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Poor Dmitry--it seemed about time to give up on him. The great Shostakovich, whose First and Fifth symphonies had alerted the world to the genius of Russia's "20th century Beethoven." had for years been a musical bureaucrat, cranking out empty banalities in the name of "people's music''--a pathetic Pshawstakovich.

Even the social realist critics he had tried so hard to please ever since Stalin had scolded him for bourgeois tendencies had shown little patience with the bombastic Leninism of his Eleventh and Twelfth revolutionary symphonies. Mocking rumor had it that in his dacha outside Moscow, Shostakovich would next write a Sputnik symphony, and after that, a Soviet soccer symphony.

Shock Effects. Last week Moscow heard what Shostakovich had composed instead, and the thin jokes vanished in a wave of applause. A masterful 13th Symphony rang through the Moscow Conservatory with a power and daring that proved that 20 years of apologizing for the art-for-art beauty of his early work had not, after all, sapped Shostakovich's strength.

The composer's inspiration was five poems by young Soviet Poet Evgeny Evtushenko (TIME cover, April 13). Less a symphony than a symphonic cantata, the work evolves in a five-movement cycle, alternating choral recitations with interpretive orchestral comments, building in emotional power until it returns on the wings of ardor to the theme that set it going.

Song of Praise. The first movement is a scorching retelling of "Babi Yar,' Evtushenko's angry denunciation of Soviet antiSemitism. Into a flowing dirge, chanted in solo and choral recitation. Shosta kovich pours rafter-shaking eruptions of drums and orchestra, recapturing his old, uninhibited enthusiasm for color and excitement, rekindling the fire of Evtushenko's poem. The second movement is based on "Humor," a poem that makes the point that tyrants cannot imprison laughter, and the music -- perfectly in the spirit of things -- becomes impish, light and gay. The third movement, on a poem about a lonely young girl, is softly lyrical. The fourth movement, on Evtushenko's "Fears" (about the panicky Stalinist days), begins with an eerie trombone solo and builds to a chilling orchestral climax that suggests a pack of howling wolves.

The final movement is a song of praise to nonconformists. "Forgotten are those who cursed, remembered are those accursed." Evtushenko's poem says -- good advice for Shostakovich.

The opening-night crowd understood the message perfectly. Grinning behind his round glasses. Shostakovich joined the orchestra for seven curtain calls. The ovation was more than a tribute to the work -- it was a welcome back from watery-eyed submissiveness. and Shostakovich accepted it gladly. Shy Evtushenko was eventually goaded onto the stage, and there, in triumph, he exchanged with Shostakovich a profound hug and kiss.

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