; Fyodor Lopukhov produced the performance, Pavel Feldt conducted. The audience included the venerable conductor Yuri Faier, who was preparing for the ballet's Moscow premiere at the Bolshoi Theatre. This production was also a success; the cast for the first two performances in the capital (30 November and 3 December) included such well-known dancers as Asaf and Sulamif Messerer, Olga Lepeshinskaya, Petr Gusev, Alexei Yermolayev, ^inaida Vasilieva, Vladimir Ryabtsev and the young Igor Moiseyev. After the ballet, on 26 December, the Bolshoi Theatre also put on the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, conducted by Alexander Melik-Pashayev.
Two more films with music by Shostakovich were released: early in the year Maxim's Youth, produced by Kozintsev and Trauberg, and in March Gendelstein's Love and Hate. The end of March saw the first performance of his Suite for Jazz Orchestra.
It was a year of much public activity for Shostakovich. On 4-6 February he look part in a wide-ranging discussion on Soviet symphony music, organised by the Composers'" Union. The main report was made by Alexander Ostretsov, and other speakers included Konstantin Kuznetsov, Vissarion Shebalin, Ivan Sollertinsky, Viktor Bely and Dmitry Kabalevsky. (Part of Shostakovich's speech is included here). On 25 March the Moscow Club of Arts Masters held a large function devoted to Shostakovich, at which the composer spoke about his career. In general, his speeches and articles of this year suggest it was a year of stock-taking, in which he made a deep and self-critical analysis of the last ten years and mapped out the way forward. He did not try to hide his principles and convictions - either from himself or from his audience.
The composer brought back vivid impressions from a trip to Turkey with a group of Soviet actors and musicians. He visited Ankara, Izmir and Istanbul, playing his > own works in concerts and meeting other musicians.
Meanwhile Shostakovich's music was winning more and more admirers abroad, and in this sense too, 1935 was a significant year. In January Toscanini conducted extracts from Lady Macbeth in Mew York, on the 31st of that month the opera was premiered, under Rodzinski, in Cleveland, and a week later repeated at the Metropolitan Opera. On 5 April a troupe formed specially for the occasion, with Alexander Smallens as conductor, performed the opera in Philadelphia. In May the BBC in London broadcast the excerpts from Lady Macbeth conducted by Albert Coates, an old friend of Russian music. On 14 November, with rehearsals also underway in Buenos Aires and ^urich, another premiere of the opera took place in Bratislava. The work evoked a great response in the foreign, especially American, press. But it would be wrong to think that the public and the critics were unanimous in their appraisals. According to Shostakovich's first foreign biographer, Victor Serof: the '... production drew more comment than had any music to come out of Soviet Russia so far.'
Towards the end of the year Shostakovich set to work on his Fourth Symphony.
__b_b_b__ 52 __CAPTION__ Shostakovich at the time
53
__RUNNING_HEADER__
1935
It will soon be a year since the first production of my opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. That production was a great lesson for me.-
I feel that as far as my works for the stage are concerned, Lady Macbeth represents a step forward. Recalling my failures in this area (the ballets The Golden Age and Bolt], I began to look for the reasons for these failures and for the success of Lady Macbeth, and established that the essential element in the opera is the attempt to penetrate as deeply as possible into the content of the given material.
It was the fact that I broke through the surface and got to the heart of the age and of the tragic course of events in the plot that determined the opera's success. How did this come about? Above all because I tried to make the musical language of the work as persuasive as possible.
Since Lady Macbeth I have been acutely aware of the problem of purity of musical language. Maxim Gorky's article on purity of language in literature is equally valid when applied to music, and it is for such ' purity', in the best sense of the word, that Soviet musicians---and I, in particular---must aim. Lady Macbeth brought certain achievements in this respect, but much more remains to be done.
Since the opera I have written 24 piano preludes, a piano concerto, a sonata for cello and piano, and music for the cartoon film The Tale of the Priest and His Helper, Dolt, based on Pushkin. As regards 'purity of language', I think the cello sonata has achieved most.
It is imperative that a line be drawn between simplicity and oversimplification, which, let us face it, are sometimes confused. Musical language acquires clarity and expressiveness not only as a result of harmonious sound combinations, but above all when the composer has a clear and profound conception of the ideas and emotions he wishes to convey.
I have many plans at present. A symphony is taking shape. I am planning an operatic tetralogy on the situation of women, of which Lady Macbeth will be the first part. I hope that with the help of the public and especially the Leningrad Composers' Union I shall be able to concentrate on these two main tasks---the second opera in the tetralogy and the Fourth Symphony.
I am now completing a new ballet, Whims. I have not finally decided on this name---it may end up being called Two Sylphs or Kuban. The ballet is already being rehearsed at the Maly Opera House.
I am very satisfied with the libretto for the work. The action takes place in the Kuban area and involves collective farmers and performers who have come to the farm to provide entertainment. The ballet is basically a comedy. I would call it a choreographic comedy-a genre with which Lopukhov, the author of the libretto and choreographer, copes magnificently.
My chief aims in writing this new ballet were vigorousness, colourfulness and lightness. The music contains many lyrical and many comic elements.
I remember hearing musicians who had just listened to Lady Macbeth saying something to the effect that-here, at last, Shostakovich had 54 achieved depth and humanity. When I asked where exactly this humanity lay, most of them replied that for the first time I had taken an earnest look at serious, tragic events. I would not say, however, that my attempt at comedy lacks humanity, I consider laughter just as essential in music as lyricism, tragedy, inspiration and other `elevated' qualities. May I then be spared the anger and accusations of inhumanity of those who find much that is jolly, humorous and funny in my new ballet or in my dances for jazz orchestra.^^1^^
__*__The `talkies', it seems to me, could play an enormous role in making good music accessible to the widest sections of the community. It would be marvellous if high-quality recordings could be made of operas, symphonies and so on. There are far more sound-cinemas in the Soviet Union than symphony orchestras, and they could be used to great effect in popularising Beethoven and other great composers of the world.^^2^^
__*__Here in the Soviet Union every qualified worker-be he a producer, a writer, an engineer, a composer or whatever-enjoys the patronage of the Party and government... Soviet composers have every opportunity for great work. Was there ever another time or another place where a composer could peacefully write a sonata or a quartet, in the knowledge that he was financially secure. This is a result of the construction of socialism in our country, a result of our Party's policies.^^3^^
__*__As a composer I know that musical creation is a complicated, difficult and sometimes painstaking task, demanding intense thought-including, perhaps, thoughts on how to avoid appearing an eclectic or an epigone, though I do not imagine that this is ever uppermost in the composer's mind as he works.
We Soviet people live a highly emotional life. Therefore Soviet composers should pay special attention to the creation not only of the usual kind of symphonies (the most cumbrous kind), but also of symphonies of a lyrical character. How fine it would be to write such a symphony! True, it is a difficult task, but not necessarily unrealisable.
... I know that our performers - and not only the performers, but the
majority of listeners too-are aware that Soviet composers devote little
attention to the creation of a mass repertoire. The Soviet listener notices
this, and he demands of music, perhaps, that i^^1^^ should provide him
merely with entertainment. Perhaps I am expressing myself coarsely. But that
is how things are, and I am afraid that we sometimes forget this. We say
that our symphonies should excite, that they should tell of heroic deeds.
But I have hardly ever heard anyone say that the Soviet symphony
55
__CAPTION__
The production team for
The Lim/nd Stream:
choreographer Fyodor
Lopukhov, art designer
Mikhail Bobyshov,
conductor Isai Sherman
Paster advertising the
premiere of the ballet The
Limpid Stream
56
__CAPTION__
A scene from Act Two of
The Limpid Stream
57
__CAPTION__
A scene from Act Three
of The Limpid Stream
__CAPTION__
The cast for the premiere
of The Limpid Stream
(from lift to nghl):
The agriculturalist - Pyotr
Gusev
Zina---Zinaida Vasilieva
The summer residents---
Mikhail Rostovtsev,
Yevgenia Lopukhova and
Classical dancer - Feya
Balabina
58
should merely provide entertainment. And yet, this is a serious problem,
which must not be evaded.
At first I agreed that I was guilty of frivolity when I used bawdy, or let us say, popular motifs. Perhaps I did not act entirely rightly in this respect, but my intention was good: I wanted to write good entertaining music which might give pleasure even to a qualified listener, or even make him laugh. And if, during the performance of my works, the audience laughs, or even smiles, then this gives me pleasure.^^4^^
__*__I am about to write my Fourth Symphony, which will be a kind of summing-up of my musical credo.
What are the main tasks which I set myself at present? To answer this question properly it will be necessary to look back at what has gone before.
As a pupil I imagined music as a series of sound combinations, whose `euphony' determined the quality of a work. Only later did I understand the simple truth that music is the most powerful form of art, capable of conveying the most diverse emotions. It was then that my struggle for a credo began. This struggle is continuing, and I think it unlikely that it will end soon.
I once came under much fire from the critics, mainly on account of formalism. I reject these reproaches entirely. I have never been, and will never be, a formalist. To brand any work as formalistic on the grounds that its language is complex and perhaps not immediately comprehensible, is unacceptably frivolous.
Now my main goal is to find my own simple and expressive musical language. Sometimes the aspiration for a simple language is understood rather superficially. Often `simplicity' merges into epigonism. But to speak simply does not mean to speak as people did 50 or 100 years ago. This is a trap into which many modern composers fall, afraid of being accused of formalism. Both formalism and epigonism are harmful to Soviet music. Only if he steers clear of these dangerous rocks will the Soviet composer become a true bard of our great age.^^5^^
__*__The creation of a large ballet on a Soviet theme is a difficult and responsible matter. But I am not afraid of the difficulties. To take a wellworn path is perhaps easier and `safer', but also boring, uninteresting and pointless.
__b_b_b__...A group of Soviet performers visits the Kuban, where they meet local collective farmers for the first time. The collective farmers, seeing the performers as people from some unfamiliar world, are unsure of how to approach them. The performers, too, cannot immediately find a common language with the farmers.
59Very soon, however, both sides find they have much in common. All of them are building a socialist way of life: the farmers in agriculture, the performers in the sphere of art. The teams of collective farmers and actors are brought even closer together by romances which blossom in the beautiful Kuban countryside.
The libretto, with this uncomplicated plot, was cleverly worked out by that expert in the field of theatre and ballet, Andrian Piotrovsky. Add to this the choreography of Fyodor Lopukhov and scenery designed by Mikhail Bobyshov, and we have the makings of a lively and colourful spectacle.
The music for the ballet is, in my view, merry, light, entertaining and, most important of all, suitable for dancing. I intentionally tried to find a simple, clear language, equally accessible to the audience and the dancers. To dance the music which lacks rhythmic and melodic cohesion .is not merely difficult but downright impossible.'^^1^^
__*__I am deeply opposed to attempts to replace real ballet by a kind of dramatised pantomime. In Leningrad a few years ago, I once had occasion to see a show staged by the talented choreographer Yakobson (he now works in Moscow), who at that time denied the primacy of dance in ballet and reduced ballet to mere pantomime. I must admit that I found the result unconvincing.
Frankly speaking, every time I see so-called 'pure pantomine', I cannot get rid of the feeling that I am witnessing a conversation of deaf-mutes. There is something insurmountably unnatural in this kind of `realism'. Just as you cannot have an opera without singing (by definition), so you cannot discard dance from ballet. This conventional definition should not be fought against but justified.
I feel that the Leningrad Maly Opera House is on the right track in the search for new principles for Soviet ballet. Without running against the `conventionality' of dance, while retaining, indeed, the classical system of dance movements, the Maly is exploring certain specific devices in an attempt to find a realistic style of ballet.
Whims (as it provisionally titled) is my third ballet on a Soviet theme. The first two- The Golden Age and Bolt-l consider very unsuccessful from a dramatic point of view. It seems to me that the main mistake was that the librettists, in striving to depict our way of life in the ballet, completely failed to take into account the peculiarities of the art form. The portrayal of socialist reality in ballet is a very serious task; it must not be approached superficially. And such episodes as, say, the 'Dance of Enthusiasm' or the mime representation of the work process (hammering on an anvil) betray an ill-thought-out approach to the problem of producing a realistic ballet on a Soviet theme.
I cannot guarantee, of course, that this third attempt may not also turn out to be a failure, but even if this is so, I shall not be deterred fr6m writing yet another Soviet ballet.
60I now intend to turn to a major work-my Fourth Symphony. Recently, as a result of my work on the ballet and on film music, I feel I have dropped behind in the sphere of symphony music-the most difficult and most important form of composition.
I cannot say anything concrete yet about the future symphony, about its character or themes. I have now rejected all the musical material previously intended for the work, so the symphony will be written from scratch. Since I consider this an exceedingly complex and responsible task, I wish first to write a few works for chamber groups and solo instruments. I think this will help me get a proper grip of the symphonic form. I have already begun a string quartet, and then intend to compose a violine sonata, which I have been planning since I was in Leningrad.
The recently run All-Union Performers Competition turned out to be a silent reproach to us, Soviet composers. Our duty towards Soviet performers is enormous. What concert music have we provided them with? Virtually none, or at any rate very, very little.
There is a complete dearth of Soviet music for virtuosos, music which would give the performer the maximum opportunity, using material full of new ideas, to show his technical brilliance. Franz Liszt with his rhapsodies is so far unsurpassed in this field. To better him, I do not deny, is a hard task, but it is an honourable one which must finally be taken up.
The competition shook up my plans considerably. I shall certainly now set about writing pieces to fill out the repertoire of our performers-first and foremost pieces for wind instruments. Their existing repertoires are meagre and uninteresting, for the classics, too, tended to neglect these `plebeians' of the orchestra.
There is little need to dwell on the undeniable right of the 'brass and wood family' to a place on the concert stage. I think this is certainly something for Soviet composers to chew over.^^7^^
__*__I appeal to my fellow-composers to give much more serious thought to musical language and expressiveness. In particular, we have barely touched upon the question of simplicity and purity of musical language, a question which has been widely dealt with in literature. This is a farreaching problem. I think that if composers take a long, hard look at these questions, they will be rewarded with great success and a work will be composed, of which we shall be able to say: this is a Soviet symphony, it could have come about only here, in the Soviet Union.
In general, we should think again .about what we call `leading' works and `leading' composers. We tend, especially in Leningrad and Moscow, to use this term very wrongly, when, we call such-and-such a composer `leading'; what, then, are the others?-presumably `led', but by whom? how? We are clearly beginning to misuse the term.
I know that there are many talented composers in the Soviet Union, but it would be difficult to point to any one of them and say: yes, he is 61 our leading composer, we can take our cue from his work, as Soviet literature takes its cue from the works of that giant of literature, Maxim Gorky. Soviet music has no such composer.^^8^^
__*__It was an exceptionally interesting trip; we were in Turkey for a month and seven days. We witnessed the country's high economic and cultural level, met Turkish artists and members of the public, and in our turn showed Turkey the achievements of Soviet culture.
...In a village near Izmir I heard folk singers, and in Ankara I attended a concert of national songs and dances. I also heard recordings of these songs. The Ankara Conservatoire delighted me by presenting me with transcriptions of a large number of folk songs. I have not had time to learn them yet, but even a brief glance at the music has kindled my interest in national Turkish songs... I returned from Turkey with a wealth of impressions.^^9^^
__*__There are no drinking houses, and only idle foreign journalists, sitting over their cocktails in European bars, still talk of opium dens and the other `piquant' establishments of exotic Constantinople. Walking through the streets of Istanbul, I could not throw off the joyful sensation that I was in a modern city, full of the bustling, bubbling rhythm of life. I felt that here they were building their everyday, free lives. Here they hated the past, treated the present seriously, and looked fearlessly into the future.
In Istanbul I met two young Turkish composers, Jemal Rashi and Hasan Ferid, and heard them playing their own piano works. I was not looking for technical brilliance of great virtuosity in their playing---- although that was certainly in evidence-but for some new musical colouring, previously unknown to me. And to my great delight, I found the distinctive, original sound I was looking for. Later I met the fifteen-year-old composer Sabahattin in Ankara, and my colleagues and I listened with great interest to him playing his own compositions for piano.
There are still no symphony orchestras - as we understand the word-in Turkey. But the uncommon musicality of the Turks, and their quite amazing ability to master new musical works, undoubtedly guarantee that in the very near future the students' orchestra at the Istanbul Conservatoire and the President's Orchestra in Ankara will grow into highly professional ensembles. At any rate, the success achieved in only a few rehearsals with' these orchestras by our conductor, Lev Steinberg, strongly suggests this possibility.
Before our trip, Turkish music-lovers only knew the classical Russian composers, and now they were able to hear several works by our Soviet masters played at their best. It must be said that these masters found very sensitive and perceptive admirers among the Turkish audience, and 62 several of our composers will be firm favourites in this friendly country from now on,
In Istanbul I visited the Turkish Academy of Arts, where I saw many works-water-colours, oils and pencil-drawings---which could adorn the walls of any European gallery. But it is not in this that the strength of the Turkish painters lies. In their interpretation of their native countryside, in their treatment of genre scenes and typical characters, I perceived that distinctive national element which guarantees the fruitful development of their art in the future.
On the way to Izmir, we visited the excavations going on at the ancient capital of Pergamum. Fifty years ago a German archeological concessionaire openly plundered the site of its treasures and removed them to museums in Germany. Now an end has been put to these excesses, and everything discovered at the site of Pergamum is kept in a local national museum founded specially for the purpose. We visited the ruins of a huge stadium, a magnificent, multi-storey ancient theatre, the remains of bath-houses, and other interesting sights. The contrast between what we saw during this short stopover and what was then revealed to us in the cities and villages, on the highways and mountain passes, was so exciting one could not help making historical comparisons. I was very impressed by Aya Sofiya in Istanbul. But an even greater impression was made by the healthy, vigorous excitement of new building which one could feel on the streets of old Ankara, which is being turned into the capital of a free young state.
Turkish composers with whom I made friends presented me with a large collection of Turkish folk songs, noted down by folklore collectors. Even a first look at these songs has shown me how much unexplored wealth there is in them. The President of the Republic, Mr. Kemal Ataturk, is doing a great deal to bring about a musical reform in Turkey. Instead of the archaic, stagnant old forms of music, suited largely to the tastes of tourist consumers, President Ataturk is encouraging the development of a modern style in Turkish national music; he is putting much effort into the creation of a national opera and the organisation of a system of secondary and higher musical education,I0
__*__...I had to waste a whole year finding out, with my own reason, sensitivity and meagre knowledge, the primitive truth that music is not just a collection of sounds. I consider it a great failing of the Conservatoire's teaching that it gives too superficial a knowledge of modern music. Apart from a few well-known works by Borodin, Glazunov, Chaikovsky and Beethoven, plus the standard piano repertoire of works by Schumann, Beethoven, Chopin and Liszt, we knew nothing. To fill the gaps in my musical education I visited the music theatres and concerts at the Philharmonia. In this way I acquired and increased my musical knowledge, but unfortunately-and this was extremely important-1 could not systematise it.
63Things were even worse as regards contemporary music: the Conservatoire ignored it completely, as though it did not exist. It was denounced, without further consideration, as fairground charlatanism, based purely on 'sleight of hand'. The greatest `charlatans', of course, were Stravinsky, Schonberg and Hindemith. As a result, I knew virtually nothing about them, and was stuffed full of orthodox Conservatoire wisdom.
It was only much later that I came to understand the great importance, talent, originality and artistic taste of the fresh musical current which these `seditious' composers had introduced. Throwing off all the prejudices that had been inculcated in me, I devoted myself with youthful passion to a careful study of these musical innovators. Only then did I realise that they were geniuses---especially Stravinsky, that virtuoso of colour and master of orchestration. Only then did I feel that my hands were untied, that my talent was liberated from routine.''
__*__Let me return to the question of the Conservatoire. I do not mean to imply that it gave me nothing. Most probably, had I not undergone the course prescribed for every pupil and mastered the subjects taught, with all their cliches, then I should have achieved nothing worthwhile. All the disenchantment and dissatisfaction that I experienced then was doubtless experienced by hundreds of other young people both before and after me. If I possess a certain technique in composing, then it was the Conservatoire that gave me it. As far as orchestration is concerned, I am eternally grateful to Professor Steinberg, who helped me master this difficult art.
__b_b_b__... I certainly do not believe that he [Stravinsky] should be imitated in 'every respect. But he is very interesting and original in that he has opened up new paths in modern music. This is why I single him out among contemporary West European composers. As for the Western classics, to single out any one of them is far more difficult, for the age of classical music covers a huge period...
Richard Wagner was, of course, a brilliant composer, but by no means an innovator. His ideas led to nothing other than the emergence of ' oratorial' operas. Unlike Verdi, Wagner did not succeed in constructing a musical drama: his operas are static. Although he quite swamps Meyerbeer with the full force of his enormous temperament, yet he is undoubtedly less capable of constructing a musical drama. Wagner's real merit lies in his ridding opera of separate musical numbers and replacing them by a continuous flow of musical thought. In this respect, he influenced the later Verdi, for example in Othello.^^12^^
__*__About three years ago the composer Dzerzhinsky showed me the beginning of his opera And Quiet Flows the Don. Despite the sketchiness and 64 incompleteness of the material, the great talent of this composer, making his first attempt at opera, was very clear. I realised immediately that what I had heard would grow into a fine work. At the same time, Dzerzhinsky required help and encouragement in writing the opera since, despite his undoubted talent, he suffered from many 'children's diseases*.
I remember these 'children's diseases'- the most striking of which was a certain lack of experience in orchestration-from his operetta The Green Factory, which ran at the Leningrad Young Workers Theatre. In our opinion, And Quiet Flows the Don promised to become a major event in the history of Soviet music, and Dzerzhinsky had to be introduced immediately to the Leningrad Maly Opera House-a veritable laboratory of Soviet music.
A conductor of great sensitivity, Samuil Samosud realised that And Quiet Flows the Don was an outstanding work. And no effort was spared to help get the opera completed and staged.
With the support of the Maly, Dzerzhinsky finished the opera, and today, as the curtain goes up, we who are present at the birth of the new work, experience a sense of profound joy and pride in the Soviet musical theatre, which has gained another outstanding composition.
Some time ago the Bolshoi Theatre and the newspaper Komsomolskaya Pravda jointly ran a competition for the best opera. The results were as follows:
No first prize was awarded; the second prize was shared by Zhelobinsky's The Name-Day and Gedike's At the Ferry. Third prize went to Polovinkin's Hero and Davidenko and Shekhter's 1905.
Many operas received no award whatsoever-including Dzerzhinsky's And Quiet Flows the Don.
I remembered about this sad misunderstanding with a feeling of pride for the Maly Opera House, which had understood And Quiet Flows the Don better than the jury for the competition, who completely overlooked this remarkable opera.
This season marks the start of the opera's triumphant march through the opera houses of the Soviet Union. The next venue, after the Leningrad Maly, will be the Moscow Bolshoi Theatre: a marvellous way for it to put right the horrible mistake of the judges of the above-mentioned competition.
Today, at the premiere of And Quiet Flows the Don, is not the time to write about the opera's shortcomings. There are, of course, many, but we are confident that Dzerzhinsky's next work will be more mature and profound. Let us not forget that the composer is still very young. Let us also not forget hat he is extremely talented. We congratulate him on his opera, and wish him even greater success in the future.^^13^^
__*__Much energy has been spent on the question of the 'acting singer' and the 'singing actor'. But so far it has not been satisfactorily solved-- perhaps because the question itself is misleading. We should not, I feel, be 65 saying 'either ... or', but 'both ... and'. The opera performer should be both an acting singer and a singing actor; otherwise he will remain far from the essence of the operatic art.
It is essential, finally, to come to some agreement on what demands we should make on someone who has chosen his career in opera. It has to be admitted that many of our opera singers know too little about the real nature of the art. A young person decides he has a good voice, this is confirmed at an audition, and so-though he may have not the slightest potential as an actor-he goes in for opera. Clearly it is hard to make a good opera actor out of an opera singer like that.
This brings us to the question of how to train opera performers. Where should this training take place-in the conservatoires or in studios at the opera houses themselves? Perhaps this question does not seem so urgent at present, but nonetheless it is vital that we should clearly define the functions of these two organisations. There is a dangerand a very real one-that the opera classes at the conservatoires will, after all, only teach singing, but not the skills of acting. Our conservatoires do have excellent vocalists on their teaching staffs, but no drama producers. Our opera houses, on the other hand, have both good vocalists and experienced producers, so that in my opinion the training of opera performers should be concentrated in their own studios.
Next, we must understand that an experienced opera singer cannot grow up in a musical and cultural backwater, It is nowhere near enough merely to have a good voice or even talent. One must work on oneself, acquire technique, and assimilate the whole `culture' of one's chosen trade - including a knowledge of history, art history, literature, etc. Mozart was Mozart because his natural talent developed under the conditions of a mature, developed musical culture. If he had been born and brought up in Honolulu, he would not have been Mozart. In precisely the same way, the opera singer should feed on the progressive culture of the age.
The importance of the operatic libretto is often played down. But this is a mistake, for it is an extremely complex question. The operatic libretto is by no means the same as a work of literature written by a dramatist, novelist or short-story writer. It has been pointed out that Bizet's Carmen is a far cry from Merimee's story of the same name. There are many similar examples. The operatic libretto is a literary, dramatic text which serves as the basis for operatic music. The person most capable of evaluating a libretto properly, of squeezing out every ounce of its potential, is the opera's producer, who must be both a drama producer and well-grounded in music, especially opera music. But this definition of the opera producer is not the whole story. The history of the theatre includes the names of many brilliant theatre producers and choreographers (e. g. Didlo), but is severely lacking in great opera producers. There must be a good reason for this.
The drama actor cannot use the whole range of his devices and means of stage expression in an operatic performance. The drama producer is another matter. Stanislavsky, Nemirovich-Danchenko and Me^^1^^ erhold are, of course, producers who work mainly in the dramatic theatre. But 66 their theatrical genius is so comprehensive and diverse that their work in the musical theatre has enriched it immeasurably. But what is permissible for drama producers of their calibre is not necessarily permissible for runof-the-mill producers. It is therefore absolutely essential to train specialised opera producers as well as opera performers.
Meyerhold's work in opera is fruitful precisely because, like Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko, he has a marvellous feel for the intrinsic musical peculiarities of opera. And yet, even the brilliant Meyerhold's work is not devoid of certain shortcomings. Let us return at this point to the libretto. The basic mistake committed by Meyerhold in his production of The Queen of Spades at the Maly Opera House was that he replaced Modest Chaikovsky's libretto by Pushkin's literary text. But Pushkin's story is not an operatic libretto. The rejection of Modest Chaikovsky's libretto led to a number of serious failings in Meyerhold's otherwise brilliant production. For example, at the beginning of Act One the orchestra plays a motif from a children's song. In Modest Chaikovsky's libretto, this scene shows people taking a walk in the Summer Garden. Meyerhold replaced this episode with a drinking scene and showed officers striking up a somewhat risque song. From an artistic point of view, this was unconvincing. Yet despite these failings the production proved to be both magnificent and instructive. But in this case the secret lay in the producer's individual skill; others, trying to follow in Meyerhold's footsteps, could meet with complete failure.
I often wonder which production of Katerina Izmailova--- NemirovichDanchenko's or Smolich's-was closest to my own conceptions. It is extremely difficult to decide, because I really liked both of them, but in different ways. Nemirovich-Danchenko's great talent, and his application of the whole dramatic tradition of the Moscow Art Theatre system to this operatic production, occasionally brought truly staggering results, but at the same time I felt that in places he relied more on Leskov's story than on the libretto of the opera. Smolich's production, however, was marked by a profound knowledge of the mature opera. Musically, his production was on a very high level.^^15^^
67 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1936 __ALPHA_LVL1__ At the end of January Shostakovich set off for Arkhangelsk where he and the cellist Victor Kubatsky gave a concert including his Cello Sonata.At the end of January Shostakovich set off for Arkhangelsk where he and the cellist Victor Kubatsky gave a concert including his Cello Sonata. = While he was there he read an article in Pravda entitled 'Cacophony Instead of Music', which harshly and unfairly criticised the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. The composer returned immediately to Leningrad. On 5 February the first article was followed by another, similar one---'A Misguided Ballet', about The Limpid Stream.
Shostakovich took the unfair criticism very badly, but did not let it lead to depression or a decline in creativity. On the contrary, even under these conditions he sought to analyse his work carefully, to spot his own strengths and weaknesses and to extract a grain of sense even from such groundless and unjustifiably severe criticism. In these difficult months the composer appreciated the support of his friends and admirers- Tukhachevsky, Stanislavsky, Meyerhold and many musicians and critics. With their help, his creative output barely fell.
Shostakovich continued to work on several compositions at the one time. His Fourth Symphony was completed by 1 June. In December the Leningrad Philharmonic, under Fritz, Stiedry, prepared the symphony for its premiere, but at the last minute---after the final rehearsal---the composer decided to call off the performance. For a quarter of a century the work was known only to those musicians who had rehearsed the music.
Meanwhile films with music by Shostakovich continued to come out. In February Girlfriends was released; the film was produced by Lev Arnstam, for many years a friend and work-associate of Shostakovich. In November the Pushkin Drama Theatre in Leningrad put on the premiere of Afinogenov's play Hail Spain!, also with music by Shostakovich. He appears to have written this music during his summer break in Odessa, when he also started working on a cycle of romances to the poetry of Pushkin.
It is significant that Shostakovich wrote considerably less for the press this year: the time-consuming process of critically analysing his own position prevented him from making frequent public statements. All the more valuable, then, is the autobiographical article which he wrote for the French magazine La Revue Musicale. It is also significant that the composer---as the Autobiography made clear---did not intend to renounce those of his works which had been subjected to criticism, and that he spoke so clearly and unambiguously about the place of the artist among the builders of socialist society. In a commentary which accompanied the article, the magazine noted: 'Although La Revue Musicale does not allow itself to interfere in politics, we felt it would be interesting to publish unabridged this profession of faith by an artist who succinctly poses to himself and others the question of the social role of music. Shostakovich's artistic merits, and the international recognition which they have earned him, arose in us a legitimate curiosity as to the future development of this young and brilliant composer.'
__b_b_b__My musical abilities first became apparent in 1915, when I began to learn the piano. In 1919 I entered the Leningrad Conservatoire, from which I graduated in 1925. There, I studied piano and theory of composition under Professor Nikolayev, counterpoint and fugue under Professor Sokolov, and harmony, fugue, orchestration and practical composition under Professor Steinberg.
68 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1936After graduating from the Conservatoire I remained as a post-graduate in Professor Steinberg's composition class. I began to write music while still a student; indeed, my First Symphony, which has now been performed all over the world, was written for my final examination.
I enthusiastically and uncritically accepted all the various subjects and subtleties that were taught me. But once I had left the Conservatoire I had to reconsider the lion's share of my store of musical knowledge. I realised that music was not merely a combination of sounds arranged in a certain order, but a form of art, capable of expressing the most diverse ideas and emotions. To arrive at this conclusion was not so simple: suffice to say that throughout 1926 I hardly wrote a single note. But since 1927 I have never stopped composing. I have written two operas: The Nose, based on Gogol, and Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, based on Leskov; three ballets, including The Golden Age and Bolt; three symphonies, including The Dedication to October and the May Day; 24 Piano Preludes; a piano concerto; film-music and other pieces.
Over this period my technique has gradually improved. By working non-stop to master the art completely, I aim to work out my own musical style-one of simplicity and expressiveness.
I cannot conceive of my future development otherwise than in the context of the construction of socialism in my country. I set myself the aim of serving our wonderful country with my music. A composer can have no greater joy than to realise that his work is furthering the rise of Soviet musical culture, whose task is to play a principal part in the transformation of human consciousness.^^1^^
69 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1937 __ALPHA_LVL1__ This year marked the start of a period of renewed creative and public activity in Shostakovich's life.This year marked the start of a period of renewed creative and public activity in Shostakovich's life. = The main event, of course, was the premiere of the Fifth Symphony, on 21 November at the Leningrad !'hilharmonia. The orchestra was conducted by Yevgeny Mravinsky, who was a close friend of the composer's for many years. At about the same time the Fifth Symphony was also performed-with equal success -at a special meeting of Party activists.
The premiere of the Fifth Symphony was immediately hailed by both audience and critics as a prodigious landmark in the development of Soviet music. The writer Alexei Tolstoy, me of Shostakovich's faithful admirers, wrote in the newspaper Izvestia: 'Glory to our age for showering the world with such an abundance of great sounds and thoughts! And glory to our people for bringing forth such artists!' The Soviet press at that time was full of ecstatic comments on the symphony, which has become one of the gems of world orchestral music.
Although many months in 1937 were taken up with intensive work on the symphony, it was a busy and fruitful period in other respects too. Shostakovich continued to perform his own works. For example, in February he played his Piano Concerto in Tbilisi with the Georgian Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Nikolai Rabinovich. In May the second part of the film trilogy about Maxim, Maxim's Return, was released, and shortly thereafter the composer finished music for another film, Volochayevka Days. He also wrote four romances for a planned (but never completed) cycle based on Pushkin's poetry.
In the autumn Shostakovich embarked on a new sphere of activity---teaching. He was invited to work at the Leningrad Conservatoire, where, until 1941, he took a class in composition. His pupils from that period included Sviridov, Yevlakhov, Boldyrev, Lobkovsky, Levitin, Fleischman and others.
Shostakovich began once more to take part in public affairs, appearing in newspapers and participating in various discussions. He showed a great interest in the work of his colleagues: cf.,for example, the extract published here from his review of Oles Chishko's opera Battleship Potyomkin. In short, he was entering a period of maturity and flourishing.
__b_b_b__Very recently I finished writing my Fifth Symphony, which is to have its first performance at the end of November. At the moment I am putting the finishing touches to the score for Volochayevka Days by the Vasiliev brothers, after which I shall set to work on music for Ermler's film A Great Citizen. Another film in the offing, for which I shall be composing music, is Friends, produced by Tikhonov and Arnstam.
There will be not a great deal of music in Volochayevka Days. The most difficult task for rne here was to write the song which will serve as a leitmotif running right through the film music.
So far I have experienced great difficulty in the field of song-writing. Apart from The Counter Plan, I have not written a single song in the whole of my career as a composer. But the song in Volochayevka Days is quite different from that in The Counter Plan; it is a heroic song, in the fullest sense of the word. It required a good deal of work-I made ten different versions of the song, and only the eleventh satisfied me.
70 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1937The reason I am writing at such length about this song is that it runs through all the music in the film. The theme can be sensed everywhere-in the overture to the film, in the finale and in choral sections-and this was where the complexity of the work lay.
I would like the film music to play an independent role, rather than being a mere accompaniment or an added effect in various sequences. In addition, I would like the music to be entirely realistic and to perform its intended function properly.
In Arnstam and Tikhonov's film Friends, the music will be of very great importance. I shall have to deal, for the first time, with folk music, and I must say his work par icularly ap ealed to me. I am presently studying the songs and music of various Caucasian peoples---from Chechnya, Ingushetia and Kabardino-Balkaria-which I shall use when I start writing music for the film.
On the whole, the music for Friends will play an even greater part than in the earlier film Girlfriends.
As well as film music, I am now starting preliminary work on an opera, also called Volochayevka Days the libretto for which is being written by N. Ya. Bersenev, The opera is to show the foreign intervention during the Civil War and Red Army capturing the Volochayevka fortifications, on which the White guards and interventionists had pinned all their hopes. The opera is still in its initial stages, but many fragments and episodes have been written.
This task has been greatly lightened by my work on the music for the_ film of the same name, which serves as a starting-point for the opera music.
I envisage the opera as a heroic work on a monumental scale, with many crowd scenes. It will include much material based on songs.
My aims in writing the opera are very straightforward. I want it to be a large-scale, heroic work, with truly memorable moments, so that on leaving the hall the audience will take with them a good song, a good aria and passages of symphony music.
I have a lot of material, but there is still a great deal of hard work ahead.
Sometime soon I want to switch over for a while to the field of chamber and vocal music.
When I say vocal music, I am not thinking of large choirs, but of romances, which are written so seldom these days. I have set four of Pushkin's poems to music, but shall not publish them, until the whole cycle of twelve romances is ready.
As far as chamber music is concerned, I intend to take it up very seriously, for this is another neglected area, almost ignored by Soviet composers. I, too, in all my years as a composer, have composed only one sonata for cello and piano. I now propose to write several chamber works for our performers, including such genres as the quartet, concert pieces for piano, and so on.^^1^^
71I think it would be wrong to do away with illustrative music in the cinema entirely, but it is also true that the music should clarify the events and the author's attitude to them. Music is a very powerful emotional force and therefore should not be assigned a merely illustrative role.^^2^^
__*__Battleship Potyomkin is undoubtedly a great triumph for the Kirov Theatre. Having seen the opera only once, I should not venture to analyse it in detail, but what struck me as best was the work of the orchestra, choir and soloists-and especially of the conductor, Ari Pazovsky. Since this great master joined the theatre, the orchestra has changed beyond recognition: it is now quite magnificent. The same goes for the choir, led by Vladimir Stepanov. The Kirov Theatre again ranks among the top theatres in the Soviet Union.
Chishko's music is very good; I was particularly impressed by Act Two. The choral sections are most successful. The delineation of certain characters, on the other hand, is rather insipid. But in general the work betrays the hand of a master, narrating the heroic Potyomkin epic with sincere emotion, I feel that from a dramatic point of view Spassky's libretto is marvellous. It has been said that there are weak spots in the text, but I have to admit I did not hear them...^^3^^
72 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1938 __ALPHA_LVL1__ This was in many ways a noteworthy year in Shostakovich's life. For one thing, by writing his string quartet, the composer made his debut in a new genre which was later to become one of his most successful genres.This was in many ways a noteworthy year in Shostakovich's life. For one thing, by writing his string quartet, the composer made his debut in a new genre which was later to become one of his most successful genres. = The premiere of his First String Quartet took place in Leningrad on 10 October, played by the Glazunov Quartet. In Moscow the work was performed by the Beethoven Quartet, who thereafter did much to popularise Shostakovich's music.
