>and friend to Solzhynitsen.
Also to Shostakovich. In "Galina" is her very interesting description of his dedication to her of "Satires" (Op 109). I quote:
In the summer of 1960, Shostakovich called us to his place and asked us to listen to his new work, a song cycle called 'Satires' based on the verse of Sasha Cherny, a pre-revolutionary satirical poet. Shostakovich himself played and sang, while Slava [Rostropovich] and I remained rooted to our chairs, overwhelmed by the unimpeded flow of sarcasm and black humour. "Do you like it, Galya?" I could only whisper, "Dmitri Dmitriyevich, it's phenomenal." "I wrote it for you in the hope you wouldn't decline to sing it." "Decline?" I was hoarse with excitement. Dmitri Dmitriyevich got up from the piano, took the music and, before handing it to me, said "If you don't object, I'd like to dedicate this work to you." He wrote in the manuscript: 'Dedicated to Galina Pavlovna Vishnevskaya' and made me a gift of it. A few days later we performed the new work for Dmitri Dmitriyevich. "Remarkable! Simply remarkable! There's just one thing: I'm afraid they won't let it be performed." And he was right. One of the poems was 'Our posterity'. Though written in 1910, it had recently been published in the Soviet Union. Yet with the music of Shostakovich, it took on an entirely different meaning - it became an indictment of the current Soviet regime and its insane ideology. It was clear the authorities would not allow such verse ot be sung on stage. The words refer to today and could not be said better. I had an idea. "Dmitri Dmitriyevich, instead of calling the cycle 'Satires', call it 'Pictures of the past'. Throw them that bone and they might sanction it." He was satisfied, and snickered at the irony of it. "Beautifully though out, Galya! Under 'Satires', we'll put 'Pictures of the past' in parentheses, like a kind of fig leaf. We'll cover up the embarrassing parts for them." In that way, the cycle got its name. But we were never sure, right up until the time of the concert, that they wouldn't take it off the program. The authorisation came only at the last minute. On the evening of February 22 1961, the concert hall was jammed with people. All of Moscow waited impatiently for Shostakovich's new work with the seditious verses. AS I began 'Our posterity', I could see that the audience was taut with tension. Stalin's and Beria's crimes were being exposed; the verses were hitting bull's-eye. When I finished, the audience did not so much shout as roar. Soon after the premiere, Slava and I were invited to perform the cycle on Moscow television. We went to the studio, although I told Slava at the time that they would never let us do 'Our posterity'. We started to rehearse. Then suddenly, stop! The producer of the show came running in, asked for the music, and read through it as frightened as if he were holding a live cobra. Without a word, he ran off. When he came back, he said, "Galina Pavlovna, the cycle is very long, and our time is short. We'll have to cut something." "What do you mean, 'cut'? It's a cycle - all the pieces are interrelated. We won't cut anything. Go wherever it is you're supposed to go and tell them that either we do the whole cycle or we won't do it at all." Once again he ran off, this time for quite a while. Slava and I waited a little, then put on our coats, sent them all to the devill, and went home. The cycle was never aired.
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