We will go from the opposite.
And more fun, and the road is well-trodden.
In 1988, Vladimir Mulyavin committed political and stage suicide, you can’t call it otherwise - he went on Soviet central television with a rock concert based on Mayakovsky’s poems.
Things there were entirely symbolic, unless, of course, someone whose soul was not lost on the road to a brighter future at that time: “Lilichka!”, “Listen”, “A few words about my mother”.
There were also on the fierce wickedness of the day - "Protsessed", "Sneaky", "Servant".
Communism
by handing over the book,
re-memorized "isms",
he
finished forever
with thoughts
about communism.
Mulyavin did not forget about the “nationwide struggle against intoxicants”, including “An example not worthy of imitation”.
History is silent about whether this text was hummed by the then eloquent general secretary - the sworn enemy of vineyards and toasts "to the great Soviet people" ...
alcoholics,
rise!
out of place
your panic!
look -
beer gushing
anti-
alcohol company!
There was also a Conversation with Comrade Lenin.
Mulyavin, in a suit, standing at the piano, sang and uttered those very words - the granite stones of the "lighthouse of the revolution": "A heap of affairs, a turmoil of phenomena - the day passed, gradually getting dark..."
Absurd?
Why???
Something like this, many thought to themselves and out loud, furiously cutting down the damn first TV program ...
We will go along the well-worn path - as we agreed at the very beginning.
The year 1988 was not the best in the history of the USSR.
Gorbachev led the ship of the state, moreover, with a confident hand, as if on the coastal cliffs.
And he was not shy about anything: Raechka is happy - and thank heavens.
Is that how we lived then?
It is so?
And Yeltsin was eccentric to his glory, not feeling either the Motherland or the shores - after all, this is how we lived, we lived just like that.
Mulyavin and Pesnyary.
With what fright did they have to resist the state moloch, losing the details of the running gear on the go?
For them, it was for the need to spend the day and night at the bedside of the "sick" - after all, many (and even the sweet-voiced Tolya Kasheparov - "Vologda") looked intently towards America (Kasheparov in 1991 rushed there with the ends).
It turns out that after all, we are talking about Mulyavin, without detracting from the other talents of the team he created.
It turns out that, as always, we are talking about the role of the individual in history.
And we got that story...
Gave up!
Climbing up on its fragments, you can, at least, look around - so that, going further along the long road, you don’t turn your neck in the damp fogs.
You will see a concert based on the verses of the Lighthouse.
Exhaust yourself by making an effort of will.
A mixed feeling of shame, aching conscience, some kind of pain in the ribs and general irritable neuralgia throughout the body.
It is clear - the sound is mediocre, the picture is poor, the construction of the scene is a late scoop (I hate this word fiercely), and they also promote the truth!
But there is no action, there is no smoke, and everyone is neatly dressed...
It is enough to get into the shoes of the then - honest both in the frame and in the soul - Mulyavin, even for a moment, to understand: he makes an inhuman effort.
This is the opposition of the ant to grief.
The outcome of the ant is predetermined, but this never prevents the ant from meeting the mentioned outcome with extreme steadfastness and clearness of consciousness: every day of eternity is good for death, the destined - let it be fulfilled.
Compare Mulyavin with an ant?..
So it is consciously - you have sharp teeth ahead of time, do not grin your little white ones.
You know ... I spied from life: there are such people (as if people, solely by external signs) that they simply love to tear (just like pigs) healthy forest anthills with a thicker stick.
And then watch how the unfortunate wretched ants in the bustle of the wild and unimaginable ant eggs back and forth begin to drag, save someone, build something ...
“Stupid brainless.
That is OK!
In a week we’ll make some more noise - you probably won’t be overjoyed!
Kerosene would be ... It's a pity to translate.
We'll die.
If we don't learn to be human.
But the ants will successfully and deservedly survive us.
With the perseverance of the doomed, continuing to restore their home.
Your fortress.
The music of that teleconcert is a special story.
Putting Mayakovsky's rhythms, his mental pain and gnashing of teeth on notes - you have to be able to do it.
Also, you need to have courage.
Because many years later, all sorts of upright walkers will regularly poke a thicker stick into the anthill ...
We do everything exactly as agreed - in reverse order.
A step back to the year 1985.
It's scary, but there's still hope.
40th anniversary of victory in the Great Patriotic War.
There will also be a parade.
There will also be veterans on Red Square.
Gorbachev, the Almighty Secretary General, took office on March 11 for almost two months.
Immediately after the death of Chernenko.
Gorbachev is not Brezhnev, but he is not allowed to aim at the Victory - his gut is thin, he does not allow himself.
