Tag: Soviet rock

TWO CLASSIC RUSSIAN ROCK ALBUMS REVIEWED: KINO’S `Nachalnik Kamchatki` and NAUTILIUS POMPILIUS’S `Titanic`.

KINO, the braincild of the frontman Viktor Tsoi, emerged from the Leningrad scene in 1982 to become the prototypical Russian rock act with their brand of `beat music` until Tsoi’s tragic demise eight years later.

Nachalnik Kamchatki (`Head of Kamchatka`) forms Kino’s second release after `1946` and sees  the light of day in 1984 on Moroz records. Andrei Tropillo produces it.

For all the bright colours of the album sleeve this is a downbeat affair, notable for the brevity of its tracks. My version features black and white shots of the band which could almost have come from the Nineteen Fifties.

The album opens on a strong, famous anthem: `Last hero` (`Posledniy Gero`). Here we get a repeated bass coda held up by a light beat as Tsoi sings in a fresh voice with a borderline angry tone. `Good  morning, last hero` is the chorus line. There are no instrumental interludes on this otherwise instrument heavy album, but the song is interesting enough not to need them.

The piece which follows – `Every Night` (`Kazhdi Noch`) – betrays some influence of the two-tone ska music from the British West Midlands of the time. With its chugging rhythm and its horn backing melody it could almost be an early piece from The Specials. `I know – every night I live near the sea, I know -every night I listen to songs` goes the oft repeated chorus line.

`Tranquiliser` plays next. Also with a British Eighties sensibility, this has an upfront bass and a funereal metronomic pace propping up Tsoi’s spaced out vocals: `The weatherman says rain won’t be long` and the drawn out chorus `Oooooh, tranquliser`. This is all too effective in conveying a certain defeated lethargy, despite some pleasing guitar work.

The fourth composition feels quite forgettable. `Listen to the New Song` sounds a little manic with sixties style organ keyboards, a stuttering bass line and somewhat nagging vocals.

`Guest` (`Gost`) is next up. Once again we are treated to a sparse mix of heavy drums and bass relieved by the intervention of  a bit of guitar later on. The lyrics build on the theme of despondency : `Drink tea, smole papyrosas/ Think of what to do tomorrow`.

`Kamchatka`, the next track, offers a solution: daydream. The title is Russian slang for an idealised place to escape to (like Eldorado). It is all prefigured with some exotic, blissed out rhythm guitar before the refrain` It’s a strange place Kamchatka/It’s a sweet word Kamchatka` gets rolled out.

The seventh piece `Aria Mister X` reprises the electric organ keyboards and marries a ponderous song with a speedy rhythm. A bit of an outtake this.

Iconic Soviet forerunners of Russian rock: Kino (Viktor Tsoi second from the left). [tipstop.ru]

`Trolleybus` on the other hand redeems the album with a serviceable pop song. With an ostensible focus on the vehicle of the title (`I don’t know why I’m cold in here`) the song brings in an upfront  guitar riff and some soaring saxophone. With its more upbeat stance , `Trolleybus` is a preview of what Kino would later evolve into a few albums later.

Then `Slushy snow` (`Raspotitye sneg`) fades in with another mechanical beat this time overlaid with acid blues style guitars. Again the mood seems one of desperation. `Mother` cries Tsoi. Then: `Help me!`

`Rain for us` (Dozhd Dyela Vas`) comprises a slow ballad complete with jangly guitars and more of Igor Butman’s saxophone but fails to really distinguish itself.

`I Want to Drink with You` (`Hachoo Pitz s’ Tovoy`) is track number eleven and is a return to form. With its funky baseline and much saxophone this could, maybe with a little bit more production, have stood alongside `Trolleybus` as a standout piece.

`General`, up next, introduces a dub like echoing bass and some interesting violin instrumentation but it otherwise forgettable.

The final piece, which the band should placed nearer the front so good is it, is `Romantic Walk` (`Protulka Romantika`). Concerned with a nocturnal city stroll, the song is built around a fine bass line and builds up to a memorable chorus line.

