So this business with Berg was typical. They ordered the singer to sing despite her throat problems. And she sang even though her career as a singer was in jeopardy. It's no joke singing with a sick throat.
Berg didn't notice anything amiss there either. Shaporin t gave a re-
*Vladimir Vladimirovich Sofronitsky (1901-1961) and Maria Veniaminovna Yudina ( 1 899-1 970), pianists, who with Shostakovich were students of Leonid Vladimirovich Nikolayev ( 1 878-1 942), a professor at the Leningrad Conservatory. Shostakovich dedicated his Second Piano Concerto to Nikolayev. The creative path of Sofronitsky and Yudina is unusual in many ways. Both consciously set themselves against the Soviet musical establishment and became the objects of a cult following among Soviet audiences. Biographical facts of Sofronitsky's life include his marriage to the daughter of Alexander Scriabin (he is considered the best Russian interpreter of that composer); numerous subsequent romantic and scandalous entanglements; and an addiction to drugs and alcohol, which led to his death. Yudina's life was dominated by religious principles, which overshadowed her entire performing career. She actively promoted avant-garde music in the Soviet Union in those years when such music was officially frowned upon. Recordings by both Sofronitsky and Yudina, now issued in great numbers in Russia, are sold out immediately.
tYuri Alexandrovich Shaporin (1 887- 1 966), academically traditional composer and pedagogue, widely beloved for his gentleness.
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ception in his honor after the premiere, and Berg said little, mostly praising the production and particularly the singers.
I sat and said nothing, partly because I was· young and mostly because my German wasn't very good.
However, it turned out later that Berg had . remembered me. I learned just recently that he had heard my First Symphony in Vienna and seemed to like it. Berg wrote me a letter about it.
They tell me that he sent the letter via Asafiev. I never received the letter and I never heard a word about it from Asafiev, which says that much more about the man.
Berg, it seemed to me, left Leningrad with relief. "So fly off . . . the sooner the better," as Pushkin wrote. But Berg left two legends behind. The source of one legend was a critic and fan of Scriabin. Berg supposedly told him that he owed everything as a composer to Scriabin. The other legend came from a critic who didn't care for Scriabin.
Supposedly Berg told him that he had never heard a note by Scriabin.
Over forty years have passed, but both men still repeat with a thrill what Berg said to them. So much for eyewitness accounts.
But there's no reason to be upset that they lie about Berg. He's a stranger, a visitor, you're supposed to lie about him, for foreigners lie about us (I don't mean Berg personally). What hurts is that here they lie about their own Russian musicians.
Lately I've been thinking about my relationship with Glazunov.
This is a special topic that's very important to me. As I see, it's also popular among those who are becoming interested in my humble self.
They're writing about our relationship. Quite a bit, and it's all wrong.
And perhaps, therefore, it would be a good idea to spend some time on this point. Because Glazunov is, after all, one of the major figures of Russian music whom I've met.
Glaz.unov played an important role in my life. But the scribblers who like the theme are painting saccharine pictures. There are lots of them by now. People bring me magazines or books with some new story about Glazunov and me. It's getting so that there's no point to them any more.
It's like Glazunov and the famous choreographer Marius Petipa and Glazunov's ballet Raymonda. They worked on it and worked on it. The ballet was produced and was very successful. One day the composer and the choreographer ran into each other. Glazunov asked Pe-45
tipa, "Tell me, do you know the plot of Raymonda? What's the plot ?"
Petipa replied, "Of course . . . " Then he thought and said, "No, I can't remember. Can you ?" Glazunov said, "No."
And it's so simple. When they worked, they created pretty pictures.
Glazunov thought about the music, Petipa dreamed about the pas, and they forgot about the plot.
And the pictures that depict Glazunov and me obeying the popular ditty and "marching through life with a song" are also pointless. Probably the authors of such sentimental stories would like everything in life to be pretty and edifying and touching-you know, this century and the century past. Or as a schoolchild wrote about Chekhov, "He had one foot in the past and with the other he welcomed the future."
And this nonsense has a glorious tradition in Russia-for how is cultural history written here? Everyone embraces everyone else, everyone blesses everyone else. They write sweet notes on laurel wreaths:
"To my conquering student from his conquered teacher," as Zhukovsky wrote to Pushkin. And then there's always: "And descending into the grave, he gave his �lessing." Quotes from Pushkin's famous poem ring in my ears.
And naturally, they forget to add that before "old man Derzhavin" *
noticed Pushkin, he asked the servant, "Where's the can around here?"
I think the can is indispensable to this -historic scene. It adds the missing realistic touch that makes it possible to believe that this event, found in all the primers and textbooks, really took place.
On the other hand, the can should not take up the entire stage.
"The dawn of a new age" and all the sentimental tripe is vile. But digging around in shit is also vile. What choice is there?.
I choose the truth. And perhaps it's hopeless and a mistake, because the truth always brings problems and dissatisfactions. Insulted citizens howi that you've hurt their most noble feelings and didn't spare the finest strings of their exalted soul.
But what can you do? "I walk out onto the road alone," as the poet+ said. As you know, nothing good came of his walking out alone.
*In the poem, the great poet Gavriil Romanovich Derzhavin (1743-1816) visits young Pushkin's lycee and predicts a glorious future £or him.
tThe poet is Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov (1814-1841), who was killed in a duel that was the inevitable result or a chain or events and circumstances which included a confrontation with Tsar Nicholas I. Shostakovich quotes Lermontov's most famous lyric poem ironically.
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The whole point is that it only seems that you're alone when you go out. A wise man reminds us, "Man is not alone. Someone is always watching him." It's like that with the road. You walk and someone's already lying in wait for you.
I love Glazunov and that's why I'm telling the truth about him. Let anyone who doesn't know better lie about Glazunov. They can take their laurel wreaths with sweet messages and shove them. For them, Glazunov is fiction, the Bronze Horseman. They see only the horse's hoofs.
My good relationship with Glazunov developed on an excellent basis-alcohol.
You must not think that Glazunov and I used to sit around and drink and eat. After all, he was over fifty and I was thirteen when our paths crossed. We could hardly have become drinking partners. And I must add that Glazunov didn't simply enjoy drinking. He suffered from incessant thirst. Some people have such unfortunate constitutions.
Of course, under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been a problem. Why not drink to slake thirst? You just stop at the store and buy a few bottles, particularly since I think that Glazunov couldn't have managed more than two bottles at a time, his health wouldn't have permitted it.
But here enter those extreme, abnormal circumstances, also known as that "unforgettable year 1 9 1 9," or "military communism."
Those two words say little to the young generation now, but they meant a great deal, including the complete absence of an opportunity to drink and eat. No, no, not even on the day of your former saint, because there was a complete and total disappearance of food, and .of wine and liquor products because of a strict ban on alcohol.
Now when I think back I just don't want to believe that year ever existed. It's unpleasant to remember. And it must be because so many don't like to think about it that I haven't seen any references to the sorry circumstances of our lives back then. All the memoirists must have amnesia caused by malnutrition.
All right, let's put the food problem aside and concentrate on the vodka. For many its disappearance was a tragedy, and for Glazunov the sad fact constituted a catastrophe.
How did other people react to this? Life dictates its laws and you 47