Burlaki on the Thames

I mentioned a few times in this series the notion of my own very first cassette tape. In fact, there were two of them. Both were recorded for me by my Uncle, who owned a Sharp dual-deck stereo recorder - a rarity in those days. While he was aware of what I would have liked to hear on those tapes, he decided to only partially satisfy my requests and, in addition, to give me a taste of things that I was not truly aware of.

The first tape had Modern Talking on one side (I certainly wanted that) and Bad Boys Blue on the other (under a misplaced notion that it was but a different album by Modern Talking).

The second tape, however, had music that I by no means expected. The Beatles’ Abbey Road took one side and an album by Bee Gees the other. While I became an ardent Beatles fan, I did not like Bee Gees much. I soon recorded over that side, have no recollection of which particular songs of theirs were on that tape, and never really warmed up much to them to care.

There were also a couple of “bonus” tracks tacked at the ends of those albums. Hotel California was one, becoming an instant favorite of mine almost as instantly as the Beatles became my favorite band. The other introduced me to The King.

Funny how I keep using the word “introduced” in these memoirs. The year must have been ‘84 or ‘85 - neither John Lennon nor Elvis were alive any longer.

I’ve only noticed in passing that I am not a very willing dancer. At any given party, when the dancing floor becomes the focus of the celebration, I am still more likely to be found at a seat by the table, hopefully with a similarly-minded friend, spending time in idle banter.

(Natasha - who loves to dance - suffers for it, of course, but she’s learned to cope. She joins friendly circles for fast tunes, but more often than not has to sit down for slow ones, when everybody on the floor breaks into boy-girl pairs. Some of my best friends always have my back by inviting her to the dance floor for a slow dance. Their significant others, if not otherwise occupied, would normally use the opportunity to come over and have a drink with me.)

There are a handful of tunes, though, that would get me out of my seat and onto the dance floor any time they are played. They are not necessarily my favorite songs, per se, but something about them inexplicably makes the idea of dancing temporarily enjoyable. Must be some suppressed teenhood memories of waiting for a slow number to get to hold that one special girl close in my arms…

This is one of them.

Towards the very end of the 80’s, the Soviet television started incorporating little bits of Western culture into its late-night programming. Among the teenage crowd, Saturday night MTV hit-parade quickly became a must-see event. I’m pretty sure that the charts were European, rather than American, but the difference mattered little to the generation that grew up mostly on an “underground” access to the Western acts.

Among the songs that occupied top spots in that hit-parade was I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight. UB40 was not at all known in the USSR before then, but it became somewhat popular in quick order.

One day, in a hallway of our university building, my friends and I held a discourse on popular music styles. Someone asked, “What style do you think UB40 is?”

My answer was immediate and categorical.

“Typical Country!”

Because of my reputation as a well-rounded and knowledgeable person, there was no assertive counter-argument. One of my closest friends noncommittally suggested, “Maybe a touch of ‘new wave’?”

“A touch”, magnanimously agreed I.

In the years following my emigration to the States, I went through a period of listening to Garth Brooks, and learned what country music was like. Then I learned that this particular song had been authored by Bob Dylan and listened to his own original rendition of the song (you can try it here), which is a fairly typical country. My aforementioned silly verdict related to UB40’s body of work that was larger than one single song, of course, but if it was influenced by knowledge that I was yet to acquire in the then-future, we are talking about something supernatural here.

Nah!! I had no clue, is all.

It snowed here last night. For no more than an hour, and melted instantaneously, but it was a huge surprise nonetheless.

While Becky boldly went where her parents have never gone before, - she is on a school trip to Iceland, - Kimmy required extra attention than normal during her half-term break. So Natasha enrolled her in a three-day theater workshop, brought her to see a Russian circus troupe and commandeered half of the living room for continuous work on the summer vacation scrapbook. They also sang together, with Kimmy learning songs that she did not know the words to before. That obviously necessitated a session of videotaping. Here is one performance.

For my non-Russian-speaking audience, the song is called “A True Friend” and is basically about friendship.

One of the gifts that Becky received this year for her birthday was a recording studio experience (idea by Mom, funding by Grandma and Grandpa). She enlisted a couple of her friends as a personal gallery and went the other day to record three songs of her choice. I have to say that she somewhat erred in regards to picking songs commensurate with her vocal range, but she had a blast nonetheless. Below are a few outtakes from the occasion.

Note: YouTube screwed up the first 8 seconds of video in their “conversion” process, and I don’t have the willpower to try again.

One of the most important dates in my life is the day I met Natasha. We were really young then, yet somehow managed to recognize that we were meant for each other, if not at first sight, then definitely at the second one.