Taking all the above into account, we have here a glum, minimalist, reverb-heavy album which, nevertheless features a wide range of musicianship.  The lyrical focus is very much on the minutiae of daily life much in the way that (say) Tom Robinson’s Band was during the same era.This is  a`stoner` soundtrack and  is not for partying to; nor is it the best work of Kino, which would come later. What does shine through, though, is Tsoi’s songwriting prowess.

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Nautilus Pompilius emerged from Sverdlosk in the eighties , lead by the singer Vyacheslav Butusov with lyrics supplied by the poet Ilya Kormitsev, they promoted their brand  of `Urals rock` which would take them up to the late Nineties.

Titanic comes out in  April 1994 in C.D fotmat and is their eighth album. Recorded in Yekaterinburg it is on the Jam Sound label and a  member of Agata Kristie – Vadim Samoilov helps to produce it.It would go on to become one of their most popular.

Tutankhamun  is the well known opening number. The intriguing and impressive sound is built up with a rhythm aided by a Jew’s harp and a clapping beat augmented by a repeated coda formed by bass,keyboards and violin. An oboe, or something of the kind, interjects later to lend an Eastern ambience to the proceedings as does the faux-African style crooning later on. Butusov eschews the usual build up-bridge-chorus line here, as he does in many of his pieces. We do however get a stage whispered repetition of the title towards the close of the song.

The title track `Titanic` also involves an historical reference with an evocation, in the lyrics, of blind ignorance of ones fate. (The lyrics did not come with the album and, although they are available on the net, I have not considered them here. Nautilius Pompilius are known for their lyrical ccontent and, for this very reason, it is interesting to see hiw their music stacks up when this aspect is left out).

Nautilus Pompilius playing live. [Yandex. Musika]

What a standout piece the third one is! `Polyana’s Morning` (`Utra Polini`), with its jangly guitars and blended base laid over a Casio style tik-tok rhythm over which Butusov sings, instead of intones for once, conjures up an elgaic beauty to compare with the best of Pink Floyd.

`Rascal and Angel` `(Negodyai ii Angel`) appears next and is a shorter rhythm based composition which seems to have been built around the vocals and then introduces a surprising keyboard interlude and  some whistling. After the dreaminess of the previous track I found this one a little irritating.

The fifth offering `To Eloise` (`K  Eloise`) boasts a sort of twenties jazz- swing  approach and is something that could have almost appeared in Soviet times. However, for all its apparent lightness of touch `To Eloise` comprises a dark love song, of sorts.

`Air` (`Vosdukh`) is up next. This opens in an appropriate way with swirling, `cosmic` sounding keyboards before some slow guitar chords are added to the mix. This also features an enjoyable chorus complete with a pleasant melody and fades out as instruments take over.

`Wheels of Love` (`Kolesa Lyoobvi`), in contrast, seems like a jolly vintage rock and roll number complete with a boogying bass line but a definite oft repeated chorus line. One for the stilyagi.

The penultimate number `20,000` is the neaerst thing the album has to a dance piece:with a heavy bass and a great deal of electronic rhythmical doodling. This could almost be something from the `Head of Kamchatka` by Kino.

The final piece, called `Beast` (`Zver`) is another nugget to put alongside `Polyana’s morning`. It opens in an almost reggae like manner with a repetitive song sung over the regular beat and then the whole thing becomes graceful as majestic extended keyboard notes enter the fray and  the sound  becomes ever more elegant and soulful.

Taken as a whole we have here a listenable and durable art rock album which is well produced and well executed and varied enough to be appreciated without even understanding the meaning of the all important verses. Butusov’s vocal delivery, no doubt influenced by Tsoi, does lack variety but is distinctive and is no doubt something of a trademark for his generation of fans.

WHAT’S ALL THIS THEN!? AUKTYON LIVE AT THE GLAV CLUB, MOSCOW ON OCTOBER 6TH.

Perhaps I should have split the scene when I spied the tuba on-stage….

If I had to name the most lugubrious song that I can think of then it would have to be The House of the Rising Son by The Animals which they released in Britain in the sixties.

This soul-sapping song was the one being played by a warm up DJ as I made my way into the Glav Club in south Moscow to find out about AUKTYON.