All year the Fifth Symphony continued to arouse excitement. On 29 January it was first heard in Moscow, performed by the State Symphony Orchestra under Alexander Gauk in the Grand Hall of the Conservatoire. A few days later, the work was discussed at a special meeting of the Composers'^^1^^ Union. In the autumn the symphony had two more performances in the capital, the second one at the Bolshoi Theatre in the final concert of a ten-day festival of Soviet music.
Two foreign premieres of the symphony were also big events---in Mew York, conv ducted by Toscanini, in March, and in Paris under Roger Desormiere in June. The I Paris performancTwas one of a series of concerts dedicated to international solidarity against fascism.
Meanwhile Shostakovich was engrossed by an important new plan: to write a vocal-symphonic work about Lenin. This intention was not finally realised until two decades later, in the Twelfth Symphony, but in 1938 the composer searched hard for suitable literary material for the future work (at first it was assumed that this would be the Sixth, then the Seventh Symphony). Shostakovich readily revealed his plans to journalists, and it is clear from his comments that the work on the projected symphony was already at a fairly advanced stage. Other works planned in 1938 (e. g. an opera on a theme from Lermontov and an operetta based on Twelve Ilf and Petrov) were never realised.
~ and more films appeared with music by Shostakovich: Volochayevka Days was followed by A Great Citizen (Part One), Friends and The Man with a Gun. The composer began the music for the last part of the trilogy about Maxim. His great interest in the cinema and film music was reflected in several of his public statements in the thirties.
__b_b_b__My latest work may be called a lyrical-heroic symphony. Its basic ideas are the sufferings of man, and optimism. I wanted to convey .optimism asserting itself as a world outlook through a series of tragic conflicts in a great inner, mental struggle.
During a discussion at the Leningrad section of the Composers' Union, some of my colleagues called my Fifth Symphony an autobiographical work. On the whole, I consider this a fair appraisal. In my opinion, there are biographical elements in any work of art. Every work should bear the stamp of a living person, its author, ;and it is a poor and tedious work whose creator is invisible.'
__*__ Yevgeny Mravinsky's talent is vivid, temperamental and individual.
He can be distinguished immediately from other conductors by his
73
__CAPTION__
First edition of the score
of the Fifth Symphony
fl. LLJOCTAKOBMH
D. SCHOSTAKOWITSCH
Op. 47
HflTAfl CMMOOHMfl
CINQUIEME SYMPHONIE
6cwibuioro opKecrpa
pour grand orchestre
nAPTHTyPA
PARTITION D'ORCHESTRK
rOCmPCTBBHHOE My3UKAflbHOE HSflATEflbCTBO
EDITIONS DE MUSIQUE DE L'URSS
MOCKBA - ^RHHHFPAfl - I ft 3 9 - MOSCOU - LENINORADE
Many of the greatest performers-such as Liszt, Chopin, Mahler-were also first-class composers. For this reason I think it is useful for any performer to study composition: in this way he can acquire a more considered approach to the works he performs. One can only welcome the fact that Mravinsky studied in both the composition and the conducting departments of the Conservatoire,
Another characteristic of Mravinsky is his extreme exactingness towards himself. I once asked him which work he considered he had performed most successfully. He replied, 'I haven't conducted that work yet.^^1^^
Every real artist should feel this kind of dissatisfaction with what he has accomplished, this desire always to be moving ahead.
I got to know Mravinsky best when we were working together on my Fifth Symphony. I must confess that at first I was rather put off by his methods, I felt that he was too preoccupied with small things, that he paid too much attention to detail, and it seemed to me that this would damage the overall plan and intention. Mravinsky subjected me to a veritable interrogation about every bar and every thought, demanding an answer to his every doubt. But after we had been working together for five days I realised that this method was perfectly correct. Seeing how seriously Mravinsky worked, I began to treat my own work more seriously, too. I realised that a conductor should not sing like a nightingale. Talent must be combined with long, laborious work.
In most cases the first performance of a work decides its fate. At this first hearing, the listener naturally pays more attention to the composer than to the conductor, whose primary task is therefore to present the work just as the composer himself would like it. Thanks to his extreme thoroughness, Yevgeny Mravinsky presented my Fifth Symphony precisely as I wanted. I am very grateful to him for this.^^2^^
__*__Things are on the move in Soviet music. Only recently it seemed that we were rich only in excellent pianists and violinists. But at the First Soviet Conductors' Competition new masters emerged, and were given deserved recognition. At every stage in the competition Soviet symphonic works were performed, and both the judges arid the competitors realised that Soviet music abounds in priceless works, diverse in genre, character and scale.
What a long way we have come in the relatively short time since works by Soviet composers were mainly heard in concerts timed to mark important dates, or at special reviews...
75We Soviet musicians must assimilate our Russian and European classical heritage. Only when a composer knows his great predecessors well, and learns from them, can he find his own individual musical idiom, his own creative style. The history of music is full of convincing examples of this. Beethoven felt the beneficial influence of Mozart and Haydn; and even such an original genius as Chopin drew a great deal from Beethoven, especially the musical ideas contained in the adagio of his sonata, Op. 106. Verdi was a composer of exceptionally vivid individuality, and was ill-disposed towards Wagner, yet at various stages his music showed the influence of Wagner.
All the greatest composers knew the music of the world perfectly. In each case this knowledge was interpreted differently by the individual personality and helped give rise to such inimitable and distinct styles as those of Bach and Mozart, of Chopin and Beethoven.
Unfortunately our young composers know little of their own musical culture and little of European music in general. I have come across examples of dangerous `nihilism', expressed in the attitude that the less one knows about other people's music, the more original one's own writing will be...
For a year I have been teaching practical composition and instrumentation at the Conservatoire. I am extremely fortunate in that most of my pupils are undeniably talented. What is the right way to go about learning the art of composition? Every day, as well as composing pieces themselves, my pupils learn about the musical classics.
I have lately done a lot of work on film music: Maxim's Return, Volochayevka Days, A Great Citizen, Friends and Vyborg District.
For a long time I have been nurturing the idea of writing an opera based on Lermontov's The Masked Ball. Every time I read this brilliant work, I find it incomprehensible that all Russian composers have so far passed it by.
But I shall not take up this opera until I have written my symphony dedicated to the memory of Lenin. To embody the titanic figure of our leader in art is unbelievably difficult task. I am well aware of this fact, and when I speak about the subject of my symphony, I mean not the historical events or biographical facts of Lenin's life, but merely the general theme, the overall idea, of the work.
I have been thinking hard about how to convey this theme in music. I envisage the symphony as a work performed by an orchestra with a choir and solo singers. I am carefully studying the poetry and literature written about Lenin. The words for the symphony will mainly be based on Mayakovsky's long poem about Lenin, and I also wish to use the best folk tales and songs about him, as well as poems written about him by poets from the non-Russian Soviet peoples. I am presently sifting all the available material.
I am not afraid of combining the works of different poets in the symphony. The artistic unifying force in the text will be that feeling of love which fills every word written by our people about Lenin. Literary and musical integrity should also be sustained by the music of the symphony, 76 which will be homogeneous in intention and means of expression. The symphony will use not only the words of folk songs about Lenin, but also their melodies,^^3^^
...I have recently received dozens of letters from all over the Soviet Union, sent by people from all walks of life, offering me advice and personal preferences regarding the content of my forthcoming symphony. The most valuable piece of advice I received was to incorporate as much folk music and folk poetry as possible. All the letters were united by their desire to help me create as vivid and multifaceted an image of Lenin as possible.^^4^^
77 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1939 __ALPHA_LVL1__ Early in the year the composer began work on his Sixth Symphony, which engrossed him completely and was to be his main achievement of the year.Early in the year the composer began work on his Sixth Symphony, which engrossed him completely and was to be his main achievement of the year. = It was first performed on 5 November by the Leningrad Philharmonic under Yevgeny Mravinsky. He also conducted its Moscow premiere, given a month later by the USSR State Symphony Orchestra: once again, a new work by Shostakovich embellished the programme of a ten-day festival of Soviet music.
Shostakovich also continued to work on the Lenin Symphony, hoping to have it finished by the following year. Among the new films with his music were Vyborg District and Part Two of A Great Citizen.
From time to time he still gave concerts, although less often than in his younger days. On 6 January he performed his First Piano Concerto in Moscow. On a memorable evening in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire, on 9 April, Shostakovich and the cellist A. Ferkelman performed his Cello Sonata, and sonatas by Grieg and Rakhmaninov. In April and in September-October he gave concerts in Sverdlovsk, and on 30 October performed his 24 Preludes and Cello' Sonata (again with Ferkelman) in the Small Hall of the Leningrad Conservatoire.
On 23 May Shostakovich was officially confirmed as professor at the Conservatoire,
At a pre-election meeting held at the Leningrad Conservatoire at the beginning of December, the composer was nominated as a candidate for election to the Leningrad City Soviet of Working people Deputies.
__b_b_b__On 29 December the Kirov Theatre in Leningrad staged a new production of Verdi's opera Othello.
My love for this opera and its great composer is so deep that I set off to the opera as though I were- going to some great celebration. On returning home after the performance, I felt impelled to put a pen to paper, although I am not a professional critic.
Unfortunately, the production was unworthy of Verdi's brilliant work, the only serving grace being Nikolai Pechkovsky's memorable portrayal of Othello.
It seems to me that one of the chief reasons for the failure of the production lay in the conductor, Sergei Yeltsin. Verdi's tragic, passionate score was plainly a little too much for the conductor, whose interpretation bore the stamp of insufferable indifference. The whole of the start of the opera, up to Othello's first phrase, was performed vapidly. The orchestra played with no sign of inspiration; the brass section-trumpets and trombones-was particularly poor. The marvellous grace-notes of the brass just before xhe A-minor tutti in Act One were messed up completely. The double-bass solo in Act Four sounded obnoxious.
I feel exceedingly grieved: may that serve to justify the harshness of my judgement. Boredom, indifference, insipidness and slackness are quite unforgivable in performances of Verdi. Yet this self-evident truth appears to have found no adherents among the musical directors of the theatre.
78 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1939While film actors, directors and cameramen have a theory and a whole range of special cinematographic means at their disposal, we musicians have so far been working in the dark, knowing little or nothing about the peculiarities and techniques of the cinema.
And yet, to write music for the cinema with no theoretical or technical background, is more or less the same as orchestrating a piece of music without knowing what the instruments of the orchestra sound like.
The emergence of sound cinema was bound, perhaps, to bring into the foreground the whole question of the musical cinema as an art form. The fusion of word and sound, of sound and action, and the opportunity of using interesting new orchestral combinations---all this raises the same problems for cinema music as have long been successfully solved in `general' music: in the musical drama, opera, the symphony.
Film music is still very often merely illustrative, something `added' to the picture. But it should be,, in my view, an inalienable artistic component of the film.
Admittedly, we are partly ourselves to blame. I am afraid I know of no Soviet theorist or composer who has seriously looked at the theoretical problems of film music. Our music schools are also lagging behind. i'Which of our conservatoires has a composition department which includes in its syllabus the writing of music for the cinema?. f Yet, through the cinema music reaches the widest sections of the popuRation. In this sense, no theatre or concert hall can compete with the cinema, with its audience of millions.
I have done a certain amount of work for the cinema (the music for the films The Counter Plan, Alone, Golden Mountains, Girlfriends, Friends, Maxim's Toutk, Maxim's Return, Vyborg District, Volochqyevka Days and The Man with a Gun}. In the course of all this work, the real idea of cinema music has become clearer and clearer to me. This idea, or rather its purpose, may be formulated something like this: film music must participate in the actual action of the picture. The same demands can and should be made of the music in a film as are made of the scenario, the acting and the production. But if that is the case, the music must also be of the same high quality. Of course, this cannot be achieved overnight: a lot of experimental work is still needed.
I am currently writing music for a^short cartoon film based on Marshak's Tale of the Stupid Mouse. Cartoon-animatidri~is^another very inter:sting device which requires its own kind of expression in music... I am greatly enjoying working on this, my first attempt at children's film nusic. I hope the attempt will be successful and win the approval of :hildren,
...I am contemplating writing a film-opera, exploiting the principles of realism to the full. I am very attracted by the 'limitless possibilities opened up by the cinema screen, by the possibility of resolving the questions of place, time and action which are so complex for the theatre.
In the theatre, action broken up into many scenes inevitably loses its continuity. In the cinema, the same action, shown in a stream of swiftly 79 changing sequences, retains all its power. What a rewarding task the composer has in trying to catch the rhythm of this dynamic stream of film sequences and writing music which plays a full role in the film, sometimes even leading it. Sergei Prokofiev's music for the film Alexander Nevsky was, for me, an example where the theatrical effectiveness of the music was often very successful.
Unfortunately I have so far failed to realise my dreams of a film-opera, The question of collaboration between poets and composers, which has occasionally been successfully solved in the musical drama, has not yet been posed as regards the film-opera; indeed the whole question of the film-opera in general has not yet been properly examined. All my attempts to interest poets, librettists and producers in the idea have so far been to no avail.
Through the medium of the Literaturnaya Ga&ta, I should like to appeal to poets and producers: who would like to collaborate on the production of a film-opera? ^^2^^
__*__Work on my Sixth Symphony is nearing completion. I have finished the first two movements, and in the coming weeks I expect to compose the third and final movement.
The moods and emotional tone of the Sixth Symphony will differ from those of the Fifth, which was marked by elements of tragedy and tension. In my latest symphony, music of a contemplative, lyrical tenor predominates; I wished to convey moods of joy, spring and youth.
At the same time I am finishing the music for Part Two of Friedrich Ermler's film A Great Citizen. In this film the music has the important function of expressing the national sorrow after the perfidious murder of the Great Citizen, Shakhov. The music for this central episode in the film takes the form of a mournful symphonic poem.
Recently I started writing an operetta entitled Twelve Chairs, based on the well-known novel of the same name by Ilf and Petrov. It is very difficult to reproduce the action and characters of a long adventure novel in a three-act operetta, but the librettist, E. Petrov, and the poet, V. Vladimirov, have, in my view, coped with the problem well.
It has long been my greatest dream to write a symphonic work dedicated to Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. A year has passed since I first started this work. My librettist has selected the richest folklore material about Lenin (songs, tales and legends) and is now working on the literary scenario for the symphony.
The Lenin symphony is planned as a work in four movements, involving a choir, soloists and a narrator. The first movement deals wilh Lenin's youth, the second with Lenin at the helm of the Revolution, the third with his death, and the fourth with life without Lenin himself, but guided by his principles. Various musical fragments are already written, and will eventually be incorporated in my Seventh Symphony-my most important recent work-in memory of the brilliant leader of mankind.^^3^^
80 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1940 __ALPHA_LVL1__ In 1940 Shostakovich composed one of his most important pre-war works-his Piano Quintet.In 1940 Shostakovich composed one of his most important pre-war works-his Piano Quintet. = At the end of October it was performed by the composer with the Glazunov Quartet at the Leningrad Composers' Union, to an- audience of musicians and critics; the whole work was repeated as an encore. The Board of the Leningrad Composers' Union decided to recommend the quintet for a Stalin (State) Prize.
Two weeks later the composer performed the new work in Moscow with the Beethoven Quartet. Then, as always, Shostakovich kept to the tradition of first showing any important new work to his colleagues, to hear their opinion, before submitting it to the public for judgement.
The official premiere of the Quintet took place on 23 November in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire, again as part of a Soviet Music Festival (the programme also included quartets by Shirinsky, Shebalin and Myaskovsky). ' Shostakovich's quintet,' wrote the writer Marietta Shaginyan, 'is a work of genius, in the full sense of the word: it has such power of artistic generalisation that it fully expresses a whole age, that it demonstrates, like a cup filled to the brim, the combined historic efforts and energy of millions of people, that it speaks of everyone. When the magnificent Beethoven Quartet- Tsyganov, Borisovsky and the Shirinsky brothers---solemnly raised their bows, when Shostakovich---a young man yet, pale, not tall, his face with something childlike about it, possessed by music, frail and delicate like Mozart or Chopin---when he placed his fingers on the keys and the first clear, Beethoven-like notes of the prelude scattered through the total silence, the whole hall seemed to lean forward to listen, to drink in and receive, afraid of missing a single drop, like the parched earth under a downpour of rain, I have seen and heard many fine things in my days, but it is hard to remember anything to compare with what I experienced that evening.' The press was unanimous in its enthusiasm about the work. Sergei Prokofiev had high praise for the quintet during a discussion of the Music Festival at the Composers' Union. The work immediately earned a regular place in concert programmes, and in the month left before the New Tear it was given several more performances in Moscow and Leningrad (in the composer's native city he performed it together with the Glazunov Quartet).
Among Shostakovich's other work this year was his reorchestration of Mussorgsky's Boris Godunov, commissioned by the Bolshoi Theatre. His reorchestrated version was not performed until later, however.
At the end of the thirties Shostakovich continued to win new admirers abroad. His Fifth Symphony was particularly successful. In 1940 it was conducted in New York by Rodzinski and in London by Alan Bush. The Quintet was also performed for the first time in London. And in November, Leopold Stokowski included the Sixth Symphony in a concert in Philadelphia, and wrote special notes to accompany its American premiere.
In 1939, in recognition of his work for the cinema, Shostakovich was awarded the Order of the Red Banner of Labour,
__b_b_b__At the end of 1939 I began work on a new orchestration of Mussorgsky's opera Boris Godunov. Rimsky-Korsakov once reorchestrated the opera because he considered that the original contained several shortcomings of a technical kind. Personally, I am not entirely satisfied either by 81 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1940 Rimsky-Korsakov's or by Mussorgsky's own version. Consequently it occurred to me to do a new version of the work, which is one of the most precious jewels of Russian operatic art,
Rimsky-Korsakov's version is very good as regards the orchestration, but on the musical side I feel it is distinctly inferior to the original. What I wanted to do was to leave virtually every note of the original intact, but orchestrate it differently.
Now the work on Boris Godunnv is in full swing. I have already rewritten the Prologue and half of Act One. I am completely wrapped up in the task and deriving enormous pleasure from it. Naturally I am very anxious about the outcome of the work, and am well aware of the huge responsibility I have taken upon myself. In 1940 my version of Boris Godunov is to be staged by the Bolshoi Theatre.^^1^^
__*__For a long time I have been planning to write a symphony in memory of Lenin. This is a large and complex work, conceived in the form of a long symphonic work of an oratorial type. My starting-point for the work is Mayakovsky's poem Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. I have already written many fragments for the first two movements, and basically outlined the third and fourth. But this does not mean that the most difficult stage is over: indeed, it is only beginning. I hope to complete the work in 1940. My goal is that this symphony should reflect, at least to some extent, the immortal image and majestic ideas of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin.^^2^^
__*__To write a symphony immortalising the name of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin is an old and cherished dream of mine. The idea first came to me in 1924, when the working people of the whole world mourned the death of their beloved leader.
I started working on the symphony two years ago. It is a complex and responsible task, and a deeply moving and thrilling one. It is a big symphony involving an orchestra, choir and soloists. The basic text for the work is Vladimir Mayakovsky's Lenin. The poet's passionate, fervent words, full of deep love for Lenin, are gratifying material to work with, but the compressed, laconic language characteristic of Mayakovsky's poetry presents considerable difficulties for the composer.
Apart from Mayakovsky's poem, I am thinking of using folklore, which vividly reflects the ardent love of the people for their great leader. A lot , of intensive work lies ahead, but by applying all my energies I hope to finish the whole symphony this year.^^3^^
__*__There are many gifted young composers studying at the Leningrad Conservatoire. This year Georgy Sviridov, a composer of great talent, __PRINTERS_P_81_COMMENT__ 6-552 82 will graduate from my class. Muskovites may know him by his early piano concerto, which has been performed a couple of times in the capital. The young Sviridov's personal `stamp' is not yet clearly defined: he is still searching for his own musical language. But his latest Symphony for String Orchestra, which will be performed in the forthcoming music festival in Leningrad, is a very interesting new work.
The ten-day Festival will also include new works by two other very gifted youngsters from my class: Orest Yevlakhov's Piano Concerto and Ivan Boldyrev's Symphony.
Boris Klyuzner, a student in Mikhail Gnesin's class, is also very talented. His Piano Concerto is on the programme of the ten-day Festival.
One of the more interesting new works by older composers represented in the Festival is Maximilian Steinberg's Armenia, which conveys his impressions of a national Armenian festival. Many new instrumental chamber works by Mikhail Gnesin will also be performed.
This summer I completed a Piano Quintet, which I shall be performing in the ten-day Festival together with the Beethoven Quartet.^^4^^
__*__I spent the whole summer this year writing my Piano Quintet. The day before yesterday, members of the music section of the Stalin Prize Committee listened to it at the Composers' Club in Moscow.
I am now getting ready for the ten-day Festival of Music. My Piano Quintet will be performed on 23 November, and on the 30th there will be a concert of my works.^^5^^
__*__While I was studying piano and composition at the Leningrad Conservatoire, I also worked for a while in one of the city's cinemas. At that time there were no sound films, and the pictures were accompanied by a pianist playing popular marches and waltzes. My work there gave me the chance to satisfy my passion for improvisation. I have always enjoyed improvising, and even now I write many pieces which I do not publish, but which serve as `exercises' in composition...
Nearly fifteen years ago, the diploma work of the nineteen-year-old graduate Dmitry Shostakovich, my First Symphony, was premiered in the huge hall of the Leningrad Conservatoire. This year is therefore a kind of jubilee year for me...
My composing, my teaching and my public activities take up almost every minute of my time. My few spare minutes, I must admit, are usually devoted to sport-for I am an incurable football fan...
...Purely as regards the search for form, my work has been subject to diverse influences, but it has always been my desire to create music which would reflect our age, which would convey the thoughts and feelings of Soviet man. This desite lay behind my Dedication to October and May Day symphonies, and behind the music for the films New Babylon, 83 Alone, The Counter Plan, Golden Mountains and the trilogy about Maxim, I was overjoyed that my song for The Counter Plan was eagerly taken up by Soviet young people. I have also written for the stage, my works include the operas The Nose and Katerina Izmailova, and the ballets Bolt, The Golden Age and The Limpid Stream.
My Fifth Symphony, written in 1937, is central to my works as a whole. The actual writing of this symphony was preceded by a long period of inner preparation. Not everything I had written was of equal value. There had been failures. And it was my intention, while writing the Fifth Symphony, that the Soviet listener should perceive a change in my music towards greater clarity and simplicity.
I think the work also reveals a step forward in the sphere of orchestration compared with my earlier pieces. I myself am most satisfied by the third movement, the adagio, in which I feel I achieved a gradual, steady motion from beginning to end. I have heard the opinion expressed that the fourth movement differs in style from the first three. I do not think so, for the finale is in accordance with the work's basic theme and is an answer to all the questions posed in the earlier movements. The central idea of the work is man with all his sufferings, and the finale of the symphony resolves the tragic, tense elements of the first movements on a joyful, optimistic level.
After the Fifth Symphony, I turned once more to the cinema and wrote the music for the film The Man with a Gun, produced by Sergei Yutkevich.
After this I wrote my First String Quartet. I began it with no particular thoughts or feelings, and thought that nothing would come of it. For the quartet is one of the most difficult musical genres. But soon the work took a proper hold of me. It turned out to be gay, jolly and lyrical, and I entitled it the `Springtime' Quartet. I was very pleased with the splendid performance of the work by the Beethoven Quartet, who were also the excellent first interpreters of my next chamber work, my Piano Quintet.
Between the two chamber works I composed my Sixth Symphony, which various symphony orchestras have already added to their repertoires.
...I can still remember the pleasure I derived when my newly finished Fifth Symphony was heard by an audience of Party activists from the Leningrad branch. I should like to express my wish that the previewing of new works of music by a Party audience be practised more often. Our Party devotes great care and attention to the development of our country's musical life. I have felt this concern all through my career. As a student, the Party organisation came to my help by providing me with an instrument for practice at home, and to this day I still feel the Party's care literally at every step, even in my daily life...
I do not intend here to sum up everything I have done or to hazard a guess as to what I may still achieve. I should like merely to express my aspiration to compose new life-asserting works, capable of inspiring the human soul with courage, joie-de-vivre and a fighting spirit.^^6^^
84 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1941 __ALPHA_LVL1__ For Shostakovich, as for all his fellow-countrymen, 1941 was sharply divided into two---the months of peace and the months of war.For Shostakovich, as for all his fellow-countrymen, 1941 was sharply divided into two---the months of peace and the months of war. =
In the early part of the year, the composer continued to write music, and to think about his symphony dedicated to Lenin. The premiere of a 'new production of King Lear took place in Leningrad's Gorky Theatre on 24 March. Both the press and the public highly rated Kozintsev's production, and in particular commended Shostakovich's music. (Subsequent events prevented the music being published then, and some parts did not become known till the end of 1970.)
Shostakovich's works were being widely performed in the Soviet Union at this time, often with the composer himself playing. On 2 and 5 January he accompanied the Glazunov Quartet in a performance of his Quintet at the Leningrad Philharmonia. On 7 March the Ukrainian State Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Natan Rakhlin, gave the first performance of his Sixth Symphony in Kiev. The great Ukrainian composer Lyatoshinsky commented on the Symphony in the newspaper Sovetskaya Ukraina: 'This is an extremely original work, not least because the slow, contemplative first movement is followed by two movements of a light scherzolike nature. It is not every composer, even among the most skilled, who would have the audacity to write the finale of a symphony in the rhythm of a polka. Yet this is what Shostakovich has done here. The finale is particularly distinguished by its bold, sharp rhythm, its freshness of harmony and its elegant orchestration. Because of this, the symphony ends on an optimistic, life-asserting note.
In April Shostakovich undertook a concert tour round the country, beginning with a performance of his Piano Concerto in Moscow (conductor Grigory Stolyarov). Then he gave several concerts of his own music in Rostov-on-Don. These concerts included his Fifth Symphony and his Piano Concerto (conducted by Arnold Paverman), his Quintet (together with the members of the Beethoven Quartet) and some piano preludes.
In the spring, as a tribute to his outstanding talent, Shostakovich was awarded the Stalin Prize (the highest state prize) for his Piano Quintet.
In June Shostakovich was back in his native Leningrad, where he gave classes and headed the Piano Section of the State Examination Commission at the Conservatoire. On Sunday, 22 June, he intended to go to a football match... The war drastically changed both his life and his creative plans. After unsuccessful attempts to sign up with the People's Volunteer Corps, he joined a voluntary fire brigade and kept watch on the roof of the Conservatoire; he also helped in the construction of defences, and, together with the actor Nikolai Cherkasov, ran the People's Volunteer Corps Theatre. At the same time he continued to teach at the Conservatoire (where he also lived for a while), and gave concerts. During all this time, starting at the end of July, he was hard at work on his Seventh Symphony. The first movement was finished on 3 September, and two weeks later, in a broadcast over Leningrad radio, he made a passionate, patriotic speech in which he talked about his new work. Shortly afterwards he played the first two movements of the symphony to friends at his flat in Bolshaya Pushkarskayd Street.
In early October, at the insistence of the local authorities, Shostakovich and his family were evacuated from Leningrad. He spent several days in Moscow. The newspaper Sovetskoye Iskusstvo published an emotional article in which Shostakovich described life in Leningrad during the first months of the war. On 11 October Shostakovich gave a piano recital of the first three movements of his new symphony 85 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1941 to a group of musicians. (Even then the work produced an enormous impression on its audience, as the music critic I. Nestyev described in Sovetskoye Iskusstvo on 16 October.) On 12 October Shostakovich took part in a gathering of artists and musicians from Moscow and Leningrad at the Central Artists' Club. Two days later he left for Kuibyshev with the members of the Bolshoi Theatre. Once he had settled into his new surroundings, Shostakovich devoted the rest of the year to completing his Seventh Symphony. On 27 December the last note was written. He dedicated the work to his native city, Leningrad.
__b_b_b__The first leaf of the new calendar has been torn off. How did my first working day this year go?
My pupils were waiting for me in one of the lecture-halls of the Leningrad Conservatoire. Abram Lobkovsky, a third-year student in the composition department placed the score of the first two movements of his cello sonata on the piano stand in front of me. I played the first movement. The theme developed freely and easily. The finale of the second movement will require a little more work, however.
Then a second-year student, Galina Ustvolskaya, came, and I listened to her latest work Variations for Two Pianos.
Creative contact of this kind with young people gives me much joy and satisfaction-hours of intensive teaching fly past unnoticed.
In the evening I went to the Philharmonia, where, together with the Glazunov Quartet, I played my Quintet-the last of many pieces I wrote in 1940. After a short interval the orchestra, conducted by the outstanding Soviet conductor Yevgeny Mravinsky, played my Fifth Symphony.'
__*__In my childhood I displayed no particular love for music. Unlike many other composers, I was not in the habit of stealing up behind doors at the age of three to listen to music; and if I did hear it, my sleep that night would be just as peaceful and untroubled as ever. At home, my mother was the musician. She passionately loved music, and even studied it at one time. But she stopped studying to look after her home and family. My father also loved music, but was not involved in it in any practical way, except that sometimes he would sing romances to my mother's accompaniment. Mother established the rule at home that as soon as her children reached the age of nine they were given piano lessons. This was the fate of my two sisters, and it was mine, too. Our mother gave us lessons for the first year. My lessons were a great success: I fell in love with the piano and with music.
I had a very good musical memory, and could immediately remember any piece that was played to me. This quality involuntarily led me to deceipt, until I was caught redhanded. Sometimes mother would play me a piece of music, and I would play it back to her during the next lesson, pretending to be reading the music, but actually playing from memory. 86 Nonetheless I must say that I learned to read music quickly. For many people this can be a source of great suffering.
By the time I was twelve I had firmly made up my mind to be a musician.
My parents were wary, and decided to seek advice in the matter.
There was at that time a well-known musician, Ziloti, living in Leningrad. He consented to my father's request to listen to me playing. Several days later, a complete bundle of nerves, I played for him. It was no joke: my fate was being decided! When I finished playing, Ziloti remained silent for a few moments, then said to my mother: 'The boy will never make a career out of it, he has no musical talent. Of course, if he really wants to, let him carry on with his lessons ... why not?*
I cried the whole night... I was very upset. Seeing my distress, my mother took me to see Alexander Glazunov, the head of the Conservatoire at that time. On hearing me play, he complimented me highly for my performance, and advised me to enter both the piano class and the composition class. In this way, I became a musician.
...I entered the Conservatoire when I was thirteen. I graduated from the piano class in 1923, but from the composition class only in 1925. This was because I was ill during my studen^^1^^ years, and did not have the physical strength to study two subjects at once...
I cannot help thinking of my passion for Chaikovsky in the years after I left the Conservatoire. If I ever heard of his works being played anywhere, even in the most obscure little club, I would be off like a shot. I listened to his music fervently, whether it was his best or his weaker works that were being played. I loved Chaikovsky's music madly, and still do, though perhaps not quite so unreservedly. I also have another great passion-for Mussorgsky, whom I honour and revere. You cannot imagine the enthusiasm with which I worked on the orchestration of Boris Godunov for the Bolshoi Theatre...
I want to write in a way that everyone can understand. I am writing for the people, after all, and so must find a language which is accessible to them. I used to think I had achieved this, but it seems that I have not. I am still searching for that language, but it is a very difficult task. It requires a lot of work, especially work on myself. You must judge for yourselves how well I have succeeded.^^2^^
__*__Our theatre directors rarely stage their productions without music/ They are no doubt afraid that they would be accused M having weak imaginations if they did not include music in their productions. Yet more often than not music is quite superfluous in dramas '.'-depicting everyday life. I remember a play I once saw at the former Alexandrinsky Theatre: the hero was in doubt and was suffering, but his lines were fairly modest and reserved. The director decided to come to his rescue and `emphasise' his suffering: he had a violinist back-stage playing a sweet, moving 87 melody; then a storm got up, and every thing-the cliched storm and the cliched music---made the whole thing seem vulgar and tasteless.
There is a place for music both in vaudeville and in heroic tragedy. The songs usual in vaudeville should be sung as gaily as possible; but in a tragedy the music should, in my opinion, appear only at moments of heightened tension. The composer should explain in music his understanding of the main idea or conflict in the tragedy, he should give musical interpretations of the dramatis personae. It is not his job to .provide musical illustrations - the workers in a musical library could easily do that.
Shakespearian tragedies are extremely musical in themselves; music simply flows from their poetry and dynamism. Shakespeare himself was plainly very fond of music, and sensed its power and its charm; had it been otherwise, he could not have written the famous scene where the sick Lear awakens to music,
It is difficult to write music to Shakespeare's plays. The author of Hamlet and King Lear will not tolerate banality or petty emotions. When one talks of the magnitude of Shakespeare, one means his inner magnitude, his breadth of spirit, and not external pomp and circumstance. In King Lear the figure of the Fool delights and disturbs me. Without him the tragedy of Lear and Cordelia would not strike such a poignant note. The Fool very skilfully illuminates Lear's character, and to portray him through music is far from easy. His wit is sharp and sarcastic, but also black, and his character complex, paradoxical and contradictory. Everything he says or does is original, unexpected, and always wise.
Needless to say, it is no easier to represent in music-especially for a theatrical production-the horror of the slow and agonising disintegration of all Lear's illusions.
Every time I have to write music for a work by Shakespeare, I am assailed by thoughts and ideas which go far beyond the limits of the task at hand.
I start to dream about the theatre, and about some day composing • a whole work based on Shakespeare,^^3^^
__*__For my Piano Quintet I have been awarded the Stalin Prize-an honour which spurs me on in my work. The Stalin Prize is not only a high award, it is also an act of great faith.
At the moment I am working on the music for the Leningrad Gorky Theatre's production of King Lear. Shakespeare's theme is one of the most disturbing and staggering in world literature, I do not know how well I shall cope, but I feel that my creative contact with this great dramatist will be very fruitful.
The main task facing me at the moment is to write works of music which reflect our age-the age of joyful, exuberant endeavour to realise the great ideals of all progressive people. I have many ideas, as yet not fully developed, but one thing that is quite clear to me is that Soviet 88 music must be expanded in all directions. I intend to write operas and symphonies, and to continue my probings into the spheres of chamber and vocal music.^^4^^
__*__While I was working on my Quintet, I was also busy revising Mussorgsky's opera Boris Godunov. I looked over the score ironing out uneven harmonies here and there, and changing unsuccessful orchestrations and certain harmonic progressions. I have introduced into my orchestration several instruments which were used neither by Mussorgsky, nor by Rimsky-Korsakov in his version of Boris Godunov.
I revere Mussorgsky and consider him one of the greatest Russian composers. To penetrate his original creative design, to uncover this plan and reveal it to the audience - this was the nature of the task before me. Mussorgsky made many changes on the advice of Vladimir Stasov, RimskyKorsakov and others, and Rimsky-Korsakov himself altered the score while editing it.
Rimsky-Korsakov's edition of Boris Godunov reflects the nineteenth century's ideology, thoughts and skills. It is impossible to approach it with anything short of deep respect. I wanted to attain a greater symphonic development in the opera, and to give the orchestra a more important role than merely accompanying the singers.
Rimsky-Korsakov was despotic in his attitude to Mussorgsky's score and tried to subordinate it to his own creative style, rewriting and adding a great deal. I rewrote very little and only changed individual bars here and there.
In Mussorgsky's score, the bell-ringing and coronation at the beginning of the opera and the Polonaise in the Polish act are very weak. And yet these scenes have enormous symphonic tension! Certain musicologists even hold that they are not at all weak, but very successful. They maintain that the composer himself, in order to show the baseness of the Polish gentry, and to underline the fact that the people do not approve of Boris Godunov's coronation, deliberately wrote the music in this style. This can be very easily disproved. The late Glazunov described how Mussorgsky played him the bell-ringing scenes on the piano. They were magnificent, as were the coronation scenes. Glazunov recalled the great pleasure with which Mussorgsky would play his most successful excerpts to his friends.
In the opera, the chiming of the bells sounds like a pitiful parody, yet if we look at Mussorgsky's own transcription of this piece for four hands, we see how rich the composer's idea was,
One scene, 'Near Kromy', with its depiction of the common folk, occupies a more important position than before. Though one of the key scenes in the opera, it had been very poorly and timidly orchestrated in the original score, and had to be redone.
I did not set out to change every note, of course. Take, for example, the scene in the cell: the beginning was superbly orchestrated, and 89 required no altering. It would have been ridiculous to substitute the violas by cellos or clarinets or bassoons in this scene -I left it exactly as it was.
Those who think that I left no stone unturned in my orchestration are very wrong. My approach was as follows: I had both Mussorgsky's and Rimsky-Korsakov's scores in front of me, but I did not look at them, I consulted only Mussorgsky's piano score, and orchestrated each act myself. I would then compare the three versions, and if I found that either of the other two was more successful than mine in any place, I would use that version.
It was with great trepidation that I worked on this edition of Boris Godnnov. I sat over the score literally for days and nights on end. It is one of the most fascinating pieces of work I have done in recent years; It is more or less finished now, but no doubt in the course of rehearsals a whole series of changes and corrections will have to be made.^^5^^
__*__An hour ago I completed the second movement of my new symphonic work. If all goes well, and I succeed in writing the third and fourth movements, then this will be my Seventh Symphony. Why do I tell you this? I tell you this so that the people of Leningrad who hear me now might know that life in our city is still going on. Each one of us is now doing his soldier's duty. Workers in the sphere of culture are fulfilling their duty honourably and selflessly, like all other Leningraders. My thoughts are clear, and my creative energies will spur me on to complete my symphony. When it is finished, I shall broadcast my work over the radio, and will eagerly await your exacting, friendly appraisal. I can assure you, on behalf of all of Leningrad's cultural workers, that we are invincible, and will never desert our post.
Soviet musicians, my dear brothers-in-arms, my friends! Do not forget that our music is in grave danger. Let us work honestly and selflessly to defend it. The music which is so dear to us, and to which we have given our hearts and souls, must continue to grow as never before. We must remember that our every note contributes to the construction of our culture. And the better and more beautiful our art, the more certain it will be that it will never be destroyed.^^6^^
__*__In these difficult days of war, Leningrad is alive with unprecedented patriotism and great animation. Hitler's rabid enemies of mankind are seeking to deprive us of our freedom, joy and happiness. But their endeavours are in vain. The people of Leningrad are. fully determined to devote all their strength, energy and experience to defending Lenin's great city,
Our heroic soldiers and volunteers are valiantly repelling enemy attacks. The approach roads to Leningrad are littered with corpses of German soldiers.
