Memories of Russia through music

An email conversation with a friend, about obscure music we enjoy, caused me to reminisce about some of the Russian music I listened to while in Veliky Novgorod many many years ago (wow am I ever getting old!). I studied in this historic, beautiful city with nine other college classmates in the summer of 2000.

The most popular album of the summer was the soundtrack to Brat 2. I never saw the movie, but I heard that it was kind of the Russian version of Pulp Fiction. This was obviously the sequel to the immensely popular movie Brat ("Brother"). A person couldn't walk by the kremlin and across the pedestrian bridge into Yaroslav's Court without hearing that cd blasting from some shashlik vendor's stereo (sidenote: I'll have to do an entire post on the experience that was shashlik).

The easiest song for non-native speakers (such as myself) to learn from the soundtrack was called "Sekret" by Agata Kristi. The lyrics were extremely repetitive and the whole song basically asked, "Do you love me or not?" I could still sing that part now and it's been ages since I studied or regularly spoke Russian.

On the same album "Iskala" ("I've been searching") turned me on to the talented singer Zemfira. I purchased her cd Prosti Menya, Moya Lyubov ("I'm sorry, my love"). I haven't figured out the meaning of all of the songs yet, but I definitely dig the music.

Pirated cds of prominent American artists abounded on the streets of many Russian cities. I met one boy, Sergei (about 12 or 13 years old), who spoke excellent English and loved Metallica. He owned quite the collection of pirated American music.

While living in Russia, I attended a DDT concert. I forget who opened for them. I don't even remember how we came upon the tickets--I think one of our Russian friends obtained them for us.

It's common for fans to camp out hours before the start of such a huge event here, and the same held true in Russia. Once the security guards opened the heavy iron gates, the throng surged forward, carrying me with it. I felt crushed on all sides. Rabid devotees, many extremely inebriated, pushed and shoved in their rush to reach the stage first. The current of humans pressing around me dragged me into the venue almost involuntarily.

The concert was performed in a large soccer stadium with the stage set up on the field. About fifty feet away from the stage were cold bleachers. Between these structures the "pit" writhed with exuberant and intoxicated groupies.

I didn't understand a word blaring from the loudspeakers far away, but that didn't matter. I was caught up in the excitement of the now. Cheering fans, squealing guitars, thundering drums, and I was one with the crowd. For the blink of an eye I belonged, no longer a foreigner but an accepted part of Russian culture. The blanket of roaring rock music that crashed over us in unending waves of energy was the bond that held us all together in that moment.

While details of the event itself fade over time, the incredible overall impact of the experience remains with me to this day. I bought two DDT cds to commemorate this unforgettable chapter in my life. From time to time I'll pull them out and smile, allowing my mind to wander back to that long ago summer.