As I shuffled through the security checkpoint, having had to divest myself of all my valuables and then graduated to the garderobe area were the process was repeated, I was, for some reason, reminded of a time I had gone to visit an inmate at Strangeways prison many years ago. Perhaps it was just that baleful ballad, with its sense of entrapment, that had put me in this frame of mind. Yet it was fitting.

Tuba.

The DJ responsible for this soundtrack, however, was something of a discrepancy. As the 800 or so audience of hipsters of all, ages piled into the auditorium he span a string of sixties Western classics – all of which were in contrast to what was to ensue.

After treating us to The Doors he exited to polite applause and then we had a chance to look at the stage. The backdrop was an old-fashioned curtain rather than the now mandatory projection. Nor was there any evidence of dry ice to get us ready. Then I spied a tuba on the stage among other brass instruments. A tuba! Hmmm…

The Munsters.

I counted about nine members of AUKTYON including three brass horn worriers, a willowy keyboardist, the bassist, the lead guitarist and the man leading the parade…who, well we’ll come to that.

None of these personnel were screen idol material – unless you include the likes of Lon Chaney in that definition.

Leonid Fyodorov, a shapeless and bespectacled man, could have been a software developer as he crouched over his guitar facing sideways to the audience.

Leonid Fyodorov

Oleg Garkusha, a thick-set hunchback in a spangled jacket and white gloves,put me in mind of Barry Humphries’s alter ego Les Patterson. He functioned as the frontman and I kept expecting him to burst into song. Instead he tottered about the stage shaking some kind of tubular rattle like a man in the grip of delirium tremens. Once in a while bark something into the microphone or declaim something between sets.

Oleg Garkusha.

It seems that Garkusha constitutes one of those band members who, like Andrew Ridgeley from Wham, just `provide a presence`. But at least Ridgeley was beach-body ready….

Their own creation.

AUKTYON began in 1978 after being initiated by two college kids in St Petersburg – Fyodorov and Garkusha. They soon became a fixture of the influential Leningrad Rock club with their brand of art rock.

After all these years they can still draw an audience even though their sound has mutated from theatrical post-punk to central Asian tinged big band quasi-Jazz compositions, albeit retaining the thread of theatricality.

Mindless boogie.

Tonight they churned out a series of horn-heavy rhythmical numbers, most of which were quite long and many of which displayed false endings. At best they resembled some of the early excursions of Talking Heads and at other times I was reminded of the ska-punk of Distemper who I had seen live in Kazan a few years back. Their song `Doroga`, which I recognised, is an obvious classic but many others seemed indistinguishable from each other.

The Fyodorov’s crooning, whilst it may have been the blues voice of the perestroika era, only succeeded in reminding me that I would soon be on the screeching metro going home alone to an empty flat and with nothing but duties facing me the next wet day….

Mixed reception.

After each piece Garkusha did one of those circus performer bows where you cross and uncross your hands in front of your chest while bowing three times. The applause came, but the audience seemed to have divided into three camps. The true believers were the ones engaging in some energetic jiving. Then some looked just bored and the third camp was more tolerant and expectant yet a bit lost.

I do appreciate that AUKTYON have their very own late Soviet/post-Soviet jazz-ska-folk-dance-soundtrack which is by no means a copycat of anything Western that I can think of.

However, I was in the latter two camps. Call me superficial but I could have liked them more had they not been so unprepossessing in appearance; nor, as much as I embrace a lot of `dark` music, could I relate to their doleful tone.

Perhaps I just needed to knock back more of the 350 roubles a throw Tuborg’s, or become more of a jazzer….

They continued to honk and jitter about as I took my leave at quarter to eleven. On the way out I noticed that pamphlets by Colonel Gaddafi were being sold alongside tha band’s merchandise and then I became enveloped in the sleet of the October night….

 

Auktyon: `Moya Lyubov` (Live in St Petersburg, 2011

 

 

 

 

 

RABBLE ROUSERS: BRIGADNI PODRYAD AT 16 TONS.

They came all the way from St Pete’s to prove that Punk’s Not Dead (in Russia at least).

Nearing the end of a murky summer, I found myself, for the first time, in the much vaunted 16 Tons music bar. The season had offered slim pickings in terms of live music, so I had come to witness the re-appearance of an old act. This was an act that had been forged in the stagnation of the U.S.S.R. Would they still have something to say now?