90The people of Leningrad greatly appreciate their artists, writers and musicians. In these days of the Great Patriotic War, writers, actors, composers and musicians perform for Red Army units and in the theatres, clubs and concert halls of the city.
There have been several concerts in Leningrad recently featuring many of the city's musicians. I took part in one of them. The hall was full to overflowing. When I was leaving the building after my performance (I was on first), I was surrounded by a crowd of people wishing to get into the concert. Unfortunately there was nothing I could do, since there was a sign up on the door saying that all the tickets had been sold.
I once asked the artistic director of the Leningrad Philharmonia, Ivan Sollertinsky, how well the season tickets for the 1941-42 season had sold. He told me that they had all long been sold out.
This thirst for music is very characteristic of the Leningraders: Leningrad will always be one of the strongholds of Soviet music.
Hitler boasted that he would take Moscow and Leningrad by storm, and that for the Germans the war against Russia would be a `Blitzkrieg', but the Soviet people have made a mockery of this villainous, vainglorious declaration.
During the defence of Leningrad I started work on my Seventh Symphony. The first movement was finished on 3 September, the second on 17 September, and the third on 29 September. At the moment I am finishing off the fourth and last movement. I have never worked so quickly. When the symphony is complete, however, I have no doubt that it will require a good deal of alteration and polishing.
I love my country and its people, and I sincerely believe in the rightness of our struggle against Hitler's plunderers. I am convinced that we shall be victorious. In my Seventh Symphony I set myself an important task. It is a symphony about our age, our people, our sacred war and our victory. It is difficult for me to judge my own success, and now, as I complete the symphony, I am eagerly looking forward to its first performance and to hearing the verdict of my exacting, but fair and wellmeaning judges in the public.^^7^^
__*__I have been in Moscow for ten days. Leningrad is my home town, I was born there, grew up there and went to school there.
The Soviet Union is my homeland, but Leningrad is even closer to my heart-my own house, as it were. And I must go back, however grim things may be there... When one's house is on fire, one must help to put out the flames.^^8^^
91 __NUMERIC_LVL1__ 1942 __ALPHA_LVL1__ Shostakovich's life was normally fairly hectic, but 1942 was a particularly strenuous year for him.Shostakovich's life was normally fairly hectic, but 1942 was a particularly strenuous year for him. =
At the beginning of January music lovers in Kuibyshev had a chance to hear Shostakovich playing some of his own pre-war compositions: piano preludes, a piano version of the scherzo from his Fifth Symphony, his Cello Sonata (with the cellist Vladimir Matkovsky), romances based on Pushkin's poetry (sung by Alexander Baturin), and his Quintet (together with the quartet from the Bolshoi Theatre), By February rehearsals of Shostakovich'^ Seventh Symphony were in full swing at the Palace of Culture in Kuibyshev. The conductor, Samuil Samosud, as always worked carefully and thoroughly. Alexei Tolstoy, who was present at one of the rehearsals, wrote in the newspaper Pravda on 16 February: 'In the large foyer, between the pillars, was seated the orchestra of the Moscow Bolshoi Theatre, one of the world's most accomplished orchestras.' At the conductor's stand was Samosud, dressed casually, in waistcoat and shirt-sleeves. Behind him, on a chair, sat Shostakovich, looking like a petulant schoolboy. Leaning on the oak railing of the balcony above them, a fascinated audience looked on in silence. Now, after final adjustments had been made, all four movements were to be played from beginning to end. His hair damp with sweat, Samosud raised his baton, and the violins began their song of the carefree lives of happy men. The Seventh Symphony is dedicated to the triumph of the humane in man. Let us try to understand Shostakovich's musical imagination, which, in those gloomy, menacing Leningrad nights, in the thunder of exploding bombs and the glow of fires, led him to create this outspoken work.
The Seventh Symphony rose from the conscience of the Russian people, who unhesitatingly went into battle against the forces of darkness. Written in Leningrad, it has the stature of great, universal art, understandable all over the world because it tells the truth about man in these unprecedented times of calamities and ordeals. The symphony is transparent despite its great complexity, severe yet lyrical in a masculine way, and looks forward to the future, which stretches out beyond the victory of man over animal... Shostakovich put his ear to the heart of the motherland and played the triumphal hymn. Such were the thoughts and feelings which possessed us when we were listening to the orchestra of the Bolshoi Theatre rehearsing Shostakovich's 'Seventh Symphony in Kuibyshev*
At 11 o'clock in the morning on 27 February the final rehearsal of the symphony took place. On 1 March the symphony was played to an invited audience of soldiers, commanding officers, political workers from the local garrison, factory and office workers, and the town's Party activists. The official premiere on 5 March was broadcast over all the country's radio stations, like the most important government announcements.
Not long after this, Shostakovich left for Moscow. Here, in the Columned Hall of the Trade Union House on 29 and 30 March, Samuil Samosud conducted the Seventh Symphony again. In the audience were many front-line soldiers, and also many important names from Soviet artistic circles. During the first concert an airraid siren was heard, but no one, except air-defence soldiers, left the hall. 'A Symphony of Struggle and Victory' was the headline in Vechernaya Moskva on 30 March. The newspaper published comments by members of the audience, including the pianist Lev Oborin, who wrote: '/ heard the performance of Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony in Kuibyshev, and last night I had the great pleasure of attending the Moscow premiere of this remarkable new work...
92 __RUNNING_HEADER__ 1942 'Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony is unquestionably a masterpiece of Soviet music,
'It is brilliant from the point of view of composition.
'Its dimensions are titanic.
'Its integrity is monolithic.
'Its orchestration is exceptionally vivid.''
Thus began the concert life of the Seventh Symphony, which soon gained widespread popularity. On 9 July the work was played in Novosibirsk by the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra, under Yevgeny Mravinsky. Shostakovich attended the performance, and also took part in a chamber concert in which his compositions were performed by the singer Veniamin Arkanov and the Glazunov Quartet.
August saw the historic premiere of the Seventh Symphony in Leningrad, where the score was flown in specially by plane. To augment the only remaining orchestra in the city---the Radio Orchestra---the Army Command recalled professional musicians from the front. The date of the concert was set for 9 August---the day Hitler's troops were planning to take the city. Despite the conditions of cold and near starvation, the hall of the Philharmonia was packed. To everyone's surprise, the now already familiar sound of gunfire died down: it was only later discovered that the Commander of the Leningrad front, L. A. Govorov, had given orders for the Soviet artillery to silence the enemy's weapon emplacements...
In November the orchestra of the Moscow Conservatoire conducted by Grigory Stolyarov performed the symphony in Saratov. The score was also published at this time.
The work aroused great interest abroad, especially in the USA. Long before it was even finished, the best American conductors, Koussevitzky, Rodzinski, Stokowski, Ormandy and Kindler, and the Mexican Carlos Chavez, all began to vie for the privilege of being the first to conduct it. Leopold Stokowski wrote in a letter to the Soviet ambassador that the performance of this new work would be a great musical pleasure for the American audiences. Artur Rodzinski wrote that a successful performance of the Seventh Symphony could achieve as much as several armaments transportations, the only difference being that it could achieve its aim safely-and more effectively.
On 1 June a microfilm of the score was flown to the USA, and in 25 days American musicians had ten copies of the music at their disposal. Shostakovich bestowed on Arturo Toscanini the honour of being the first to conduct his work in America. On 19 July the orchestra on the National Radio Corporation under Toscanini performed the Seventh Symphony in a New York radio studio, from where it was broadcast by other radio stations to the whole country. Indroducing the broadcast, E. Carter, the president of an organisation collecting money for Russia's war effort, said Mat the Americans' awareness of their duty before the Russian people would grow even greater upon hearing this music, born of their struggle. About 20 million people heard the symphony.
__b_b_b__The radio premiere was followed by many concert performances in several American cities, conducted by Serge Koussevitzky, Leopold Stokowski, Pierre Monteaux, Artur Rodzinski, Dmitri Mitropoulos, Eugene Ormandy and others. The symphony was also heard in London, conducted by Sir Henry Wood, in Mexico under Carlos Chavez, and in Stockholm by Issay Dobrowen.
93Shostakovich was living a hectic life, dividing his time between Moscow and Kuibyshev, between composing, giving concerts, and attending to his various public duties. At the beginning of April he took part in the Second Pan-Slavic Conference in Moscow, at which he delivered an impassioned speech. That autumn Shostakovich applied himself to his work as Chairman of the Composers' Union, which involved frequent trips from Kuibyshev to the capital. In September he attended a concert in .Moscow given by the pianist Vladimir Sofronitsky, in October he wrote a suite ^called `Jvfy---Leningrad' for the Song and Dance Ensemble -of the NKVD, and ^attended their rehearsals, and in December he was made a member of the Artistic 'Council of the Moscow Conservatoire, where he started teaching the following year.
The composer devoted considerable time to an opera entitled The Gamblers, based on the unabridged text of Gogol's comedy of the same name. Although the work was never completed, Shostakovich thought it necessary to give it an opus number (69); the part of the opera which was completed was first heard in Leningrad in 1978, conducted by Gennady Rozhdestvensky. In 1942 Shostakovich also wrote six romances for bass and piano, based on English poems.
Shostakovich was awarded the Stalin Prize (First Class) again this year, this time for his Seventh Symphony. He was also given another state honour for his services to the arts in the Russian Federation.
__b_b_b__I am extremely satisfied with the performance. The excellent orchestra of the Bolshoi Theatre with its conductor Samuil Samosud played the work superbly. The fate of the symphony---which was written under the impression of the Leningraders' heroic defence of their city, and is dedicated to these valiant Sovie! patriots-is in capable hands.^^1^^
__*__My Seventh Symphony will be performed today for the first time in Moscow, in the Columned Hall of the Trade Union House. It is to be played by the combined orchestras of the Bolshoi Theatre and the Radio Committee, conducted by Samuil Samosud. The members of the orchestra and the conductor have all done a great deal of preparation for the performance and have coped beautifully. My intentions have been brilliantly put into practice by these excellent musicians.
For any Soviet composer the Moscow premiere of one of his compositions is an event of the utmost importance. On this happy day, I would like to describe some of my thoughts about the Seventh Symphony. I began work on the symphony at the end of July 1941, and finished it in December of that year. It turned out to be a large-scale work, lasting one hour and twenty minutes. It was written under the influence of the sinister events of 1941. The Nazis' cunning and perfidious attack on our motherland closed the ranks of our people in the fight to repel the evil enemy. The Seventh Symphony is a poem about our struggle and about our coming victory.
The events of 1941 raised the question of the role of culture in times of 94 war. The war we are waging against Nazism is the justest of wars. We are defending the freedom, honour and independence of our country. We are struggling for the greatest ideals in the history of mankind. We are fighting for our culture, our science, our art, for everything we have created and built. And the Soviet artist will never stand on the sidelines when reason and obscurantism, culture and barbarity, light and darkness are engaged in mortal combat.
Almost the whole symphony was written in my home town of Leningrad. Enemy raiders were breaking through our defences. The city was subjected to bombing from the air and artillery fire from outside. All the Leningraders joined forces and together with the Red Army swore to repel the enemy.
During this time I worked on my Seventh Symphony. I worked quickly and intensively. I wanted to compose a piece about today, about our life and our heroic people, fighting and conquering the enemy. Working on the symphony, I thought about the greatness and heroism of our nation, about mankind's greatest ideals, about the finest human qualities, about the beautiful scenery of our country, about humanism and beauty. It is in the name of all this that we are fighting this cruel war.
I completed the symphony on 27 December 1941. It was premiered in Kuibyshev on 5 March, and on 29 March it will be played in Moscow, the heart of our motherland.
The whole of our country is keenly interested in culture. Even during these difficult war days new musical works are being learned and performed. New plays are being put on in the theatres. Artists arc working on new paintings.
In wartime our culture is developing and moving forward. Artists, musicians and writers, together with the rest of our countrymen, are helping the Red Army rout the enemy. I dedicate my Seventh Symphony to our struggle against fascism, to our coming victon, and to my native Leningrad.^^2^^
__*__My Seventh Symphony is a programme work, charged with the sinister events of 1941. It has four movements. The first movement tells of'how the evil force of war broke into our peaceful, wonderful life. I did not try to depict naturalistic war sounds (the noise of aeroplanes, the rumble of tanks, the whistle of bullets): it is not a battle-piece. I wanted to convey the essence of the terrible events.
The exposition of the first movement tells of the happy lives of our people, their confidence in themselves and in their future-the kind of life that before the war thousands of Leningraders, indeed all our countrymen, were leading.
The theme of war can be heard through the whole of the middle section.
A central position in the first movement is occupied by a funeral march, or rather, a requiem for the victims of the war. The Soviet people honour 95 the memory of their heroes. After the requiem comes an even more tragic episode. I do not even know how to describe this music. Perhaps it contains a mother's tears, or even that,feeling when one's grief is so great that there are no tears left. After a long bassoon solo, describing the suffering of friends and relations of those who perish in the war,'comes the bright, lyrical conclusion to the first movement. Only at the very end can the theme of war be heard again in the distance, reminding us of the struggle still to come.
The second movement is a lyrical scherzo, which contains recollections of pleasant, happy events. Underlying this, there is a trace of sadness and meditation.
The third movement is an emotional adagio. Ecstasy in life and admiration of nature-these are the main themes running through this movement, which flows into the fourth without a break. The first and the fourth movements are the most important in the composition. The first is the struggle, the fourth the impending victory. The fourth opens with a short introduction, followed by the exposition of the stirring first theme. The second theme, triumphal in mood,"is the climax of the entire composition. The climax develops peacefully and assuredly, culminating in the grand, joyful sound of the finale.
Such are the thoughts which I should like to share with the listeners of my symphony.
... During the Great Patriotic War our writers, artists and musicians are working hard and prolifically, because they are inspired by the most progressive ideas of our age. And as the cannons roar, our muses also raise their mighty heads. No one shall ever wrench the pen from our hands.^^3^^
__*__Hitler and his criminal gang proclaimed to the whole world that the Slavs were an inferior race, historically determined to be slaves. The meaning behind this presumptuous nonsense is perfectly clear: the fascists hate the Slavs as they hate any talented nation, endowed with clearness of thought and noble human aspirations. I am proud to be Russian. I am proud to be a son of the people which gave birth to the great Lenin. I am proud to belong to the Slavonic race which gave the world giants of literature such as Pushkin and Tolstoy. I am proud that my blood brothers, the Poles, produced Mickiewicz, and that my fellow Slavs, the Serbs, created the epos, a genre which has been a source of pleasure for all civilised humanity down the centuries.
As a musician I am proud that my country's music occupies a most honourable position in world musical culture. Glinka, Borodin, Mussorgsky and Chaikovsky - all sons of Russia-are great composers who have delighted audiences for over a century now. The Slavonic peoples have played a very important role in the cultural development of man-' kind. The Slavs are a very musical race. Their melodies have always served as a source of inspiration for the greatest musicians: suffice to 96 mention Beethoven's famous `Rissian' Quartets, or Brahms' numerous adaptations of Serbian songs. Think of the exquisitely beautiful Polish folk music, which nourished the genius of Chopin, think of the Czech composers Dvorak, Smetana and Janacek, or of our great Polish contemporary Karol Szymanowski...
__b_b_b__The task facing us today is to create music about the present, about the important events now taking place. These works should be topical, pointed and captivating. But topicality does not imply less artistic integrity in a work. Topicality must be harnessed by talent. Moreover it should not only be short pieces that we are composing, but also largescale, monumental works. We should learn from the great artists of the past how to serve one's nation in its years of tribulation,
We have already done a certain amount of good, but we must create more and better works. We value the future too highly to be able to rest on our laurels. A great writer was once asked, 'Which of your works do you consider the best?' His answer was 'I haven't written it yet.' We too must never sit back, but always strive towards greater success. Our successes should spur us on to greater achievements and better work. As Soviet musicians we should stubbornly seek out new styles. We should advance further and further, tirelessly perfecting, never stopping for a moment, never forgetting that our art is serving our people and that it is one of the weapons in the struggle against the enemy and in forging peace.
We enjoy the support of the state, and are surrounded with care and attention by the government and the people. We must justify their confidence in us and the hopes they have placed on us. Forward into victorythis is the motto of Soviet musicians, the inheritors of the great traditions of world musical culture.
In his work Mozart and Salieri, Pushkin ascribes the following words to Mozart; 'Genius and evil are incompatible.* This always comes to mind when I think of the fate of Soviet culture, art and music. Our art is equipped with the most humane and progressive ideas. It is full of deep love for our country and a belief in humanism, reason and light. These noble ideas have inspired all thinking people throughout history, and will help us create works which accurately reflect our age.^^4^^
__*__I have put a good deal of my strength and energy into this composition, I have never before worked with such enthusiasm. There is a wellknown expression which runs: 'When the guns roar, the muse is silent.' This can justly be applied to those guns whose roar suppresses life, happiness and culture. These are guns of darkness, violence and evil. We are fighting for the victory of reason over obscurantism, of justice over barbarity. There can be no nobler or more elevated a task than that which inspires us to fight against the evil force of nazism.
97 __CAPTION__ Glier, Shostakovich, Steinberg
98
Today I learned that my latest symphony has been awarded the highest distinction - the Sialin Prize. This gives me new strength.^^3^^
__*__At the beginning of the war-on 22 or 23 June-1 volunteered to join the Red Army. I was told to wait. I applied again after hearing Comrade Stalin's speech about the people's volunteer corps. I was told that I would be accepted, but in the meantime I was to carry on my normal work, I was working in the Conservatoire, the term was nearly over. Classes carried on only till 1 July, and I was teaching and examining students. I did not go away on holiday, and spent day and night at the Conservatoire.
I approached the people's volunteer corps for a third time, thinking they had forgotten about me. They were flooded with applications, including one from Professor Nikolayev, who was then seventy.
I was made director of the musical section of the people's volunteer theatre. After the war I will write about this theatre, which went off to entertain at the front.
It was difficult to head the musical section of this theatre, since the only instruments were accordions. I applied to join the Red Army again, and was received by a Commissar. After hearing me out he said it would not be easy to draft me into the army, and advised me to limit my activities to writing music. After that I was dismissed from the people's volunteer theatre and informed that I was to be evacuated from Leningrad. I did not want to be evacuated because I thought I could be of more use where I was. I had a serious talk about this with the authorities. They said I should go, but I was in no hurry to leave the city, where a true fighting spirit reigned. Women, children and old people acted courageously. I will always remember the women of Leningrad who selflessly struggled to put out incendiary bombs, and in general displayed heroism in every way.
As for myself, I kept watch on the roof of the Conservatoire as a volunteer fireman.
I started work on my Seventh Symphony on 19 July. By the 29 September I had finished the third movement. Such was the atmosphere that I wrote the three long movements (52 minutes of music) very quickly. I thought that the speed at which I was writing might have an adverse effect on the quality of the music, but friends who listened to it spoke highly of it.
The dates are very clear in my head. The first movement was completed on 3 September, the second on 17, the third on 29 September. I worked day and night. I could hear ack-ack guns firing and shells exploding as I worked. But I never stopped writing.
On 25 September I celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday. I worked particularly hard that day, and I am told that the music I wrote then is particularly moving.^^6^^
99The thoughts and feelings evoked by Ivan Susanin are now more poignant than ever. One of the strongest is a feeling of fury against our present enemy-Hitler's Germany-and a feeling of confidence in our strength.
The fascist plunderers want to destroy our culture. The whole world trembled with indignation on learning of their vandalism at Yasnaya Polyana, Klin, Novgorod and Kanev. We shall never forget Chaikovsky's trampled manuscripts, and never forgive the monstrous crimes committed at Lev Tolstoy's estate., Yasnaya Polyana. We shall avenge the atrocities at Tikhvin, Rimsky-Korsakov's birthplace, and at Kanev, where Taras Shevchenko is buried.
Many decades have passed since the first performance of Ivan Susanin in St. Petersburg. Glinka's brilliant ideas have now been realised to full effect on the Soviet stage, and his immortal opera has been heard in all its beauty.
Ivan Susanin, which grew out of the best ideals of the Russian people, has not dated and will never do so. For our people will always cherish the noble, elevated feelings which Glinka's inimitable genius revealed to us: love of our country and hatred of its enemies.^^7^^
__*__My entire musical career has been closely linked to the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra. Beginning with my First Symphony, which was first performed in 1926, all my new works have been premiered by this excellent orchestra. Fjspecially memorable were the premieres of my Fifth and Sixth Symphonies, wonderfully interpreted by Yevgeny Mravinsky.
I am happy that this first-rate orchestra is now rehearsing my Seventh Symphony. Judging from their first rehearsals with the conductor, they will give a superb performance. I am eagerly looking forward to the day of the premiere.
I am very glad that I have managed to come to Novosibirsk-one of the industrial and cultural centres of the Soviet Union-to hear the familiar, inimitable sounds of the Leningrad Philharmonia. Many orchestras, both here and abroad, have played my works, but no other has captured my ideas so perfectly.^^8^^
__*__The way things have worked out, I have recently been separated from my favourite orchestra. It is working in Novosibirsk, and I am living in Kuibyshev. I need hardly describe my joy when I learned that it was interested in my Seventh Symphony. I excitedly set off for Novosibirsk to see my dear friends again.
The first rehearsal I attended took place on 29 June. The concerts were to be given on 9, 11, 12 and 15 July. The orchestra had the symphony ready for performance in ten days-a very short time, considering __ALPHA_LVL0__ The End. [END] 100 Emacs-File-stamp: "/home/ysverdlov/leninist.biz/en/1981/DS343/20100307/199.tx" __EMAIL__ webmaster@leninist.biz __OCR__ ABBYY 6 Professional (2010.03.08) __WHERE_PAGE_NUMBERS__ top __FOOTNOTE_MARKER_STYLE__ [*]+ __ENDNOTE_MARKER_STYLE__ [0-9]+ the length and complexity of the work. Yevgeny Mravinsky was conducting.
I spent almost a month in Novosibirsk, where I once again felt myself steeped in the familiar Leningrad atmosphere. Far away in the middle of Siberia I suddenly remembered Leningrad, to which I had become so unaccustomed and for which I longed so desperately. During the rehearsals and concerts I again became aware of the city's high level of culiure, and of its interest in art, which is so important in the creative process.
I should like to say that it was not only Mravinsky and his orchestra's talent and diligence which contributed to the great success of my symphony. No less important was the wealth of artistic experience accumulated by them over long years of work. Both Mravinsky and the Leningrad Philharmonic have learned and performed many excellent works of different styles. Together they have attained that level of universality which is the hallmark of truly great artists. I should say in passing that it is at this kind of universality that all Soviet composers and performers ought to be aiming. We should be able to play everything, and compose in all genres.
I eagerly awaited the premiere of the work in Novosibirsk. And I must say that I was truly amazed by the artistry of the performance and the precision with which the score was interpreted.
It was nice to note that despite long months of separation from their beloved home town, the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra has carefully preserved all its finest qualities, and even added to them in many ways. The orchestra won the wholehearted admiration of their audiences in Novosibirsk.
I, too, shall never forget my joy at hearing their performance of my symphony.^^9^^
The Beethoven Quartet will give two chamber concerts on 5 and 13 September in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire. I shall join them to play the piano part in my Quintet. The programme also includes Prokofiev's quartet based on Caucasian themes (to be played for the first time in Moscow). I am also looking forward to the forthcoming concert by the All-Union Radio Orchestra, which is to perform my Seventh Symphony on 14 September in the Grand Hall of the Conservatoire. The conductor will be the winner of the All-Union Conductors' Competition, Konstantin Ivanov.^^10^^
*
I am presently working on a symphonic composition dedicated to the twenty-fifth anniversary of Soviet power. The work is conceived as a symphonic poem, inspired by the Great Patriotic War. I cannot say much more about it, however, as it is still in its initial stage.
101 1942Next year marks the twentieth anniversary of the Beethoven Quartet. These musicians were the first to perform the few chamber works I have written, and I would like, if at all possible, to celebrate their anniversary by writing a new quartet for them.
Apart from this, I have been asked by the Musical Ensemble of the NKVD to write an overture for their new programme, `October'. I am also writing music for two items on the programme-a song about Leningrad and a sailors' dance.
Once this work is finished, I shall return to Kuibyshev, where I have been living since I had to leave Leningrad, apart from occasional trips to Moscow. I was also in Novosibirsk, at the invitation of the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra.
I have made Kuibyshev my temporary home. I work well there, and carry out my duties as Chairman of the Composers' Union. But, of course, no matter how comfortably I have settled in, or how well I work there, I am always drawn to Leningrad, where I grew up and where I lived so happily before the war, and where it was such an honour to be when it was under siege.''
The pianist Vladimir Sofronitsky has recently been giving concerts in Moscow. This splendid musician has become very popular with a wide audience. A pianist of great finesse, Sofronitsky devotes all the skills and means at his disposal to the task of penetrating the essence of a work and conveying it to the listener.
Sofronitsky^^1^^ technical skill is astounding. But his execution of a piece is so imperceptible that the listener becomes totally absorbed in the ideas of the work itself. Sofronitsky conveys the composer's intention with great insight and understanding. He is a musician capable of giving a philosophical interpretation of the piece he is performing. The power of his performance wins the hearts of his audiences. Very often at the end of one of his concerts, one can hear members of the audience saying how wonderful Beethoven is, or how interesting Scriabin, or how poetic Chopin. This is the highest praise for a performer, whose technique is not an end in itself, but a means to uncover as fully as possible the full potential of a work of music.
Sofronitsky came to Moscow from Leningrad, where, in spite of the seige and the severe winter, he continued to nurture and develop his remarkable talents. He is an astounding Soviet musician, who works hard to perfect his skills, and is maturing as a master with very high standards.^^12^^
102 1943At the beginning of 1943 Shostakovich moved to Moscow, to a new flat on Mozhaisk Highway (now Kutuzov Avenue). He resumed his teaching activities at the Conservatoire, where he took a class in composition till 1948. Some of his pupils were: Revol Bunin, German Galynin, Akhmet Djevdet Gadjiev, Kara Karayev, Yevgeny Makarov, Karen Khachaturian, Boris Chaikovsky and Alexander Chugayev,
In the spring Shostakovich headed a commission set up to examine the curriculum of the performers' department at the Conservatoire. He took an active part in the work of the Organising Committee of the Composers' Union, In May he became adviser to the Arts Committee.
Shostakovich was going through a period of intense creativity. On 12 April he played the Arts Committee his newly completed Second Piano Sonata, dedicated to the memory of Leonid Nikolayev, who had recently passed away. Three days later Shostakovich played his sonata in the Composers'" Club,
Spring also saw a production of Boris Godunov in Shostakovich's new version, written before the war. After this, the composer devoted all his time to his .Eighth Symphony, which he finished in the summer while living in a composers' house near Ivanovo. Here', too, he played it to Khachaturian and Makarov, and the musicologist G. Schneierson. During his vacation at this house belonging to the Composers' Union, Shostakovich made a trip into the town of Ivanovo to meet the cadets of the Infantry School, and played them fragments from his Seventh Symphony.
The symphonic season at the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire opened on 15 October. The programme, conducted by Alexander Melik-Pashayev, included Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony.
Before this, on 21 September, Shostakovich played his Eighth Symphony to the Arts Committee, which included many leading musicians. It was premiered on 4 November in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire by the USSR State Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Yevgeny Mravinsky-to whom it was dedicated.
The symphony provoked many arguments in musical circles: it had its zealous devotees and its bitter opponents. Among the former was the famous writer Leonid Leonov, who wrote in Literaturnaya Gazeta on 7 November: 'This work by our great contemporary composer speaks boldly of the grief and fury of the Soviet people, waging a war of life and death against the fascist invaders. In the structure of the symphony the composer has found a means of expressing complex thoughts and emotions. We hear nature, the thunder of war, meditations, and a deep and sensitive expression of those moods and ideas which trouble our generation. There is perfect fusion of the general and the particular, a distinguishing mark of all great works of art.
'But the greatness of the Eighth Symphony lies not only in this. When I hear Liszt, Chaikovsky or Glinka, I have the impression t! at I am stepping into a familiar, lived-in house, through whose windows I have long been accustomed to admiring familiar corners of the world. Listening of Shostakovich''s Eight Symphony, on the other hand, I feel as though the composer's masterful hand is leading me to new windows, to a completely unfamiliar world-and a world expressed in a new musical idiom.'
Despite his numerous duties, Shostakovich, as before, showed an interest in everything that was going on in the arts, especially in the work of his colleagues. On 20 November he visited Alexander Goldenweiser, and listened to his operas The ,
103 1943Singers and The Feast at the Time of the Plague. He wrote a review in Pravda of the premiere of Vladimir Turousky's ballet Red Sails. On the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of Chaikovskf s death, Shostakovich wrote an article expounding his views on the great Russian composer's work.
Shostakovich's music continued its triumphant march round the world; his Seventh Symphony, for example, was performed in Montreal, Goteborg, Melbourne, BuenosAires, Montevideo and Santiago. In April he received a recording of the symphony, conducted by Ariu.ro Toscanini, and immediately sent the conductor a warm telegram of gratitude.
Tet another title was bestowed upon the composer this year: he was elected honorary member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
For two years now, our Motherland and all her people have been waging war against Hitler's bandits. Our glorious Red Army has shown the whole world its unique heroism and military skill.
A great historical mission has fallen to our lot, and we shall carry out this mission to gain happiness for our people and our beloved Motherland.'
For six months I often spent whole days and nights feverishly working on a new edition of Boris Godunov. For me this was a significant landmark in my work. Such close and lengthy contact with an original musical score belonging to the greatest Russian composer enriched me, giving me the chance to study Mussorgsky's work in depth.
The orchestral rehearsals of my version of Boris Godunov, in the capable hands of Samuil Samosud, afforded me much pleasure. I was also shown sketches for the stage sets of the opera by the artist Pavel Williams. They are very good.
The Bolshoi Theatre singers chosen for the opera are also excellent, and I have no doubt that this production will turn out to be an important landmark in the history of Soviet theatre.^^2^^
At the Composers' Union recently, Yuri Levitin played his oratorio The Sacred War to Moscow musicians. Levitin has been writing music for seven years, and has written many works of talent, inventiveness and good taste. He has tried his hand at several genres, not restricting himself to one narrow speciality. Levitin's composition technique is beautifully developed, and he has mastered instrumentation, polyphony and form. His oratorio The Sacred War and his Second String Quartet are the most important of his recent compositions.
The theme of The Sacred War is immense and majestic, and naturally affects all artists.
104 1943... The quality of Levitin's new work is not uniform: it has its shortcomings. But the joy which is aroused by the appearance of a talented new work deadens all desire to criticise, I would like to postpone the criticism it deserves until I have heard the works being played by an orchestra.
Levitin's Second Quartet is superb in its depth of thought and sonority, and illustrates the composer's fine understanding of the quartet style.^^3^^
I recently finished work on my Eighth Symphony. I wrote it very quickly-in just over two months. I had no earlier plan for this work, and when the Seventh Symphony was finished, I intended to compose an opera and a ballet, and started work on an oratorio about the defenders of Moscow. But in the end I put aside the oratorio and .started'work on my Eighth Symphony. There are no concrete events described in it. It reflects my thoughts, feelings and elevated creative mood, which could not help being influenced by the joyful news of the Red Army's victories. My new work is an attempt to look into the future, to the post-war era.
The Eighth Symphony contains many tragic and dramatic inner conflicts. But on the whole it is an optimistic, life-asserting work. The first movement is a long adagio, with a dramatically tense climax. The second movement is a march, with scherzo elements, and the third is a forceful, dynamic march. The fourth movement, in spite of its march form, is sad in mood. The fifth and final movement is bright and gay, like a pastorale, with various dance elements and folk motifs.
Comparing this symphony with my previous works, I would say that it is closest in mood to my Fifth Symphony and Quintet. And I think that certain thoughts and ideas contained in previous works have been further developed in my Eighth Symphony. The philosophical conception of my new work can be summed up in three words: life is beautiful. All that is dark and evil rots away, and beauty triumphs.^^4^^
There is no Russian composer of the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries who does not owe some aspect of his work to the influence of Chaikovsky. The author of six symphonies and of the most important and popular Russian operas, Chaikovsky was one of the true fathers of Russian music. His genius combined uncommon natural giftedness with prolific creativity lasting many decades. There is literally no musical genre on which he did not leave an important mark. His creative output spanned the symphony and the song, opera and;romance, sonata and ballet, and concerto and humoresque.
Chaikovsky's music influenced his contemporaries regardless of their musical direction or way of thinking. But his greatest influence was on his scions. The traditional line of Russian music, which Chaikovsky inherited from Glinka, was carried on by his pupil Taneyev, and later by Scriabin
105 1943and Rakhmaninov. I know of no Soviet composer who did not to some extent feel the beneficial influence of Chaikovsky. Shaporin, Shebalin, Myaskovsky, Prokofiev, Khachaturian and Dzerzhinsky have all, to varying degrees, inherited the melodic and harmonic traditions of Chaikovsky. The distinguishing philosophical and musical features of Chaikovsky's work have also left a very deep mark on my own mind. When I embark on any new work, I invariably think of the method used by this unsurpassed master, our teacher in the art of composing.
To desribe exactly why I love Ghaikovsky would be very difficult, and would require a detailed, analytical aricle. But if I were to explain my admiration and respect for his work in one phrase, I would say it was because of the complete absence in him of indifference and idle music-making,
Ghaikovsky is near and dear not only to us musicians. Like Pushkin, he is a fundamental part of the Russian consciousness. Without Chaikovsky we could not live through days of national sorrow, his name is always with us in days of victory, and in years such as these, when the Russian national spirit rides high.
I would like to examine two moot points here. It is often claimed that Chaikovsky's work is `tinged' with the spirit of pessimism. This misconception stems from the fact that certain contemporary researchers, like the majority of pre-revolutionary critics and musicologists, confuse pessimism with a vivid sense of the tragic. In all the centuries of world art, man's tragic conception of the world has never been better expressed than in the Greek tragedies. Yet no one would ever think of reproaching them for pessimism. Chaikovsky has the same sense of the tragic, conflicting development of human life. With the perspicacity of a true philosopher, and the intuition of a great artist, he sensed the contradictory, dialectical path of world development, of the fate of man and mankind. But Chaikovsky's work does not bear the stamp of fatalism or gloom. His most tragic works are moved by the spirit of struggle, and by the aspiration to overcome blind, elemental forces.
Chaikovsky believed in the immeasurable strength of human reason and in the power and harmony of the universe. Everything he wrote is permeated by this bright, rational faith.
I would also like to refute another commonly held belief. Certain `theorists' claim that Chaikovsky is akin to Chekhov and Levitan in his elegiac glorification of the Russian twilight at the end of the last century. This is unfair not only to Chaikovsky, but also to Chekhov and Levitan, whose work is full of a strong life-asserting force. The three artists do, however, have much in common; their elegiac perception of Russian nature, their tender, emotional lyricism, and most importantly, their total lack of indifference to the world. There is always passionate blood pulsing beneath the restrained outer form of their works. Their perception of the tragic in life is also the same. Chaikovsky wrote his Sixth Symphony, Chekhov his The Black Monk (which is, by the way, one of the most musical works of Russian literature, written almost in sonata form), and Levitan injected the same passion and artistic fervour into his depiction of
106 1943a Russian snowstorm. It should be noted here that in Chaikovsky's most tragic compositions (e. g. his Sixth Symphony and The Queen of Spades), as in the best works of Russian realist art and literature, the dominant idea is not resignation, but determination to overcome a tragic fate.
There is still a tendency today to speak of the Rimsky-Korsakov school as the leading school of Russian composition. It is time to give the Chaikovsky school its due, and to acknowledge the wealth and diversity of his composition technique. He is unequalled in his ability to develop a musical idea and in his faculty for orchestration. I have the utmost respect for Chaikovsky as an orchestrator, for he seldom wrote music and then orchestrated it, but wrote directly for the orchestra, thinking orchestrally, as it were. If I ever find myself in difficulty when working on a composition, I always find a comprehensive answer to my problem in Chaikovsky's composition technique.
Another point to be borne in mind is that in his treatment of works of Russian literature, Chaikovsky was never, in the generally accepted sense of the word, a musical `interpreter' of literature. His compositions based on Pushkin are not poetry transposed into music. His images of Tatiana, Onegin, Lensky, Herman and Mazepa are not mere borrowings from Pushkin, but are consanguineous with Pushkin's works, the pride of Russian poetry.
The national character of Chaikovsky's music can be explained by his deep understanding of his contemporaries' and compatriots' souls, and by his sensitivity towards Russian nature. He did not, however, have a narrow nationalistic outlook, and often drew on foreign sources for his works (e.g. his three ballets, his opera lolanthe, and his Capriccio italieri). Yet even with their non-Russian subjects, these works are as national in spirit and character as the rest of Chaikovsky's music.
Chaikovsky's music is not only one of the cornerstones of Russian (and world) music: it is also a kind of creative and technical encyclopaedia, which every Russian composer finds it necessary to consult. His ability to alter and vary his musical material is astounding (cf. his treatment of the theme of fate at the beginning of the first movement and then in the waltz of his Fifth Symphony).
Chaikovsky's music is particularly dear to the heart of contemporary Soviet man. It is indicative that the German vandals, having taken it ' into their heads to strangle Russian and Soviet culture, destroyed Chaikovsky's house at Klin. The initiators and executors of this unparalleled act of malice will be severely punished.
At all the most difficult moments of the war, we have remembered Chaikovsky. In our hour of triumph we hear his music. And when finally Hitler's hordes are routed once and for all, Chaikovsky's music will merge with the victory march which will sound over the length and breadth of our great and wonderful land.^^5^^
107 1943During the war our artists have produced very many excellent works full of patriotism and hatred towards the enemy. I think that both the number and quality of these compositions will grow-the Teheran Conference has boosted the creative morale of the world's leading artists.
