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A Russian musical treasure exhibit

December 8th, 2009

My tastes as far as Russian music is concerned more or less calcified at the point of my emigration. Whatever I liked then, I like now. New acts that sprouted in the last two decades – not so much.

There is a show on Russian TV that purports to select the best of all of the songs written throughout the history of the USSR and Russia. The show is called “National Treasure” (in a nice twist, the first two letters of each of the two words comprising its name in Russian – Достояние Республики – are actually the first two notes in an octave), and each of its episodes examines the musical heritage of a given decade. Two sets of judges – “younger” generation and “older” generation; the demarcation seems to be around the age of 32-33, so I would definitely belong to the latter – vote on each of the presented songs. Three songs with the most votes from each decade progress on to the future program finale.

The judges are all celebrities of one kind or another and they are also asked to openly opine on every number prior to voting. A couple of people produce thoughtful – or hilarious – remarks, but most of the conversation is given to ardent butt-kissing, especially when the performer has a high enough pedigree to only be dealt with as if he or she were royalty. There are some harsh, and even rude, put-downs on rare occasions for some lesser lights, but it is mostly “Fantastic! Super! Amazing! Genius! You are my favorite singer!” and all that. Entertaining enough, I suppose.

The songs themselves is what matters to me. I know enough of Soviet musical heritage from before I was born and practically everything that’s ever been on radio or TV in the 70′s and 80′s to find every tune familiar and to be genuinely pleased when a song I count among my favorites gets high marks from the judging panels.

And then we come to the installment dealing with the songs from the 90′s.

To say that I do not know any of those songs is incorrect – most of them were or still are on the playlists in Russian restaurants in Brooklyn. To say that any of the songs can have a pretense of being considered for anything more than a fleeting note is a gross understatement – but then, I realize that you can’t just skip a decade altogether in this format. Several of the songs were legitimate hits in their time and possibly left a bigger imprint in the history of Russian music than I can imagine from my remote perch. But were I on that panel, I might just leave my ballot blank.

And then, there was this gem, which I’ve never heard before. (This is the original 90′s video.)
 

 
My American readers hopefully will not make a mistake to think that this song is sung in Russian. Or, in any language, for that matter. The words – of which there aren’t many – are pure gibberish.

During the performance of this number, I said to Natasha: “I can’t imagine that anyone from the ‘older’ generation would vote for it”. The tune may be catchy enough, and the number itself may have a sort of “pioneering” impact in the ex-Soviet society, but could this be something that people identify with or have fond memories associated with or simply enjoy singing themselves1?

And what do you know!? Both panels, the older one and the younger one, heaped unqualified praise on the group and its frontman, with one jury member, a respected poet in his 70′s, recalling that he once labelled the guy “the new Tchaikovsky” and this song was the proof.

!?!?!?!?

The song got enough votes to become a finalist. Indeed, a Russian musical **national** treasure.

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1 Ok, I suppose I can imagine myself repeatedly croaking “Ramamba Haru Mamburu” in a deranged shower moment, but I wouldn’t be proud of my choice. I’m sure.

From Russia, Videos & Music

Greasing my way on Russian Airlines

May 15th, 2009

That day which started with my infamous detention for video-taping local police headquarters, continued with various amusements on my subsequent trip home1.

I was already well-conditioned to the pervasive expectation of monetary “incentives” exhibited by everybody in the service sector. Truth be told, with the exchange rate of about 25 rubles to a dollar, I could safely dispense bribes left and right and pretend they were simple gratuities, so little it cost me in absolute terms. Plus, of course, I was more than willing to “smooth” my passage out of the country as much as I could.

I had a huge and heavy suitcase to check in, full of gifts and souvenirs. At the airport, the woman behind the check-in desk eyeballed it as I was approaching her and adopted a constipated facial impression of someone stoically prepared to fight against any blatant disregard for airline regulations.