And Mulyavin allows himself a lot - for more than a year he has been working on a double album "Through the whole war" - 17 songs (Mulyavin was always a symbolist in spirit), 17 shots at close range.
Even if you want to hold back the tears and rage that suffocates from the inside, you still can’t.
Poems by Semyon Gudzenko, Mikhail Kulchitsky, Alexander Tvardovsky.
The famous (it’s a pity that not now) “Letter from Belarusian partisans” to Hitler - authored by Yanka Kupala, “Misha Kaminsky” by Edi Semyonovna Fireflower - as if you yourself are burning alive - little children of Khatyn ...
In large offices, they are preparing for big celebrations.
New trends, new diabolical publicity.
However, a very special property.
The lacquer is multi-layered, put under the fanfare, no one is supposed to rip it off.
The boss reads poetry.
Management can't understand this...
War is not fireworks at all
but just hard work
when, black with sweat, up
the infantry glides over the arable land.
March!
And clay in the stomping stomp
to the marrow of the bones of frozen legs
turns on chebots
the weight of bread in a monthly ration.
On fighters and buttons like
scales of heavy orders.
Not for the order. There would be a motherland
with daily Borodino.
Lines of the commander of a mortar platoon, junior lieutenant Mikhail Kulchitsky, who died in battle near the village of Trembachevo, Luhansk region on January 19, 1943.
23 years old...
I feel like I'm a magnet
that I attract mines.
Gap - and the lieutenant wheezes.
And death passes by again.
But we can no longer wait.
And leads us through the trenches
petrified enmity,
bayonet holed neck.
The fight was short. And then
jammed ice cold vodka,
and cut with a knife
from under the nails I am someone else's blood.
The lines of the Red Army machine gunner of the separate OMSBON brigade Semyon (Sario) Petrovich Gudzenko, seriously wounded in 1942 by a fragment of a mine in the stomach.
After the hospital, he will return to the front as a military commissar and will serve until the Victory.
He died from the effects of a wound in 1953.
30 years...
Mulyavin was muzzled for two weeks.
They exhorted, threatened, yelled, quietly took by the elbow.
There were so many things in other poems by other poets - trench truth, without gloss and falsehood.
Before the concert on May 9, there was nothing left in Moscow.
Mulyavin refused to throw out even a line - both from the concert and from the recording on Melodiya - he got up, said "no" and left.
Wait.
There were no valuable instructions.
The album came out the way it was supposed to.
The concert went off as Mulyavin had planned.
People sobbed.
Literally.
There were still a lot of veterans in the hall then.
Just know that this is the most underestimated, most undeservedly forgotten Pesnyary album.
Even a year ago.
On May 9, 1984.
"Pesnyary" give a night concert in Minsk.
With songs from the upcoming album.
The speech is filmed by Belarusian television.
People dance to waltzes, cry to the truth about the war, stand with flowers, hug each other...
Misha Kaminsky, Khatyn boy.
Our blue-eyed simple cornflower,
Dear land, Belarusian son ...
Lines by Eddie Semyonovna Ognetsvet.
That boy, Misha Kaminsky, was not even two years old...
Why don't we see this entry every year?
On the central channels?
Is there an explanation for this fact?
The ashes of Khatyn do not knock in someone's hearts?
Anyway, don't bother yourself...
Dear groom...
Now in December 1976.
"Pesnyary" go on tour in the United States.
South.
15 days of concerts in 13 cities in North and South Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia, Tennessee, Georgia, Louisiana and Missouri.
Relatively small halls, for 1.5-2 thousand spectators, a very interested audience (Russian folk rock is something unheard of, at least with one eye to see before the nuclear war began), a competent producer of the inviting party, maestro Sid Harris, and The New Christy Minstrels as the opening act.
Crazy success and warm reception of Belarusian songs by the American audience.
Real wild success.
Did you understand anything?
Correctly.
And they shouldn't have.
The reason for the fog of awareness in our eternal problem is some kind of hereditary and stable inability to accept the fact of our own greatness - in culture, in military affairs, in crafts, in life and its perception with the heart, but not with the iron of reason, in love.
What would we not be the first in the art of love?!
We are all huddled in the corners, no matter what ... Yes, we look into the mouths of overseas guests.
And it would be necessary - even if sometimes with a swing in the face.
For prevention.
Good.
I will explain.
Do you know Johnny Cash?
A country star, a drunkard and a bully who loves to ruin relationships with everyone around him, including his family, record label and personal impresario.
Johnny Cash, who wanted to spit on authorities, gave concerts in prisons, defended the rights of prisoners at hearings in the US Congress.