When the war ends, and the evil forces of nazism disappear from the face of the earth, when fascist tyranny and misanthropy are things of the past, there will be an unprecedented flourishing of all forms of art. Spurred on by progressive ideas, it will hold high the flag of culture and humanity.
In our works we shall always advocate peace and happiness on earth. History has passed sentence on fascism. The sentence will soon be executed.^^6^^
108 1944Shostakovich was deeply grieved by the death of one of his closest friends-Ivan Sollertinsky. On 15 February he started writing a Piano Trio dedicated to his memory. He finished this work, and also his Second Quartet, while he was living at the Ivanovo Composers' House during the summer. In early November the composer played his new works at the Composers' Union, together with the Beethoven Quartet, and then set off for Leningrad with the same ensemble. Here, on 14 November, the premieres of both works took place in the Grand Hall of the Philharmonia ; the programme also included his Quintet. The same concert was given again two weeks later in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire.
Besides his chamber compositions, Shostakovich was also working on music for Lev Amstam's film Zoya, which was released on 22 November.
As before, Shostakovich was active in the Composers' Union. At the plenum of the Organising Committee at the end of March, Shostakovich gave a detailed report on the subject 'Soviet music During the War'. Parts oj the speech were published at that time in the journal Literatura i Iskusstvo, but only thirty years later was it published in full, in the magazine Sovetskaya Muzyka.
Shostakovich's Eighth Symphony was often performed this year, both in the Soviet Union and abroad. On 6 December Yevgeny Mravinsky conducted it for the first time in Leningrad, now liberated from the blockade. Before that, the symphony was played in New Tork, conducted by Artur Rodynski (2 April), in Boston, conducted by Serge Koussevitzky (21 and 22 April), in Mexico, conducted by Carlos Chavez (26 May), and in London, conducted by Sir Henry Wood (23 July).
On II February 1944 Ivan Sollertinsky passed away in Novosibirsk. His death was completely unexpected. He was young, at the peak of his strength and energies. He was 41 when he died.
Sollertinsky was a great and colourful personality. It would be difficult to meet someone better versed in all aspects of life. But he devoted the best of his energies to music, his favourite art form.
I first met him in the winter of 1921, although I had heard of him earlier, through his reputation of being the most regular visitor to all of Petrograd's concert halls. He was indeed a fanatical concert-goer. Listening to music, he seemed to experience the highest possible enjoyment. At the end of every concert, he would share impressions at great length with his friends. Wearing a peaked Red Army hat and a dowdy lightweight coat-despite the severe winter-he could not help attracting attention as he heatedly discussed something with his companion. We had common acquaintances who used to say of Sollertinsky that he knew every language that ever existed on Earth, that Jie had learned every science, that he knew by heart the whole of Shakespeare, Pushkin, Gogol, Aristotle and Plato, that he-in a word-knew everything. I had built up an idea of him in my mind as someone quite extraordinary, and thought that it would be awkward for an ordinary person to be with him, so that when a friend introduced me to him in 1921 I held myself back somewhat, since I felt it would be hard to be friends with such an extraordinary person.
109 1944Our next meeting took place in the spring of 1926. Students from Leningrad were sitting a philosophy exam which they had to pass to qualify for post-graduate scholarships. Sollertinsky was among the students waiting to be called before the examination commission.
I was very nervous about the exam. Soon Sollertinsky's name was called. He came back out very quickly, and I plucked up courage to ask him whether the exam was very difficult. 'No, not at all,' came the reply. 'What did they ask you?' 'The simplest of things-the birth of materialism in ancient Greece, the materialist tendencies in Sophocles' poetry, English philosophers of the seventeenth century, and one or two other things.'
Needless to say, his reply threw me into complete panic.
Eventually we met again at the house of a Leningrad musician. I remember, the host was celebrating his birthday, or some other important event. There were only three or four guests, including Sollertinsky and myself. The time flew past unnoticed, I was amazed to discover that Sollertinsky was a modest, very jolly, witty, and completely down-- toearth person. My conviction that a truly great person is always unassuming and modest, with his feet planted firmly on the ground, was once again confirmed. Our hospitable host kept us late, so that when we left, the city transport had stopped running and we had to go home on foot. Sollertinsky and I lived near each other, so we walked together. The long walk home passed in a flash: Ivan spoke so interestingly about many different aspects of life and art. In the course of our conversation it turned out that I did not know a single foreign language, and Ivan could not play the piano. So the very next day he gave me my first German lesson, and I gave him his first piano lesson. The lessons, however, did not last long, and neither of us learned what we set out to, but from that time onwards we were the closest of friends.
Sollertinsky loved all kinds of celebrations, and had planned to celebrate twenty years of our friendship in the winter of 1941. But this celebration never took place, unfortunately, as we were separated by the war. The last time I saw him he was planning to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of our first meeting in 1947. But in 1947 I shall be on my own to recall how twenty-five years earlier life gave me a remarkable friend, and how he was taken from me in 1944,
The death of Ivan Sollertinsky is a tragic loss for the musical world. Very few people have loved music so deeply and passionately as he. He simply rejoiced on hearing something fresh and talented, and fervently hated bad taste, routine and mediocrity. One of his best qualities was his complete lack of indifference. He either loved or he hated. And this quality of his did not dull over the years, indeed it became even sharper. He was often reproached for being too biased towards certain musicians and composers. Of course he had partialities, but he should have been praised, not reproached for them. Partiality is an important quality in any artist. It should not, however, be equated with lack of objective cri-
110 1944teria. Despite his partiality, Sollertinsky was able to remain completely objective. This is borne out by his work in the Leningrad Philharmonia, where he worked from 1927 (from 1939 as its artistic director). The concert programmes at the Leningrad Philharmonia were always extremely interesting and diverse. And the fact that the Leningrad Philharmonic is one of the world's leading orchestras is due to the services of Ivan Sollertinsky...
In the last months of his life, Sollertinsky longed to return to Leningrad. He had worked out some very interesting plans for concerts at the Leningrad Philharmonia. He was overjoyed by the Red Army's glorious victories, for thanks to them his dreams were beginning to come true.^^1^^
I recently completed two new works---my Piano Trio and my Second Quartet. Dmitry Tsyganov, Sergei Shirinsky and myself will give the trio its first performance this season in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire. I am also looking forward to hearing Lev Oborin, David Oistrakh and Sergei Knushevitsky play the trio.
A few days ago I showed my new quartet to the members of the Beethoven Quartet-Dmitry Tsyganov, Vassily Shirinsky, Vadim Borisovsky and Sergei Shirinsky. I hope they will manage to play it in the coming
Nothing fills my heart with more pride than the thunder of guns firing a salute over our capital. Never in history has the glory of the Russian armed forces been so high. The Soviet land is cleansed of the fascist scum, and the Red Army is continuing its victorious march in Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Poland, Norway, Hungary and Eastern Prussia, Our sacred weaponry, forged in the fire of a three-year long war, is bringing freedom to our oppressed brothers and just retribution to our enemies.
Today I recall the previous Octobers of the war years.
In 1941 the Germans were at the gates of Moscow and on Leningrad's doorstep. In 1942 they were in the streets of Stalingrad and on the Terek, In 1943 the red flag was raised again in Kiev, but the Germans were still in the Crimea, in Kherson and Orsha, and in the vicinity of Leningrad. And now in 1944, in the year of victory, the Red Army is at the walls of Budapest and Warsaw, near Tilsit and Memel, in Sofia, Bucharest and Belgrade. In terror, vile, hateful fascist Germany awaits retribution. It is not far off. And although there are still tribulations ahead, all of us today can sense; the approaching final victory.
What words or musical phrases can'.be found to convey the feelings of Soviet man? What powerful, monumental artistic images are needed to convey the greatness and courage of the warrior-nation ? The images of these harsh and glorious times jostle in the artist's soul, and we look forward to the joy of their birth, the agonising joy of their being brought to life in words, sounds and colours.
Ill
1944Not long ago I made a trip to Leningrad, my home town. Every stone here is a monument to the great courage of the Soviet people. We remember how people here were dying of hunger and deprivation, but still did not open the gates of the city. The city today is as proud and beautiful as ever, our old `Peter', the city of Pushkin and Lenin. Its factories and cultural establishments are again being brought to life.
I saw the magnificent Grand Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonia-as beautiful and splendid as it was before the war. Much credit for the preservation of this building is due to a small number of the Philharmonia's employees who stayed in Leningrad right through the blockade. We should appreciate the honesty and devotion of these people who voluntarily remained in a city beset by hunger in order to look after one of the cradles of our art. How many other unknown patriots are there in Leningrad, and in the whole of our remarkable country! Their wonderful selfsacrifice is one of the main contributors to our present victories.
Today, as the Great Patriotic War is coming to an end, its historical significance is even more apparent. It is a war of culture and light against the foul morality of murderers. If we did not possess a /high culture, we could never have overpowered the evil, heavily-armed enemy. Soviet culture, our knowledge and our military expertise proved to be many times superior to the misanthropic ersatz-culture of the fascist thugs. Our army was victorious thanks to the might of its military technology, to its moral strength, and to its strength of heart and mind.
Artistic creativity is one of the elements of the great Soviet culture. It should be remembered today not with a mind to exalting the services of individual masters, but so that we may understand the richness of our nation's spiritual life over the past twenty-seven years. In particular I feel that Soviet music has maintained the high standards set by Chaikovsky, 'the Great Five', and Scriabin, and developed these traditions in a worthy manner.
Russian chamber music is blossoming today, producing works of classical importance. The remarkable development of the national music of the non-Russian Soviet republics is also widely known. Our art is highly acclaimed by our people. The people sincerely rejoice in our cultural successes, and are disappointed in our failures. I think that the main guarantee of the future success of Soviet music lies in this close affinity with its broad-based audience.
What are my dreams today, as I think about the future of the arts in the Soviet Union?
I have a dream-common, I should think to every Soviet artist-of creating a large-scale work which will express the powerful feelings we have today. I think that the epigraph to all our work in the next few years will be the simple but glorious word, `Victory'.
In these days of decisive battles, and in the coming years of peace, the people will demand vivid, inspiring music which will embody the heroism of the Great Patriotic War and the nobility and moral beauty of our nation---the fighter and builder. Let us hope for a sharp increase in
112 1944the skills of our musicians, composers and performers. Today more than ever before we should sense our great responsibility for every work and for every public performance.
I cannot wait to see and hear new Soviet operas, ballets and musical comedies, worthy of a place of honour in the repertoires of our theatres. May our opera companies and talented writers get down to some hard work with our composers and produce operas of quality,
I have no doubt that the wonderful life which awaits us in the postwar years will surpass all our hopes and expectations.
The guarantee of this is the Soviet people's heroic will to create and build.^^4^^
...In his introduction Khachaturian said that Soviet music was the inheritor and successor of great Russian classical traditions. I should like to add to this that the music written during the Great Patriotic War was likewise the inheritor and successor of great traditions-those built up by Soviet music in the years before the war. Thus we have inherited both the Russian musical classics and the Soviet musical culture of the post-- revolutionary era.
...The historical roots of Soviet music are buried in the great Russian musical culture of the past. I do not wish to repeat here certain arguments which I am personally beginning to find tiresome-e.g, which musical school was better: the one issuing from Chaikovsky or the one headed by Rimsky-Korsakov ? I hereby declare that both schools were of equal merit, and right up to today, 28 March 1944, have provided food for other musicians, and will continue to do so in the future. Both schools stem from the initiator of all Russian music, Glinka. We could correctly consider ourselves to be descendants of Glinka. It is our duty to develop his magnificent ideas, his wonderful music.
...There are very many arguments and discussions in our musical circles about the place of national and folk elements in music.
Russian music has always fed on folk songs and melodies, and almost all Russian classical music draws on Russian, Ukrainian and Eastern melodies.
The rich melodic resources of the folk music of all the different nationalities of the Soviet Union have not yet been fully exploited by Soviet composers. We still do not draw enough from these rich springs, and our composers would be advised to make the greatest possible use of this remarkable heritage, which;\ continues to blossom before our very eyes.
...I should, however, add the fallowing to what I have just said: the concept of 'popular spirit in art' must not be vulgarised or impoverished by being reduced to the mere task of using musical intonations from folk life. To be 'popular in spirit' is to be intrinsically linked to the whole classical heritage of our people, right up to the highest achievements of Russian symphony and opera music.
113 1944I would like to speak about one or two aspects of Soviet music which can be summed up in the word `indifference'. Sometimes one comes across indifferent `music-making' instead of passionate, intense, real music, adorned with exciting ideas... Such `music' can never make an impression on the listener. Indifference in any sphere of life or science is dangerous; one cannot live and work without passions, temperament, love and hate. Whenever I hear a work which is well written, but somehow indifferent, I feel offended and vexed; I have no wish to hear such music. I, like every other listener, demand that the composer should speak in a passionate, temperamental language, and that his thoughts be well thought-out and sincere. The composer's work should be born of suffering.
... Criticism within the Composers' Union is mainly exercised at our so-called 'musical conferences'. These conferences are a good beginning. At them, composers play their new works and other members listen to them and discuss them. When the performance of a work is over, the chairman says: 'Let us open the discussion'-'discussion^^1^^, but not ' criticism'. Yet it would be so much more profitable if we criticised each other.
We have one important failing in our organisation: we like neither to criticise nor to be criticised. So often we hear polite bowings and scrapings from the critic and the criticised, but very rarely do we hear a word of real criticism, which is as necessary and useful to us as the air we breathe. We sometimes forget to be self-critical, yet without self-criticism we cannot get by. Certain of our members take criticism very badly, and their over-sensitivity forces the others to restrain themselves when passing judgment on their works.
We ought to remember that we are members of a Soviet organisation which has been entrusted by the Party, the people and the state with the very important task of creating new works of music-music, to which we dedicate our lives and our talent. Why, then, are we so afraid of criticising each other and of being criticised ourselves? This illness manifests itself in our musical conferences, which too often are the personification of politeness. I find some of the preliminary analyses particularly distasteful. A fine tradition has been established here: every new work is given a preliminary assessment before it is laid open to discussion. But here, too, more often than not the work is showered with compliments, which are of little use either to the composer or the audience.
How can one take offence at criticism? To my mind this is quite absurd. One should not be offended by criticism, but-and I choose my words carefully---by false compliments, which are very distasteful and insulting to the person under discussion.
Often a composer dismisses criticism, saying that the critic has not yet fully understood his work, etc. Of course it is often difficult to understand a work completely on hearing it for the the first time, but initial comments can still be made-on whether a work shows talent or not, for example.
114 1944Allow me to complicate things a little in an attempt to clarify my position. On the basis of my long experience as a listener, I permit myself to categorise a work as either showing talent or not showing talent. Yet I must say, this is a word I very rarely hear in our Union. It is said that a composer is making progress or developing---and that is all. As far as I can judge (and I listen to a great deal of music, both good and bad), the matter can be decided in the following way: if you hear a work and it produces absolutely no impression on you, if you are beginning to forget it on the way out of the concert hall, and have forgotten it completely by the time you arrive home, if it leaves not a single musical image in your head, then this work could be called untalented, unsuccessful or bad. If, however, a work leaves a musical impression in your memory, if it excited you to some extent, or gave you pleasure or delighted you, then despite any shortcomings it may have, you can say that it shows talent, that it is a good work. This, I think, is how we should reason.
... There is no reason for any of us to be offended when he is criticised here, because this is not antagonistic criticism. We all support the same cause, and it is important to all of us, vitally important, to create works of the highest quality.
... A few words on the moral and ethical make-up of the Soviet composer. I have already said that we are not sufficiently truthful or exacting with each other as regards criticising each other's works. I would like to add that I feel we do not work hard enough on our general level of culture. The Soviet composer must not wrap himself up in his musical speciality and lose touch with life. He should be at the centre of events, and aware of everything going on around him. He ought to be a well-educated, highly cultured person. For this reason, we must 'work on ourselves' as much as possible, read more, and study the remarkable world which surrounds us. A composer should be honest and upright, and love his work; he should be aware that he is being helped, and given conducive conditions to work in; and he should feel it his duty to justify all this concern.
Our country is in a very difficult position at the moment because of the war which was forced upon it, but nonetheless its composers are not being forgotten, they are looked after well; in their work they should respond to this care and attention, with which the Party, the government and the whole nation surrounds them, even in these difficult days.^^5^^
115 1945The victorious end to the Second World War gave Shostakovich new inspiration in his work. He began his Ninth Symphony. At one point, it is true, he broke off and reviewed his original plan, but then he set off for the Ivanovo Composers' House, where he always worked well, and completed the symphony in a remarkably short time: on 5 August the first movement was finished, on 12th the second movement, on 20th the third, on 21st the fourth and on 30th the finale. Shostakovich worked with such ease that he even had time to play music for four hands with Dmitry Kabalevsky, and to chat with Sergei Prokofiev and Rheingold Glier, who were also resting at the Composers'^^1^^ House.
On 4 September Shostakovich gave a preview of the symphony at the Moscow Philharmonia ; the audience included the conductors Samuil Samosud, Alexander Gauk and Nikolai Anosov. On 10 September the composer and Svyatoslav Richter played the work to an Arts Committee audience including Khachaturian, Shaporin, Neuhaus, Goldenweiser, Samosud and Gauk. Both here and at the Composers' Union the new work was received very warmly. At the end of September Shostakovich introduced the symphony to the members of the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra (the second piano was played by the leader of the orchestra, V. Serdechkov). Finally, on 3 November (somewhat later than originally intended) the premiere of the Ninth Symphony was conducted in Leningrad by Tevgeny Mravinsky. On 20th he also conducted its first performance in Moscow.
Meanwhile, Shostakovich's music continued to be played all over the world---- including the European capitals recently liberated from naz,i occupation. In the victorious days of May 1945, the Seventh Symphony had its Paris premiere, conducted by Charles Munch, and at the end of the year it was conducted by Rafael Kubelik in Prague. In December alone, the work was heard seven times in Prague.
The most important musical event in the country this year was the All-Union Performers' Competition, which testified to the progress made by young Soviet musicians over the war years. Shostakovich led the jury for the instrumental section and later wrote an article summing up the achievements of the competition.
The final victory over the odious enemy is nearing. In the rumble of the victory salutes you can hear the tread of history, passing merciless sentence on the fascist cur, and glorifying our people and our army.
We always knew for certain that this day would come. We knew it even in our country's most difficult hours... In that first year of the war, when the Red Army was forced back under the sudden onslaught of the heavily armed nazi hordes, and in the months when the Germans lay only miles from the heart of the country, Moscow. When trains headed eastwards, transporting whole factories to produce tanks and aircraft, artillery and armaments. When Leningrad, encircled by the enemy blockade, fiercely parried their attacks. When, after a long, heroic defence, we had to surrender Odessa. When Sevastopol was under fire, and the city's defenders crushed several dozen of Hitler's crack divisions. When Stalingrad, on the brink of death, rallied and stopped the Germans from
116reaching the Volga. When three-quarters of the European part of the USSR-hundreds of towns and thousands of villages - were in enemy hands. When the nazis were torturing and annihilating the defenceless population of the areas they occupied.
The Hitlerites wanted us to lose our heads and yield to fear and panic. But not for one moment did the Soviet people lose their faith in victory. The Germans looked in vain for even the slightest hint of fear or confusion in the eyes of the Soviet people...
We had to win, for the sake of the freedom and independence of our country, for our struggle against fascism would determine the fate of the world.
Our victory was assured long ago, even before the start of the war, when the working people took power into their own hands in the October Revolution.
Our marines the 'Black Death' of whom the Germans were so terrified-were the sons of the sailors who stormed the Winter Palace in October 1917 and fought on all the fronts in the Civil War. The Red Army men who took Perekop in 1944 were the sons and younger brothers of those who routed the Whites at Perekop in 1920. Our fighters were the children of the men who fought at Rostov and Novocherkassk, at Arkhangelsk and Khabarovsk, defending the young Soviet republic against fourteen foreign powers. All of them were the sons and daughters of the Soviet Union, brought up by the great Bolshevik Party, and it was this upbringing and this vital link with the Party and the people that ensured our victory.
The Second World War is over: like the Germans, the Japanese aggressors have now been brought to their knees. The great cause that united all the progressive people of the world in a liberation battle has triumphed.
An end Has been put to the ugly dissonance brought about by the war. Now the fingers of the musician who held a gun will once more inspire the obedient, melodious strings of a violin, and the serene melody of peace and creative work will ring out again.
Looking back, we can clearly see the paths that led to victory; looking ahead, we know where we are going. This clear awareness of the past and future should give rise to monumental works of art-works immortalising the great days and deeds of the present. May there be no artist among us who would pass on this honourable and responsible task to his descendants!
A new age of classicism has com]b-an age to create intransient works which will become the dearest possession of mankind. The peaks of world art have always been connected with the struggles, victories and achievements of the people. Was not Beethoven's Ninth Symphony born of the events of 1789? And did not the feelings of national pride and popular triumph after the defeat of Napoleon inspire that mighty genius, Glinka, to write Ivan Susanin?
117 1945Our sights are on the future, and there is no discord between our dream and reality.
Let us tell in our works about our dream, turned into reality and transforming the world!^^2^^
My Ninth Symphony is very unlike its immediate predecessors. While the Seventh and Eighth were tragic and heroic in character, the Ninth is dominated by an airy, sei'ene mood. The work consists of five short movements; allegro, moderato, presto, largo and allegretto. In Moscow the symphony will be performed by the State Symphony Orchestra under Yevgeny Mravinsky, and in Leningrad by the Leningrad Philharmonia. The first public performance will be at the end of October,^^3^^
...Sergei Prokofiev's talent continues to bloom. Recently he has composed several magnificent works: the opera War and Peace, his Second Quartet, his Seventh and Eighth Piano Sonatas and his Fifth-Symphony. One of his best works of late is Cinderella, ballet music which is delightfully melodious and lyrical.
Prokofiev characterises Cinderella and the fairy godmother chastely and with touching warmth. The theme of Cinderella's and the Prince's love is beautiful. And the figures of the wicked stepmother and her ugly, bad-tempered daughters are very successfully drawn. The dance-lesson scene, in which two violinists on stage play a simple gavotte, is a sheer brain-wave of Prokofiev's, How well conceived it is, and what a clear picture this short episode gives of the stepmother's household!
Prokofiev's music is also acutely dynamic. As the plot develops, the music grows in emotional and expressive intensity, reaching truly tragic heights. A strong impression is made by the finale of Act Two, portraying the confusion of the Prince and the guests at midnight, as Cinderella leaves the palace.
In general, it should be said that the music for Cinderella is unusually varied and full of lively contrasts. As well as powerful dynamic episodes, there are many excellent dances-the wonderful waltz, the galop, the Andalusian dance, the dance with the serpent and the adagio, to name but a few. Each of them is subtly differentiated by the music.
The music is symphonic: the themes are developed with supreme mastery, unfolding the full dramatic power of the ballet. As always, Prokofiev's score is nothing short of brilliant, and abounds in perfect gems.^^4^^
The All-Union Performers' Competition has ended. These Competitions for young performers have become a firm tradition here, and the
118 7945prizes are not won easily, for the competitors include the finest performers from all over the Soviet Union.
As this year's Competition' has confirmed, our country contains a wealth of young talent. The Competition also testified to the high level of musical education in the USSR.
The Competition demonstrated the shining success of our instrumentalists and the lesser, but nonetheless considerable, achievements of our vocalists.
Our Motherland is overflowing with talent!-that was my joyous realisation as I came away from the Competition.^^5^^
119 1946This was another full-blooded year of activity. The main achievement on the musical front was the Third Quartet, first performed on 19 December at the Moscow Conservatoire. This work was dedicated to the ensemble who first performed it--- the Beethoven Quartel, which consisted of Dmitry Tsyganov (first violin), Vassily Shirinsky (second violin), Vadim Borisovsky (viola) and Sergei Shirinsky (cello). Shostakovich also tried his hand at a less familiar sphere, and wrote Puppet Dances, a cycle of piano pieces for children.
On 27 and 30 April Shostakovich took part in a Composers' Union conference on the state of musical criticism. The introductory report was made by Semyon Schlifstein, and many well-known musicians, including Shostakovich and Dmitry Kabalevsky, took part in the discussion. The conference had far-reaching repercussions, and was discussed widely in the press,
In July Shostakovich headed the team of judges at a competition of young conductors in Leningrad, and summarised its remits in an article in Pravda.
Throughout the year, Shostakovich's music was performed by leading musicians all over the world. On 28 February Roger Ddsormiere conducted the Eighth Symphony in Paris, and in the summer (25, 27 and 28 July) Serge Koussevitzky gam three open-air performances of the Ninth Symphony at Tanglewood, USA. The Ninth was also heard in London on 6 November (conductor Malcolm Sargent), and the Seventh `Leningrad' Symphony enjoyed enormous success when it was conducted by Sergiu Celibidache in Berlin on 21 and 22 December.
In 1946, the first Soviet monograph about Shostakovich's work, written by Ivan Martynov, was published to mark the composer's, fortieth birthday. As the author noted in his introduction, Shostakovich himself looked over the manuscript.
For his Piano Trio, Shostakovich was awarded the Stalin Prize (Second Class), And at the end of the year, when the Moscow Conservatoire was celebrating its 80th anniversary, Shostakovich, as one of its leading professors, was given the Order of Lenin.
During the war I wrote two symphonies and a number of instrumental and vocal chamber works.
It seems to me that my music to some extent records the extremely interesting, complex and tragic face of our age.
I set out to recreate in artistic form the inner life of man, deafened by the thundering hammer-blows of war. I wanted to tell of his anxieties and sufferings, about his courage and his joys. Unwittingly, all these psychological states turned out to be particularly clear and dramatic because they were always illuminated by the glow of war. Often I linked the individual's fate with that of the masses, and they strode together, seized by fury, pain or triumph.
I found it very tempting to portray a person in love with life and freedom, and therefore, in Shakespeare's words, rising courageously against a sea of troubles.
This person, the hero of my music, arrives at victory through trials and catastrophes. He falls many times and rises again. His strength of will and his noble aim inspire him for the struggle and ultimate victory. His
120 1946path, of course, is not strewn with roses, and there are no merry drummers to accompany him.
The optimistic finales of my works are by no means the result of some wilfulness on my part, but arise naturally from the whole artistic context of the works. They also correspond both to the objective logic of events and to my perception of the course of history, which must inevitably lead to the downfall of tyranny and evil and to the triumph of liberty and humanity.
The war turned the whole world upside down. It stretched the physical and mental endurance of all progressive people to the limit. Consequently, musicians not wishing to remove themselves from reality cannot merely play around with sounds; they must, in my view, strive to fill their works with the maximum emotion and passion, and with the spirit of true humanism.
I am also striving towards this end, but it is not for me to judge how well I have succeeded.
Objectivity and impartiality are marvellous things. But the trouble is that the simplest way to sain a reputation for impatiality is by indiscriminately singing the praises of everything- within earshot. Not only critics are guilty of this. Are the discussions of new works which take place at meetings of the Composers' Union Consultative Commission really so fundamental, penetrating or profound? Can it really be said that a furious battle of opinions rages here, or that two or three schools of thought cross swords at our meetings? While criticising the critics, then, we must also take a good look at ourselves. And we, like the critics, must build our judgments on all our experience and on our passionate love for Soviet music. It is essential to have one's own opinion. Partiality is vital for critics, performers and composers alike. I believe that partiality was one of Ivan Sollertinsky's strongest points, closely linked to his strength of conviction.
That is the most important thing. But there are other points to be made. Musical criticism attracts very few new faces, and the talented young students at the Conservatoire are not used at all. It has become customary to commission articles on music from composers of some standing. But this policy is wrong: there are few composers who are endowed with literary talent. For every brilliant writer on musical matters, such as Serov or Chaikovsky, there is a multitude of composers who lack this gift. The basis of musical criticism lies'i^^1^^., with the professional critics, whose numbers must be increased. ThereVis no lack of work for them. New opera houses and conservatoires are. being opened, new composers are emerging, and the older generation of composers continues to produce astounding works-Sergei Prokofiev, for example, has developed remarkably over the past few years. All this ought to be reflected in the musical press.^^2^^
121 1946For the second time the Victory bells are ringing out over the peaceful Earth. The Soviet people have recommenced their peaceful constructive work, setting themselves the task of flexing all the muscle in the country and fulfilling the new five-year plan.
The most precious qualities of the Soviet artist are modesty and an exacting attitude towards himself. On this Victory Day, it is therefore appropriate, indeed essential, for the Soviet artist to cast a critical glance over the achievements of the past year. Soviet music is going through a healthy period: the artistic level of works composed over the year has risen considerably. We have good reason to say that our symphonic and instrumental chamber music is thriving.
Looking at Soviet music, and the other arts, from the point of view of the tasks facing the Soviet people, however, we are bound to feel a certain uneasiness. Some of our composers are insufficiently sensitive to present-day affairs.
The last thing I would do would be to dispute the rights of our composers to treat historical subjects-but only given the essential condition that the present should have priority in their works.^^3^^
The Young Conductors Competition, which has just ended in Leningrad, has roused a good deal of public interest.
Most of the participants showed a fairly high level of understanding and decent technique, but not all of them properly understood the style and character of the works they performed, and not all, of course, displayed a real ability to work with an orchestra.
The competition highlighted several gifted conductors, and it is now up to the Arts Committee to take proper care of their futures. Above all, the most capable young conductors must be given decent work. Conductors living in the provinces must be given the chance of spending at least two months a year in Leningrad and Moscow, in order to listen to firstclass orchestras and learn from the experts. The quality of our symphony orchestras must be improved, and something should also be done about the production of high-quality musical instruments.^^4^^
122 1947At a local pre-election meeting of workers' representatives which took place at the beginning of January, the Leningrad Composers' Union nominated Dmitry Shostakovich as a candidate for election to the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation, and on 9 February the composer was duly elected to the Soviet, the highest legislative body of the Republic. Meanwhile, on 6 February, he was also elected Chairman of the Leningrad Composers' Union, All this testifies to the fact that although Shostakovich was now living in Moscow, his ties with the people and musicians of his native city were unbroken. He also kept up contacts with the Leningrad Conservatoire, where he supervised the studies of Galina Ustvolskajia, both as an undergraduate and as a post-graduate.
In May Shostakovich was a guest at the Prague Spring Festival, which featured his music widely. Two of the highlights of the Festival were the performance of his Eighth Symphony by the Czech Philharmonic, conducted by Yevgeny Mravinsky, and the composer's own performance of his Piano Trio, together with David Oistrakh and the Czech cellist MHO'S Sadlo (their performance was released on a gramophone record). While in Prague, Shostakovich also took part in an International Congress of Composers, Critics and Music Scholars, reading a report on Soviet music.
In the autumn and winter Shostakovich gave several performances with the Glazunov Quartet in Leningrad. On 10 September he took part in a concert of his music (which included his Piano Quintet and Third Quartet) in the Conference Hall of the Academy of Sciences, and in December his Quintet and Second Piano Sonata were played in the Small Hall of the Conservatoire.
The composer worked on several pieces throughout the year: on the Festival Overture, on the Poem About the Motherland, which he completed by the beginning of October, and on a Violin Concerto. Another film featuring his music was released on 16 December---Kozintsev's Pirogov.
Duenia is probably one of Prokofiev's brightest and most joyful works: the whole opera breathes the freshness and youthfulness of spring and is devoid of any inner contradiction whatsoever. All its components form a perfect whole, and the work is bubbling with humour and laughterexpansive, good-natured, mischievous laughter. Listening to Duenia, one is reminded of Verdi's Falstaff, which exhibits the same emotional immediacy, enriched by the wisdom of a great master.
The orchestral score for the opera abounds in colours and agile virtuosity. It provides an excellent commentary to the action, adding to the comicality of the situation and deepening the characterisation. Also very interesting are the vocal parts, which are expressive and to the point.
The whole opera is written in one breath, and this makes it very difficult to single out individual points of excellence. I was particularly impressed, however, by the marvellous finale of the first scene, the quartet, the serenade, the music-making scene, the market-women's chorus, the monk's chorus, and the opera's splendid, gay finale, with goblets clinking.'
123 1947
The International Prague Music Festival, which took place in the splendid concert hall of the Rudolfinum Palace and in the Smetana Hall, was attended by composers, performers and critics from the USSR, America, France, Poland, Britain, Bulgaria, China, Palestine, India...
The programme of the festival, which lasted about three weeks and excellently organised, included many interesting classical and contemporary works, played by outstanding performers.
The programme was so extensive, indeed, that it proved difficult to attend every performance. There were concerts every day, often twice a day. Chamber concerts began at five o'clock, followed at eight-almost without an interval-by symphony concerts. But much of what we did hear impressed us greatly.
^ This is true, above all, of the works of the outstanding Czech composer, JanJ^ek. This composer, who died recently at a venerable age, is rightly considered a classic of Czech music. We heard his great opera Katya Kabanova (based on Ostrovsky's play The Storm) brilliantly performed by the orchestra and soloists of the Czech National Theatre, conducted by Vaclav Talich. Although it does not entirely convey the depth of Ostrovsky's play, the opera is marked by enormous realistic power and artistic persuasiveness, reminiscent of the operatic traditions .of Mussorgsky.
The marvellous orchestral performance, again under Vaclav Talich, of My Fatherland, a cycle of symphonic poems by the classic of Czech music, Smetana, produced an indelible impression. We also heard musicmainly chamber works by modern Czech composers. I especially enjoyed a nonet by Pavel Borkovec, whose other works include a popular piano concerto.
Two of the Festival's most interesting performances were given by the Frenchman Charles Munch, conducting Arthur Honegger's new symphony (written in 1943), and by the Swiss Ernest Ansermet, conducting Stravinsky's Third Symphony. Honegger's symphony is notable for its striving towards great depth of thought and emotion. The same tendencies can be seen, I think, in Stravinsky's new symphony, in which his typically brilliant orchestration is accompanied by simpler, pithier musical language and more profound emotions.
The concerts given by the Soviet delegation in Prague were played to packed halls, the tickets having been sold out well in advance. Particularly astounding success was enjoyed by our violinist David Oistrakh. It has to be admitted that he really was in brilliant form and plaved immaculately at each of his concerts. The Prague audience was impatient to see Yevgeny Mravinsky again, whom it remembered from the previous year's festival. This time round, his concerts were even more successful.
An International Congress of Composers, Critics and Music Scholars---to which I delivered a report about Soviet music-was held concurrently with the concert programme.^^2^^
124In this work (the Festival Overture) I want to convey the moods of a man who has gone through the harrowing ordeals of the war years and conquered his country's enemies, and is now reconstructing his native land. I want to embody in musical form the enthusiasm of men working peacefully under the new five-year plan. There are no sharp dramatic conflicts in the Overture. Its themes are melodious, its orchestration varied. I shall offer my new work for the approval of the exacting Leningrad audience during the celebrations of the October Revolution.^^3^^
In my Poem About the Motherland I made use of several well-known old i revolutionary and modern Soviet songs. They include the popular revoluj tionary song Step Out, Comrades, Together, the song O'er Hilts and Vales, I recorded many years ago by Professor Alexandrov, his own composition / The Sacred War, my Song of the Counter Plan and Dunayevsky's Song About the Motherland. These songs awaken feelings and images close to the heart of every Soviet person. The fundamental thing that unites all these images is the fervent and selfless love of the Soviet people for their country, their unflinching readiness to give their lives for their Motherland.^^4^^
The whole of the Soviet Union is animatedly discussing the historic decision of the government and Party to carry out a monetary reform and do away with ration cards.
It is clear to us all that the resolution will ease the lives of the Soviet people, and that it represents another step on the road to plenty, testifying to the power and might of the socialist system. Our Soviet state system is strong, after all, precisely because it is based on the honest and selfless labour of millions of Soviet citizens. And each of us can deservedly pride himself in the fact that his hard work contributed to .the abolition of rationing and to the improvement of the whole people's living standards.
The more vigorously and conscientiously every Soviet person continues to work in the future, the happier and more care-free life in our country will become. And the guarantee of this is the tireless support and concern of our government and Communist Party.^^5^^
125 1948In the middle of January the Central Committee of the Communist Party held a music conference in which several dozen composers, performers, music critics and musicologists took part. The conference discussed the state and development of Soviet music, the starting-point for the discussion being the sharp criticism received by Vano Muradelfs opera A Great Friendship after its first public performance. Several of the speakers at the conference subjected eminent composers to unjustifiably harsh criticism, accusing them of formalism. Among those who spoke was Shostakovich, whose own work had been criticised.
j3n_J(LEeMniary_-the__Party ^enJral_C^mmittee_ adopte_d_Q .resolution---O.n.y~-Mu^__ radeWs Opera A Great Friendship'. As well as setting out some correct basic principles, the resolution containecTsome 'unfair and inexcusably harsh appraisals of the work of several major composers, including Shostakovich,^ ThesejrroMQJ'^ juti gments, which were the result of the conditions surrounding Stalin's personality cult and of his subjective views in the sphere of art, were rectified by a resolution of the ^Party's Central Committee on 28 May 1958). The February resolution was widely discussed in musical circles and in the press. The debate about the state and prospects of Soviet music was continued at the end of February at a conference in the Central Composers' Club, and in April at the First All-Union Congress of Composers. On both occasions several speakers accused Shostakovich of modernism and formalism, but there were also some who tried to defend the composer and his work from unfounded criticism. Shostakovich himself made a speech, in which, as always, he strove to derive benefit from any well-meant criticism, while at the same time renouncing none of his compositions. This attitude also left its mark on his creative work in the years to come.
Much of Shostakovich''s work at this time was for the cinema. He began writing the music for the film Meeting on the Elbe and compiled a concert suite from it. October saw the release of the two-part film The Young Guard, for which Shostakovich had greatly enjoyed writing the music. He continued working on his Violin Concerto, completed the vocal cycle From Jewish Folk Poetry, and developed plans for new vocal-symphonic works. In September Shostakovich resigned from his post as Professor at the Conservatoire.
