Throughout their careers, Sergei Prokofiev and Dmitri Shostakovich faced the daunting task of composing music that reflected their personal styles while simultaneously conforming to the standards and expectations set in place by the Soviet regime. Nevertheless, there were times when the composers ran afoul with the regime. Perhaps the most notorious instance occurred with the Zhdanov decree of 1948, where several Soviet composers, including Prokofiev and Shostakovich, were accused of what the Communist Party deemed “formalist perversions,” and it resulted in some of their works being banned from performance, and other hardships.

Despite being under the watchful eye of the Soviet regime, Prokofiev did produce a rather successful compositional output early on, notably composing works such as Peter and the Wolf, the ballet Romeo and Juliet, and even music for films including Lieutenant Kijé (1934) and Alexander Nevsky (1938). Prokofiev mostly composed large-scale orchestral works, but gradually turned to more chamber-like compositions by the 1940s. His compositional style was largely neoclassical, and his Cello Sonata was no exception. The thematic material of the sonata is predominantly folk-like, and Prokofiev casts these themes in traditional classical formal structures in each movement, with the outer movements resembling sonata form, and the middle movement in a rondo form. Prokofiev composed the Cello Sonata in 1949 amid the uncertainty that it would ever be performed as a result of the Zhdanov decree. Indeed, any new works had to be performed before the Soviet Composer’s Union for approval before it could be performed publicly, and the premiere wasn’t given until March 1950 by Mstislav Rostropovich and Sviatoslav Richter. Despite the success of the Cello Sonata, the aftermath of the Zhdanov decree would hit Prokofiev hard. As a result of several of his works being banned, he accrued a lot of debt, and his physical health was also in decline, further limiting his compositional output. Prokofiev ultimately never fully recovered from the Zhdanov decree, and in perhaps the most unfortunate coincidence, he died in Moscow on March 5, 1953, the same day as Joseph Stalin.

The Zhdanov decree was not the first time Shostakovich ran afoul with the Soviet regime. Another notable instance took place roughly twelve years earlier. The story goes that Stalin left a performance of Shostakovich’s opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District at intermission. The opera was subsequently condemned by the Communist Party for being politically incorrect. It was around this time that Stalin was cracking down on dissent, in what became known as the Terror of 1936. Indeed, Shostakovich spent every night for an entire year sleeping outside of his apartment, so his family would not be disturbed in the event the authorities came to arrest him. Although he was ultimately never arrested, much of Shostakovich’s music would end up being banned from performance, including his Fourth Symphony. Shostakovich was basically forced to change his style in order to regain the favor of the censors, and such a change can be reflected in his Fifth Symphony. Although this back-and-forth relationship with the censors continued for the rest of his life, Shostakovich found a sense of liberation in Stalin’s death, and his First Cello Concerto is reflective of this. Indeed, Shostakovich seems to have composed this concerto with the purpose of spitting (or doing some other crude and vulgar action) on Stalin’s grave. The concerto opens with the cello playing a motive similar (at least rhythmically) to Shostakovich’s personal DSCH (D-E♭-C-B) musical signature. This motive recurs throughout the concerto. The final movement, however, is where Shostakovich metaphorically flips off the late Stalin the most. After a lengthy cadenza which encompasses the entire third movement, where themes from the first two movements are developed, Shostakovich incorporates a distorted version of Suliko, Stalin’s favorite folk song, throughout the final movement. This distorted theme is gradually incorporated with other themes, including the opening four-note motif from the first movement, as the concerto progresses to a wild conclusion.

It is clear that Prokofiev and Shostakovich lived and composed in politically dangerous times. I take no pleasure in saying the following, but I may never have another opportunity like this to say it: Based on my observations about the state of the world and a rather liberating apolitical point of view I have adopted over the years, we are living in disturbingly similar times today, where every politician in the world, regardless of party affiliation or the office they hold or aspire to hold, has the potential to become a deluded, power-obsessed tyrant with an “if you’re not with me, you’re an enemy of the state” attitude, much like Stalin. Indeed, the recent U.S. presidential election has only served to exacerbate this strife in the already broken geopolitical landscape, potentially to the brink of apocalyptic societal collapse. In light of these dreadful times that lie ahead of us, I have put together this program as a reminder that no amount of oppression can truly silence the creative genius.