A LEGEND FOR THE LOST.

On a street in Almaty there is a brass statue of Viktor Tsoi. Here’s why.

You stroll along the wide street called Abay Avenue which leads towards the Abay monument (dedicated to the poet, composer and reformer Abai Qunanbaiuly). You have a different poet and composer in mind, however, and just before you reach the gaping mouth of the Abay metro, you hang left and find yourself facing a large statue of a seated man and behind that an impressive fountain.

This is the entrance to the street which you take. The statue was of the composer Mukan Tulabaevich – the first Kazakh classical composer and author of the Kazakh national anthem. You, though, have another monument to another musician in mind and continue down the street You find yourself on a downward incline with trees on either side of you.

All of a sudden you are in the midst of some familiar verses as you are flanked by plaques all along the leafy pathway and these feature quotations from certain songs. You recognize some words from the legendary song Change.

Then you encounter the dark bronze statue. It has its back to you so you pass it and turn and find yourself facing an iconic tableau of a man in the centre of the path in the act of lighting a cigarette. Beneath him are the engraved word `Igla` – `The Needle`.

Soviet Cinema’s turning point.

From Kazakhfilm in 1988, The Needle was a film which kickstarted an all too brief trend of Kazakh New Wave cinema. Taking its cue from French New Wave films, this trend was willing to grapple with less than ideal social conditions (The Last Stop from 1989 about a soldier returning to his home town is another key example from this era).

For all its Avant-garde gestures The Needle brought in the punters, becoming the most watched film over the coming year. Furthermore, it made a superstar out of the leading man, who plays a character just known as Moreau. He is played by Viktor Tsoi, the lead singer and songwriter of the band Kino. Soviet Screen hailed this relative newcomer to the silver screen `the cinema actor of the year`.

Film poster [Pinterest]

Directed by the then 34-year-old Rashid Nugmanov, The Needle was shot in Alma Ata (then the capital of Kazakhstan, now known as Almaty and relegated to being `the capital of the South`) and took the St Petersburgian Tsoi to the land where his Korean father grew up. (There are many Koreans in the Central Asian states having resided in the Far East at the end of the Nineteenth Century).

One one level the film is a topical thriller.  In it, an enigmatic stranger returns to his hometown to meet up with a past girlfriend and becomes embroiled in a feud with drug dealing gangs (this theme being something of a hot potato of the late Soviet period). Then again, the narrative uses the stylistics that are more common to modernist theatre than popular cinema. For example, Moreau’s girlfriend spends one sequence wearing a mask without explanation. In another scene, Moreau and some allies arrive to make a revenge attack on one of the drug dealers who is in a bath house. The men simple stand stock still on the edge of the pool and in this way some kind of violence is implied rather than depicted. Moreover, extended shots the parched wasteland of what was once the Aral Sea anchor the whole production in a dreamlike landscape.

DVD slevve for The Needle [yahha.com]

Nor is The Needle just a showcase of Kino’s music. Sure enough, there is the presence of Kino’s mid-tempo interwoven guitar melodies here, but the songs do not dominate the tale. (Review of a Kino Album here)

The most famous song (written for the film) is `Blood type` which plays  at the film’s denouement when Moreau stops to light a cigarette just before being knifed by one of his drug baron enemies.(This is the very scene recreated by the statue – which has been erected on the precise locale where it had been filmed some three decades earlier).

Eurasian superstar.

Viktor Robertovich Tsoi came into the world in June 21st 1962 into a respectable family composed of an engineer father and P.E teacher mother. One crucial fact is that he spent his formative years in Leningrad (now St Petersburg). The proximity of this city to Finland made for a lot cultural interpenetration between it and Western Europe. Tsoi, somewhat set apart from his peers by his Asiatic appearance, came to idolize Bruce Lee. He was also enamored of the pop-rock scene of the Eighties in Britain and was familiar with such bands as Joy Division, The Smiths and Duran-Duran. He would flog his own hand-drawn reproductions of album covers to people in his circle.

Later under the moniker Garin and the Hyperboloids – a reference to a Spy-fi thriller by Alexei Tolstoy which was both filmed and serialized on Soviet television -became a part of the officially sanctioned Leningrad Rock Scene (a period of history examined in the film Summer – my review here).