----^-jjS In 1948 the composer was awarded the title of People's Artist of the Russian w | Federation. J^ \
j{ I have been working as a teacher for ten years now. Over this period my pupils have included such wonderful composers as G_e^rj*i_Syindov, Yury Levitin, Kara_JKarayev, Djevdet Gadzhiyev, Revo! Bunin,' V. Fleischman, who diedforTus country, and Orest Yevlakhov. I had the good fortune of presiding over the development of these talented young composers. My present class in composition at the Moscow Conservatoire also includes several talented young students who will undoubtedly make a name for themselves in the future. I am thinking paticularly of German Galynin, who has progressed by leaps and bounds over the last two years. His music has grown in stature, it has become pithier and more profound. Technically, too, he has improved. His works bubble with restless, inquisitive thoughts-especially his string quartet.
126 1948Galynin's string quartet is a work of considerable maturity. The main thing that strikes one when listening to it is its tremendous melodiousness and meaningfulness...
It has been thrilling to observe the growth of this composer, and thrilling to think of the inexhaustible wealth of talent there is in our great people. Of course, Galynin is far from having reached his peak. His work still has many faults, which we discuss at our meetings, but his serious attitude to his work and his belief in the composer's noble mission make me confident that Galynin will not squander his great talent but will persevere and go on to attain even greater heights.^^1^^
I hold that the composer, as one of the most important figures in the musical world, should be offended not by the criticism which he may receive, but by the absence of criticism, because criticism can help him to advance and overcome his shortcomings, whereas the lack of criticism at best does not help him and, in all probability, even hampers his development.
The composer himself, the creator of a work, must think very carefully about what it is that flows from his pen. And perhaps, before publishing or performing his work, he should ask himself whether he has the right to do so, whether he has worked enough on this composition, and whether he has done everything within his power, talent and abilities to ensure that his composition is worthy of public performance. I feel that the development of our musical culture is further hindered by the specialisation of many composers in only one, favourite genre. One composer, for example, specialises in writing symphonies, another in chamber works, a third in operas, yet another in song-writing, and so on. Surely the composer ought to be able to turn his hand to everything, and should beware of restricting himself to one genre...
...There have been many serious faults and failures in my work, although throughout my career I have thought about the people who listen to my music, about the people who bore me and nurtured me, and I have always striven to have the people accept my music. I have always heeded criticism directed against me, and tried in every way to work better and harder. Now too, I am paying heed to criticism, and shall continue to do so in the future. And I appeal to our musical organisations to develop criticism and self-criticism as widely as possible...^^2^^
127 1949From now on Dmitry Shostakovich was one of the most active members of the world peace movement. He was elected to the Soviet Peace Committee, participated in congresses and meetings, made impassioned speeches and wrote revealing articles against the war-mongering enemies of mankind. _As a member of the Soviet delegation, the composer attended the American Cultural and Scientific Conference for World Peace, held in New York on 25-27 March. On the last day of the Conference he addressed a meeting of the music, poetry, painting and choreography section. When the Soviet delegation appeared at the hall in Madison Square Gardens for the closing session of the Conference, they were greeted by the sounds of Shostakovich's Song of the Counter Plan. At the same session, the composer played the scherzo from his Fifth Symphony on piano.
This year the composer wrote his first full-length oratorio. After a chance encounter with the poet Yevgeny Dolmatovsky on a train travelling from Leningrad to Moscow, he conceived the idea of composing a work, with words by Dolmatovsky, on the theme of the transformation of nature by man. In the summer he received the completed text from the poet, and in a very short time, during a stay at Komarovo (near Leningrad), he composed the oratorio entitled The Song of the Woods. The work was first performed on 15 November in the Leningrad Philharmonia, conducted by Yevgeny Mravmsky.
Earlier in the year the composer had taken a holiday in Sochi, where he met local Young Pioneers and played his music for them. In October he went to Yerevan and listened to works by young composers at the Conservatoire there.
Apart from the oratorio, Shostakovich wrote his First Ballet Suite and music for a film Michurin this year. He also worked on his Fourth Quartet.
We have come together from all parts of the world to combine our efforts in the fight against the instigators of a new war, which would thjreaten the people of the world with countless disasters, a war which would threaten culture, civilisation, science and art-all the achievements of human thought and creation. We must raise our voices in defence of peace, for it is clear to us all that the struggle for peace is the struggle for progress, for constructive work, for democracy and for the future of the world.
Are we not aware of the countless facts which testify to the direct preparation for war, and to the encouragement of those dark forces and brute instincts which facilitate the preparation for war? It would be a crime against our conscience, against mankind, against our contemporaries and descendants, were we not to make use of the forces and possibilities at our disposal for the exposure of the propagandists of militarism and misanthropy, and for keeping the war-mongers in check.
The forces at our disposal are truly limitless; for the overwhelming majority of men are in favour of peace-all working people, regardless of sex, age, religious convictions, nationality or colour of skin.
Our role, as intellectuals---writers, artists and musicians---is exceptionally important. We must shout at the top of our voices for the cause of peace, truth, humanity and the future of nations. At this decisive stage
1281949 '
in history we must not stand at the side and amuse ourselves with empty illusions, as if we were placed above life, above the melee. No, we must be in the very thick of life, so that we can influence its course. We must keep up with the progressive forces of mankind, at the front line in the fight for peace. We should participate in this struggle through our artthrough its content, ideas, imagery and clarity of purpose.
The basic tactic of the enemies of peaceful co-existence is to disunite us by all possible means, and to sow distrust and suspicion among us. This age-old tactic must be vigorously opposed by our determination to unite all the progressive artists of the world, in order to defend peace and democracy together and to crush the proponents of war.
A bitter, uncompromising struggle is being waged in the arts, including music, between two artistic points of view. One of them-realism-is the result of a harmonious, truthful, optimistic vision of the world. It is a progressive world-view, which enriches the world with cultural treasures. The other is formalism, by which we mean art that is devoid of love for the people, anti-democratic art in which form overrules content, art which results from a pathologically disturbed, pessimistic perception of reality and from a lack of faith in the powers and ideals of man. This reactionary and nihilistic world-view is leading to the ruin and degeneration of music as an aesthetic category of beauty.
We appeal to the progressive musicians of the world to take up realism as the basis of genuine, valuable, democratic art, capable of reinstating art as creative work which is aesthetically valuable, socially useful, truthful and noble.
Let us extend our friendship-the friendship of progressive figures in the world of culture. United, we are invincible. We shall be able to fulfil our civic duty and raise the consciousness of the people against war and barbarity. We must force the instigators of war to retreat and disarm. They will never win the hearts of the people.
We must join the beautiful and mighty voice of our art to the courageous voices of the people-for peace and democracy! '
Frederic Chopin is one of the most popular composers in our country. It can confidently be said that he is dear and close to everyone in the world, to all who aspire to truth and peace.
No one who loves music can be indifferent towards Chopin. Why? Because Chopin, like a true friend, speaks only the truth. His music con-. tains unfeigned feelings, a dream of the future, and crystal-clear, fervid, exciting ideas. The great composer's musical language is classically simple and ideally expressive. His love for man rings out clearly both in his lyrical preludes---now pensive, now impassioned---and in his humorous, fiery folk dances. The soul of Chopin's music-the melody-is never artificial, contrived or schematic; it is born of life and genuine emotions-this is what gives it its power. They say that once when Chopin's favourite pupil was playing one of the composer's etudes, Chopin wrung his hands
129 1949and exclaimed: 'Oh, my Motherland!' The idea embodied in his melody was concrete and tangible for him.
Chopin knew what he wanted to say in every phrase of music. This composer, whose music is so perfect that it seems to have been created in a single moment, in an unshackled burst of inspiration, in fact worked carefully, laboriously and persistently. His manuscripts testify to the inspiration of a genius, but also to the industry of a genius. In this sense, the sensitive and strict genius of Chopin was akin to the lavish, exacting genius of Pushkin. Chopin's powerful, free, lyrical music enters the open heart much in the way that Pushkin's poetry does.^^2^^
Good things often become habitual, and great things are taken for granted. We have grown so accustomed to the Maly Theatre that we sometimes forget just what an enormous pleasure it is to watch a performance there, to spend a vivid, memorable evening in its resplendent and comfortable hall-the selfsame hall where Mochalov and Shchepkin performed, where Belinsky and Herzen sat in the audience, and where the finest plays of the great Russian theatrical repertoire-plays by Griboyedov, Gogol, Ostrovsky and others-began their eternal stage life.
I have long been an admirer of the Maly Theatre and love to sit in its hall, I marvel at the brilliance of its actors, continuing in the Maly's magnificent traditions, inherited from the founders of the Russian realist school of stage art. But above all we spectators are grateful to the Maly Theatre for having placed these great traditions at the service of the present day.
It is precisely because the Theatre's healthy traditions have been developed and given new content that the Maly to this day plays a very important, progressive role in Soviet art. The Theatre remains a powerful stronghold and leading centre of realism.
How can this be explained? How can one explain the youthfulness of this theatre, which still today is remarkably fresh and vibrant, and which brings about stage productions of astounding truth? The life force of the Maly Theatre, its realism and unfading youthfulness, result from its unbreakable ties with the people, with their hopes and aspirations, and with the nation's triumphant development.^^3^^
The Great October Socialist Revolution forced artists to look afresh at their work and renounce many outdated conceptions. Recognising the creation of cultural affluence as one of the main aims of socialism, the Bolshevik Party called upon artists to draw on the interests of the people and increase their cultural wealth. Thus were created the preconditions necessary for the artist to become the bearer of the greatest ideas of modern times.^^4^^
130
The beginning of the fifties was marked by a considerable increase in the number of public concerts given by Shostakovich. In January 1950, he gave two performances of his Piano Quintet (with- the Moscow Philharmonic Quartet and the Beethoven Quartet) at the Leningrad Philharmonia, and later gave concerts in the Soviet Baltic Republics.
In July the composer was in Leipzig as head of the Soviet delegation to (he Bach bicentenary celebrations. The programme for the last night of the Festival included Bach's Concerto for Three Pianos and Orchestra, which was performed by Tatiana Nikolayeva, Pavel Serebryakov and Shostakovich (who stepped in at the last minute for Maria Tudina, who had injured a finger).
It was in Leipzig} too, that Shostakovich conceived the idea of writing a cycle of piano preludes and fugues, on which he began work soon after returning home.
Still an active member of the Soviet Peace Committee, Shostakovich addressed delegates of the Permanent Committee of the World Peace Congress at a meeting on 7 March. He himself was a delegate both to the All-Union Peace Conference which opened on 16 October, and to the Second World Peace Congress, held in Warsaw in November, In Warsaw he worked with the commission dealing with economic and cultural ties, and read the commission's proposals to a plenary session of the Conference.
At the beginning of the year, on 21 January, a new film with Shostakovich's music was premiered---The Fall of Berlin, }\For this work, and for the oraton The Song of the Woods, he was awarded the Stalin Prize (First Class)
The last days of 1949 have run out, and the New Year is upon us. Looking back, it is difficult to grasp the whole significance of the last decades in the history of man and the world. In the course of one generation, momentous, historic events have taken place which have turned over a bright new page in the history of nations.
We Soviet people are happy people, for we live in the land of socialism, to which are turned the eyes of the world's working people, who see the USSR as a bastion of peace and democracy, as a model of the just and wise resolution of all the most flagrant contradictions in modern society.
Never in history, and in no other country, has the development of culture played such an important role as it does in the Soviet Union today. Millions of Soviet people have gained real access to art and musk, and have a vested, `proprietary' interest in the fate of Soviet culture.
An eloquent reminder of this was the recent plenary session of the Soviet Composers' Union, which drew the attention of the whole country
and evoked countless responses from all sections of the population.,.^^1^^
\
*:•
The struggle for peace is the struggle for progress, for man's prosperity and happiness. The true servant of the arts-whether he is a sculptor or poet, a composer or singer - cannot stand aloof from the struggle for
131(From left to rig/it, in the foreground) Kozlovsky, Samosud, Shostakovich and Nebolsin after the premiere of the Seventh Symphony in Kuibyshev (1942)
132
1950
l'/peace. Art becomes art only when it fights against reactionary, fascist //| ideas, only when it puts forward progressive ideas such as friendship - //I between peoples, collaboration and philanthropy. The works of the great/1| est artists of all ages and peoples are suffused with humanism... None of the progressive cultural figures of world stand aloof from the struggle for peace. The Union of Czechoslovak Composers recently addressed the following message to the musicians of the world: 'Let us glorify the new world of joy and happiness... We appeal to composers and musicians everywhere to join us as we declare: We do not want war! Long live peace! For without peace there can be no happiness, no progress, and no development of art and culture.' It is our sacred duty as cultural workers to promote friendship and understanding through our art, and to win supporters in the struggle for peace. United we are invincible!^^2^^
In what way is Bach dear to Soviet composers and musicians? What is there in the great German composer's music that attracts us? Above all, there is the fact that he derived his inspiration from the everlasting spring of folk music: in his instrumental and vocal works one can always feel a powerful Jink with the German folk song. Johann Sebastian Bach was a great master of polyphony-his works are marked by exceptional melodic wealth and perfect polyphony.
What I love about Bach is his depth of thought, his humanity and the sincerity of his multifaceted work. All his works are very dear to me, as they are to every Soviet composer and musician.
Recently I attended a performance of Bach's B-Minor Mass at the Leningrad State Philharmonia, and I witnessed the rapturous ovation given this magnificent work by the capacity house...^^3^^
I am presently working on the last stages of the music for the film Belinsky. The picture is being made at the Lenfilm studios, directed by Kozintsev, with the scenario written by Kozintsev, German and Serebrovskaya... I have made wide use of Russian folk songs and folk melodies, including some which first emerged in the 1840s, during Belinsky's lifetime.
The well-known collector of Russian folk songs Feodosy Rubtsov works in Leningrad, and I found much of the necessary material in his rich collection, which includes many little^known songs, some recorded only recently in various parts of the country. These folk songs and melodies, reworked to suit my purpose, will form an integral part of the fabric of the film music.
After the music for Belinsky, I shall start writing another work, for which I have already made some rough drafts. This will be an oratorio on the theme of the Soviet people's struggle for peace, on the invincibility of
133 1950the peace-loving camp, and on the determination of the people of all countries to curb imperialist aggression and incitement to war. The oratorio will be written in collaboration with the poet Yevgeny Dolmatovsky, who wrote the words for my earlier oratorio, The Song of the Woods*
Inspired by the resolution of the government and Party on the grand plan to transform nature, I wrote The Song of the Woods, Very recently the Soviet government passed a number of historic resolutions on the construction of the Kuibyshev, Stalingrad and Kakhovka hydroelectric power stations and of canals in Turkmenistan, the Southern Ukraine and Northern Crimea. In a state of great emotion, I am settling down to work. This year I hope to write a new work together with the poet Yevgeny Dolmatovsky, in which we wish to glorify the joyful peaceful labour of the Soviet people,,.
On 16 October, the Second All-Union Peace Conference will open in Moscow. -The delegates to the conference will include artists, writers and musicians, who will not only speak up for peace in the world, but will also demonstrate their unbending desire to dedicate all their creative powers to the cause of defending peace, freedom and democracy in all parts of the world.^^5^^
Music came to the cinema as soon as films began to speak. With the appearance of the very first `talkies', many composers firmly linked their careers to the. screen. My own collaboration with the cinema began even earlier. About a year 'before the appearance of the first talking pictures I wrote music for 'the 'film New Babylon, the idea being that the orchestras accompanying the film (as was common in those days) would perform it. The plan was unrealistic, of course, and my music was only played in one 'cinema in Leningrad -and only a few times, at that. Nonetheless, I feel I can look upon myself as one of the pioneers in the field of film music. .-:'
My second attempt came about a year after the first -when I wrote the music for the sound picture (but not yet a `talking' picture) Alone. It has to be admitted that Alone was not a real sound film. And not because the sound-track only had music, and no human voices, but simply because the film was in the old silent style. The ways and means of combining sound and image in a proper artistic fashion were only just being searched for in those days.
Many years have passed since then, and almost every year I have been engaged in work for the cinema. I have always enjoyed this kind of work. Life has shown that the Soviet cinema has developed principle's of combining the elements of sight and sound with maximum expression and realism. But the search for the perfect combination goes on, and the possibilities seem limitless, as ought to be the case in real art. My own
134 1950experience has convinced me that cinema work opens up vast possibilities for the composer and can be of invaluable benefit to him.
There have been several turning-points in my 'cinema life'. In 1931 I wrote the music for two films: .Golden Mountains and The Counter Plan. These were now real Soviet sound films (I stress the word `Soviet' because of their themes and ideological direction), and therefore I consider my work on them "important for myself. I was lucky: many people at that time still looked upon music as an `illustration' or accompaniment - to the picture, but the directors of these films, Friedrich Ermler and Sergei Yutkevich, proved to be musically minded and clearly understood the extent of the role which should be apportioned to music in the sound jjcinema. The work went well. The song from The Counter Plan was the A lifirst of many Soviet film songs to be taken up by the people and sung by ^them. Now this first swallow has migrated far away: across the Atlantic it has become the anthem of progressive people, and in Switzerland, for example, it is now a wedding song. Finally, the tune has lost its author, and that is something of which its author can be proud.
The fate of the song from The Counter Plan told me a great deal: it suggested to me that the music written for a film, though conceived^as_a unit with the film, should not lose its independent value when isolated froni the film. In this sense I was gratified to see the successes of the Soviet directors and composers who created such masterpieces as Alexander Nevsky and The Battle of Stalingrad. The musical scores of Prokofiev and Khachaturian merged with the great ideas of these films and expressed them so vividly that they have taken a place among the best works of Soviet music-quite independently of the pictures for which they were written, But this happened precisely because of the mutual understanding by all the members of the team of each other's aims and conceptions.
j
The successful collaboration of director Ivan Pyriev and composer Tikhon Khrennikov has given us not only films which are loved and highly
J| rated by the people, but also songs which they sing. Most of the tunes ' | written by Isaak Dunayevsky won the hearts of the masses.
...The cinema is also an excellent school for the composer. In my first years of composing film music, for example, I had to devote a great deal of work to the problem of timing. To fit music into a strictly limited time-framework is not merely a technical problem, although it may appear so at first sight. Just as in literature it is considerably more difficult to write briefly, so the composer, too, requires more skill and effort to express his thoughts in a laconic form. Composers can learn a great deal, in this sense, from working in the cinema: they acquire greater inner discipline, which can have a beneficial effect on their musical language.
This certainly happens with composers who take their work on a film seriously. Of course, it is sometimes the case that the music pours forth right through the picture and when -the film ends the audience can remember nothing-not a single musical image or melody. That kind of writing for the cinema may, of course, be simpler, and the problem of timing may not even arise. But if one sets oneself not merely illustrative,
135 1950but real creative tasks, then the complexity of the work increases. Personally, it was some time before I began to cope with the requirements of the cinema.
The turning point, after which I found it easier to `fit' my music to the pictures, did not come until I was working on the Maxim trilogy and on A Great Citizen. Only then did I fully realise the usefulness of what the cinema required: maximum expressiveness and minimum diffuseness.
If I were asked for my opinion on how best to write for the cinema, I should paraphrase Maxim Gorky's answer to the question: how should one write for children? His answer was 'The same way as for adults, only better!' The composer should write for the cinema just as he does when he is working on his major independent works-only even more scrupulously, even better.
I went on to try and develop the principles I had evolved in my earliest attempts. In Friends, Girlfriends and ^joya, I kept to the laws of symphonic development in order to convey the great ideas and feelings contained in the plots. During my work in the film-industry, there have, of course, been failures, but I have always learned something from them.
The most important film music I have written in recent years has been for the films Pirogov, Michurin, The Young Guard and Meeting on the Elbe. The last two, indeed, have been in some ways landmarks in my career.
I embarked on the music for The Young Guard with great trepidation, redoubled by the fact that I had been intending to write an opera about the Young Guards. The composer Gavriil Popov expanded his music for the film She Defends Her Motherland into his wonderful Second ' Motherland^ Symphony. In my case, the opposite happened: all my creative drive was directed away from the opera into the picture. I do not regret this in the least, and have not discarded the idea of using what I have written for a symphonic work about the Young Guard, Working for the cinema cannot impoverish a plan for a work; more often it enriches jt and provides the impulse to expand and develop it.
Another welcome aspect of working in the cinema is the chance to meet our famous film-directors. I am greatly indebted to them. Our joint ventures did not always run smoothly-Gerasimov and I, for example, often argued, but our arguments were fruitful. They were the result of our common determination to find the best ways of expressing the patriotic ideas of the heroic Young Gjuards.
>
The nobility of the subject-matter elevated our work, and I shall always remember it.
Writing the music for the film Encounter on the Elbe was also a responsible task for me. The themes I had to, treat in the music were weighty ones: the victory of the Soviet Union, the tragedy of the German people and the construction of a new, democratic Germany with the friendly, sensitive aid of our country. The spectrum to be covered by the mi)sic ranged from these extensive themes to individual episodes and characters: such work requires great shrewdness andi versatility. The film was a good example of something I mentioned earlier-that for the composer the cinema is not only an artistic school, but often also a political seminar.^^6^^
136 1951On 18 February Shostakovich was again elected to the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation as deputy for the Dzerzhinsky constituency in Leningrad. Then, as always, he treated his duties as deputy with a sense of great responsibility.
Shostakovich worked on various compositions throughout the year. One of them was his Ten Choral Poems, written to the words of revolutionary poets from the turn of the century. It is possible that the composer was inspired to turn to choral music by the choirs led by Alexander Sveshnikov. At any rate, after hearing a concert given by the Boys' Choir of the Choral school on 19 March, Shostakovich gave it an enthusiastic write-up in the newspaper Sovetskoye Iskusstvo. On 10 October, the Russian Song Choir and the Boys' Choir conducted by Sveshnikov gave the first performance of his Ten Poems in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire.
In the summer, as usual, the composer rested and wrote music at Komarovo. This year he set another four poems by Yevgeny Dolmatovsky to music, wrote his Second Ballet Suite, and continued to work on the cycle of piano preludes and fugues, four of which he himself performed for the first time on 18 November at the Leningrad Philharmonia, At the same concert he played his Trio with Dmitry Tsyganov and Sergei Shirinsky. Earlier, in the spring, he had made a concert tour of Byelorussia and the Baltic republics, appearing with the Beethoven Quartet in Minsk, Vilnius, Kaunas and Riga.
r
True culture always serves peace, and, consequently, knowledge and
understanding of the culture of other peoples reduces the danger of war and raises the chances of peace. The defence of culture consists not in isolating it and closing the frontier around it and its true ally, truth, but in opening the doors to it. As soon as the culture of one nation crosses the frontier of another, it immediately makes new friends-not necessarily like-minded friends, but friends who can disagree and at the same time never imagine that these disagreements could be settled by force of arms.^^1^^
On 19 March, in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire, a concert was given by the Russian Song Choir and the Boys' Choir of the Moscow Choral school. The programme of the concert, conducted by Alexander Sveshnikov, consisted of works by Johann Sebastian Bach. The current concert season has included many works by Bach, in commemoration of the bicentenary of the great composer's death. In the summer of last year I had the good fortune to attend the Bach Festival in Leipzig, where many of his works were performed by the top musicians of the German Democratic Republic. I must confess, however, that the performances there were not always of the highest quality-especially those of Bach's choral works. At the recent concept in the Grand Hall of the Conservatoire, I could not help remembering our stay in Leipzig. What heights were attained by the Soviet choir, how profoundly they interpreted Bach's great legacy, and what technical brilliance they showed in performance!
137 7957...Bach's bicentenary has been well celebrated in the Soviet Union. I should like to see a bigger space in our concert programmes given over to his works-and not only during his anniversary celebrations, but all the time.^^2^^
The question of programme music is one of vital importance, and one which will always disturb both musicians and music-lovers alike. It is by no means an esoteric aesthetic question, as some people consider; it is a question of the ideological content of our art, of its relation to socialist reality, and of establishing live contact between the composer and the lis- ', tener, who wants Soviet music to give him images that are comprehensible and dear to him.
Two divergent points of view have emerged in the debates in the press about programme music: some consider a work to be programme music only if it is prefaced by the composer's remarks or has a concrete descriptive title; others have a wider view of the concept of the `programme' as the inner idea of a work, as its content revealed in corresponding musical images.
Personally I equate programme with content. Music cannot be valuable, full-blooded or beautiful without a certain idea-content (I mean music, not a dilettante, formalist collection of sounds). But the content of music need not be a story or plot: it can be a generalised idea or network of ideas. And even the richest `story', expressed in words but not adequately embodied in musical forms, makes for uninteresting music.
The composer of a symphony, quartet or sonata may not announce its programme, but he is obliged to have one as the conceptional basis of the work. It is, I feel, a very false method whereby the composer first composes the music and then interprets it with the help of the critics. In my case, as with many other composers of instrumental works, the programme always precedes the composition of the music. When writing my First String Quartet, for example, I was aiming to convey images of childhood, and rather naive, airy, springlike moods. My Fifth Symphony also had a programme, of which I have already spoken at length elsewhere. The programme of my Seventh Symphony was more concrete, almost a `plot': at first I even intended to give each movement an appropriate title (1: `War'; 2: `Recollection'; 3: 'The Expanses of My Native Land'; 4: `Victory'). The absence of these sub-titles did not, however, prevent many listeners from working out my programme - with considerable accuracy-on their own, especially in the first movement. But it would be quite wrong for the composer to stop indicating his programme /I altogether, leaving his own conception of a work in. the form of a 'secret i a code*. This has been a common fault among many of our composers, who jjl prefer 'pure forms' of instrumental music. And yet Glinka, Rimsky-- Kor'{•' sakov, Chaikovsky, Lizst, Berlioz and many of the other classics were not shy of writing works with concrete programmes and realistic imagery.
138 1951Such music is usually attractive to the mass audience, it concentrates their attention and activates their imagination. I was personally overjoyed that the concrete images of my Song of the Woods proved accessible to a wide audience and evoked a lively response in their minds. Soviet composers have a literally unlimited choice of programmes for their works. There is the building of communism, the struggle for peace, the life of the Soviet people, the heroism of work, etc., etc. Nor should the Soviet composer ignore our country's past. Music can also be inspired by literary figures, paintings and other works of art. Are not the events of the Great Patriotic War a never-ending source of moving themes and subjects? It goes without saying that the greater the import of the subject or programme, the more profound the content will be, and the higher the quality of the music should be,,,^^3^^
It used to be said that the muses lived up in the heavens, whence they inspired their servants... I believe that this is now an anachronism. The muses live, and want to live, here on Earth. They are made for man, and man does not want them to abandon him.
I do not know a single genuine artist in the modern world who could stand on the sidelines of the struggle for life and peace on Earth, and whose heart does not shudder at the dreadful thought of another war, I know no such artist, for true creation, which serves man, is always intrinsically linked to the cause of peace, life and hatred of war and destruction.*
Moscow constantly leads the way in the struggle for peace, in the campaign against the foes of mankind and the instigators of war. Muscovites are always in the first ranks of the fighters for peace. I remember being asked by a journalist in New York why I, a musician, a representative, that is, of a peaceful profession, should have joined up with the most active protagonists of the peace movement?
'I am not only a musician/ I replied, 'but also a Muscovite and a Soviet citizen. I should prefer, of course, to speak to people through my music, through the piano or orchestra. I should like my art to help people to live more easily, to work more happily and to love more deeply. The vocabulary of music does not include the word ``war'', and so my conscience bids me speak not only in notes but also in words. That is why I have torn myself away from my unfinished manuscript and come here, where I must speak about pea^e...'^^5^^
My Ten Choral Poems are united by a single theme-the 1905 revolution. I do not know how well I succeeded in conveying the spirit of the
139 1951age. But the music was bound to reflect the huge impression which Russian revolutionary songs have always made on me.
The Poems are really my first experience in the sphere of music for unaccompanied choir, not counting some short choral episodes written for various films. I am fascinated by choral music and intend to write more in the future.
The new composition will be first performed by the Russian Song Choir. I personally have profited greately from the concentrated, detailed work done on each poem by this magnificent choir and its leader, Professor Sveshnikov.^^6^^
The common people abroad, united in the struggle for peace, look
. hopefully towards the Soviet Union and Soviet culture as the standard-
'.' bearer of truth and progressive social ideals. During my trips to the USA,
j Iceland, Germany, and Sweden, I have seen copious evidence of interest
in Soviet culture.
Who, if not Soviet scientists, writers, artists and musicians, is to give an example of how civilians can further the cause of peace? Who, if not they, can turn the whole force of scientific and artistic thought against the reaction that threatens the world? Let every page in our books, every aria and song, every technological achievement, boost the power of the Soviet people and the might of our socialist motherland, and serve as encouragement and support to our millions of peace-loving friends throughout the world.
Today, the Third All-Union Peace Conference begins its work. More than a thousand delegates will congregate in the Columned Hall of the Trade Union House to promote the cause of the strengthening the popular peace movement,..^^7^^
The Soviet artist creates work about the peaceful labour of the nation because he knows that the whole nation wants him to. I know this from my own experience. Ordinary Soviet people-workers, collective farmers, teachers, doctors-send me many letters with the words of songs about the peaceful work of the Soviet people. This reflects the interest shown by the masses in the work of their artists.^^8^^
140 1952In the first half of the year Shostakovich was busy with concerts. A concert tour of the Transcaucasian republics from 1-12 March took him to Baku,, Yerevan and Tbilisi. The programmes of these concerts included his Piano Quintet and Trio, his First Quartet and six preludes and fugues. His partners were the members of the Komitas Quartet. On 24 April, in a joint concert with David Oistrakh and Sergei Kmshevitsky, Shostakovich performed his Trio, his Cello and Piano Sonata and four preludes and fugues. The same performers repeated the concert at the Moscow Conservatoire on 3 May and in the Columned Hall of the Kiev Philharmonia on 24- May.
In March-April Shostakovich visited Berlin, Leipzig and Dresden during the Beethoven Festival in the GDR.
In the summer the composer had a working holiday outside Leningrad, and in November he attended a meeting of the Georgian Composers' Union in Tbilisi and heard new works by young composers from the republic. In December he took part in the work of the Vienna Peace Congress.
^ Works composed this year included the Third Ballet Suite and Four Monologues for Bass and Piano, written to poems by Pushkin. On 6 November in the Moscow Conservatoire, the USSR State Symphony Orchestra, the Russian Song Choir and a Boys' Choir under Konstantin Ivanov gave the first performance of the cantata The Sun Shines Over Our Motherland, with words by Yevgeny Dolmatovsky. And at the end of the year (23 and 28 December) Tatiana Nikolayeva gave the premiere of the complete cycle of 24 Preludes and Fugues at the Leningrad Philharmonia.
Shostakovich was awarded the State Prize (Second Class) for his Ten Choral Poems.
One of the most vivid experiences I had in Germany was my visit on 30 March to the Berlin Staatsoper, where I saw a wonderful, exciting production of Beethoven's opera Fidelia. Listening to this truly great opera, I was at a loss to understand the commonly held opinion that the work does not stage well, that its libretto lacks drama, and so on. In Berlin Fidelia was produced by Werner Kelch and conducted by Hermann Abendroth, and their production was certainly thrilling not only because of the brilliant music but also on account of the dramatic action. I hope that before long Fidelia will take up the place it deserves in the repertoire of Soviet theatres.^^1^^
A new film, entitled Rimsky-Korsakorj^ has been released. The honourable task facing the makers of this filnl was to show the life and work of the great Russian composer, and it is to their credit that they managed to incorporate a large quantity of his music in the film. The soundtrack includes excerpts from Sadko, The Snow Maiden, The Tale of the Tsar Saltan, Kiteiji, Kashchei the Immortal, The Golden Cockerel and Sheherazade - all superbly performed by the orchestra of the Kirov Theatre, conducted by
First edition of the score of the Fourth Quartet
A. U1OCTAKOBHH CW«3
KBAPTET JNfo 4
4AH 4BYX CKPHHOK. AAbTA H BMOAOH4EAH
nAPTHTVPA
rOCy^APCTBEHHOE MVSblKAAbHOE H34ATEAbCTBO MOCK*. 1954
142 1952the talented Boris Khaikin, and the singers taking part in the picture. The effect of Rimsky-Korsakov's music is so powerful that it occasionally covers up the failings of the film...
But it must be said that the film-makers were not entirely successful. The scenario (by Roshal and Abramova) is particularly poor. It is basically `correct', but that is not enough to make a work of art. Ideas must be presented to the spectator in such a way that he perceives them strongly and profoundly. The authors of the scenario forgot that the ideas of a work of art must be conveyed by artistic means.^^2^^
In the Columned Hall of the Trade Union House recently, the Radio Orchestra conducted by Samuil Samosud gave the first performance of Prokofiev's Seventh Symphony. Unfortunately I did not manage to attend any of the rehearsals or study the score of the work before its public performance. Consequently I shall not try to make a serious analysis of the work here, but merely give a few impressions of its first performance.
The symphony is a great success for Prokofiev. It is cheerful and lyrical, and its clear, light content and fresh, harmonious language are a sheer delight. Once again, the work reveals Prokofiev's wonderful talent for melody. Here, the melodies flow freely and naturally, vividly expressing the composer's thoughts. Another of the work's great merits is the fact it holds the listener's interest from beginning to end-and not by cheap effects but by the vigour of its musical idiom...^^3^^
... I once came across some anxious notes made by Rimsky-Korsakov in the last years of his life. The great composer felt that the spread of bourgeois modernism was threatening Russian music with a grave crisis and decline. 'Is music not on the brink of collapse?' he asked himself. 'What is to become of Russian music?'
And now, in the mid-twentieth century, the age of the triumph of socialism, we Soviet musicians can proudly affirm that the music in our country is steadily developing along the lines originally marked out by our classics...
It is with satisfaction that we can state that in the USSR over the lastthree decades the genre of symphony music has developed with especial success. It has fallen upon Soviet composers to continue the fine traditions of classical symphony music-the nxusic of Beethoven, Chaikovsky and Borodin, which was capable of embodying the deepest and most vital ideas affecting human society. The importance of this fact must not be underestimated, for Soviet composers have produced a number of major symphonic works which have been acclaimed widely and have found a firm place in the world's concert programmes.
143 1952The national republics of the Soviet Union are rightly proud of their recent successes in the field of music. For many of them professional music in general, and the emergence and flourishing of national trends in composing, started only in the years of Soviet power. It is no exaggeration to say that in such a short period there have been truly miraculous achievements in the musical cultures of the Ukraine, Byelorussia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Armenia, Uzbekistan and other Soviet republics. A whole generation of excellent national composers and performers has grown up. Following the traditions of Russian classical music, the genres of opera and symphony music are both developing apace in the national republics...
I believe that over the period of the coming five-year plans, the task of collecting, studying and popularising folk songs from all ends of the Soviet Union will be raised to a new level of scholarship, on a national scale. A complete encyclopaedia of Soviet folk music should be compiled, covering all the genres and forms of musical folklore from all the nationalities of the USSR. This colossal work will require the efforts of a whole generation of Soviet musical ethnographers and musicologists, and should be started as soon as possible.
Among the most important problems facing Soviet composers striving for ideological fullness and realism in their music is that of mastery. The composer should be able to embody all the great ideas and feelings of the people in his music with freedom and diversity, boldness and originality. The composer should be able to embody these ideas and feelings in an artistically perfect form. I think it is time to start paying greater attention to form. Let us remember Belinsky's words: 'The unity of idea and form in art is so great that it is impossible either for a false idea to be realised in a beautiful form or for a beautiful form to express a false idea.'
When I say mastery, I do not only mean the possession of the requisite professional skills: this necessary element has, I feel, been successfully acquired by most of our composers. In my view, the concept of mastery is considerably wider. It finds its expression in complete harmony between content and form, in the ability to use all the elements of musical language freely and versatilely for the purpose of embodying the idea content with maximum efficiency.
To write a harmonious chorale, or an intricate canon or ricercare, displaying enviable polyphonic technique, is by no means the limit of mastery in composition. It is important that the music should move and inspire the audience by its depth and thoughtfulness, and that all the means of musical expression be entirely subordinated to the idea.
One often hears works which are smoothly and correctly constructed, but which bore one to tears because of their long-windedness and because of the discrepancy between the abundance of musical sounds and the
144 1952poverty and limitedness of the thoughts and feelings expressed. Such works cannot be called `masterly', despite their outer finish.
Our composers must still work hard to properly master form and the art of orchestration (seen as a truly creative task, not merely a skill). Most importantly, they must foster in themselves that sense of measure, of harmony between content and form, without which real mastery cannot be achieved.
There is one other wish which I should like to express to my colleagues. Life, by constantly providing us with new ideological tasks, requires of us that we show a capacity for innovation in our treatment of contemporary themes. By passively reproducing ready-made schemes, we shall not create the fresh new musical images expected of us by our Soviet audience.^^4^^
I am presently enjoying my second visit this year to Tbilisi, the beautiful capital of Soviet Georgia. The purpose of this visit is to hear new works by Georgian composers. I came with great hopes, and these hopes have been borne out. At a review concert a few days ago, many successful works by talented Georgian composers were performed.
It was encouraging to see that Georgian music is pushing ahead, no small thanks being due to the younger generation of composers. Among the outstanding youngsters whose works I heard were Alexander Shaverzashvili, Archil Chimakadze, Revaz Lagidze and Otar Gordeli-all of whom were educated at the Tbilisi Conservatoire. I would even make so bold as to claim that in no other republic of the Soviet Union is there such an upsurge of young talent as in Georgia.
One characteristic feature of the young Georgian composers is the fact that they respond in their works to the burning issues of the day and speak about Soviet reality at the tops of their voices.^^5^^
...The most powerful thing in the new ballet is the music. The work shows many sides of Kara Karayev's talent more clearly than his previous cot roositions. Following in the footsteps of the Russian ballet classics-especially Chaikovsky-he has produced an important work of realism.
The music for Seven Beauties is genuine symphonic music, possessing breadth and stature. Almost the whole ballet develops and grows as a single, uninterrupted whole. Only here and there does the music lose a little of its symphonic coherence, and Some individual dances are rather isolated - which undoubtedly lowers the, overall impression.
