shared by two other tonal composers,nErnest Bloch and Paul Creston. Muczynski’sn”Dance Movements” (1963) andn”A Serenade for Summer” (1976) on_nLR-110 could be classed as light musicnfor chamber orchestra, but it is wellnenotjgh constructed to delight the listenernrepeatedly. Muczynski notes in hisnletter that the most effective means ofncondemnation under the old tyranny wasnto say that one’s music “sounds like …”nDerivativeness was the kiss of death.nWell, anyone who sounds like Mozart isnfine with me, and Hummel’s best pianonconcerto sounds just like Beethoven. SonI mean no insult by saying, in the interestnof placing his music for the reader, thatnMuczynski sounds, in places, like Copland,nperhaps a little like Gail Kubik (whonalso sounds a bit like Copland), with andash (in the “Serenade for Summer”)nof Malcolm Arnold. Or would it be fairernto say he is representative of what someonencalled our country’s “mid-Westernnschool of- prairie classicism” (perhapsnthis should be changed to “prairie neoromanticism”).’nIn any event, his musicnis easily accessible and quite delightful.n”A Serenade for Summer” is particularlynbeautiful.nThe other side of the record featuresnBloch and Creston. Bloch’s “Four Episodesnfor Chamber Orchestra” (1926)nwere written years after he had come tonthis country from Switzerland. The episodesnare independent of each other:nHumoresque Macabre, Obsession (thenbeginning of which sounds like Alann- Hovhaness), Pastorale, Chinese Theatre.nSort of Bloch’s version of “Ports of Call,”nexcept it has three psychological and onlynone geographic location. All have thencharacter of impressions, and are enjoyablenexamples of this kind of descriptivenmusic.nCreston’s “Two Choric Dances”n(1938) are short works whose stridencynseems a bit overbearing, although I wasnmost appreciative of the rare opportunitynto hear some of his orchestral work.nHe speaks of these dances as abstractnin conception, but they sound cinematicnand dated. All in all, this disc is an enjoyablenjourney off the beaten path. It is enhancednby decent sound, good record surfacesnand dedicated performances. DnTHE AMERICAN PROSCENIUMnThe Technology of ErrorsnAt the time of this writing Mr. DavidnStockman, President Reagan’s budgetndirector, is still sitting in his officesadnperhaps, confused maybe, angrynwith himself certainly. What the futurenholds for him we don’t know. But wendo know that by not firing him on thenspot, after the publication of his notoriousninterview with Atlantic Monthly,nPresident Reagan has committed angrave mistake.nThose who defend the President’snbenignity point to Mr. Stockman’s expertisenand indispensability. We arenskeptical about that argument. If Mr.nReagan cannot find a replacement withnacumen and talent among genuinelynconservative economic scholars and activists,nit seems to us that he just doesnnot understand the ideological movementnwhich brought him to power.nSuch a circumstance is not rare, but anleader afflicted by such ignorance improvesnneither his society nor his ownnreputation. In pardoning Mr. Stockman,nMr. Reagan has betrayed one of the principlesnof what could be termed the newnpolitical morality —an ingredient ofnhis own pre-electoral rhetoric, a basicnpremise of the conservative renewal ofnnnthe American public and civic ethos. Ifna civil servant has doubts about whatnhe’s doing, his sacrosanct duty is to conveynthem to his official superior, hisnpolitical comrade in arms, his ideologicalnsoul mate. If his doubts are not assuaged,nif they become a burden on his conscience,nhe should resign his positionnand then go public with his objections,nreservations, opposition, discoveriesnand denunciations. This is the only wayna man in public service can prove hisnhonesty, integrity, responsibility andnhonor. If he confides his doubts to anjournalist, the latter’s probity notwithstanding,nhe automatically becomes ansort of Benedict Arnold. In Americananno Domini 1981, journalists see disastersnas news—thus they are principallyninterested in harm, abuse, ravage.nAny portent of failure and defeat—personal,nmoral, mental—is for the journalistna good tiding: it promises himnmoney, celebrity and even that spuriousnfeeling of being a savior to his people.nThe contemporary American journalistnsincerely believes that his attitude ofnindiscrimination toward the telling ofneverything “like it is” improves thenworld and enriches society. This shallownperception of politics, history andnhuman affairs has—as recent timesnclearly demonstrate—inflicted irremediablenimpairment on our shared reality.nThe journalist epitomizes the banalitynof the evil of our lifetime, and Mr.nStockman is only the newest cadavernto be left behind on the trail of his allegedlynwell-meaning vampirism.nTo expect an American journalist inn.Washington, D.C. to honor a confidencenis to announce one’s own mental debili-n^m^m^mmmm^VdnJanuary/February 1982n