We should be grateful for the Soviet policy which insisted that bands could not do covers of Western songs but had to write their own material – without this edict one feels that Tsoi and others of his ilk might well have remained cover bands.

Instead, throughout a twelve-year period, from 1978 to 1990 Tsoi, with a lean black-clad rock-hipster-cum-Kung fu fighter persona, put Russian rock on the map through his guitar, bass and piano playing and, of course, his portentous low register voice – but above all his zeitgeist laden lyrics. Kino would release some four hundred songs, many of them still sung by young buskers throughout Eastern Europe and Central Asia. They played to a huge crowd as Luzhniki stadium in Moscow before Tsoi met his end in a car accident in Latvia in 1990.

In the meantime, a great deal of `Kinomania` had been generated. It is said that some fans took their own lives on hearing of the loss of their hero. In the longer term, conspiracy theories abound as to the exact nature of Tsoi’s death. There is also much lively debate about just what Tsoi would have made of the end of the Soviet Union, which he had got so close to but never got to see.

There is also a deep irony in the fact that some of Tsoi’s songs have been requisitioned by the Putin regime and turned into pro-war anthems sung by military choirs!  (Needless to say, Tsoi was a draft dodger).

Metal Ghost.

 In the presence of Nugmanov, the lead guitarist of Kino band Yuri Kaspyarin and (a real sign of the times) the Mayor of Almaty, the statue was unveiled on the thirtieth anniversary of The Needle’s release – June 21st 2018. The sculptor – one Matvey Matushkin was born on the year that Tsoi embarked on his musical career.

Tsoi’s metal ghost continues to haunt this former country of the Soviet Union, forever lighting a cigarette in grim reflection….

Almaty’s Abbey Road?

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.

First Barbarians at the Gates: the film LETO (SUMMER).

 

[wallpaperden.com]
Precious but eye-brow raising: the celebrated glimpse of a time when Soviet Youth was toying with Western decadence.

Welcome to the Leningrad of the early Eighties and the bands of the Rock Club that emerged there. Part biopic/docudrama and part musical, this monochrome film which opened in Cannes last May to much fanfare, concerns the (fictionalised) life and times of Viktor Tsoi, lead singer of Kino and Mike Naumenko the vocalist with  blue-rock band Zoo Park.

These `U.S.S.R punks` were smitten with Western rock and so, uniformed in denim and shades,  tried to live for the moment, swigging wine and puffing cigs in the way  they imagined their Western counterparts had done 15 years earlier.We see them haggling over Western rock posters in markets and getting hassled by old-timers on train journeys.

Many of  their elders indulged them, however, and the Soviet authorities  let them play their stuff – most of it on acoustic guitars and recorded on reel-to-reel tape recorders –provided it was their own work.  We can be thankful for this edict because the music of Tsoi’s Kino is  as timeless as it is Russian, even though nudged a bit by the likes of Joy Division.

It seems somehow fitting that many of these artisans, Tsoi and Naumenko included, were to die young just before the Soviet period, which they had chaffed against, drew to a close.

[filmpro.ru]
The brainchild of this innovative movie is the outspoken Putin critic Kirill Serebrinnikov who is notorious for being under house arrest for supposed `embezzlement` – a situation which came into force during the making of this film.

He has brought the Russian rock star’s restricted milieu to life  by use of quasi-avant garde flourishes. Leto features  hand painted graphics, on screen lyrics,  and abrupt vaudevillian rock turns the songs of Talking Heads, Bowie, and Iggy Pop.

Real life rock vocalist Roman Bilyk (of power-pop group Zveri) takes the role of Mika Naumanko and does so with able nonchalance. The difficult task of becoming the iconic Viktor Tsoi fell to the Korean-German actor Teo Yoo who had to say his lines in Russian despite not having any of that language!

However not even the addition of Irina Starshenbaum (Attraction) as the object of a love mix-up  involving Tsoi and Naumenko, can disguise the fact that Leto is formless and overlong, (in particular if one is not fluent in Russian).

What saves Leto is its stylistic playfulness some of which even startled me, and of course the music proves enlivening, although I would like to have heard less of the old Western party pieces and more from Kino.

This film resembles Aleksey German’s film Dovlatov from earlier the same year.Both films brood over the  well-known problems of earlier times. Perhaps it is time for Russian film makers to look forward.

The trailer.

`Leto` by Kino