Polished bar – Gritty band.
16 Tons functions as a mock-up of a British pub of the kind anathema to me. The exterior features a facade of olde-worlde curtained windows making the place resemble some kind of fun fair attraction. Upstairs, on the inside, the place is all gleaming dark mahogany, fake shelves of books and art nouveau style lamps. In fact, it is just the sort of place that was erupting all over Britain in the nineties. Indeed, 16 Tons has been in business since 1996 and has gained a reputation for both decent live music and beer.
Brigadni Podryad – their name gets translated as `Team Contract` but carries the sense of `mercenaries` -have been torchbearers of `77 style garage punk since their Soviet baiting school days and might seem to be out-of-place in such a venue. Then again the band can claim responsibility for some 15 studio albums which contain some cherished classics the appeal of which extends beyond the punk rock cognoscenti.

All the old dudes.
People say that 16 Tons provides great beers, which are brewed on site. However, after around two hundred punters had rolled up I had to forget about following up my passable glass of white ale. Those who spent the gig propping up the bar were not going to budge an inch!

The online blurb for the band made something of the fact that they can still speak to Youth. In fact few of the audience members looked below thirty. I did see a hipster type donned in a `No Gods – Nor Masters` t-shirt but there were more portly old gents with silver hair. Some people – and this is a real sign that a band has become established – had brought their kids.

A more unusual posse of exhibitionists pushed their way to the front of the throng. They represented Tula – a fan club from 190 odd kilometers south of Moscow. They waved a big flag to announce this fact.

No nonsense rockers.
We stood around as electronic disco music played expectant tunes. When the group arrived they launched straight into an aggressive number beneath red and orange lights and with the lead singer sporting a foot long Mohican. They seemed meaner than their jolly japish videos suggest – but they would soon loosen up.
Maxim Koldaev wielded the sticks in an AC/DC t-shirt, the bearded Evgeni Hulpin was on bass guitar, Anatoly Sktyarenko was the lead guitarist and Alexander Lukyanov fronted as the lead verbalist but also guitar.

Adapted Punk.
Brigadni Podryad specialise in Sex Pistol’s style fast and heavy rock: they are to `77 what Primal Scream are to `66. The assorted rabble got what they had come for – a chance to let rip with some `in yer face` but melodic choruses. The ethos was that of fans at an ice hockey match chanting and singing in unison.
Realising, however, that you cannot base an entire set around `1-2-3-crash-bang-crash` the band do allow other musical genres into the punk party. Much of what they play might be called Power Pop. Otherwise there can be found traces of rap and folk and even, in one song, a bit of funk.

Talented performers.
Lukyanov has a versatile voice which he sometimes wastes on doing good impressions of Pistol’s era John Lydon, but sounds far better as himself. He also supplements this with clear and confident melodies picked out on his guitar which serve to enrich the grinding clatter.
The band worked the audience with merry banter between songs and the guitarist gurned at them as he crouched over his instrument in a baseball cap and small shades.
Then, to the side of the stage, in a cordoned of V.I.P area the bottle blondes cavorted in a practised way to the beat. I took these to be the band members loyal wives.

Only rock and roll.
They strummed and hollered their way through an hour and a half worth of anthems and ballads without so much as stopping for a sip of water.
Their songs included the well-known `Gitari`, the goofy `Punk Rock Uroki` (`Punk rock Lesson`) and `St Pete’s Rock and Roll`. Then there was the edifying ditty entitled `Ivan Fuck off` which the crowd relished singing along to. We also got treated to a piece in praise of Krasnodar.
Unless there is something I am missing, Brigadni Podryad, these days at least, are not so much concerned with affairs of state. They tell of everyday impatience, family life, towns and…rock and roll. Rock and Roll in particular.

I am not unused to rock gig scrums. Nevertheless, as I stumbled in a daze back to the Metro, I felt like some sort of Woody Allen character who had been corralled into a jolly knees up with a bunch of Hell’s Angels.
If only I had been able to get to the bar more often, it could have been so much different!

`Gitari` by Brigadni Podryad.