Johnny Cash, who always wore black, recorded albums of folk American spiritual and not so much music and was a kind of southern rock shadow in the line of rural relatives.
So here he is, Johnny Cash, in no way inferior to Vladimir Mulyavin and no better than him.
And Vladimir Mulyavin is in no way inferior to Johnny Cash and is no better than him.
These are people-phenomena of the same caliber.
From one song clip, if measured by roots and source codes.
These are people... Who were very good at singing about what they knew very well.
The trouble is with the USSR, and even here it is difficult for me to deny the obvious, in senseless (at times), almost maniacal closeness.
But even these 15 days of the Pesnyar tour, Sid Harris gnawed out of Soviet power, almost grabbing it by the throat.
So good they were.
"Where?!"
"When!!!???"
"Our hillbilly?????!!!!!"
Well, yes.
Our hottest redneck.
Throw on a strap so that you don’t feel sick - a year ago.
In 1975.
Music Fair MIDEM (worldwide) - Cannes, France.
"Pesnyary", headed by Vladimir Mulyavin, as part of the Soviet delegation of artists, according to the draw and sequence, go on stage to captivate the Western demanding audience.
And in the hall at the same time, my dears, it’s not at all ordinary people - all show business sharks, heads of record companies, producers with six rows of teeth.
They didn't come here to clap, they came here for contracts.
And no sentimentality.
Well, sleep.
Are standing.
Are waiting.
Mulyavin recalled that there was such silence - it was already ringing in his ears, he still managed to figure out what crutches he would have to grab in the capital of the Land of Soviets.
And then the audience stood up and gave a standing ovation.
standing.
Pugacheva was also there, "Pesnyary" accompanied her a couple of times (a technical necessity, anything can happen far from their native shores).
There was also a gypsy trio "Romen".
And neither the woman who sings, nor the brothers of the steppe did not succeed - they did not clap while standing.
Once again: Sid Harris was ready to sell his soul and sold it, and it was (in December 1976) only the first trial tour, and the Pesnyars were received exceptionally warmly in it.
And then a serious tour of 1977 was to take place - after all, Sid Harris was a real businessman.
But... Our people in the "Gosconcert" decided that all this was too much, they blinded a combined hodgepodge of about forty teams and offered the shtatovites in the original packaging.
"Pesnyary" were there - in a general dump, with four (what a tin!) coordinated songs.
The United States swallowed the offer, of course, drinking plenty of pills with warm water ... And when the Pesnyars were offered (in the States in 1977) to sign a separate contract for a three-month tour, ours simply pulled them back to the USSR - there’s nothing to hang around anywhere hitting, not everything has been quailed here!
Contracts for them!
The faces didn't come out!
Johnny Cash would send everyone to hell in such a situation.
Mulyavin and the team packed up and resignedly returned to the smoke of the Fatherland.
Where it is bitter and pleasant.
M-yes...
I am an apologist for the USSR.
Clear and unconditional.
But next time in the "State Concert" a lot will have to be reconsidered ...
And here's another important thing - what kind of The New Christy Minstrels were Mulyavin and the company warming up?
And here are exactly the same, only much more modest and not so original local manufacture of folk-rock-singers of blues and country with folk songs from the American mound in half.
Okay, okay - these are tough guys with 20 released albums, with hits of the first magnitude: Green, Green;
Saturday night;
today;
Denver and This Land Is Your Land.
With two honorable Grammy Awards and a brilliant 1962 debut album, Presenting The New Christy Minstrels, which spent two years on the Billboard charts.
Такие вот люди на разогреве у наших деревенских «Песняров», потому что — снова те же повторю слова — одного калибра музыкальные явления. Одной певческой и культурной величины. Да, с разными корнями, и да — с одинаковой любовью к народной музыке. На тех концертах 1976-го «Песняры» и The New Christy Minstrels в конце каждого выступления вместе на русском и английском пели «Дорогой длинною» — кто ж её не знает. Правда, в американском прочтении песня именуется Those Were the Days, но это никак не отменяет того, что «Дорогой длинною» — русский романс авторства композитора Бориса Фомина и поэта Константина Подревского. Своих надо знать в лицо. И уважать.
Потому говорю вам, моё «Мулявин — Кэш, Кэш — Мулявин» — не ла-ла на заборе.
И ещё на годик с хвостиком назад.
Не споткнитесь: тут у нас дорожка лесная, места сельские, сами понимаете, — головы берегите, берегите головы.
Февраль 1974-го. Всесоюзная фирма грамзаписи «Мелодия» выпускает второй альбом «Песняров» — «Песняры II» (его ещё иногда называют «Олеся», по заглавной композиции).
