Music: Red Tapes

The U.S. would like to see the Soviet Union’s politics confounded, but it likes Russian music. Such contemporary composers as Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Khachaturian and Kabalevsky are frequently played at U.S. concerts. Prokofiev’s Love for Three Oranges is one of the most popular hits at the New York City Opera. The older Russians are popular too; no pop concert series would be complete without an all-Tchaikovsky program.

Phonograph fans with a taste for Russian music have had a wide choice of domestic recordings, but until recently the supply of original Soviet performances was meager. When LP came along, some small companies dubbed from older Soviet records despite the fuzzy sounds that resulted. Quality recordings had to be made from Soviet master disks or tapes, and many of those are controlled by Manhattan’s Leeds Music Corp.

Leeds, one of the big ten popular music publishers, got interested in Russian composers during the last war. It imported their scores, paid royalties through the Am-Rus Literary and Music Agency in Manhattan. Leeds soon made itself the major outlet for Soviet music in the U.S. Now, when the Philharmonic-Symphony wants to play a Soviet work, it usually rents the score and parts from Leeds; if anybody wants to make a new record of the popular Sabre Dance from Khachaturian’s Gayane Ballet, he had better see Leeds; the publisher won a lawsuit over copyright in 1948.

Dim View. But Leeds has had its troubles. Last February, two U.S. companies released identical recordings by the National Philharmonic and Bolshoi Theater choruses and orchestras of Shostakovich’s Song of the Forests: only one of them was Leeds-licensed. A few months later, two companies brought out Violinist David Oistrakh’s expert performance of the Brahms Double Concerto.

Since Russia has never signed an international copyright agreement, anybody who has a Russian score can legally play it or record it without paying royalties. But Leeds thought it saw a way to plug that leak in the commercial dikes. It sent a man to Moscow and obtained an “exclusive” contract to import Russian master tape recordings. Now, says the publisher, any unauthorized record release in this country will be a violation of its property rights. A fortnight ago, Leeds sent stern notes to U.S. record manufacturers: before releasing Soviet performances, they would have to sign up (and pay up) or face lawsuits.

Long View. Two companies, Vanguard and Period, apparently think Leeds can make its legal point stick; they go there for all their Russian originals. But Colosseum, the largest U.S. dispenser of Soviet records (35 sets to date), has so far refused to play ball. It proudly admits that its master tapes are smuggled out from under the Iron Curtain. Arguing that Russian composers never see a U.S. royalty check anyway,* it pays nothing more: “Why should we pay dollars to an unfriendly government?” Colosseum plans to continue its releases.

*Soviet composers are subsidized by the state, get (depending on their current pay standing) fees, cash prized, the use of a house, a car, supplies, etc.