The Sound of Utopia: Musicians in the Time of Stalin by Michel Krielaars
When Stalin came to power, making music in Russia became dangerous. Composers now had to create work that served the socialist state, and all artistic production was scrutinized for potential subversion. In The Sound of Utopia, Michel Krielaars vividly depicts Soviet musicians and composers struggling to create art in a climate of risk, suspicion and fear.
Some successfully toed the ideological line, diluting their work in the process; others ended up facing the Gulag or even death. While some, like Sergei Prokofiev, achieved lasting fame, others were consigned to oblivion, their work still hard to find. As Krielaars traces the twists and turns of these artists' fortunes, he paints a fascinating and disturbing portrait of the absurdity of Soviet musical life - and of the people who crafted sublime melodies under the darkest circumstances.
When Stalin came to power, making music in Russia became dangerous. Composers now had to create work that served the socialist state, and all artistic production was scrutinized for potential subversion. In The Sound of Utopia, Michel Krielaars vividly depicts Soviet musicians and composers struggling to create art in a climate of risk, suspicion and fear.
Some successfully toed the ideological line, diluting their work in the process; others ended up facing the Gulag or even death. While some, like Sergei Prokofiev, achieved lasting fame, others were consigned to oblivion, their work still hard to find. As Krielaars traces the twists and turns of these artists' fortunes, he paints a fascinating and disturbing portrait of the absurdity of Soviet musical life - and of the people who crafted sublime melodies under the darkest circumstances.
When Stalin came to power, making music in Russia became dangerous. Composers now had to create work that served the socialist state, and all artistic production was scrutinized for potential subversion. In The Sound of Utopia, Michel Krielaars vividly depicts Soviet musicians and composers struggling to create art in a climate of risk, suspicion and fear.
Some successfully toed the ideological line, diluting their work in the process; others ended up facing the Gulag or even death. While some, like Sergei Prokofiev, achieved lasting fame, others were consigned to oblivion, their work still hard to find. As Krielaars traces the twists and turns of these artists' fortunes, he paints a fascinating and disturbing portrait of the absurdity of Soviet musical life - and of the people who crafted sublime melodies under the darkest circumstances.