And then she saw my American passport.
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From Russia, Memoirs

Three hours under arrest

March 16th, 2009

I only went back to Russia once in the years since I emigrated. Did not like that journey much, for a number of reasons. The pervasive state of dilapidation on Russian periphery at the turn of the century was the primary reason. The commonplace boorishness of service sector employees, from shopping assistants to receptionists, grated on my American-honed sensibilities. The expectation of a bribe clear on the face of anyone with power to make my life simpler or harder made me want to hurl. Yes, seeing many old friends was really nice, but it also made me realize how divergent our values and interests have become.

Natasha ascribes much of my disaffection with that trip to the weather. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to go, and with Natasha more than half-term along with Kimmy, I could not postpone it until warmer months. Mid-March tends to be quite cold in the Russian south, with driving rain or wet snow dominating the skies. And so it was, raining one day, snowing the other, freezing overnight and thawing by the midday just enough to make everything one big puddle of mud.

But the very last day of my visit turned out bright and sunny, with not a cloud in sight and the temperatures finally climbing into early-spring territory. I had a few hours before I needed to go to the airport, and I decided to use them for a bit of video-recording.
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From Russia, Memoirs

Can’t we all be friends!?

September 27th, 2008

My father-in-law who arrived for a visit last night brought me the t-shirt that you can see in the picture on the right. As an American citizen of Russian birth and British residence, I find the sentiment very appropriate.

Click to enlarge.

For my non-Russian audience, the best translation of what’s printed on the t-shirt is “Guys, can’t we all be friends!?”. A tagline from a well-loved animated shorts series about a good-natured cat by name of Leopold who is frequently harassed by mischievous mice, it has long become what we call a “winged phrase”.

From Russia

The great and mighty Russian language

September 6th, 2008

My good friend Art pointed me to a hilarious bit of geopolitical news. Those in my audience who can read Russian are strongly urged to head over there and read for themselves. English interpretation follows below the fold and may still be amusing to my non-Russian-speaking readers.
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From Russia

Watch your head!

June 20th, 2008

A long overdue little glimpse into our living.

The cupboards under our upper floor stairs leave enough of empty space for a person to step into when the traffic in the entrance hallway becomes too heavy. Some of our visitors may recall painfully banging their heads on the stairs as a result of such a maneuver.

Well, we finally decided to post a warning (Natasha’s Dad provided the sticker).

  

Click to enlarge, if you’d like. The right-hand picture gives you an idea of what the space looks like.

For my non-Russian readers, the sign translates as “The Place To Hit Your Head (don’t hurt yourself, be careful!)”.

From Russia, Pictures

Thinking same thoughts

November 5th, 2007

One thing I neglected to mention in my brief tribute to married life. After this many years, Natasha and I have progressed from finishing each other sentences to frequently thinking the same thoughts at the same time.
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From Russia, Stuff About Us

Some thoughts on Sochi selection as Olympic host

July 7th, 2007

So, Winter Olympics in Sochi. Manifestly due to direct involvement of charismatic Putin, who popped up in Guatemala and charmed IOC members in French and English, swaying the majority in Russia’s favor.

One of my Russian friends, whom I correspond with regularly and who is avowedly apolitical, has sent me a hyperventilating email with repeated verbiage around “our victory”, “a shot of adrenalin”, “the might of the country”… I can only imagine the hysteria in Russian mass media – actually, I’ve read a few articles, nothing to imagine there. Putin is now only an inch away from being anointed a saint. Irina Rodnina, discussing the suggestion of Putin opening the Games in 2014, agreed that it will certainly be appropriate regardless of which position he will occupy at the time; then, matter-of-factly, “In truth, people of Russia are not against him doing that in his presidential capacity”…
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From Russia

Political debates to avoid

May 20th, 2007

Our guests have returned home, and we have a brief lull until the next visitors arrive.
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Chronicles, Family & Friends, From Russia, On Current Events