We actually saw one another for the first time a couple of days earlier. Our student theater was looking to launch a freshman troupe, and I drew the short straw for the privilege of being its “artistic director”. Of course, I appraised all of the girls who came to the initial meeting, and not just on their performing talents. Then, a couple of days later, I saw one of them standing in the lobby of our university building waiting for someone, approached her, struck a conversation, and the rest, as they say, is history.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday. The date was 18th of October.

Which, if you’ve become familiar with us by now, you know is also Becky’s birthday.

Because Becky chose to enter the world on the anniversary of the day that Natasha and I met, and because our tying-the-knot anniversary occurs less than two weeks later, we tend to overlook celebrating that fateful meeting. Even though I consider it a more important occasion. Because it feels as if I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her even then.

My love for my wife is easily summed up by the title of this song. I just can’t smile without her. One of my best friends once remarked that I did not actually live during the year-plus that I spent in America before she joined me. Found it very hard to do anything, indeed. And have been smiling ever since we were together again, for all these years.

(This is one of the goofier performances, but I could not find a YouTube clip that wasn’t flawed one way or another.)

By the way, the other day, Natasha suddenly tells me, “You know which song has been stuck in my head recently? Can’t Smile Without You”. And I respond, “No way, I was just thinking that it would be my next YouTube’d memory!”

This thinking same thoughts business is getting spookier with time.

This is not, as it were, a memory.

I am a singing person. I sing when I walk, hum when I’m idle, and frequently burst into vocalization when I’m at home (oh yes, I always sing in the shower!). I know lyrics to thousands of songs - mostly Russian, but a fair share in English, and a few in French and Italian, - and my close friends know that I am the happiest when a guitar - or, alternatively, a karaoke - figures as part of a gathering.

My love of singing is likely the reason of a strange psychological phenomenon: I wake up every day with a song already stuck in my head. And often, in the middle of a day, as I turn away from a task that I was mentally focused on for some time, I find an arbitrary song “waiting” to get me stuck on. Occasionally, I can deduce a reason for that - and that likely means that I don’t mind being stuck with the song for a while. On other occurrences, I have no idea why a particular song pops into my head - and more often than not, I then have to draw on one of a couple of trusted “standbys” to chase the undesirable away.

Which brings me to this particular song. I don’t know any of its lyrics except the tu m’as promis refrain. I have no idea why it should appeal to me at all. But it is inexplicably the melody that randomly attaches itself to my subconscious considerably more often that others. Especially the too-roo-too-too-roo-roo-roo-roo-too part.

They say that admitting that you have a problem is the first step towards recovery…

One of my favorite animated shorts of all time. No knowledge of spoken languages required! Music bridges the widest of gaps!

The other day we went with friends for a dinner to a trendy place in Mayfair. The meal itself was exceptional, the company was extraordinary, and live entertainment - first a virtuoso keyboardist and then a belly dancer - made the evening all the more fun.

Among the songs played (and danced to) there was Lambada. The song was incredibly popular in Russia when it first came out, even though few could dance it properly. But the requisite pelvic grinding was certainly a big attraction - as were the flashes of skin in the great music video.

I am not a skillful - or even willing - dancer, but I can dance lambada. Hence, the memories. We’ll leave it at that.

Many thanks, Michelle, for your postcard with a magnificent view of the Teton Range in the Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming. As I never tire of repeating, sights like that help feeding my wanderlust.

I actually have been re-living some of our recent travels by converting travel diaries into proper Travelog entries. As I went to make small modifications to my Paris entry, I realized that a song popped into my head. I can’t claim any degree of originality here - Sous le Ciel de Paris is probably the most frequently used melody associated with Paris. But in that, it has a simple power over me: Paris, after all, is one of my most beloved places in the world, and anything that prompts me to think about it is welcome.

I prefer Yves Montand’s version to that of Edith Piaf. Unfortunately, the best instance of that found on YouTube happens to be set to shots of the Coco Chanel commercial. For views of the City of Lights, a good instrumental-only version is an alternative.

Back to more obscure stuff for the American-born audience, here is a guy who enjoyed a cult status when I was growing up. Aside from being a pretty good crooner - and he could move, too, - Adriano Celentano starred in several French and Italian movies that were tremendously popular in Russia.

Susanna is not my favorite song by Celentano, but it does evoke the strongest memories of one of the summer camp trips in early 80’s. There was a boy in my “force” who resembled a well-known Russian comedian with the last name that perfectly rhymed with “Susanna” (Хазанов). From the very first day in camp, the poor kid not only acquired that for his nickname, but was also regularly serenaded with an appropriately adjusted version of the song.

I was at a prepubescent stage of my life where I already discovered that the opposite gender captivated my interest above anything else, and I have very pleasant memories of that summer. Hearing Susanna never fails to take me back.

Following up on a comment by my good friend Artyom, here is an offshoot of one of my favorite Euro-pop bands, Modern Talking. Dieter Bohlen, the blond “backup” of the duo, was actually the composer of all of their material. He also groomed and wrote songs for CC Catch, among others.

