Joyous New Opportunity

The latest composition of Russia's great Composer Sergei Prokofiev was published in Moscow last week. To the tin ear of Soviet officialdom, it was back on the Russian scale, but to Western ears, it was the most dissonant thing he had ever written. It was a letter of penitent thanks to the party for "the assistance which it is giving me to correct my mistakes" (TIME, Feb. 23). Wrote he: "The committee decision separates the gold from the dross in the composer's work. However painful this may be for a number of composers, including myself, I welcome the decision."

Prokofiev didn't show up in person to recant his sins. He was ill, the meeting was told. But he was already at work on a new opera about a Soviet pilot who learned to fly again after losing both legs. He promised to follow party directives, and use plenty of Russian folk songs. So did the other six composers spanked by the party. (The promise came easiest to Aram Khachaturian, who has always borrowed freely from Russian folk music.) Two other composers--one was Dmitri Kabalevsky --who were not even named in the decree, confessed their errors too.

At week's end, myopic little Dmitri Shostakovich marched to the platform. He knew his lines well: he had been bawled out before. Said he: "I accept the Central Committee's decree, particularly regarding myself, as stern but fatherly care. ... A worthy reply . . . may be achieved by work--stubborn, creative, joyous work ... on new compositions which will find a path to the heart of the Soviet people." Shostakovich was the last to recant; now all Soviet composers could go on with their joyous labors.

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