For the characterisation of his heroes 'and for each situation the composer has found keen, distinctive, memorable musical images. There is a wide range of images revealing the fortitude of the people-from the lively, jocular dance games on `Artisans' Square' (Act Two) to the scenes
145 1952of national mourning and the angry scenes where the shah is exposed and driven out (Acts Three and Four). The lyrical theme is very rich, especially in the Four dances of Aisha and Bahrain. Aisha's tragic love reveals her great humanity and moral strength, which raise the heroine of the ballet above the figure of the weak, morally fickle Bahram.
The music characterising the vizier and his minions is full of sarcastic invective, underlining the cruelty and heavy-handedness of despotism. Especially effective in this sense is the violent scene in which the fields are destroyed, where the music combines accusatory grotesque with dramatic tension. The episode entitled `Procession' in Act Two stands out because of its theatrical and symphonic effectiveness. There is a distinctive charm and a refined national colouring about the music for the dances of the seven beautiful girls. The portraits of the Indian, Maghreb and Chinese beauties, and especially the dance of the 'most beautiful of all beauties', are extremely successful. Karayev's music for Seven Beauties is closely linked to the national culture of his homeland, Azerbaijan. Melodies, rhythms and harmonies typical of Azerbaijanian folk music make their presence felt throughout the work.^^6^^
146 1953Several of Shostakovich's important works were premiered in 1953, including his Tenth Symphony, on which he worked intensively both in Moscow and in Kamarow. On 27 October the score was finished, and shortly afterwards Shostakovich and the composer Moisei Weinberg played the symphony on two pianos to an audience of teachers and students at the Moscow Conservatoire.
On 17 December the premiere of the Tenth Symphony took place at the Leningrad Philharmonia, conducted by Tevgem Mravinsky, who also gave the first performance of the work in Moscow on 28 December. The symphony soon became one of Shostakovich's most popular works. The Czech composer Vaclav Dobia$ wrote: ' There are few modem composers who could portray the sorrows and hopes of contemporary man as Shostakovich has done in his Tenth Symphony*
Before this, however, two other important works were performed for the first time. It turned out that the premiere of the Fifth Quartet,, written the previous year (1952), was given three weeks before that of the Fourth Quartet, which had been written as long ago as 1949. The Fifth Quartet was first heard and discussed at the Central Composers'" Club, on 29 September. Then on 13 November, the Beethoven Quartet presented the work to the public in the Small Hall of the Conservatoire; the Fourth Quartet was played by the same musicians in the same hall on 3 December.
Other works dating from this year included the Fourth Ballet Suite and a Concertino for Two Pianos.
Meanwhile, Shostakovich continued to give concerts with David Oistrakh and Sergei Knushevitsky. Their concert on 25 January in the Small Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonia included Shostakovich's Trio, Cello Sonata and five preludes and fugues. At the end of the year (23 December) the composer appeared again on the same stage, playing preludes and fugues and-with the Beethoven Quartet-his Quintet.
Shostakovich took as active part in the discussions of the plenary session of the Board of the Composers' Union, which was held in Moscow from 31 January to 12 February. The session opened with a performance of his cantata The Sun Shines Over Our Motherland. In an article published in the magazine Sovetskaya Muzyka, Shostakovich discussed the results of the plenum and, in particular, set out several important principles regarding collaboration between composers and performers.
In June the composer travelled with a Soviet cultural delegation to the General Assembly of the Austro-Soviet friendship Society in Vienna. In September he took part in a conference in Moscow on the future activities of the Peace Movement inthe light of the decisions reached at the Budapest session of the World Peace Council.
There is little need to speak about how important the first performance of a work is for its future fate, especially if that performance takes place at such an important event as an All-Union Plenum of the Board of the Composers' Union, We all know of cases, both in the past and in the present, where an unsuccessful premiere of a work has tarnished its repu-
147 1953tation for a long time to come. How often have even the most discerning listeners underrated a new work because its first performance was poor, grey and uninspired, or because the conductor or soloist interpreted it wrongly! All my life I have been trying to train myself to distinguish a work from its performance, i. e. to judge a work without regard for the quality of the performance. I am afraid I am not always successful in this.
It is particularly important, of course, that the performance should be of high quality when it concerns the work of a young composer who has neither an established reputation nor the necessary experience in working with the performers.
Working with the performers of his new work, the composer must aim to help them all-the soloist, the orchestra, the choir, the conductor-to understand and convey his intentions as fully as possible. This is one side of the collaboration between composer and performers.
The other side consists in the help which an experienced performer, who is well aware of the possibilities of his instrument, ensemble or orchestra, can afford the composer, by giving him essential practical advice and suggesting solutions to various complex artistic problems.'
Recently Pravda published an article by the American writer Stetson Kennedy on forced labour in the United States. Earlier/1 had heard Kennedy's speech at the Vienna Peace Congress, in which ;he was taking part as a member of the American delegation...
Kennedy's article reminded me of the collections of Negro protest songs which I have in my library. I have always been deeply moved by the distinctive, severe lyricism of these songs, by their expressive melodies and by their rhythms, forged in the work process. But now I hear these songs differently.
<
f Songs created by the people cannot lie. The immense social content which unknown Negro singers in forced-labour teams invested in their songs cannot be 'made up* or imitated. These folk songs tell the horrific truth about the life of American Negroes in vivid, laconic and bold images./ Every line confirms the outraged words of the American writer Stetson Kennedy. Songs born in the quarries of Alabama, on the cotton and tobacco plantations of Georgia, and on road works in South Carolina, are relentless exposes of the system of race discrimination in the USA. In these songs we hear not only the sorrows and sufferings of the enslaved Negro people, but also their noble hatred of their oppressors and their call for freedom.^^2^^
Not long ago I read an article by the American music critic Olin Downes on the first performance in New York of Sergei Prokofiev's Seventh Symphony. I know Olin Downes as a serious music critic and as
148 1953an eminent {figure in the Peace Movement, and for this reason I feel I cannot keep silent about his article, which distorts the real meaning of Prokofiev's great work and discredits the ideas which inspired the composer, Olin Downes cannot have a clear conscience after trying to ascribe anti-social intentions to this great and honest Soviet artist. (Mr. Downes, it seems, was taking advantage of the fact that Prokofiev can no longer reply to him and repudiate his fabrications.) I do not intend to argue with Downes about his extremely subjective, basically incorrect method of evaluating the symphony. (The work was very successful in America---'so much the worse for the symphony' according to Downes.) I would merely remind the American critic of the need to be honest in one's judgements and to base one's analysis of a new work on the music itself and on, its place in the composer's work as a whole, rather than on petty political considerations. The Soviet people love Prokofiev far more than Olin Downes does, and are for more interested in preserving his wonderful legacy and developing his great artistic traditions.
Olin Downes did not like the fact that Prokofiev's Seventh Symphony is simple and clear, that its basic tone is joyful and life-asserting, or that it ends with a merry finale. Without a second thought, Downes calls it 'bourgeois music' and even warns Soviet critics against accepting such music as a positive example.
I consider Sergei Prokofiev one of the greatest composers of our times. For. all its contradictions, his work is exceptionally rich. A considerable part of his enormous legacy will undoubtedly find a place in the treasurehouse of Russian music. His swan song-the Seventh Symphony-is one of the most beautiful compositions of our age. It reflects the thoughts and feelings of progressive man and conveys a youthful, optimistic outlook on life. Glory and honour to this composer, who at the end of his life could create such a bright work, with such beautiful music, such truthful expression and such wise simplicity!^^3^^
The Communist Party has always devoted great attention to the questions of literature, art and the ideological education of the working people. The Party has often indicated the important role played by realistic art in the great endeavour of the Soviet people to build communism. With this in mind, the Party constantly sets Soviet artists great tasks, inspiring them to produce works which are truthful and profound in content and beautiful in form, which celebrate the glorious deeds of our heroic people and their mighty constructive work in the name of the happiness of the Motherland and the great ideas of communism, wopks which glorify their selfless struggle for peace throughout the world.
For Soviet composers there is, and can be, no higher task than the creation of works that satisfy these demands. Our sacred duty is to dedicate all our strength, knowledge and experience to composing works which fully embody the creative might and spiritual beauty of the people-people confidently marching under the banner of the Communist
149 1953Party to the radiant heights of communism, to the realisation of the dreams cherished by all progressive people.^^4^^
On Sunday I turned on the radio and heard one of my favourite pieces of music. It was part of the regular puzzle concert, in which the titles of the pieces are announced only once the work has been performed. Musiclovers (and there are many millions of them in our country) are invited to guess which works they are listening to and so test their knowledge of music. Quite often, these 'puzzle concerts' are compiled by the listeners themselves. From year to year the programmes are growing more and more complex and diverse, testifying to the increasing musical awareness of the people and to their growing cultural demands.
My last visit to the traditional 'Prague Spring' Music Festival was a great event in my life. I had thought I knew Czech music fairly well, but in Prague I realised that my knowledge was in fact quite scanty, and mainly restricted to the past. What I heard at the Festival surpassed all my expectations. I was impressed by the flourishing of modern Czech music, which is taking on a truly national character and confidently continuing the best traditions of the Czech classics. I shall always remember my friendly meetings with three talented composers-the Czech Vaclav Dobias and the Bulgarians Pancho Vladigerov and Lyubomir Pipkov.^^5^^
Ludwig van Beethoven and Franz Schubert were contemporaries, but their music developed along quite different lines.
Beethoven firmly believed that his music should serve the noble cause of justice; he protested angrily against the forces of darkness and violence that reigned at that time; and through his work he rallied mankind to the heroic struggle for a happier future, singing-with his characteristic fiery passion-the joyful hymn of liberated humanity.
Beethoven addressed himself to the whole of mankind, and therefore was most at home with monumental forms.
Schubert also deeply believed that his music should serve man's highest ideals; with unsurpassed lyrical sincerity he glorified simple human feelings; in the seclusion of nature he told his listeners his innermost thoughts about man's higher destination. Schubert lacked Beethoven's sense of outrage. 'I am,* wrote Schubert, 'alone with my love and must hide it in my room, in my piano, in my breast,,,*
While the leitmotif of Beethoven's work was mankind liberated from darkness and violence, that of Schubert's work was man happy and free in his feelings.
While in Beethoven the human tragedy is overcome in the process of universal struggle, in Schubert man's personal tragedy is engulfed up by the majestic beauty of nature and the life-asserting force of the people...^^6^^
150 1954This was a year full of all kinds of events. On 20 January Shostakovich's Concertino for Two Pianos was heard for the first time.
At a public meeting of the Secretariat of the Composers' Union on 29-30 March, a bitter debate developed about Shostakovich's Tenth Symphony. Most of those who spoke at the meeting rated the work highly, but there were also those who subjected it to unwarranted criticism. Shostakovich's own speech, which anticipated the discussion, was a characteristic example of his modesty and self-criticism.
The autumn brought several magnificent performances of Shostakovich's music, including the premiere of the Festival Overture, conducted on 6 November by Alexander Melik-Pashayev at a concert in the Bolshoi Theatre to mark the anniversary of the Revolution. On 27 November the Overture was again performed at the Moscow Conservatoire; this concert also included the Tenth Symphony and the First Piano Concerto (soloist Shostakovich), played by the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra under Samuil Samosud. This programme was repeated the following day at the Scientists' Club. The Tenth Symphony was performed again on 27 December in the final concert of a series given in Moscow by the Leningrad Philharmonia, with Yevgeny Mravinsky conducting; the composer, who attended this concert, was given a warm reception by the audience.
In the autumn, on 14 October, came the American premiere of the Tenth Symphony, performed by the New Tork Philharmonic Orchestra under Dimitri Mitropoulos.
In November an East German documentary film, for which Shostakovich had written special music, was released: The Song of the Great Rivers, produced by Joris Ivens.
A new production of Shakespeare's Hamlet was seen this year at the Pushkin Drama Theatre m Leningrad; in his production, Grigory Kozintsev used various orchestral fragments from the score written by Shostakovich in 1940-41 for King Lear.
Shostakovich continued to publish frequent articles and reviews. In November he heard a series of Beethoven's symphonies interpreted by Hermann Abendroth and reviewed this event in Pravda. He also devoted several articles in the magazine Sovetskaya Muzyka to Prokofiev, whom he had always loved, and Glinka, -on the occasion of his 150th birth anniversary. In anticipation of a forthcoming Congress of Writers, he published an article in Literaturnaya Gazeta on the question of creative collaboration between writers and musicians.
From this year, until 1959, Shostakovich held the post of musical consultant at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow.
In 1954 Shostakovich was awarded the title of People's Artist of the USSR for his services to the arts. The World Peace Council, in recognition of his services to the cause of strengthening peace and friendship among nations, awarded Shostakovich the World Peace Prize. The prize was conferred in an official ceremony on 4 September at the Trade Union House in Moscow. On I'l December Shostakovich was elected Honorary Member of the Swedish Royal Academy of Music.
For musicians, 1954 has special significance. This year the people of the Soviet Union will celebrate the 150th birth anniversary of the great
151 1954genius of Russian music, Mikhail Ivanovich Glinka. This 'Glinka Year' should be marked by redoubled efforts in the task of popularising and studying the composer's works. To learn from Glinka and develop his great traditions is the honourable task of Soviet musicians.
Glinka was supreme in all genres-opera, symphony music, choral, chamber, vocal and instrumental works. His artistic credo has powerfully influenced all succeeding generations of Russian musicians. In the work of our contemporaries, too, his influence can be felt...
Soviet composers enter 1954 with certain achievements behind them. And yet all that we have done in the year just ended still lags far behind the growing aesthetic demands of the Soviet people. Our young composers did not work hard enough. All the roads lie open for them-all the opportunities for constant searching, for perfecting their skills---yet some young composers sink after their first success into a state of complacent self-assurance. The same reproach may, indeed, be levelled at certain masters of the older generation, who now work listlessly, with no real enthusiasm. It must not be taken for granted that a composer can write a couple of songs a year and sit back considering his mission fulfilled. Creative passivity inevitably leads to a decline in talent and to dilettantism.
Let us remember how the great classical composers worked---- Chaikovsky, for example, who always emphasised that an artist must be able to put himself in a 'creative mood' and keep on working tirelessly. We see another example of high professionalism in the great Soviet composers Prokofiev and Myaskovsky, who always worked at 'full stretch', right up to their last days. Rheingold Glier, the greatest master of the older generation of Soviet composers, was also an indefatigable professional, who used to start a new work before he had completed the previous one, fulfilling an extensive 'production plan'.
That is how we all should work, old and young alike. I should like to express the hope that we shall all work harder and more intensively, that we shall set ourselves more and more daring tasks and strive to perfect our professional skills.
...In any creative work, the most important factors leading to success are correct ideological orientation, talent and skill. This must always be borne in mind when analysing and evaluating any work of art. The most important argument in our debates should be the high ideological and artistic quality of a work, rather than the adherence of the author to a particular artistic trend.
I do not think that the Composers' Union should discourage our composers from branching out and treading the independent, unexplored pathways of art. It is not bold, creative quests that we should fear, but superficiality, unimaginativeness and stereotypes. The 'aspiration to
152 1954smooth out the sharp corners in art seems to me one of the more unusual manifestations of the fallacious 'non-conflict* theory. The sooner we repudiate these levelling tendencies, the better it will be for Soviet art. I passionately believe in the bright future of Soviet music. It is rich in talent, in great realist traditions and in its unbreakable links with the aspirations and hopes of the people. The possibilities open to Soviet composers are immeasurable.^^1^^
As far as I can remember, the relationship between composers and film-directors has not progressed much over the last twenty years. As yet, no one has taken account of the rich experience accumulated by Soviet sound cinematography. And if we have many films which are successful from the point of view of unity of action and music, then this is due entirely to lucky working associations between certain directors and composers.
Some of our directors are musical: with them one can work easily and productively. There are others who just want 'a spot of music' for their films: working with them drives one up the wall.
More than twenty years have passed since the birth of sound cinema, a new `shift' has started - fresh young faces have come to the cinema--- and yet hardly anything has changed.
The All-Union State Institute of Cinematography has trained a large umber of young specialists. So have our music colleges.
But do the curricula of any of these colleges really take into account the fact that Soviet sound cinema exists and is developing? Do our budding film-directors and scenario-writers really learn how to collaborate with composers in the future? Do they learn to start thinking at the very start of the creative process about the place which sound and music will have in their film? Are they shown enough successful and unsuccessful / films with a view to explaining the best combination of visual and musical material in a film? And then, looking, at it from the other point of view, do our young musicians even hear a few lectures on this subject? It need not even be a compulsory subject, with tests and exams, but surely our future composers should at least know something about working in the cinema!
Aram Khachaturian is absolutely right when he says that 'no other area of music requires mastery of such diverse forms-from monumental symphonic to genre, song, march, dance and other forms'. Khachaturian also rightly notes that there is also a need to understand sound effects and recording techniques.
For his work in the cinema, then,tit he composer needs both diverse and specific knowledge. Are young musicians in any way trained to cope with these problems?
';•
To all these questions there is only one answer-a negative one.
A director who does not feel or know music will feel no compunction in breaking off a melody mid-phrase or in shifting the accents: in other
153 1954words, he will spoil both the composer's work and his own. Of course, this does not mean that the composer should sit by the director like a nanny watching over a child. There must be complete mutual understanding between them. And if this is to be the case, then both must learn, for a composer, too, if he is ignorant of the `laws' of the cinema, will never write music to merge as one with the dramatic action of the film.
But virtually nothing has been done in this sphere. And to this day all our successes and failures are as coincidental as ever... Pyriev and Khrennikov did find each other. Fine. Khachaturian's co-operation with Feinzimmer didn't really work out-well, never mind. An excellent film with a bad music was shown. All right. A fine combination of drama and music was achieved. Great.
Given the high stage of development of the Soviet cinema, it does not become us to have such an outmoded relationship between our musicians and directors. It is only in our country, after all, that this relationship can be made to work properly, and that people can be furnished with the knowledge necessary for this.^^2^^
I worked on my Tenth Symphony last summer, and finished it in the autumn. As with most of my works, I wrote it quickly. This is probably not a virtue, but rather a failing of mine, because when one works so quickly not everything works out perfectly. As soon as a work is completed, and the creative fever subsides, one sees the faults in the cornposition-sometimes fundamental ones-and undertakes to try and avoid them in one's next works; and as for what one has just written-well, what's done is done, and it's a weight ofF one's shoulders.
I would advise everyone (and above all myself) not to rush. It is better to take longer over a composition and to improve all the faults as one goes along.
The symphony consists of four movements. Looking critically at the first movement, I see that I have still not succeeded in realising my dream-of writing a real symphonic allegro. As in my earlier symphonies, it has not worked out properly, but I hope that in the future I shall eventually manage it. In the first movement of this symphony there are more slow tempi and mo-re_lyrical, episodes than heroic-dramatic and tragic (as in the first movejnents of symphonies by Beethoven, Chaikovsky, Borodin and other's).
In- general, I feel the second movement corresponds to my original conception and occupies the place intended for it in the work as a whole. But perhaps the movement is too short, especially considering that the other three are all fairly long, and as a result the cyclical conception of the work suffers a little. The symphony could have done with an additional movement Which,, together with the short second movement, might have .balanced up the structure of the whole work.
154 1954The third movement has turned out more or less as I intended, although here too some passages may be too drawn-out, and others rather brief. It would be useful to hear the comments of my colleagues on this question.
The introduction to the finale may seem a little long, although the last time I listened to it I felt that it did fulfil its semantic and compositional functions and more or less balanced the movement as a whole.
Speaking of their own works, composers often like to say: I tried this, I intended such-and-such, etc. I would prefer not to; it would be much more interesting to know what listeners feel, to hear their comments. All I would say is that in this composition I wished to convey human feelings and passions.^^3^^
The further time separates us from him, the clearer becomes the historical perspective in which we see Glinka, the father of Russian classical music, whose genius has illuminated the whole development of Russian music. In his works, like Pushkin, he generalised the enormous and diverse experience of Russian folk art. Like Pushkin, he opened a wonderful new page in the history of his country's culture.
Glinka was the first in the Pleiad of great Russian composers who started the Russian national school, which brought fame to the music of our Motherland and placed it among the finest in the world. Since Glinka, there has been no area of Russian music which has not felt, in some form or another, his envigorating influence.
When one considers what the essence of Glinka's genius was, or what the most important aspect was in the revolution which he brought about in Russian music, then one invariably comes to the conclusion that the quintessence of his art was his profound understanding of the spirit of popular art, and the perfect synthesis of the melodiousness of Russian folk music and the composer's bold personality.
Glinka's musical ear was infallible, and led him to speak the truth in sounds. Having imbibed folk songs since his earliest years, he profoundly understood the figurative musical language of his people and developed its rich melodies freshly and boldly in his own compositions.
The rich and beautiful melodies of Glinka's works have few rivals. What wonderful, emotive melodies there are in hgn Susanin and Ruslan and Lyudmila, in his evergreen symphonic works, ari£l in his instrumental works and romances! Everything is lilting and songlike. Even the secondary polyphonic or ornamental elements are imbued with song.
Glinka's melodies do not only sing; they also speak, they have a story to tell. Glinka rarely cited folk tunes directly, but almost all his themes are deeply popular in spirit, they are captivatingly full of life, full of lyricism and truthful expression.
This, I am convinced, is the great secret of Glinka's art, which is
155equally accessible to the experts and the people. This great artist teaches us to understand the popular essence of art; he teaches us to serve our country and mankind. *
I am highly honoured to have been awarded the world Peace Prize by the World Peace Council.
The daily work of all Soviet people is linked with promoting the noble cause of peace on Earth. It is the thought of the welfare of all working people that inspires the labour of the great Soviet patriots who develop the virgin lands, of the heroes of the collective and state farms, of the Donbas coalminers, of the Ural steelworkers and of the Ivanovo textile-producers. The work of Soviet artists, composers and writers is infused with a life-asserting force. The work of Soviet scientists and inventors is marked by a great aspiration for the happiness of all men.
It is a great honour to be a member of such a wonderful collective as the fraternal working community of Soviet people-a community unprecedented in history, a community based on boundless love for the working man, on love and respect for all peoples!
I am proud that I am a member of this collective, and, while accepting this honorary award, I feel I must express my gratitude for the help . and attention shown me in my work by my closest friends-the Soviet composers.
It is with great satisfaction that I note the success being achieved all around the world by the supporters of peace. Despite the enormous difficulties, despite the malicious reaction of the cruel and grasping aggressors, the workers of all countries are heroically strengthening the great and noble cause of peace, thereby barring the way to another destructive, internecine war.
This high award commits me to fight for peace and international 'friendship in a way worthy of a son of the Soviet nation, which leads the great movement for peace in the world.^^5^^
The music of the Chinese people interests me greatly as a composer. In their music the people express their thoughts and feelings, their joys and sorrows, their happiness and love. Chinese music is original and distinctive, I have now learnt about many ancient musical instruments which I had never seen before; I listened to them and was delighted by the richness of their timbre and enormous emotional power. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to the Chinese virtuoso musicians, playing on ancient instruments built in time out of mind. We were visited in Moscow, among representatives of other professions, by Chinese composers, whom we greeted as very welcome guests.^^6^^
156 1954In the context of the discussions leading up to the Congress of Soviet Writers, the question which I would like to raise may seem a narrow one. But I think it deserves some attention. I am speaking of the link between literature and music.
A composer embarking on an opera or ballet can write the overture and the basic melodies for the main characters. But for the work as a whole he needs a detailed libretto. Yet I can think of only two examples of successful collaboration: Kabalevsky and Tsenin, and I. Dzerzhinsky and L, Dzerzhinsky, who wrote the operas Taras' Family and And Quiet Flows the Don respectively. As for major Soviet writers who have collaborated with composers on libretti based on their works with the exception of Korneichuk and Vasilevskaya I would find it hard to give a single name.
I do not agree with those composers who consider that the author of a novel whose plot is to form the basis of a musical work must necessarily also write the libretto. On the contrary, experience has shown that the best operatic libretti were not written by established writers. It was not Pushkin who wrote the libretto for Ghaikovsky's The Queen of Spades, but the composer's brother Modest. The excellent libretti of Sadko, The Tale of the Tsar S.altan and The Golden Cockerel were written for Rimsky-- Korsakov by V. Belsky, and it was not Dumas, but Piave, who wrote the libretto of La Traviata, which so fully conveys the plot and meaning of the drama La Dame aux camelias.
It is quite possible that a highly qualified writer may prove to be a poor librettist. And if it is the case that novelists tend to shun this distinctive and complex genre, then should not the Writers' Union think about training librettists as such. The ability to write a good libretto is, I would say, a profession in itself. And there is no reason to consider it a second-class profession.
But the Writers' Union appears to underestimate the scarcity that afflicts this genre. How else can one explain the fact that its best representatives-Sergei Tsenin (Taras'' Family), L, Dzerzhinsky (And Quiet Flows the Don] and others---are not members of the Writers' Union, This attitude to the genre does nothing to stimulate its development.
There used to be a Musical Section -in the Writers' Union, but it has ceased to exist. In my view, it is vital to resurrect this section and to have it take an active interest in the creation of Soviet operas and ballets.
I should like to touch upon one other matter. Music is extremely rich and extremely popular. But there is virtually.- no decent literature about music and musicians. The best thing I have read on this subject is Alexei Novikov's novel The Birth of a Musician - a fine work which betrays the author's serious study of his material, his understanding of the psychology of musical creativity, and his love of music itself. I also have pleasant memories of the films A Musical Story, Anton Ivanovich Gets Angry and Glinka. But I am afraid I can say nothing complimentary about Sergei Mikhalkov's play Ilya Golovin or about Osip Chorny's Snegin's Opera. In both works the authors treat serious musical problems in an extremely
157 1954superficial and dilettantish way. There are writers who have a fine understanding of music-for example, Marietta Shaginian, Konstantin Fedin and others---but for some reason they have barely touch on the subject. For us readers and musicians, this is a regrettable state of affairs.^^7^^
Usually, when people want to praise the work of a conductor, they say that there was something `new' in his performance of a work. It is to Hermann Abendroth's credit that his performances of Beethoven's symphonies did not sound `new', but `Beethoven-like': conducting strictly and thoughtfully, he upheld Beethoven's own fine traditions, renouncing external effects and penetrating deep into the essence of each work.^^8^^
[The Festival Overture] is just a short work, festive or celebrative in. spirit, lasting three or four minutes. My first work written for violin will also be performed this year. In character, my First Violin Concerto is really more like a symphony for solo violin and orchestra. It lasts a good 45 minutes and should therefore fill half a concert programme on its own. I wrote the Concerto several years ago and, like all composers, am now reviewing my original version. This could not be done, of course, without the participation of the first performer of the work, our great violinist and People's Artist of the USSR, David Oistrakh. We hope to perform the Concerto soon to an audience of musicians at the Composers' Union.^^9^^
Having entered on his career as a composer at an early age, Sergei Prokofiev quickly showed himself to be a bold innovator, winning the sympathy of young musicians.
The discussions roused by his first works grew with every new composition, becoming more and more intense and attracting new, wider circles of musicians, listeners and critics. A man of immense creative powers, Prokofiev was able to pick out from the melee that surrounded his works those arguments which were fair and of value, and paid close attention even to the most insignificant comments.
But Prokofiev did not follow criticism blindly. He boldly defended those works which he considered to require no alteration. Despite the sharp criticism of his opera Semyon Kotko, for example, and of his Sixth, Eighth and Ninth Piano Sonatas and his Sixth Symphony, he did not even contemplate changing a single note in these works. But on those
158 1954occasions when Prokofiev did accept criticism, he was known to return two or three times to the same work, making radical alterations. This was what happened with his Cello Concerto, which he altered three times, with his Fourth Symphony, his Symphoniette and some other works. We Soviet composers can learn a good deal from Prokofiev, but above all we should foster in ourselves the same high feeling of responsibility for our work and the same disciplined style of work. In this respect, Sergei Prokofiev will always remain a great inspiring example for us.I0
________________________________
159 1955For the third time, Shostakovich was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation.
The next ten years can probably be considered the peak of the composer's creative and public activities.
The beginning of the year was marked by another premiere: on 15 January the vocal cycle From Jewish Folk Poetry was performed in the Small Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonia. The singers were JV. Dorliak, £, Dolukhanova and A. Maslennikov, while the composer himself played the piano part. The cycle was performed several more times during the year-in Byelorussia and the Baltic republics (April), in Gorky (21 October) and again at the Leningrad Philharmonia (14 December). The singers T. Yanko, B, Deineka and M. Ryba and the Beethoven Quartet also took part in these concerts, which included Shostakovich's Piano Quintet, preludes and fugues, romances and quartets. During a concert of Shostakovich's music in Voronezh on 17 October, the first movement of his Sixth Quartet was heard for the first time.
The premiere of one of Shostakovich's most important works---his First Violin Concerto - took place on 29 October. Its first interpreter was David Oistrakh, accompanied by the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Yevgeny Mravinsky. The performance, repeated the following evening, was given a rapturous ovation. Oistrakh, to whom the composer dedicated the work, wrote: ''The Concerto poses exceedingly interesting problems for the performer, who plays, as it were, a pithy ``Shakespearian'' role, which demands from him complete emotional and intellectual involvement, and gives him ample opportunities not only to demonstrate his virtuosity but above all to reveal his deepest feelings, thoughts and moods.
As usual, Shostakovich was busy this year both as a musician and a public figure, regularly attending concerts and writing articles for the press. Of special interest here are his comments on the premiere of Khachaturian's Spartacus, for which he rightly predicted a long life on the stage, and his review of a very ordinary children's concert at the Conservatoire (featuring works by G. Ustvolskaya, A. Balanchivadze, Ye. Makarov, V. Kryukov and V. Makarov). Also interesting are the ideas he expressed in an address to the Youth Section of the Composers' Union (a tape-recording of his speech was made).
There were more signs this year of Shostakovich's world-wide reputation. At the end of March the Swedish ambassador to the USSR R. Sohlman presented Shostakovich with his diploma as Member of the Swedish Royal Academy of Music in an official ceremony at the Swedish Embassy. Shortly afterwards he was elected Corresponding Member of the GDR Academy of Arts.
In November Shostakovich was guest of honour in Vienna at the official opening of the rebuilt Staatsoper. His Tenth Symphony was given its first performance in Paris by the touring New York Philharmonic Orchestra under Dimitri Mitropoulos.
A new film, The Gadfly, came out on 12 April, The music composed by Shostakovich for the film was soon performed in the concert halls and became very popular (especially the well-known romance from the film).
In the autumn the composer began negotiations with the Leningrad Maly Opera House on reviving his opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, after a break of twenty years.
160 1955The World Peace Council's Appeal against preparations for atomic war has evoked a broad, favourable response- among all people of good will. Many millions of signatures have already endorsed this historic document, and many more millions can be expected shortly.
As of today, the Soviet people will also be adding their signatures to the Appeal. The citizens of our great, peace-loving state will, as ever, be at the head of the vast, uncounted army of peace. We have not forgotten the horrors of the nazi invasion, we remember the terrible losses suffered by the Soviet people. I can clearly recall the months I spent in the besieged, heroic city of Leningrad, the air-raids and the nazi's artillery fire...^^1^^
We are very pleased to be in the capital of Lithuania. Recently we were in Tallinn, Riga and Minsk, and now we shall be performing for the working people of Vilnius and Kaunas. The concert programmes will consist of several of my compositions: four preludes and fugues, my Cello Sonata, and the vocal cycle From Jewish Folk Poetry. At present I am composing my Eleventh Symphony,^^2^^
Recently the Moscow Conservatoire put on a new symphony concert for young schoolchildren, consisting of works by Soviet composers. That such concerts are organised is most desirable. The more our children hear and study good music, the better Soviet music in general will develop. It is time to start thinking about providing a general musical education in our primary and secondary schools. I am convinced that a love of music and good taste should be inculcated from the earliest possible age, starting with the infant classes. For the same reason, children's concerts must include good works and be performed well. This was, I am glad to say, the case at the recent concert at the Conservatoire...
Concerts for children should be treated with the utmost attention. Our best performers and orchestras should be used in them, and our best composers should write music for children.^^3^^
Aram Khachaturian's wonderful ability to characterise his heroes with distinctive imagery and themes is clearer than ever in his new ballet Spartacus, in which he skilfully combines the principles of symphonic development with the specific requirements of choreography. The music, moreover, is also remarkable for the unusually original colourfulness of the orchestration, and for the composer's irreproachable skill in finding
161 1955the right setting for the colours of the individual instruments in the overall sound picture, combining them in countless permutations.
The music for Spartacus is so vivid and - colourful that there are moments when one even wonders whether the ballet's basic theme-the revolutionary struggle of the slaves against their oppressors-might not grow pale in comparison.
One would like to think that this will not be the case - especially since in general the dramatic development of the ballet is gripping. From the first scene, in which Spartacus' strength and bravery are demonstrated, to the final battle scene, where the hero dies, the audience will surely follow the unfolding plot with unflagging interest.
The music for the ballet 'is undoubtedly both interesting and moving. It shows great talent, and, like everything Khachaturian composes, bears the stamp of his distinctive personality.
Being the result of his enormous creative talent, Khachaturian's individuality can be seen not only in his manner of writing, which can be recognised literally in every bar. It extends far beyond the sphere of mere musical technique, comprising the composer's whole outlook on life, which is founded on his positive, optimistic interpretation of Soviet reality. This aspect of Khachaturian's personality, by the way, is also clearly seen in his sadly forgotten symphonies.
It seems to me that one of the finest features of Khachaturian's music as a whole, and Spartacus in particular, is its popular spirit. The elements of national and folk music in his works are clear not only in his magnificent symphonies and concertos, but also in all his other works, no matter how diverse their themes may be.
In the ballet Gayane, in the music for the drama The Masked Ball, in the suite The Widow of Valencia and in Spartacus--- everywhere Aram Khachaturian is strongly national in spirit. But this is not popular spirit in the narrow sense, i. e. the mere use of established intonations, harmonies and rhythms. It is genuine popular spirit, enriched by the highest achievements of world culture, and itself making an invaluable contribution to world culture.
Such 'are my thoughts on Khachaturian's new ballet, Spartacus. It is a great and joyful event in our musical life,^^4^^
These days, if a musician really values his art, if he takes his profession seriously, then he must in one form or another take part in the campaign for peace. And this is his duty not only as an upright person; it is his duty as a musician, as a cultural worker. Every man must protect the house in which he lives...
The following words have been ascribed to me: 'Any day when I do not hear a new piece of music is a lost day for me.' To be frank, I don't remember saying this, but nonetheless I would willingly subscribe to it. And I would repeat to young composers: study the treasures of music.
162 7955Make it a rule to hear at least one new work every day. There is no greater disgrace for a young novice musician than for him to neglect his study of music, old and modern.^^5^^
The Eighth Plenary Session of the Board of the Composers' Union, which took place this spring, broached many interesting and important aspects of the development of modern symphony music. There was much discussion about the complex questions of symphonic dramaturgy and, especially, about the so-called 'finale problem'. It was noticed that most of the symphonies played at the session had poor finales, inferior to the first three movements of the cycle.
What is the cause of this? Is it really harder to write the finale of a symphony than the first movement or the adagio? I recall a very simple, but wise thing once said by Brahms. When Bruckner said to him that it was very difficult to write good symphonic adagios, Brahms sensibly replied: 'In my view, my dear maestro, it is much harder to write a whole symphony well-all the movements, not just the adagio.'
I also feel that every movement of a symphony is equally difficult to compose. The composer must aim for the whole symphony to be good, as an artistic whole.
But why should it be that final movements are indeed sometimes unsuccessful? What is the importance of the finale in the overall composition of a work? This is a complex matter, and I shall not presume to give an exhaustive answer to it. Some try to give a technical explanation: that the composer simply runs out of steam after the first movements. But this is not a convincing solution. It is more likely that the answer lies in the content, in the artistic plan of the work...
I think that the individual movements of a symphony ought to be regarded not only as links in a single unit, but also as independent, largescale works in their own right. Each of the movements-be it in sonata form, an allegro or scherzo, an adagio or finale-should have its own musical and dramatic development. This development should not only depend on the inner nature of the chosen thematic material: it should also affirm the leading idea of the whole symphony.
Music should not be maintained in one mood, be it heroic, jolly, thoughtful or mournful, for too long. Contrast is always essential, new moods should be introduced, new colours applied. Let us recall the finale of Chaikovsky's Fourth Symphony. Irnagine how the effectiveness of this music would be weakened if it were only merry and festive-if it were not interrupted by the 'theme of fate' from the previous movements. Though it does not last long, the reiteration of this theme makes a deep impression and lends completeness to the drama of the finale and of the whole symphony.
In the finale of Chaikovsky's Sixth Symphony, on the other hand, the music is very tragic. But once again, how much the movement would lose
163 7955if it did not have the bright secondary theme; and although in itself I do not consider the secondary theme one of Chaikovsky's greatest melodic inventions, still it makes a remarkable impression in its context and makes the finale rounded and complete.
Some of the speakers at the Composers' Union criticised the finale of my Tenth Symphony for lacking dramatic completeness. I consider these comments absolutely justified. Although the music in the finale does reach some sort of a conclusion, I agree that something in it misfired. I feel that it lacks a broad, melodic, contrasting theme. The movement is dominated by fast, mobile themes, but there should also have been a sweeping, melodious theme around the middle, or perhaps nearer the end, or even at the very end. This would probably have intensified the sonority of the finale and of the whole symphony. Should I modify the last movement of my symphony, or rewrite it completely? Perhaps I shall sometime, but not now. The work was conceived as a whole, and to return to it at the present time would be very hard for me.
I would sincerely like to see young composers taking heed of all sensible criticisms made of their compositions. I personally have not always managed to do this, unfortunately, I have hardly ever altered or corrected unsuccessful works: if something turned out badly, I left it that way, and strove to avoid making the same faults in my next works. Now I see that (his was not entirely correct. One should have a stricter attitude to one's own work: anything that turns out for some reason to be weak or imperfectly thought-out should be critically reviewed and reworked.