И вот опять — чтобы вы понимали. Это реально крепкий рок-фолковый альбом серьёзной группы, альбом концептуальный (вот чёрт, не удержался от словечка) — читай, целостный по замыслу и духу. Я его люблю. Он меня вдохновляет. Мне бесконечно приятно осознавать, что, сотри в мире у всех сейчас английский (в мозгах) и дай послушать с пяток пластинок — Кэша, Нельсона, Аткинса, Уильямса и вот этот самый «Песняры II», — ведь никто ни черта не разберёт, а вслух скажут: «Огонь чуваки! Из разных деревень, но гари дают пропорционально!»
Музыкальные критики — а без них, дело ясное, завтра и солнце не взойдёт (чтоб вы понимали...) — с чувством глубоким (разбирая по косточкам винил «Песняры II») любят повторять, что трек «Хлопец пашаньку пахае» есть очевидный отсыл и созвучие с творчеством Jethro Tull, а «Ружы цвет» («Розы цвет») «со стремительными психоделическими соло клавишных и гитар» — не что иное, как дань уважения мальчишкам из Emerson, Lake & Palmer.
И у меня вопрос: а не наоборот ли, золотки мои?
Всё на свете по-прежнему (всегда так, что ли, будет???) придумали «британские учёные» и всему на свете дали оценку «американские музыкальные критики»?
Альбом Aqualung принёс Jethro Tull мировую славу, в первую очередь — концептуальностью (да что ж такое), непонятностью и дивной игрой Иэна Андерсона на флейте. Ну так и «Песняры» жгли во времена оные на всяких инструментах, народных и нет, включая флейты, жалейки и всякое ещё!
Братцы и сестрицы!..
Подумайте вот о чём. Всё когда-то и кем-то было уже сказано. Люди творческие, с сердцем открытым, приходят в наш мир услышать и по-своему спеть ту мелодию, что звучит от сотворения времён. Или, полагаете, в большом вселенском пространстве было время большой вселенской тишины?..
«Розы цвет».
Слушаю эту запись «Песняров», и хочется и плакать, и смеяться. Всё прошло. Это да. Всё будет снова. Это да. Выше нос! Выше нос!..
Теперь крутите текст назад, как на перемотке.
Рассуждая языком «эффективных менеджеров», Мулявин, как «суперэффективный менеджер» госрокфолк-группы, должен был сначала лабать Маяковского и всякие там разговоры с Лениным разговаривать, потом браться за память о Великой Победе, потом, до чинов и званий дослужившись, биться за гастроли в США, потом... Там навсегда оставаться, с ленцой и негой поплёвывая на «ложные ценности соцлагеря».
А вышло наоборот.
Ха! Ну что за дурни в СССР жили?!
Вышло так, что достойного человека Владимира Мулявина нет с нами скоро как 20 лет, а он есть — пророс в сердцах и душах, строить и жить помогает.
И ещё вышло так, что «эффективные менеджеры» всех мастей есть, спасу от них нет, так под ногами и вьются, вот только прорасти им в сердцах и душах наших нечем. И слава за то Всевышнему.
Мулявин хорошо и честно не единожды повторял в разные годы в разных интервью: «Ты не можешь не слушать своего слушателя. Он хочет «Вологду» — дай ему «Вологду». Спой её так, чтоб мороз по коже, а потом — делай с ним, со слушателем, что хочешь: он твой теперь, он готов к сложным формам. Так вот и давай ему сложное. Чтоб сердце и душа работали».
Слышали о рок-операх «Песняров» на стихи Янки Купалы?
«Песня о доле». «Гусляр».
А концерт «Весёлые нищие» на стихи Бёрнса?
Вот! Есть вам чем заняться.
Мир, в том числе и утерянной до времени «красной Атлантиды», всегда стоял и стоять будет на людях идеи. На людях служения смыслам.
Потому — не будем опошлять и в кулачки посмеиваться — нам есть чем гордиться, всегда было чем гордиться. И всегда будет.
Mulyavin and his "Pesnyary" is one of the brightest examples of this.
But he was not a Belarusian either: he was born in January 1941 in Sverdlovsk, where he studied, worked in Tyumen, Petrozavodsk and Orenburg.
In 1963 he was invited to work at the Belarusian State Philharmonic.
He served in the Soviet army in 1965-1967, also in Belarus, near Minsk, and remained so, rooted in the land of Polissya ...
Why not fate?
For "Red Atlantis".
We have
yet
not Eden and paradise -
philistine
mud with bloom.
working,
measure the little things
with a huge
the set goal.
The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the editors.