I can’t say that she was ever much of a favorite of mine, but she certainly featured in discotheques frequently.

… and I’m off again, for the last time this year, it seems.

Arrivederci!

Another one of my stand-alone favorites. I’m lukewarm about the movie, I’d be hard pressed to name another song by Bryan Adams that I know and like, but You know it’s true: Everything I do, I do it for you struck a chord with me the first time I heard it. The music is not half bad either.

No specific memories are associated with this song. It’s simply one of the select few: If I come across it on a radio station, I wouldn’t turn the dial.

With that, I am off again for a week. Back to Riviera, and soon to Tuscany.

Ciao!

As a professed fan of The Beatles, I am actually quite lukewarm towards anything that the Fab Four produced in their solo careers after their break-up. Lennon’s Imagine is probably the closest a song by a former Beatle comes to being a favorite of mine.

My most vivid memory associated with it is quite recent.

A starry September night. Throngs of people on the Karluv Most in Prague. And a street guitarist, surrounded by several dozens of revelers, leading them in the rendition of Imagine…

With that, I am off to the next leg of our grand tour, which will see us relocate from Costa Brava to the French Riviera.

A bientôt!

Another one of my long-standing favorites. Curiously, I never bothered with any other songs by Stevie Wonder. The only other of his works that I am even aware of is Ebony and Ivory by him and Paul McCartney.

My most vivid memory associated with this melodic and evocative love ballad has nothing to do with being romantic. My first summer in the US, I worked as a counselor at a YMHA day camp (’H’ stands for ‘Hebrew’, for those who don’t know; other letters mean exactly what they do in the more famous YMCA acronym, but without a catchy song to its credit). One day, the camp held a talent show, and among many renditions of Heveynu Shalom Aleichem, Hava Nagila and the like, one of the senior groups went with I Just Called… It stood out, to say the least.

On this note, we’re taking off early tomorrow morning for the first leg of our big summer holiday. I’ll be back in London on Wednesday with a due recount of the progress.

Hasta luego, amigos!

Back to our regular light programming, here is one of my all-time favorites.

For some reason, the strongest recollections of this song put me inside my Dad’s old Pontiac, driving the length of Ocean Parkway and loudly singing along. I believe they come from the time when Natasha worked cash register at a supermarket on Brighton Beach and I was in college. Occasionally, our schedules allowed me to drive her to work. The car was too old to have a CD-player, and I never owned Clapton on tape, so the song must have been a regular on LiteFM or Z100 or something…

And now, returning to our regular programming, here is another of the discotheque favorites in my high-school DJ’ing time.

Can’t think of any specific memories associated with Pet Shop Boys, besides their popularity (for a short period of time) and the search for a perfect translation of their band name among those of us who “knew” English. “Boys from Pat’s Shop”. “Shopping boy-servants”. “Boys that like house animals”…

Come Together does not break into my 30 Favorite Beatles’ songs, but it has the distinction of being the very first song by the group that I heard while being actively aware that I was listening to the Beatles. My uncle, who had a dual-deck tape recorder (a tremendous rarity in the days of my youth in the country of my birth), recorded Abbey Road onto the very first tape that I called my own after acquiring a fairly primitive tape player.

I’ve been a fan of the Beatles ever since.

With that, my lovely wife and I are off to a short weekend adventure. On our own!

I’ll tell you all about it - ok, some about it, - when we return.

Maybe not as popular as Modern Talking, German-based multinational pop trio Bad Boys Blue was a staple of our DJ playlists in mid-80’s.

The two contemporary outfits are curiously forever linked in my mind. My very first own cassette tape was meant to contain The First Album by MT in its entirety, but instead had only two songs from that album, followed by the songs from BBB’s Hot Girls - Bad Boys album. Even though the sound of the two groups was noticeably different, I at first fully believed that I had, in fact, the entire first album by MT, no matter how much my best friend - who had, unlike me, a well-trained ear for music - tried to convince me otherwise.

It wasn’t long that we caught on to BBB on their own merits. The lip accordion riffs were quite an obvious signature.

Wikipedia tells me that they are still recording…

I’ve already offered a glimpse of Modern Talking in the retrospection of my musical affinities (and also posted this clip in other people’s blogs). But it is high time that I paid my respects to the German duo directly.

For some period of time in high school, I was a DJ. Not because I was any good at it or because I had an exceptional taste in music, but rather because I had this intense dislike of the activity of dancing, while at the same time being a fairly popular and sociable kid. So, in hindsight, my DJ’ing was akin to being a “designated driver”: Somebody had to change the tape decks and direct the discotheque crowd without feeling left out of the actual dancing, and I fit perfectly for that role.

Nothing reminds me of that period of my life as much as the sugary beat of Bohlen and Anders.

P.S. I don’t really get the Once Upon a Time in America linkage…