Is it not self-evident that composing music is not a form of light entertainment, but serious, difficult work? I know composers who write quickly and easily and give their work little thought. The result is that their compositions are imperfect. In my opinion, a real artist must devote himself wholeheartedly to his work, leaving no room for frivolity or dilettantism.
Every honest musician must have an upright, noble attitude towards his creative work. The artist who consciously produces low-quality goods is dishonest both to the people and to himself.
I should like to take this opportunity of giving young composers some practical advice which I consider very important. It is essential for every composer to learn to play the piano well. The ability to play four-handed pieces and fluently read music makes the task of studying classical and contemporary music considerably easier. To study a work does not mean to play it through once and pass on to the next. To study means to play
164 1955it repeatedly over several days, if the work takes your fancy; it means finally penetrating the composer's secret. •
Sometimes I have heard young musicians say that studying other composers' music takes up too much time, time that could be used composing something of their own. Of course, this is false reasoning. Studying the great masters of the past can be of enormous benefit-precisely for young composers; the more thoroughly they study good music by other composers, the more original, in the final analysis, their own music will be.
How should one set about studying music? It is, of course, impossible to go to rehearsals and concerts every day, I know that only too well. But to be honest, when I was studying at the Leningrad Conservatoire, my fellow-students and I attended the rehearsals of the Philharmonic Orchestra far more regularly than today's youngsters. Nowadays I rarely come across young composers at the rehearsals in the Grand Hall and in the Chaikovsky Hall. Perhaps they are not allowed in. But then, neither were we! When Emil Kuper, for example, was rehearsing, he always requested that all outsiders be removed from the hall. We students were chucked out, but used to sneak back in. It is absolutely essential to go and listen to symphony orchestra rehearsals-at all costs! During my years at the Conservatoire I heard as much music as in all the following years put together, I am quite certain that this benefited me greatly.
Playing four-handed adaptations of classical works, and studying the scores, is a great aid in training young musicians. Schubert's and Schumann's symphonies may be performed relatively rarely here, but what is to stop two musicians getting hold of the scores and playing them on the piano? How helpless musicians usually are when they are poor at sight-reading!
I played the piano a great deal and learned to sight-read fairly fluently. I would advise all budding composers to do the same. Playing the piano should be an obligatory part of their daily timetable.
I am sometimes asked what I think of my own works, especially my symphonies. Usually I reply with an old Russian proverb: A child may be ugly, but to his parents he's fair. One sees many faults in one's work, but still one likes it. If you do not love your own work (this does not preclude self-criticism), if you are indifferent towards the results of your labour, then no good will come of it. I admit therefore that in general I see almost all my compositions in a favourable light, although I am well aware of their shortcomings---which are sometimes quite considerable and serious ones. The composer who ceases to See the faults in his works stops in his development and starts marking time.
If a composer ever calls one of his works the;best he has written, he will write nothing more of any worth. Self-admiration has nothing in common with love of one's work, just as self-assurance has nothing to do with confidence in one's powers - without which nothing can be achieved. The reason we study is so that we can embark on our creative work fully armed, firmly believing in our possibilities...
165 1955As faf as my own aspirations are concerned, my aim for the future is to compose as many diverse works of music as possible, and to work for the glory of our people and our great, progressive Soviet musical culture.^^5^^
I have written the scores for almost thirty films. I have discussed, argued and pondered many problems and scenes with many film directors: with Arnstam, who produced Girlfriends and Zpya, with Kozintsev and Trauberg, the co-directors of the Maxim trilogy, Alone, Pirogov and Belinsky, with Yutkevich, with whom I collaborated on the films The Man With a Gun and Golden Mountains, with Ermler, who made The CounterPlan and A Great Citizen, with Dovzhenko (Michurin), with Gerasimov (The Young Guard) and many others. This close collaboration, which invariably led to a creative understanding between myself and the directors, was one of the most valuable things I obtained from working in the cinema. It was only to be expected that my work on film music would have a beneficial effect on my other compositions. Several of my works owe their conception to my cinema work. While working on music for historical revolutionary films I made a careful study of revolutionary songs, as a result of which I composed my Ten Choral Poems, based on poems by revolutionary writers from the turn of the century.
I say all this to back up my assertion that creative contact with cinema and theatrical workers, and in particular writing film music, makes for greater versatility in a composer's output by helping him in his work in other genres.^^7^^
By making a film of Mussorgsky's musical drama Boris Godunov, the Mosfilm studios have done a great service to the arts. Let us hope that it will be followed by screen-versions of the great Russian classical operas--- Chaikovsky's The Queen of Spades and Eugene Onegin, and Glinka's Ivan Susanin and Ruslan and Lyudmila, It is time for our film-makers to start thinking about producing original film-operas, taking into account all the laws of musical drama and the specific peculiarities of the cinema. This will allow the cinema to be used to the full as a means of popularising the best works of Soviet and Russian classical music.^^8^^
166 1956In the second half of the fifties, every Moscow concert season introduced new works by Shostakovich to the public. The 1955/56 season was no exception. On 4 and 5 February David Oistrakh gave the first performance in the capital of Shostakovich's Violin Concerto, accompanied by the USSR State Symphony Orchestra under Yevgeny Mravinsky.
Shostakovich's works continued to be performed in other cultural centres too. The Beethoven Quartet played the Sixth Quartet in the Small Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonia on 7 October and in the Moscow Conservatoire on 23 October. In Kiev the singer Boris Gmyrya and the pianist L. Ostrin gave the first performance of Five Romances, based on the poetry of Yevgeny Dolmatovsky. Meanwhile in New York on 5 March, the Clairemont String Quartet gave the first American performance of the Fifth Qnartet in the Museum of Modern Arts.
Shostakovich himself made several appearances as a pianist. On 19 May, for instance, he played the solo part in his First Piano Concerto in the Grand Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonia. On 6 and 7 October he participated in a concert in the Glinka Hall which included his Quintet, the cycle From Jewish Folk Poetry and preludes and fugues. At the Composers' Club in Moscow on 26 November, he played piano pieces and accompanied M. Ryba singing the romances with words by Dolmatovsky.
Two more films with scores by Shostakovich were released: Kalatozov's The First Echelon (29 April) Kozintsev and Trauberg's Ordinary People (25 August). The music for the second of these was written back in 1945.
In September music-lovers celebrated the composer's fiftieth birthday. By order of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, Shostakovich was awarded the Order of Lenin. At the official ceremony in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire, tributes were made by representatives of the Ministry of Culture, the Composers' Union, the Soviet Peace Committee, the Ail-Union Society for Cultural Ties with Foreign Countries and other organisations. The speeches were followed by performances of the cantata The Sun Shines Over Our Motherland (conductor Konstantin Ivanov), the Violin Concerto (conductor Nikolai Anosov, soloist Mikhail Vaiman) and the Fifth Symphony (conductor Alexander Gauk).
It was also in 1956 that the International Chaikovsky Competition was instituted. Shostakovich was made Chairman of the Organising Committee, whose first working session took place in August. He also visited Baku for the Azerbaijanian Composers' Congress.
On 15 January Shostakovich was elected honorary member of the Santa Cecilia Academy in Rome.
Throughout the year Shostakovich published articles in the press, some of them-in which he took stock of his career and considered the place of art in socialist society---of fundamental importance. Among the most interesting were his articles in Izvestia (14 February), and Pravda (17 July), and, of course, the memoirs (Thoughts on my Career) published in the journal Sovetskaya Muzyka (No. 9). The composer's breadth of interest can be seen from his contribution to the discussion of ja^Z and light music organised by the same journal.
For me, Mozart is associated with the brightest, happiest memories of my childhood. The sound of his music invariably gives me a feeling of
167 1956excitement such as one has on meeting one's favourite childhood friend. I imagine everyone must have this kind of feeling, and not only because together with Mozart's music our children's minds experienced the thrilling sensation of beauty and elevation, but also because his music itself is the embodiment of youth and strength.
Mozart is music's childhood, a fresh spring providing the world with invigorating joy and inner harmony.
Mozart's music is boundlessly rich and diverse, covering a remarkable range. He treated literally every possible genre---from short piano pieces, songs, duets and instrumental miniatures to grand symphonic and choral works, from light operas to the stunning, profound Don Giovanni, And in every genre he turned his hand to, this great artist produced perfect jewels and opened up wonderful new horizons in music.
In Mozart's operas we are confronted by a whole procession of living, realistic human characters. His power as a dramatist and his ability to mould vivid, rounded characters can be likened to Shakespeare's, His powers of psychological observation were exceptional.
Mozart is a supreme example of perfection, of the unity of content and form, and every time we listen to his music, trying to understand the secret of his genius, more and more beauty unfolds before us.^^1^^
On 16 January, one of the best orchestras in the country-the AllUnion Radio Symphony Orchestra-celebrated its twenty-fifth anniversary. I should like to add my voice to the warm, sincere felicitations that have flooded in from Soviet cultural workers and representatives of the orchestra's millions-strong radio audience.
Looking back over the years of the Radio Symphony Orchestra's existence, and noticing its steady improvement from year to year, one clearly appreciates the exceptional role it has played in popularising symphony music among a very wide audience. I have no details at my disposal of the works performed by the orchestra in the last 25 years, but they must certainly have given thousands of public and studio concerts, embracing hundreds of classical and contemporary works which have gone out over the air. What a splendid mission they are carrying out!
We Soviet composers feel particularly grateful to the Ail-Union Radio Symphony Orchestra, which has given the first performance of many of our works. The orchestra has profoundly interpreted works by Myaskovsky, Prokofiev, Glier, Khachaturian, Kabalevsky, Shaporin, Babadzhanian, Peiko, Kara Karayev and many other Soviet composers.^^2^^
Ever since the silent screen began to talk, it has afforded composers the greatest opportunities for reaching a wide audience. It is no surprise that
168 1936that fervent propagandist of mass music, the composer Dunayevsky, has taken up an eminent position among the film-makers.
It has to be said that not all of our composers immediately understood (and even now not all of them do) how envigorating, satisfying and worthwhile this kind of work is. Since Isaac Dunayevsky started working for the cinema, people have often asked him whether he had no thoughts of ever composing something 'proper^^1^^, something `serious'-thus making themselves guilty of a double insult: to the genre of film-music, and to work in the film business.
I have never been able to understand people who look upon film-music and so-called light music in this way. Why does no one ask satirical writers when they will start writing `serious' novels? Who would ask a dramatist why he writes plays instead of `proper' literature? Yet to this day, `serious' musicians-and certain listeners and critics too-look down their noses at the noble art of mass music, which is necessary to the bulk of the people. Is this because someone or other deigned to call it `light'? I don't know. But I do know that ever since our fine composer Dunayevsky took his first successful steps in the genre, he has had to fight a bitter battle in defence of his cause.^^3^^
It is our greatest fortune that we live, work and create in an age illuminated by ihe ideas of Lenin's Party and glorified by the achievements of the heroic Soviet people, the builders of a new life. Our contemporary is the modest Soviet man, the talented, tireless creator of all material and intellectual goods: He is the worker who works faster and faster in the factories, saving metal and energy, manufacturing the most complex machinery. He is the collective farmer who lovingly tends his wheat, he is the questing scientist and engineer, the doctor and teacher, the writer and artist, who dedicate their thoughts and ardour of their hearts to their Motherland and the cause of Communism,
And when I proudly think of the fact that under the wise guidance of the Communist Party my country, once backward, has become a great and mighty industrial power, I cannot help remembering the ordinary people, brought up by the Party, who are toiling to embellish our land and fill it with joy.
It was they, our contemporaries and brothers, who in that terrible hour when mortal danger hung over the land,put on their soldiers' uniforms and took up arms to defend it. Sparing no effort, sacrificing their own blood, the Soviet soldiers crushed the fascist borders and liberated Europe from the stench of nazism. The glory of their fighting spirit, .their valour and heroism shall live for ever.
It was they, our contemporaries, who built the world's first atomic power station, producing energy for peaceful purposes. It is they who are constructing hydro-electric power stations on the Volga, the Angara and
169 1956other rivers. It is they who have started building a magnificent underground railway in Leningrad,
It was they, the young patriots of the Komsomol, who set off, heeding the call of the Party and the bidding of their ardent hearts, to cultivate the virgin lands. In severe and difficult conditions, the Soviet youth ploughed and developed thirty million hectares of hitherto barren land in the steppes of Kazakhstan, Altai and Siberia. The powerful youth movement reflects the spirit and grandeur of our heroic times and exhibits all the best character traits of the people.
The noble traits of these fighters and toilers are inculcated in the Soviet people by the Communist Party-the mind and the conscience of our age. Its greatest achievement is the new spiritual make-up of the Soviet people, the lawful inheritors of the best revolutionary traditions of the heroic Russian working class. I am now composing my Eleventh Symphony, dedicated to the first Russian Revolution and its immortal heroes. In this work, I would like to express the soul of the people who first paved the way to socialism.
The great deeds of our Motherland vividly reveal the spiritual makeup of our contemporaries-people with inquisitive minds, commitment and indomitable courage. To record all this in perfect works is the most important task of socialist realist art.
We cultural workers are daily aware of the interest shown in our work by the workers, farmers and intellectuals of the country. This is shown by the deluge of letters received by concert organisations and composers, Recently I got a letter from a group of machine-operators in Kazakhstan, who had heeded the Party's call to develop the virgin lands. They asked me to compose an opera about their work, and described some of the difficulties they had to overcome and some of their first successes.
The soldiers and officers of one army unit sent me a letter requesting me to write an opera about soldiers, and even enclosed a libretto. In these warm, unaffected letters, we hear the voice of the people asking us to create new works about our age and its heroes. Such works are certainly not easy to write, but I believe they will be written.
It is often said in our country that workers in the field of the arts owe something to the people. This is true. But not because too little has been created; on the contrary, a great deal has been created, and many works by Soviet writers, artists and composers have been widely acclaimed. But it is true because the strength and ideological-artistic maturity of our art makes it possible for an even greater number of even more important works to be created.
The Communist Party shows us Soviet artists the way to produce such works-namely, by profoundly cognising life and showing boldness in our creative work.^^4^^
170 1956It is a great joy for the Soviet composer to compose an opera whose music embodies the noble feelings and -ideas of our age. We all dream of writing operas that will be warmly welcomed by Soviet listeners, operas that will enthrall all them. This is the greatest reward for the artist's great and exhausting endeavours. The same idea was-expressed concisely by Chaikovsky when he said: 'I wish with all my heart for my music to spread and for the number of people who love it and find comfort and support in it to grow.'^^5^^
0^ The historic changes that have taken place in the world in recent years
are simply incalculable. Socialism has extended beyond the frontiers of one country and become a world system.
Profound mutual respect, comradely, disinterested mutual assistance, and a sincere and free exchange of opinions-these are the features at the basis of relations between the countries of the socialist bloc.
I should like to emphasise the extraordinarily invigorating power of this friendship. Many Soviet writers, artists and composers have produced wonderful works as a result of contact with the culture of the people's democracies. The composers in the people's democracies, for their part, have created many excellent works on themes originating from the peoples of the USSR, This life-giving force, the result of exchange, also enriches the art of the whole world.
I often have occasion to examine works by composers from the people's democracies, and to my delight have discovered in them high professionalism, freshness of thought and a fine sense of orchestration. Reviewing works sent to me by these composers, I have come to realise that the blossoming of art in these countries is inherent in the new system, which has awakened the abilities of the people and given every person unrestricted opportunities to unfold his talent...
Always aware of the close attention with which our friends are following our work, we realise our responsibility not only towards the Soviet people but also towards the peoples of the fraternal countries.^^6^^
The music in Khrennikov's opera Mother is both interesting and varied, providing excellent material for the singers. I liked all the mass scenes, especially the one entitled `Demonstration'. I think the opera is too long, however, and could be shortened.^^7^^
On 8 January, the New Tork Times carried an article entitled ' Shostakovich Has Earned the Right to a Little Freedom' in which Howard Taubman, its musical critic, dealt with my work, notably with my Violin Concerto, recently played in New York by David Oistrakh. I should like to reply to Mr. Taubman through New Times.
171 1956I do not propose to discuss his musical taste, perhaps my Concerto did not appeal to him; he has a right to his opinion and it is not for me to question it. But there is a more important aspect to the matter. Mr, iTaubman has essayed something in the nature of a review of the whole of |my work. And the review is more political than musical. His contention
that Shostakovich does not enjoy freedom of creation in the Soviet Unm, that Party criticism impeded his development as an artist. That conj'ention can lay no claim to novelty.
Mr. Taubman says beforehand that his arguments are based entirely on `guesses'. He writes: 'At this distance one can only guess at the composer's state of mind... Indeed, one can only guess at Shostakovich's state of mind at any period of his creative career.' Why should one guess at a composer's state of mind when his thoughts are expressed in his compositions and in the press? And what has distance to do with the judgement of an artist's 'state of mind'? After all, the distance that separates New York, where Mr. Taubman lives, from Moscow, where I live, has not prevented him from listening to my Concerto, or me from reading his review. No, it is not a matter of distance. Distances can be shortened; in this case, by cultural intercourse between the Soviet Union and the United States. But mutual understanding requires an objective, unbiased approach to art, without distortion or sensationalism.
Mr. Taubman's review, unfortunately, lacks these qualities. The heading itself is meant to be sensational-'Shostakovich Has Earned the Right to a Little Freedom'. I take objection to that: if I have earned the right to freedom, why only a little freedom? We in the Soviet Union are accustomed to full freedom-freedom from subservience to moneybags, freedom from bribery, freedom from bourgeois publishers. Is it possible that I have not `earned' such full freedom?
We Soviet musicians deeply appreciate the spiritual freedom won for our creative art by the working people. We are well aware of the heavy sacrifices their struggle entailed. That is why we have such a high sense of responsibility to the people for whom we compose. That is why, also, I cannot share Mr. Taubman's very primitive conception of the artist's relations with his audience,
He says in his review: 'What Dmitri Shostakovich needs least, one suspects, is advice.' Not everyone is likely to agree with that. I, Dmitri Shostakovich, for one. I have still to meet the artist who does not need advice from society and its representatives. And those who ignore such advice inevitably fail in their creative work,
/- \
Mr. Taubman does not like the advice I have been receiving through- I out my creative career from the Party and the music community. He tries to make out that this advice has been a hindrance in my creative work. That is just another `guess'. Actually, I have always heeded theV ^'. advice offered by representatives of our public opinion, they have helped me in my work. In questioning this fact Mr. Taubman is questioning my sincerity. That is both unwarranted and highly insulting. No, Mr. Taubman, I do need -advice and highly appreciate it, but not the kind you are offering or want to offer.
172 1956There is, perhaps, only one remark that I can accept. Mr. Taubman writes of my work:
'It is high time, too, that his output was received without political prejudice,'
Yes, it is high time that the works of Soviet composers were received in the West without political prejudice, without being measured by anti-- Soviet yardsticks. It is time to stop using doubtful political conceptions and `guesses' in judging our music. And the sooner that is done, the better, for it will be easier then to find a common language and work together for cultural advancement.^^8^^
The Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party called upon us to study life and think about its true essence, to overcome schematic ideas, abstractness and preconceptions, and to portray the truth about life more boldly and decisively. These instructions are of the utmost importance for all spheres of ideology and culture. In many ways they also determine the future development of Soviet art. The truthful and principled attitudes which should be the norm in our society oblige us composers to appraise the state of Soviet music more profoundly and, most important of all, more critically,
The strength of Soviet music lies in its realism and ideology. It is firmly based on the principles of Marxist-Leninist aesthetics; the Party has always defended the purity of these principles, thus giving enormous support to Soviet artists. On this basis, Soviet music has achieved remarkable successes: over the years of Soviet power high-quality works of music have been created in various genres and styles. Our national Soviet republics have particularly progressed. We have many talented composers, the younger generation of composers is growing every year, and our musical and cultural traditions are firm and lasting. All this .guarantees the future success of Soviet music.
* However, it would be foolhardy to suggest that there is not a darker side to things, or that the development of Soviet music is free of difficulties and dangers. It should not be overlooked, for example, that in recent years, apart from great achievements, Soviet music has also produced too many unviable compositions. A large number of them were performed at conferences of the Composers' Union, many of them even being acclaimed and awarded, and then immediately forgotten. There was nothing in these works to delight either the average listener or the professional musician. Filled with superficial enthusiasm, they were called ' lifeasserting' and sometimes even a vulgar idyll would be described as ' moving lyricism'. Even more often, pompous Dithyrambs and magnificent glorifications were cultivated-and these were called 'heroic epics'. The pretentiousness and `loudness' of these works was directly proportional to their inner coldness.
Apart from all this, of course, many works were composed which were simply dull and hackneyed, and in which the composers' professional skills could not compensate for their lack of talent.
173 1956Why has the number of such lifeless works been increasing from year to year? Largely to blame, I feel, is our musical community, and in particular the centre of our musical ideology---the Secretariat of the USSR Composers' Union. In practice, there has been a great oversimplification of the principles and criteria of realist art, popular spirit, programme music, and attitudes to the classical traditions-all of which has given rise to an unexacting, undemanding attitude towards the ideological and artistic qualities of works; certain external signs-e.g. topical programme headings, topical themes-were used as a shield, protecting these works from penetrating criticism. It was considered that in order to encourage the necessary tendencies in art scant attention could be given to the strength or weakness of a work as a whole. It was enough to allow this lowering of standards just once, for the number of grey, useless works to grow and grow and for it to become more and more difficult to stop them appearing.
Much of this was due to the lamentable state of the national press-not to mention the local press, in which even small notes on musical subjects are a rare occurrence.
Many of the most interesting works of music, including opera, variety and folk music, many aspects of amateur music and musicology, all of which deserved attention, study, support and sometimes condemnation, were publicly ignored and seemed to arouse no interest.
It is easy to imagine the negative effect that such a show of indifference can exert on the work of our composers, performers and musicologists.
Unfortunately, the same situation persists today, since our only monthly, Sovetskaya Muzyka, try as it may, cannot possibly embrace all the important events in Soviet musical life, or find space for all the lively, interesting reactions of musicians and listeners. And yet we do have highly-qualified critics, including talented youngsters who have emerged in recent years, but it has long been a cliche in musical circles that we have music critics, but no musical criticism.
One rarely hears fresh voices or considered judgements in the press. More often, we encounter boring dogmatism, monotony and servility.
For critics and composers alike, it is quite deplorable that those .entrusted with the guidance of musical affairs include many dry dogmatists who have no great love for music. Such people merely obstruct the development of lively, creative thinking. And this has left a considerable mark on the character of recent musical criticism. What we really need is a campaign for bold and decisive ideological and aesthetic enrichment of our music. This we should learn from the great composers of the past.
Pyotr Chaikovsky once wrote in a review: 'Schumann's music opens up a whole world of new musical forms, plucking strings untouched by his great predecessors. In it we hear echoes of the mysterious depths of our spiritual life, of the doubts, despairs and idealism that trouble the heart of modern man.'
I think that the modern Soviet listener should be no less moved by
174 2956music which opens up new worlds and reflects the 'mysterious depths of our spiritual life'.
This has to be discussed, because the need to expand the range of thoughts, feelings and colours in music is not always given the attention it deserves.
Musical dogmatists are extremely suspicious of even the most modest attempt at such expansion or enrichment. A host of doubts and suspicions is aroused in them by any slightly unusual lyrical nuance, by anything bearing the stamp of a new, individual perception of life. This last point is particularly important.
'Literature,' wrote Lenin, 'is least of all subject to mechanical adjustment or levelling, to the rule of the majority over the minority... In this field greater scope must undoubtedly be allowed for personal initiative, individual inclination, thought and fantasy, form and content,' Socialist realism affords unlimited possibilities for bold artistic experiments and discoveries, and for the artist, drawing inspiration from the life of the people, freely to express his creative individuality.
Dogmatists entirely misinterpret the sphere of tragedy in art, primitively equating it with pessimism, and ignoring the fact that the greatest tragedies in world art have always been the most life-asserting. Such were the tragic works of Shakespeare, Goethe, Tolstoy, Beethoven, Chaikovsky and Mussorgsky. Progressive humanist art in all parts of the world today is no less lively than it was in the past, reflecting all the grief and suffering of humanity and, by embodying it truthfully, is protesting against evil and violence. How can the Soviet artist, the bearer of the most progressive, humanist traditions in art, estrange himself from this aspect of art?
The dogmatists often make naive and ridiculous demands on composers: that there should be an arithmetical balance between the ' positive' and the `negative' in any work. They fail to understand that the idea content of a work is determined not by the proportions of `sad' and `happy' music, but by civic feelings expressed in it and by its humanism.
The way to achieve intellectual enrichment in our music is by bold innovation. We still can learn a lot from the classics. In this connection, I should like to point out that in our attitude to the classics there is sometimes too much superficial piety and not enough real understanding,
We often idealise the classics, smoothing over precisely those features that made them great people of their times. We forget that the art of the classics was always searching and restless. They always turned over fresh ground and opposed routine and Philistinism, boldly stating the burning issues of the day and creating for them new means of artistic expression. People like to quote-but unfortunately without''Showing real understanding-Mussorgsky's words: 'Onward to new shores! Fearlessly through storms, sandbanks and reefs, onward to new shores!' (from a letter to V. Stasov, 18 October 1872).
Waging a legitimate war against soulless, formalist art as a manifestation of decadent bourgeois ideology, the Party has always called for assiduous searching, for bold innovation, for popular spirit in art and for diversity in socialist realism.
175 1956However, innovation in music is not always treated fairly or correctly. All too hastily, any sign of experimentation is stigmatised as formalism, a term often applied to something which is not quite understandable or not to someone's taste. The use of this term has become somewhat arbitrary; it should only be applied to art that is empty, devoid of ideas, cold and lifeless. It is precisely in this kind of art that the device chosen by a composer becomes an end in itself, i. e. mere trickery or art for art's sake.
When a new invention is the result of lively thinking and feeling, when it is inspired by the search for truth and great ideological content, it cannot be called formalistic. The arbitrary interpretation and misuse of the concept of formalism often discredits the creative search of a composer in the eyes of the public, obstructing this search or even putting a stop to it altogether. This has an especially detrimental effect on the work of young people: youth, after all, is always associated with searching, testing and experimenting. The desire to avoid at all costs everything debatable or controversial may turn budding composers into old men before their time. Nothing is more annoying in the work of a young composer than this unnatural flatness, the absence of real creative inspiration.
I should like to say a few words about the relationship between composer and listener.
To be heard and understood by as many listeners" as possible is the/ wish cherished by every Soviet composer. There is not one of us, as far as I know, who does not dream of this. But this dream does not by any means always come true. The operas, symphonies and chamber works of our composers do not often enjoy really wide popularity. Why is this so?
To a large extent, of course, we composers are ourselves at fault: we do not always find the way to the listener's heart, we do riot always take enough care over the mastery and clarity of our works, over writing vivid, expressive melodies, over our instrumentation or over using sources from folk music. Another side of the matter is also often forgotten- the need for serious, systematic propaganda of new works by Soviet composers, especially symphonic and chamber works. The same thing applies to classical music. 'The popular writer,' wrote Lenin, 'does not presuppose a reader that does not think, that cannot or does not wish to think; on the contrary, he assumes in the undeveloped reader a serious intention to use his head and aids him in his serious and difficult work, leads him, helps him over his first steps, and teaches him to go forward independently. The vulgar writer assumes that his reader does not think and is incapable of thinking.'
Elsewhere, Lenin wrote: 'You should not be perturbed if on reading this work you do not understand it at once. Very few people do. But returning to it later, when your interest has been aroused, you will succeed in understanding the greater part, if not the whole of it.'
All this relates directly to music.
The leading musicians of the past were all devoted propagandists of music, they were musical enlighteners. Advocating realism and popular spirit in music, they fully realised the necessity of a wide musical education and of fostering good taste.
176 1956Alexander Serov, the critic, wrote: 'The ide.a that anyone, without the slightest preparation or special musical education, is capable of enjoying music and passing sensible judgement on it, is the root of many harmful misconceptions about music.'
The level of musical culture in our country is now much higher than it was in the past. But nonetheless we must not relax our daily efforts to spread music among the masses, given that music can play a great part in the upbringing Of Soviet man, the builder of communist society.
It theoretical and creative discussions were fruitfully developing in Soviet musical circles, then there would be no doubt that many of, the complex problems constantly arising would be solved. But such discussions have not yet got off the ground.
One of the reasons for this is the fact that some of the leading members oi the Composers' Union shy away from arguments about the most important questions of music. It goes without saying that any attempt to hinder productive discussion is doomed to failure, since it contradicts the principles of the Twentieth Communist Party Congress.
fundamental discussions and heated arguments about the most important questions of modern music would undoubtedly unite composers in their attempts to develop Soviet music successfully. And this is one of the mam tasks of the USSR Composers^^3^^ Union. '
bowel music occupies an honourable place in the community of the world s progressive art forces. It has great, responsible tasks to fulfil. The art and literature of our country can and should aim to become the greatest in the world-not only as regards wealth of content, but also as regards artistic power and mastery. Unlike certain comrades in the official art periodicals and publishing houses, we must not put up with dull, immature works. Mediocrity and falsity are often let. off too lightly, to the detriment of the development of Soviet art and the artistic education of the people.^^9^^
n
Now, with half a century behind me, I should like to take a look at my life and consider how and why I became a musician.
1 grew up m a musical family. My mother, Sophia, studied at the Conservatoire for several years and was a fine pianist. My father, Dmitry Shostakovich, was very fond of music and had a good voice. Our friends and acquaintances included many music-lovers who liked to take place in our family musical evenings. I vividly remember'r,the sound of music filtering through from the flat of our neighbour, an engineer who was an excellent cellist and passionately loved chamber music. He would often have friends round and they would play trios and quartets by Mozart, rlaydn, beethoven, Borodin and Chaikovsky. I used to spend hours sitting in the corridor listening to their playing. Our family also held amateur musical eyenmgs. All this left a deep impression on me and helped form my musical consciousness.
My mother considered that her children ought to be given a good
177 1956musical education. When my elder sister Maria was nine, mother began to give her piano lessons, and three years later, when I reached the same age, I too was made to sit at the piano. Maria became a professional musician: she now teaches piano at the Leningrad School of Choreography and also takes a piano class at the Conservatoire. My younger sister Zoya did not escape music lessons either, but in contrast to her brother and sister she did not choose a musical career but became a vet.
My first lessons, then, were under the guidance of my mother, a wonderful teacher for beginners. I made rapid progress and at the same time made my first attempts at composing music. I must admit, my parents looked upon these early efforts rather sceptically, but I persevered.
One of the most powerful musical recollections I have of my childhood is of my first visit to the Mariinsky Theatre, where I heard Eugene Onegin. I already knew the music, since it was often sung and played on the piano at home. But when I heard the opera played by an orchestra for the first time, I was astounded. A new world of orchestral sounds and varied instrumental colours opened up before me...
Soon mother enrolled me at Ignaty Glyasser's Music School, on Vladimirsky Avenue. Glyasser was an experienced and strict teacher and I benefited considerably from his lessons. In 1919 I passed the entrance exam for the Petrograd Conservatoire and was accepted into Professor Rozanova's piano class. Professor Glazunov, who was present at the exam, asked my mother whether I composed as well. She replied that I did, and on Glazunov's advice-after he had listened to my compositions-I started studying composition seriously under Professor Steinberg. A year after entering the Conservatoire I transferred to Professor Nikolayev's piano class.
I studied with great enthusiasm, ecstatically, in fact. Everything Steinberg taught me I learned avidly, soaking in all his instructions and advice like a sponge. He skilfully and sensitively fostered good taste in his pupils. Above all, I am obliged to him for teaching me to appreciate and love good music. I recall that until I entered the Conservatoire I had a poor understanding of the artistic merits of music. For example, I liked the gypsy romances that were sometimes sung in our family. Maximilian Steinberg inspired me with love for the Russian and foreign classics.
I profited greatly from iriy studies with Leonid Nikolayev, who was a great musician and a wonderful teacher. It is a pity that he did not teach composition, as his advice in that sphere was always marked by a subtle understanding of form and style and by irreproachable taste.
My years as a pupil at the Conservatoire were constantly watched over by the avuncular eye of Professor Alexander Glazunov. Not only did he take a close interest in my successes and in my compositions, but he also showed touching concern for my material situation, which was severely shaken after my father's death in 1922. The scholarship awarded me on Glazunov's instructions was a great support in those days. He was in charge of the Borodin Fund, which was made up from box-office takings from performances of Prince Igor, and arranged for me to receive a grant from this Fund.
178 1956My Conservatoire years were tough ones. I still remember the cold classrooms in the unheated building, the meagre rations, and the devastation in the city. Every day I had to cover the fair distance from our house on Nikolayevskaya Street (now Marat Street) to the Conservatoire and back again. If the trams were running at all, they were extremely infrequent and it was hard to get on them. But despite all the hardships, I have warm memories of .this period. My fellow-students loved to play music, and we also listened to lots of good music. We were prepared to walk miles and even forgo our suppers for the sake of hearing or playing some new work. Many of my colleagues at the Conservatoire loved to play four-handed piano pieces. I played masses of classical works with Pavel Feldt (now conductor at the Kirov Theatre), for example, and with N. Malakhovsky, who was to become a composer and is now sadly no longer with us.
After graduating from the Piano Department of the Conservatoire in 1923, I had to earn a living for some time (about two years) by accompanying silent films in cinemas. This was an exhausting business, but not a waste of time, since I had to improvise a great deal, suiting my music to the events taking place on the screen.
As a student, I composed a lot, in all genres and forms. I wrote many romances to the words of Pushkin and Lermontov, two Krylov fables, a whole series of piano pieces and several symphonic scores. Pavel Feldt, G. Klemens and I also produced a collective work-twenty-four piano preludes (each of us composed eight preludes). Finally, in 1925, I submitted my First Symphony to the Composition Department as my graduation work. I can no longer recall why, but for a short period after graduation I was suddenly beset by doubts about my vocation as a composer. I was absolutely incapable of composing anything and in a fit of disillusionment destroyed almost all my manuscripts. I now bitterly regret this, since the burned manuscripts included, in particular, an opera---The Gypsies-based on Pushkin's poem.
Having graduated from the Conservatoire I was faced with the problem of whether to become a pianist or a composer. My choice fell on the latter, but in fact I should have been both. However, it is too late now to reproach myself for having decided so categorically to pursue only one career. In 1927 I took part in the International Chopin Competition in Warsaw, where I received a diploma of merit. And in 1930 I still continued to perform in public as a pianist, giving solo concerts and playing with symphony orchestras. At symphony concerts I used to play Chaikovsky's Concerto in B-Flat Minor, Prokofiev's First Piano Concerto and Chopin's concertos. But still, in the end, my taste for composition gained the upper hand and I gave up playing the piano. -Having a solid grounding in piano-playing, however, I still continue to perform my own works at concerts.
In 1926 I met Boris Asafiev and Ivan Sollertinsky, both of whom were to have a great influence on the formation of my views on art. At that time Asafiev was keen on the extremes of modernist art and adored Stravinsky, Schonberg, Kfenek and the French `Six'. He was rather less
179 1956attracted by Bartok and Hindemith. Under Asafiev's influence I wrote the opera The Nose and the piano suite Aphorisms. Later, our ways parted. I have frequently been made aware of the untenability of his views on art-but I have always respected him as a great music scholar.
I gained a great deal from my friendship with Ivan Sollertinsky, a very gifted man and talented musicologist with truly encyclopaedic knowledge and an open mind. Sollertinsky, who has been accused of having a bad influence on me, in fact always sought to widen my horizons; he helped me strive to make my music weightier and taught me to understand and love such great masters as Brahms, Mahler and Bruckner. He strengthened my interest in all music, from Bach to Offenbach. It used to seem strange to me that a serious musician could admire Johann Strauss or Offenbach, but Sollertinsky helped me get rid of this snobbish attitude to art. And now I love all kinds of music, so long as it is real music.
Having once felt a certain attraction towards modernism, I came to the firm conclusion that contemporary modernist trends had no future. It was a dead art, which in fifty years produced no living shoots. Modernist art won no sympathy for itself either here or abroad, despite the vociferous campaign waged there in its favour. This makes it all the more distressing that talented composers and genuine artists occasionally came under its influence. One such composer was .Alban Berg, whom I knew personally and whose integrity I had no reason to doubt, I was deeply impressed by his opera Wozztck, which was performed in the twenties at the Leningrad Mariinsky Theatre. Berg was no slave to fashion, but still the paralysing effect of modernist ideas shackled his great talent and prevented him from giving full vent to his ideas.
Modernism levels out creativity. However many modernist composers I come across, all of them are of the same stock; the composers' personalities do not come across in their works.
The music of Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, Liszt, Chaikovsky, Glinka, Borodin, Mussorgsky, Mahler and Brahms is marked by its profound ethical content, humanism and progressive ideas. What a great model these classical composers are for us!
I am sometimes asked who my favourite composer is. This is a hard question: I love very many. And I am happy that this is so. It is precisely because of this that I derive such pleasure from music.
Speaking of the development of my creative outlook, I must mention the great and beneficial influence of our great contemporary, Sergei Prokofiev. In his music I find both a healthy ethical element and a wonderful sense of novelty-of bold, fruitful searching.
It took me some time to get to the heart of Nikolai Myaskovsky's work. But once I had penetrated it, I fell in love with the music of this profound and intelligent composer.
I have digressed somewhat from the story of my career. Soon after my graduation from the Conservatoire and the successful premiere of my First Symphony I began to work at the Leningrad Young Workers Theatre. The theatre was run by M. Sokolsky, a very interesting man and a talented producer. I wrote music for a number of the theatre's pro-
180 1956ductions, including the plays The Shot, by Alexander Bezymensky, Virgin Soil and others. I met Vsevolod Meyerhold, who was staging Mayakdvsky's The Bed-Bug, and wrote music for the play, Meyerhold was an outstanding musical producer. His production of The Queen of Spades was, in my opinion, a stupendous operatic achievement, and I should like to see this production revived. I have vivid memories of Meyerhold's production of Lermontov's The Masked Ball with music by Glazunov.
