“Rock and roll is dead, but I am not yet” – Boris Borisovich Grebenshchikov sang many years ago. Since then, rock and roll has not only rotted, but also risen from the coffin in the form of zombies, as in a computer game.
Sometimes I turn on “Our Radio” in the car and I’m always amazed. There, as a rule, either a young man speaks in a nasal voice about the kitchen and solitude. Or a woman who thinks she’s Zemfira broadcasts her fading sexuality in advertisements for a hair transplant clinic (She knows our Radio audience well). And by the way in the courtyard, 2022! Actually, I have two versions. Or 20 years ago someone forgot a record in the studio that contained two dozen songs, and it’s been running in circles ever since. Or a craftsman drove the words “rain, war, autumn, loneliness, spring, love” into a random rhyme generator, invited the community from their “Stop Signal” beer, and wrote down everything that happened.
The new works of my youth idols are most reminiscent of funeral sins. It’s embarrassing to watch how old men who need warmth and medicine grumble about heroism and politics.
I will immediately make a reservation – I have a sensitive attitude to Russian rock. In addition to spending my entire childhood fighting with rappers that hatched at the time, I defended my music criticism degree in college when I grew up in the ’90s. Its theme is “samizdat Russian rock in the materials of the 70-80s”, it is a shame to remember.
And now I say it bitterly: The rap culture in the country has won.
I finally understood when the war between Purulent and Oksimiron broke out (he was recognized as a foreign agent in the Russian Federation). First, he is infinitely bright and talented in terms of literature. The level of texts, and most importantly, the level of passion can be compared not even with the Leningrad rock club, but with the stadiums of the 60s, with Yevtushenko, Akhmadulina and Rozhdestvensky. And yes, no matter how I feel about Oksimiron and Purulent, it is certainly pleasant to watch how the children’s idol passionately quotes Gumilyov, and how the latter opposes him with quotes from Mayakovsky. Against the background of low-grade domestic pop music, this seems like an intellectual miracle.
And the other day a diss was published by the same Oksimiron about the foreign agent Morgenstern (known in the Russian Federation as a foreign agent). Both are opinion leaders among young people, Morgenstern’s audience is definitely younger, just like him.
To put it mildly, Oksimiron is not close to me, his views and attitude towards what is happening in the country are extremely unpleasant. But I can not admit that the man was not only talented, but also one of the brightest poets of Russia today.
Diss, I’m explaining to my colleagues and older ones – this is a work of art from the word disrespect to the extreme of disrespect. For example, once BG wrote the song “Cardboard Hero”, dedicating it to Konstantin Evgenievich Kinchev. In today’s terms, that was a dissident.
So Oxy wrote a diss about Morgen. Of course, not everything is successful with nursery rhymes, but enthusiasm and anger – okay, as today’s schoolchildren will say. This is quite a quality satire. “They told you to be yourself, you say ‘okay, where’s the reference’.
Interesting to watch and interesting to listen to. And most importantly – in today’s rap there is life, there is live blood, there is a lot of young people drawn to it. It reaches the word literally, the labeled metaphor, the ability to express emotions, not the tools and empty shenanigans. Too expensive!
By the way, while writing this column – in the comments to the post about rap on my Telegram channel, the author Olga Starkova spoke, I will quote in full:
“In general, rhyme is not the main thing. Normal hidden harmonies and rhythm work great. Meanwhile, the vers lb experience is appropriate. If you look at it in terms of rhythm and context – rap, apparently, like freelance poetry, is designed for auditory perception. That’s interesting. For me, especially as a document writer.”
And you can resist all you want, but the truth is: the living Russian word is out there today with young rappers. Not with feathered pop peacocks, not with forgotten Russian rock, not with pop music, but it’s there.
We are lost. Rock and roll is dead. It’s time to accept this.
The author expresses his personal opinion, which may not coincide with the editors’ position.