First Published in 1998. Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis, an informa company.

In the years 1917 to 1991, despite unfavorable prevailing conditions, there were outstanding achievements in the music created for the cinema in the Soviet Union. Perhaps in no other country was film music associated with so many distinguished composers: Sergei Prokofiev, Dmitry Shostakovich, Isaak Dunayevsky, Georgy Sviridov, Aram Khachaturian, Alfred Schnittke, Nikolai Karetnikov, Edward Artemyev, Edison Denisov, and Sofia Gubaidulina. They were ready to accept film directors' invitations because they considered the cinema to be a perfect laboratory for testing the concepts and themes for future operas, symphonies, oratorios, and other large-scale compositions. A remarkable characteristic of Soviet film music was the appearance of successful director - composer collaborations, such as the famous 'duets' of Eisenstein - Prokofiev, Kozintsev - Shostakovich and Tarkovsky - Artemyev. This fascinating volume is the first attempt at a historical analysis of Soviet film music - a unique and full

First Published in 1998. Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis, an informa company.

This innovative volume challenges the ways we look at both cinema and cultural history by shifting the focus from the centrality of the visual and the literary toward the recognition of acoustic culture as formative of the Soviet and post-Soviet experience. Leading experts and emerging scholars from film studies, musicology, music theory, history, and cultural studies examine the importance of sound in Russian, Soviet, and post-Soviet cinema from a wide range of interdisciplinary perspectives. Addressing the little-known theoretical and artistic experimentation with sound in Soviet cinema, changing practices of voice delivery and translation, and issues of aesthetic ideology and music theory, this book explores the cultural and historical factors that influenced the use of voice, music, and sound on Soviet and post-Soviet screens.

Many older people in Russia remember seeing and hearing mysterious vinyl flexi-discs when they were young. They had partial images of skeletons on them, could be played like gramophone records and were called 'bones' or 'ribs'. They contained forbidden music. X-Ray Audio tells the secret history of these ghostly records and of the people who made, bought and sold them. Lavishly illustrated in full colour with images of discs collected in Russia, it is a unique story of forbidden culture, bootleg technology and human endeavour.

Sound film captivated Sergey Prokofiev during the final two decades of his life: he considered composing for nearly two dozen pictures, eventually undertaking eight of them, all Soviet productions. Drawing on newly available sources, Composing for the Red Screen examines - for the first time - the full extent of this prodigious cinematic career.

Mention twentieth-century Russian music, and the names of three &"giants&"&—Igor Stravinsky, Sergei Prokofiev, and Dmitrii Shostakovich&—immediately come to mind. Yet during the turbulent decade following the Bolshevik Revolution, Stravinsky and Prokofiev lived abroad and Shostakovich was just finishing his conservatory training. While the fame of these great musicians is widely recognized, little is known about the creative challenges and political struggles that engrossed musicians in Soviet Russia during the crucial years after 1917. Music for the Revolution examines musicians&’ responses to Soviet power and reveals the conditions under which a distinctively Soviet musical culture emerged in the early thirties. Given the dramatic repression of intellectual freedom and creativity in Stalinist Russia, the twenties often seem to be merely a prelude to Totalitarianism in artistic life. Yet this was the decade in which the creative intelligentsia defined its relationship with the Soviet regime and the aesthetic foundations for socialist realism were laid down. In their efforts to deal with the political challenges of the Revolution, musicians grappled with an array of issues affecting musical education, professional identity, and the administration of musical life, as well as the embrace of certain creative platforms and the rejection of others. Nelson shows how debates about these issues unfolded in the context of broader concerns about artistic modernism and elitism, as well as the more expansive goals and censorial authority of Soviet authorities. Music for the Revolution shows how the musical community helped shape the musical culture of Stalinism and extends the interpretive frameworks of Soviet culture presented in recent scholarship to an area of artistic creativity often overlooked by historians. It should be broadly important to those interested in Soviet history, the cultural roots of Stalinism, Russian and Soviet music, and the place of music and the arts in revolutionary change.