How well I remember my acquaintance with Vladimir NemirovichDanchenko, who produced my opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk in his Moscow theatre. I shall never forget his deep understanding of my music and his bold interpretation of the characters.
My regular work for the cinema has brought me into contact with many interesting and talented people, including such film directors as Kozintsev and Traubergj Dovzhenko, Ermler, Yutkevich, Gerasimov, Arnstam, Kalatozov, Chiaureli and Feinzimmer.
My cinema work sparked off my desire to write a film-opera. For me this is a very attractive and alluring proposition. The film-opera would have its own specific laws of musical construction and action, independent .of place and time. The possibilities are limitless: the action could begin for example in Moscow, and then move to the Caucasus, Paris, New York, etc. I would love to try my hand in this genre, but, alas, the great stumbling-block is the absence of a suitable scenario.
I am happy to live and work in a country such as ours. I am very grateful to all the talented people in my life who helped me educate myself and win a place for my works in the concert programmes, and who gave me understanding support in times of doubt about my music.
I have always enjoyed having acquaintances not only in musical circles, but also among writers, scholars, artists, actors and film-directors. Knowing them enriched my experience of life, and charged me with creative optimism and a belief in my own abilities.
I should like to speak very briefly about one or two of my works. Speaking about my own compositions, I once used the old Russian saying: the child may be ugly, but to his parents he's fair. How true!
With very few exceptions I like all my compositions. If this were not the case, I think it would be impossible to compose. Of course, liking one's own work certainly should not preclude sober self-criticism. I always try to consider criticism of my music calmly and objectively, and to approach each of my compositions self-crideally. But nonetheless, I do like them.
The events of the First World War and the February and October revolutions were followed avidly in our family. So it is not surprising that even my childhood compositions written in tftose years betrayed my aspiration to reflect life somehow. My naive attempts to 'reflect life' included the piano pieces The Soldier, Hymn to Freedom and Funeral March in Memory of the Victims of the Revolution-all written between the ages of 9 and 11.
I would say that the same desire to write pithy music, reflecting the experiences of contemporaries, runs through everything I have written.
My First Symphony, performed in Leningrad on 12 May 1926, con-
181 1956ducted by Nikolai Malko, was a decisive factor in my subsequent career. The symphony was received warmly by the public and musicians, and very coolly by the Association of Contemporary Music. Its success strengthened me in my decision to take up composition seriously. I attempted to give the symphony a serious content, and although the work was immature in many ways, I believe it was valuable precisely because of this sincere desire to reflect real life.
My Second (October) and Third (May Day) Symphonies were also attempts to reflect reality. They were both unsuccessful, though the work I put into them was useful for me. My Fourth Symphony, which has not been performed by an orchestra, was also a failure, although I am pleased with one or two parts of it.
I find it a pity that my Eighth Symphony, which I invested with a host of thoughts and emotions, has not been performed here for several years. This work was an attempt to express the sufferings of the people and reflect the terrible tragedy of war. Written in the summer of 1943, the symphony was a response-and was bound to be, I feel-to the events of that difficult year.
At the moment I am working on my Eleventh Symphony, which should be finished by the winter. Its theme is the Revolution of 1905. I am very fond of this period in our country's history, a period vividly reflected in various workers' revolutionary songs. I do not know whether I shall directly quote the melodies of any of these songs in the symphony, but its musical language will presumably be in the same vein as the Russian revolutionary songs.
I have many plans for the future. There is no point in discussing them here: all I would say is that I want to compose in all genres.
I have always been very lucky with the performers of my works. Our marvellous conductor Yevgeny Mravinsky shows great care and sensitivity in his treatment of my music. Starting with my Fifth, he has been the first to interpret all of my major symphonies. Almost all my chamber works have been first performed by the talented Beethoven Quartet (Dmitry Tsyganov, Vassily Shirinsky, Vadim Borisovsky and Sergei Shirinsky).
I immensely enjoy working with that superb musician David Oistrakh, who performs my Violin Concerto wonderfully, I should also mention the conductors Samuil Samosud, who gave me invaluable help while I was working on my opera Lady Macbeth, Alexander Gauk, Alexander MelikPashayev and Natan Rakhlin, the pianists Svyatoslav Richter, Maria Grinberg and Tatiana Nikolayeva, and the singers Nina Dorliak, Zara Dolukhanova, Alexei Maslennikov and Boris Gmyrya, who have been splendid performers of various of my works. I recently heard excellent performances of my Violin Concerto by the young violinists M. Vaiman and Julian Sitkovetsky.
I think very highly of our Soviet performers, among whom there is a great deal of first-rate talent. I appreciate them not only as a listener, but also as a kind of `client', who has the satisfaction of hearing his own music played well.
182 1956In conclusion I should like to say a few words about my public activities, which I have engaged in all through my adult life. Such is my 'social temperament', as it were, that I am unlikely ever to stop taking part in public life. Clearly, this is also very important for my creative work. I am a deputy of the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation, a member of the Soviet Peace Committee, and I take part in the social and musical activities of the Composers' Union. I should like to lay special stress on the importance of expanding our cultural links with foreign cultural workers. I am heartened by the successes achieved in this sphere and am confident that friendship between musicians from all countries will further the cause of peace in the world.
I am happy that through my music and public activities I can serve our great people and our beloved Motherland.^^10^^
In early 1929, Vsevolod Meyerhold, who was putting on a production of The Bed-Bug, asked me to write the music for it. I enthusiastically set about this work. During rehearsals I made the acquaintance of Mayakovsky. My picture of the author of A Cloud in Trousers did not match the real Mayakovsky. I expected to meet one person, and met another. I naively thought that in everyday life Mayakovsky would be the same as he was during his poetry-readings, but this was not the case. I was pleasantly surprised by his mild, well-mannered nature, indeed by his great refinement. He was a very gentle, pleasant, attentive person, who preferred to listen rather than to speak. I really expected him to do the talking and me to listen, but it turned out the other way round,
I had several conversations with Mayakovsky about my music for The Bed-Bug. I must say that the first of them made a rather strange impression on me. Mayakovsky asked me: 'Do you like fire brigade orchestras?'' Sometimes I did-I said-sometimes I didn't. Mayakovsky replied that he liked firemen's music best, and that I should write music for The Bed-Bug that could be played by a fire brigade orchestra.
At first I was quite taken aback by this, but then I realised that behind it lay something much more complicated. In our next conversation I learned that Mayakovsky loved not only firemen's music, but also Chopin, Liszt and Scriabin. He merely felt that the music of a fire brigade orchestra would be best suited to the content of the first part of his comedy; and so as not to enlarge too much on the desired type of music, Mayakovsky simply used the short term 'fire brigade orchestra', and I understood him.
<.
...I shall not venture to say whether Mayakovsky''liked my music or not: he listened to it and just said, `It'll do!' I took his words as a sign of approval, since Mayakovsky was a very straightforward person and did not pay hypocritical compliments.''
183 1956It seems to me that specialists in jazz music, whether intentionally or not, scare off composers who would like to try writing in this genre. All their references to the mysterious 'peculiarities of jazz' remind me of the debates that took place when sound cinema was emerging, and everyone began harping on the `peculiarities' of sound films, for which, supposedly, special music had to be written, with special orchestration. Experience has shown that these arguments were pure pedantry, which merely frightened composers away from working in the
cinema.
Now I hear the same kind of things said about jazz. Of course jazz has its own manner of execution, but I would be disinclined to explain away the whole jazz style by this alone. It has been said that in classical music the trombone usually plays heroic melodies, that it is usually given stirring parts, while in jazz they say-the trombone can be used lyrically. This is not entirely true. In classical music, too, it is sometimes given melodious solo parts, for example in Rimsky-Korsakov's Easter Overture.
If we want light music to progress, we must attract all kinds of composers, instead of scaring them with dreaded `peculiarities'.
From my own experience, I have established that jazz has to be orchestrated the same way as any other music. I have written some jazz music, and though I cannot claim to have been outstandingly successful, I do take some pride in the jazz numbers I wrote for the film Meeting on the Elbe, I remember being warned by experienced colleagues that I would have to orchestrate in some new way, but I did not take fright and decided to give it a try. Alexander Tsfasman said to me: ' Orchestrate the way you always orchestrate!'
For this reason I would say to our young composers: if you want to compose light music, listen less to talk about the `peculiarities' of jazz, and ..write more good, gay, jolly music, bearing in mind, of course, that this, music will be performed by a certain type of orchestra. And these orchestras may be made up quite differently. The most important thing is to love this type of music, and to write as much as possible, not discarding the best of what has already been achieved, and at the same time boldly exploring .new ground.^^12^^
The concept of 'mastery* could perhaps be formulated in roughly the following way: mastery is the ability to find an artistically perfect, irresistibly beautiful, figurative embodiment of an idea or thought. This idea, moreover, must without fail be significant in content and deeply move the listener. Such was the mastery of Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Chaikovsky, Mussorgsky and Schubert. However often one listens to their brilliant works, one never ceases to admire the unfading beauty of their musical imagery, and their ability to find important themes and subjects in the life around them, and to embody them with such generalising power that their music could continue to move millions of listeners for centuries.
184 1956Real mastery means that the composer's professional technique never comes to the forefront. Sometimes it is even imperceptible.
Speaking about Mozart, Taneyev once said: 'Mozart's string quartets and quintets are teeming with double and triple counterpoints, invertible counterpoints, etc. Yet Mozart is one of the most understandable and accessible composers, and his knowledge of contrapuntal theory merely helps him to achieve clarity.'
Precisely: real theoretical knowledge aids simplicity. Just think of all the contrapuntal devices and complicated polyphonic combinations in Mozart's music! Take, for example, the celebrated finale of the Jupiter Symphony. The interweaving parts here are so entangled and complex that it is difficult to analyse them. But it all sounds remarkably simple, natural and unforced --- a hundred times more natural than the music of Glementi, though the latter is much simpler in texture; Mozart's music is so light, elegant and sparkling that it never even occurs to the listener what concentration of thought was required to compose it.
Another example of this js Chopin's etudes. These are, as the word suggests, exercises for the development of piano technique. In each etude Chopin employs a particular technical device, and in this sense he is no less---if not more---punctilious than Carl Czerny, who wrote purely instructive etudes. Whichever of Chopin's etudes we look at, the same device is repeated again and again from the first bar to the last. But does one ever realise this, when listening to the inspired music of Chopin's etudes?! Does anyone ever notice that the Etude in G Flat Major is played entirely on the black keys, or that the whole point of the Etude in C Minor (op, 25) is to exercise fluent movement from the fifth finger to the first, and vice versa? Of course not! On the contrary, here, too, theory merely aids simplicity, and enables the composer to attain a refined, distinctive sound texture in the G Flat Major Etude, and a powerful, undulating, rumbling effect in the C Minor Etude.^^13^^
185 1957The' chief musical event of the year was the Second Ail-Union Congress of Composers, held in Moscow from 28 March to 5 April. Shostakovich took an active part in the Congress, and in the period leading up to it published several articles in the press on topical questions of the development of Soviet music: 'Concern for OUT Repertoire' fSovetskaya Kultura, 26 March), 'High Standards Needed in Our Work' (Travda, 27 March), 'A Word to Young People' fKomsomolskaya Pravda, 28 March). On 2 April he addressed the Congress, and later he was elected Secretary of the Board of the USSR Composers' Union.
Meanwhile, on the creative side, Shostakovich had completed his Second Piano Concerto. Throughout thejirst halj oj the year the composer worked on his Eleventh '190^ Symphony, written to mark the fortieth anniversary of the October Revolution. Shostakovich and the composer Mikhail Meyerovich played a piano version of the symphony in the Leningrad Composers' Club on 17 September and in Moscow on 25 September, and on 30 October the premiere took place at the Moscow Conservatoire, performed by the USSR State Symphony Orchestra under Natan Rakhlin. On 3 November it was conducted in Leningrad by Yevgeny Mravinsky.
This major new work of Shostakovich's was greeted with equal enthusiasm by critics and audiences alike. The general reception can be judged from the following extract from an article written for Pravda by the well-known actor Nikolai Cherkasov: ' The rich and sparkling content of the symphony was unanimously acclaimed by the large audience, thanks to the unusual boldness of the music. I have often heard programme music which could be fully understood only with the aid of an explanatory text. On .this occasion I was impressed and thrilled by the almost vocal expressiveness and visual'- clarity of the musical imagery, which throughout the whole hour of uninterrupted music did not allow one to lose the thread of the unfolding events or to slacken one's attention for a moment. And this the composer achieved by generalising his theme through the expressive means of symphonic music.
'The main ideas---the awakening of the revolutionary consciousness of the masses and the invincible might of a nation justly struggling for its freedom and happinessare expressed by the composer with such exceptional persuasiveness as is feasible only in an artist of great talent and mastery, who deeply loves his own people and believes in their inexhaustible strength'.
This was also a busy year for Shostakovich the pianist. He took part in symphony and chamber concerts in Leningrad (24 February and 15 June), Sverdlovsk (6 October), Voronezh and Tambov (11 and 12 October), Moscow (16 November),. Lvov (17 and 18 December), Kishinev (22 and 23 December) and Odessa (26 December). The concerts in these cities included the Fifth, Tenth and Eleventh Symphonies, the Festival Overture, the Second Piano Concerto, the Quintet, the Cello Sonata, the cycle From Jewish Folk Poetry, preludes and fugues, the ,A. Sixth Quartet and romances to the poetry of Yevgeny Dolmatovsky. Other performers were the Beethoven Quartet, the cellists Sergei Knushevitsky and Y. Altman, and the singers Nina Dorliak, £ara Dolukhanova, M. Dovenman- and B. Deineka.
The Soviet artist's great fortune lies in the fact that for him creativity is indivisible from the great universal aims of human culture, that he feels at one with the life of his people, and measures his creative process only with the great yardstick of universal interests. I consider this an enor-
186 1957mous benefit, an enormous advantage, for the artist, for it saves him from fruitless wanderings and the self-delusions of individualism, from straying onto the by-ways of art, which lead to decadence, hollowness and mediocrity.
The path of Soviet music was not always smooth and simple. Early attempts to embody Soviet life in music included much that was naive, speculative, abstract and artificial. Even in the more mature years of Soviet music there were many illusory finds, thoughtless solutions and creative flops. But our sense of responsibility towards the people, instilled in us by the whole spirit of Soviet culture, has always been our faithful compass, and ultimately this compass set us in the right direction. °
...Every new discovery in art entails some experimentation, and the broader, bolder and more individual the artist's intention is, the more obvious this experimentation will be, and the greater will be the artist's `risk'. In overcoming the difficulties which arise, the artist will suffer partial failures, and also failures which only appear so at first sight. But all this does not matter, so long as the artist's general and aesthetic course is true, so long as it is aimed towards the truth.
However, many lovers of dogmatic formulas have no time for the complexity or diversity of the phenomena under discussion. The very thought of making a thorough analysis seems suspicious to them, like the 'work of the devil'. This gives rise to flat, primitive definitions, sometimes presented, for some reason, in the name of Marxist-Leninist aesthetics. But in fact discrediting the flexible and subtle dialectical analysis of art. Such definitions make it more difficult to assimilate the artistic experience of the great composers of the past. Suffice it to mention how long it is taking for us to understand Prokofiev's operatic experiments. And yet these experiments are central to the problems of modern opera.
It is essential that our discussions combine a principled and demanding attitude with patient attentiveness and tolerance towards the complexities of creation. Discussion is also an aspect of creation. We must allow multifarious thoughts about music to develop and flourish, and in this field bold innovations are necessary. Schoolboyish repetition of established rules will not help us in the slightest to solve the burning problems of contemporary music. We must systematically unravel the ball of contradictions in twentieth-century music, and we must dig deeper-without preconceived ideas-into the complex development of music in the USSR.'
-\
The task facing young musicians is to master all there is to know about the skills of composition. Otherwise progress is impossible. No good in ten-
First edition of the score of the Fifth Quartet
4. IUOCTAKOBHH Cm. 92
KBAPTET JSTs 5
4AH 4BYX CKPHnOK, AAbTA H BHOAOHMEAH
nAPTHTYPA
rOCVJtAPCTBEHHOE MV3UlUUIbHOE WOATEJIbCTBO MOCKBI 1964
188Shostakovich and Lidia Kosmodemyanskaya at the • Second World Peace Congress in Warsaw, 21 November, 1950
Shostakovich receives the World Peace Prize (left, Jean Laffitte), 4 September, 1954
Shostakovich's diploma on becoming a Member of the Berlin Academy of Arts, 24 March, 1955
Diploma of Honorary Member of the Italian Santa Cecilia Academy, 15 January, 1956
189
Qdeiid von dcm Wunftb,
:
9\unft
I
ihrt O^rtinJmtj mtthtrvorrageruitfrt d,ts $n- uncL^-uslo-rt
X. ---f
jui^niipjen und damit den Jnterejfen d,
<wic dts£ebcns zu dUncn, babm dit Ordentluben
Hccabemia 2Tajtonalc bi Santa Cecilia
in ibrtrPltnarfitzung
^Dimitrij
Bimitfi
in efirtndtr^nerkfnnunj Jeiner grofitn £eifitayen
i ftlltO (ItttO
Sccabcniico (Dnororio bi Santa Cecilia
tairXitimbUa fitntral* »tgli Icca
Homa: il
• VU
Shostakovich and Professor
Tizetius after the composer had been awarded the honorary degree of Doctor of Music at Oxford University, June, 1958
Diploma of Order of Arts and Literature, 21 May, 1958
MINISTERS DE C£DUCATION NATIONALE
LE SECRETAIRE DtTATAuxARis EUETTRES
VU IE DECRET DU 2 MAI MCMLVII NOMME PAR ARRtri! DECEJOUP^
DEL'ORDREDESARTS ET DES IETTRES
191 7957tions or profound, intelligent thoughts can ever be convincingly turned into music if they are clumsily set out. Even the most beautiful content would be killed off by feeble means of expression, and never reach those for whom it was intended.
But young composers should not only be concerned about their skills. Never for a moment should they forget the great mission of music, its educative role and its most important task---to serve the people and the great progressive ideas of the age. Any work (not only of music, but of all the art forms) is valuable and effective only if it is inspired by progressive ideas. And almost inevitably this novelty of content gives rise to novelty of expression, i. e. to new forms. This is the only real kind of innovation in art: any other kind is formal and lifeless.
Our art has great tasks and wonderful, elevated aims. But our task is not only to glorify goodness and beauty, but also to fight evil, of which there is no shortage in the world. 'Genius and evil are incompatible'- with these words Pushkin expressed the eternal, ethical meaning of the role of art in life. No beautiful works can extol evil and falsity. But our steadfast movement towards the beautiful ideal is born of bitter struggle, and we would be wrong not to notice the tragic motifs, wrath and inflamed passions inherent in this struggle.
Life is boundless; may our art be just as boundless, may it combine all tongues in harmony, so long as they contribute to the great tasks of the age. And may Soviet composers have no other aim than to place their music at the service of the people building a new world.
...Like all art, music cannot develop without public concern and support. It becomes stultified if it does not extend beyond narrow, parochial interests. Music needs the scope of public life in order to have an effect on millions of people. We musicians cannot complain of a lack of interest in our work. But still the contact between our music and the audiences seems quite insufficient to me. Writing now in Komsomolskaya Pravda, I should like to appeal to our young workers, farmers and students: Love and study the great art of music! It is beautiful and will open up a whole world of great ideas and feelings to you. You will become spiritually richer and purer, you will find new strength and energy. You will see life in new shades and colours.
The further development of Soviet music is unthinkable without successful musical enlightenment and propaganda. Classical and contemporary music must be brought nearer to the people, and their tastes must be cultivated. Everyone in our country loves music. Our people are talented, but sometimes their aspiration to understand music more deeply finds no support. We have few opera houses, orchestras and chamber ensembles. We have not enough music colleges and schools. The requirements of the
192 1957people are growing far more quickly than they can be satisfied.
This is why I attach such importance to amateur musical activities which, unfortunately, are not widespread here. We need amateur music societies in our factories, schools, colleges and collective farms, to promote all kinds of contact with music: lectures, amateur concerts, listening to records, meetings with composers. I have often had meetings with musiclovers, played them my compositions and chatted about music, and I appreciate the various thoughts which evolve out of these frank, friendly discussions and exchanges of opinion. I am sure that all our composers will answer the call of music-lovers and bring their works to them.
We should give all possible support to the idea of music-making at home. Let music enter the homes of Soviet people, not only by radio and television, or on records and tape-recordings: let it be heard in its original form, as a quartet or trio, as a piano version of an opera, ballet or symphony, as a song or romance sung at a friendly get-together. As I recall my childhood now, I am beginning to understand the importance for me of those musical gatherings that used to take place in our flat. Those evenings were my first school.^^2^^
Sergei Prokofiev has been posthumously awarded the Lenin Prize for his Seventh Symphony. This is bound to delight all who understand the real value of Prokofiev's work, and love the music of this outstanding composer. And the number of such people is growing daily...
Five years ago in 1952, when Prokofiev's Seventh Symphony was first heard, it was perfectly clear to me that this was one of his greatest successes. The Seventh Symphony is truly joyful and lyrical, and delights the ear with its light, clear content and fresh, harmonious idiom. Once again we feel Prokofiev's wonderful gift for melody. Looking back over the almost five years of the symphony's literally triumphant march round the world's concert halls, I would not change a single word in my original evaluation of the work. Indeed much more should be added to do full justice to this outstanding example of modern symphony music.
Each of the four movements taken on its own is a precious masterpiece of fine musicianship, of inspired poetry in music.
...I feel that we still do not study Prokofiev's music intensively or deeply enough. And yet in many respects, Prokofiev may be considered the ideal Soviet artist, capable of sharing a common life with his people, of responding to their every sentiment, of thinking their thoughts, pf grieving and rejoicing together with them.
...It would have been Sergei Prokofiev's sixty-sixth birthday on 23 April. How sad he did not live to enjoy this great new triumph f^r his work. How overjoyed he would have been that his favourite creation, his Seventh Symphony, had received the highest mark of recognition, the dream of every artist and musician. Well, let us rejoice in his stead. Let us rejoice for Soviet music and for the treasures which are rightly considered its pride and glory!^^3^^
193 1957...Casting one's mind over Soviet music of recent years, in immediately becomes clear that the most vivid, interesting and artistically significant works belong to the pens of composers who have managed to master fully the method of socialist realism. Not wishing to burden the reader with a mass of examples, I should like to single out in this respect Sergei Prokofiev's Seventh Symphony, which was the natural culmination of the career of one of the twentieth century's most talented composers, who has rightly been awarded the country's highest honour---the Lenin Prize.
...Soviet art opens the way for the all-round development of different artistic personalities, and ensures wide scope for bold initiative, personal inclinations, thought and imagination. Unfortunately, the Composers' Union has recently tended to push the question of maximum development of a composer's individuality and distinguishing features into the background, and the complex problem of assimilating realistic musical thought has been treated too narrowly and one-sidedly. These erroneous views have now been justly condemned.
...I think there is every reason to hope that the next few years will be a period of intensive development, a new awakening in Soviet music, and we shall create the bright, inspired works expected of us by the people.
However often one listens to Prokofiev's music, though one feels one knows every note, still one discovers more and more new beauty, depth, unfading freshness and originality. Like every artist of great talent, Prokofiev is truly inexhaustible.
Such were my thoughts as I watched the Kirov Theatre's wonderful recent production of Prokofiev's ballet The Stone Flower. I found countless new and interesting facets in this marvellous work.^^4^^
I have known David Oistrakh for almost a quarter of a century---since the day of his brilliant performance at the All-Union Performers Competition. The young violinist literally stunned the judges and the audienceincluding me---by his mastery. He played the most difficult works with the ease of a virtuoso, and everyone in the hall realised that he was witnessing the birth of a great master. Oistrakh received a tumultuous ovation.
I have heard Oistrakh perform many, many times, but not once has he ever failed. Once, a few years ago in Berlin, I stayed in the hotel room next to his. ,In two days' time he was to give ^ performance of Chaikovsky's Violin Concerto. Of course, Oistrakh had played it hundreds of times before, yet he practised it day and night, as though he were about to perform it for the first time. I think I would be correct in saying that it was this combination of enormous talent and unremitting work, of inspiration and polished skill, that earned Oistrakh fame as 'the king of the violinists' or the 'world's first violin', as he is called abroad.
I am happy that my Violin Concerto was first performed by this great
194 1957musician, Oistrakh also gave me advice while I was writing this work. In the sheet music the violin part is marked 'Edited by D. Oistrakh'. And I should point out that this does not mean formal editing or checking the music, but real help in the work's composition.
Oistrakh has performed my concerto several times, and each time with such inspiration and understanding of my intention, and of the ideas and emotions expressed in the music, that I cannot help thinking: if I were a violinist I would try to perform it just like that!^^5^^
I have never experienced an international celebration on such a grand scale. I was impressed and deeplymoved at the opening ceremony of the International Youth Festival at the Central Lenin Stadium in Luzhniki, Moscow. To the thunderous sound of thousands of spectators clapping and crying words of welcome, delegations from all over the world marched before the stands. It was a wonderful and meaningful spectacle. It symbolised the great, humane idea of brotherhood and friendship between nations towards which the world was striving. The ordinary people of the world are united by the desire for peace, they are resolved to forestall another catastrophic war, which would bring untold destruction and suffering.^^5^^
Jean Sibelius has died.
The news of his death is a cause of deep sorrow to all Soviet musicians and music-lovers. The great musical culture of the Finnish people goes hand in hand with the name of Sibelius.
Sibelius lived a long, wonderful life. He brought fame to Finnish music far beyond the borders of his own country. His music is heard here, at concerts and on the radio, and young Soviet musicians learn from it.
Sibelius's life and his selfless devotion to his people and his art are a model for all musicians of the world. His inspired works will delight all who love music for ever.^^7^^
?
195 1958In 1958 Shostakovich's services to music were lavishly acknowledged both in the Soviet Union and abroad. For his Eleventh Symphony lie was awarded the Lenin Prize.
On 28 May a Communist Party Resolution was passed to correct the errors made previously in evaluating ike operas A Great Friendship, Bogdan Khmelnitsky and From the Bottom of My Heart. The Resolution gave a true and objective appraisal of the work of leading Soviet composers, including Shostakovich. Like all workers in the field of the arts, he welcomed this historic document.
Tribute was paid to Shostakovich's talent in many countries. On 9 May he went to Italy on the invitation of the Santa Cecilia Academy. He spent several days there, and on 12 May the President of the Academy awarded him the diploma and badge of an honorary member. In return, Shostakovich presented the Academy with the score of his Eleventh Symphony. Shostakovich's Fourth Qu.artet was played in his honour.
The composer spent the last ten days of May in France. At a ceremony in Paris Shostakovich was made Commander of the Order of Arts and Literature; he was the first foreigner ever to be honoured with this title: A concert of Shostakovich's music was given in the Palais de Chaillot, at which the composer played both his piano concertos (with an orchestra conducted by Andre Cluytens), and also several preludes and fugues.
On 25 June Shostakovich was awarded the honorary degree of Doctor of Music at Oxford University. While in England, he also became a member of the Royal Academy of Music in London.
On 9 September in Helsinki Shostakovich was presented with the International Sibelius Prize. The President of Finland, Urho Kekkonen, attended the ceremony. Shostakovich donated the prize of 7,500,000 marks to the USSR-Finland Friendship Society.
Several outstanding performances of Shostakovich's works took place in 1958. Leonard Bernstein conducted the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in a performance of Shostakovich's Second Piano Concerto in their first concert that year (on 2 January); Bernstein also played the piano part. Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk was performed in the La Scala Opera House in Milan. At the end of the year (14 December) Leopold Stokowski conducted the Eleventh Symphony in New York's Carnegie Hall. The 1958/59 concert season in Moscow opened with a programme which included Shostakovich's Eleventh Symphony and his cantata The Sun Shines Over Our Motherland.
All these signs of international recognition did not disturb the rhythm of Shostakovich's creative life. He carried on working on new compositions, including his only operetta, Moscow, Cheryomushki, and gave several concerts. In January he went on a tour of Bulgaria, where he played his Second Piano Concerto with the Sofia Philharmonic Orchestra, under K. Iliev, and his Quintet with the members of the Beethoven Quartet. In February he played his Second Piano Concerto once again, this time in the Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire, with the All-Union Radio Orchestra, conducted by Alexander Gauk. Two concerts of Shostakovich's music in Gorky, on 4 and 5 May, marked the start of a long and close collaboration between the composer and the Gorky Philharmonic Orchestra, with its conductor Izrail Gusman. The concerts included Shostakovich's Eleventh Symphony, the Festival Overture and his Second Piano Concerto. On 26 November lovers of Shostako-
196 1958vich's music had an opportunity to meet the composer at the Central Composers' Club.
As always, Shostakovich did not neglect his public duties. In January he headed the jury for the Ail-Union Children's Song Contest. On 18 March, as Chairman of the Organising Committee, he opened the First International Chaikovsky Competition in Moscow, and three weeks later presented the prizes at the grand closing ceremony. In May Shostakovich agreed to the inclusion of his name on the list of initiators of the fourth international conference against atomic and hydrogen bombs. Also this year, Shostakovich was elected President of the USSR-Austria Friendship Society, a post which he held for the rest of his life.
Shostakovich visited his home town of Leningrad several times in the course oj the year. During one of his visits, he was photographed together with the members of the orchestra which gam the first performance of his Seventh Symphony during the blockade.
Creative work divorced from the life of the people is fruitless. An artist can only express the thoughts of the nation if he feels the beating of its heart and the spirit of the age; without this, great works of realist art are impossible...
In one's creative work one must always be principled and consistent. One must not make compromises, or imitate a primitive style under the pretext that simplicity leads to clearer understanding, or that complexity in a work would make it incomprehensible to the public. Primitiveness is as much the enemy of art as abstruseness, greyness or the overuse of cliches. An artist must always seek new paths, he must not allow his art to stagnate. But these searchings must be coupled with the desire to reflect the innermost thoughts of the people.
We are against oversimplification of the musical idiom, but we are in favour of that higher kind of simplicity which marks the work of all artists of real genius and points not to their primitiveness, but, on the contrary, to the richness of their spiritual world. Here lies the source of true innovation. Such music will be heard and understood by the composer's contemporaries, and this is what his aim should be.
There is, I think, no such thing as an orchestra that sounds bad: it is bound to sound good, so long as it corresponds to the content of the' work. And the means available to the composer cannot be poor, cither: there are merely clumsy composers who make bad use of the orchestra's possibilities! A composer ought to be able to express his thoughts clearly, and to make full use of the richest orchestration techniques, as did Mussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Chaikovsky and the classics of Western European music.
\
In this connection, I am reminded of something Rimsky-Korsakov once said: 'How wrong people are when they say that such-and-such a composer is a master of instrumentation, or that some orchestral work has been well orchestrated. After all, instrumentation is part of the essence of the composition itself!'
197 1958It could be put no better than that! It is precisely the 'essence of the composition itself that the composer expresses in his orchestration, using means suited to his own individual manner and to the style and content of the work.
Music and song are with man from the day he is born till the day he dies. Without music, indeed, there is no life. So let us make sure that music adorns our wonderful Soviet life, making it even more beautiful and helping us to live and build!'
We are often asked to explain why it should be that Soviet musicians regularly take the first prizes in international competitions, and in what way a Soviet musical education differs from that which one might receive abroad.
It is difficult to give short answers to these questions. In the Soviet Union all the necessary conditions have been created for the full development of musical creativity and performing skills. The traditions of musical education in our country are truly excellent. Many of the world's greatest musicians studied under famous Russian performers, or were pupils of their pupils. Artistically talented young people are carefully and attentively nurtured in the Soviet Union, and they have a huge network of children's music schools, music colleges and conservatoires' at their disposal. State grants, halls of residence, rest homes, sanatoria, youth concerts-these are just a few of the many benefits our young people enjoy. There is another important factor, too: following Russian musical traditions, young Soviet performers put their whole hearts into their performance, aiming to convey the composer's intention to the audience without distorting it by a show of virtuosity or by some artificial interpretation. This-always wins widespread approval ^and determines the jury's decision.^^2^^
To be awarded the Lenin Prize is not only a great honour. It also obliges one to give oneself up entirely to serving one's people. As a musician, I should like to express my warmest thanks to our Communist Party for its deep interest in Soviet music and musicians. The wisdom of the Party leadership is a guarantee that many fine works of music will be created...^^3^^
...Soviet music, to which I and many of my colleagues devote all our energies, enjoys just renown in musical circles abroad. Many professional musicians and music-lovers are interested in our works. Many progressive musicians in Western Europe support our point of view in questions of innovation, realism and popular spirit. During my recent visits to Italy and France, I chatted to many people involved in the musical life of these countries, and I was delighted by their great interest in the musical and aesthetic problems which we Soviet composers are trying to solve.^^4^^
198 1959There were several more premieres this year, one of them marking Shostakovich''s debut in a new genre: on 20 January a public preview of the operetta Moscow, Cheryomushki was given at the Moscow Operetta Theatre, and the official premiere took place four days later, both performances in the presence of the composer. At almost the same time the work saw the footlights in Rostov-on-Don, and later in Odessa (May) and Sverdlovsk (November).
On 21 September Shostakovich introduced his First Cello Concerto to his cotleagues at the Composers' Club. The premieres took place on 4 Ocrober in Leningrad and on 9 October in Moscow.
Two important events this year linked the names of Shostakovich and Mussorgsky. In the spring, a new film by the director Vera Stroyeva was released---a screen version of Mussorgsky's Khovanshchina, specially edited and orchestrated by Shostakovich; the composer was so carried away by this work that he also helped to write the screenplay for the film. And on 4 November the Kirov Theatre in Leningrad staged a new production of Shostakovich's version of Boris Godunov.
Among the ever more frequent performance of Shostakovich's music in the Soviet Union, one concert, in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire on 23 May, deserves special mention. The programme consisted exclusively of Shostakovich's works-his Piano Quintet, Third Quartet, preludes and fugues, and Spanish Songs -performed by Lev Oborin, Maria Grinberg, Debora Pantofel-Nechetskaya and the Borodin Quartet.
Shostakovich made several trips abroad in 1959. He attended a session of the World Peace Council in Sweden, and the Prague Spring and Warsaw Autumn Festivals. In October, together with Tikhon Khrennikov, Dmitry Kabalevsky, Fikret Amirov, Konstantin Dankevich and Boris Tarustovsky, he made an extensive tour of the United States. The delegation of Soviet musicians visited Washington, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Louisville, Philadelphia and New York. On 24 October the National Symphony Orchestra under G. Mitchell performed Shostakovich's Tenth Symphony, in the composer's presence, at the Constitution Hall in Washington. The Soviet musicians gave a press conference in the Sheraton Park Hotel at which Shostakovich, in reply to a correspondent's question, came out with the following words: '/ consider the Communist Party of the Soviet Union the most progressive force in the world. I ham always heeded its advice, and shall continue to do so till the end of my life.'
Shostakovich's major works were performed again and again in various countries. Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk was staged in Diisseldorf, and in Paris Andre Cluytens conducted the Eleventh Symphony.
For the fourth time Shostakovich was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation as deputy for his Leningrad constituency.
He was also elected to the American Academy of Sciences and was made honorary professor at the Mexican Conservatoire. On }he occasion of the tenth anniversary of the World Peace Council, Shostakovich was't-awarded a silver medal for his great contribution to the activities of this noble organization.
It has long been customary to speak of the 'wheel of history' as a symbol of the movement of peoples through time. It is clear that everyone
199 1959has his own conception of the movement of this inexorably turning, mighty wheel, whose revolutions announce the changes of ages and generations, economic systems, artistic trends and styles. It is also clear that this movement has been faster in some ages and with some peoples than with others.
Life itself commands us to go forward, to cnew shores'. And we Soviet artists, creative workers, should listen very closely to the majestic role of our socialist 'wheel of history'. And above all, we must not lag behind it or wander from the broad road, illuminated by Lenin's teachings, which leads to the bright future, to Communism.
...Last year I was busy orchestrating Mussorgsky's opera Khovanshchina and composing an operetta, entitled Moscow, Cheryomushki, which is to be put on by the Operetta Theatre in Moscow.'
I enjoyed my work on Khovanshchina very much. Orchestrating Mussorgsky's original text (piano score edited by P. Lamm), I found new gems and remarkably profound and truthful images on every page. I now see the opera in a new light, as an epic tragedy, extremely well-balanced from the point of view of drama and development of the thematic material. What nonsense has been spoken about this brilliant Russian composer, who was allegedly incapable of writing for the human voice and had a 'poor grasp' of operatic forms! It has to be said that our great performers, accustomed to Rimsky-Korsakov's version, did not immediately enjoy my new musical text. (My version of the opera is being made into a film by the producer Vera Stroyeva; the musical director is the talented conductor Yevgeny Svetlanov.) But now that they, have learnt their parts, they are putting everything they have into the creation of a film-opera which, I hope, will do justice to the original version and put an end to the absurd talk about Mussorgsky's `inabilities'.
I also cherish one other hope---that our opera houses will take an interest in the original version of Khovanshchina.
Composing an operetta was something new for me. Moscow, Cheryomushki is my first, and hopefully not my last, experience in this fascinating genre. I worked on the operetta with great enthusiasm and interest. I think that as a result of the combined efforts of librettists Vladimir Mass and Mikhail Chervinsky, conductor Grigori Stolyarov, producer Vladimir Kandelaki, artist Grigory Kigel, choreographer Galina Shakhovskaya and the whole ensemble of performers, we should have a jolly and lively show. The theme of the operetta touches, in a gay, dynamic form, on the vital question of the house-building programme in the Soviet Union. The librettists found lots of amusing situations to animate the show and give an opportunity to introduce the various musical devices and numbers required by the genre. There is a bit of everything here: lyricism, variety, various interludes and dances, and even a ballet scene. The music lent itself to elements of parody and there are quotations of recently popular motifs and songs by Soviet song-writers.
I have been genuinely delighted by my work with the talented Mos-