In 2024, Forest Workers’ Day coincides with the birthday of Mikhail Tanich, the guiding spirit behind the Lesopoval ensemble. September 15 marks his 101st year since birth. This professional holiday is well known among forestry professionals, while Lesopoval remains a cornerstone for many Russian-speaking listeners. Over its 34-year arc, the group has welcomed new soloists, endured Tanich’s passing, and adapted to a transforming nation. Yet its enduring songs and evolving catalog confirm a simple truth: everyone comes from Lesopoval.
Today the troupe’s steady lineup features three soloists: Ilya Efimov, Alexander Sokolov, and Maxim Porshin. In large venues and intimate solo performances they are supported by a drummer, a saxophonist, and often backup dancers. The ensemble is guided by Lydia Tanich-Kozlova, Mikhail Tanich’s widow, who also wrote memorable songs for other performers, including Iceberg for Alla Pugacheva and Snow is Spinning for Yuri Peterson and VIA Flame.
What remains of Tanich’s modern Lesopoval beyond the songs and the name? His presence lives through the work. Hundreds of lyrics written for other singers did not fully capture his spirit, whether it was Black Cat for Tamara Miansarova or Edita Piekha, or Mirror for Yuri Antonov, or Komarovo for Igor Sklyar, and The Knot for Alena Apina. The collection of these works hints at a poet’s soul still breathing within Lesopoval.
This is not a tale that glamorizes crime or hooliganism. It is poetry set to music, reflecting life as it is lived.
Lesopoval sings of ordinary people on both sides of the barbed wire, not about the camps. Those who find themselves on the “wrong side” have souls and emotions too. Mikhail Tanich understood this from personal experience: he spent six years in Solikamsk camps, praising the quality of radios and highways during moments of camaraderie. He served at the front, earned prestigious orders, and later came to a logging site for a joke that turned into a new chapter. Tuberculosis interrupted his return home, yet exiled artist Konstantin Rotov brought him into a design team during those years.
After liberation, the poet faced travel bans and settled on Sakhalin. Newspapers published his poems under the name Mikhail Tanich, a signature that endured for generations. He kept writing until his death in 2008, leaving behind a vast archive. The widow continues to collaborate with those works, sometimes pairing a lyric with music by acquainted composers, notably Alexander Dobronravov and Konstantin Minin. Fans now enjoy fresh material from Tanich and Lesopoval.
Unlike many directors, producers, and authors, neither Mikhail Isaevich nor Lydia Nikolaevna restricted former Lesopoval soloists from performing the group’s songs. For example, Sergei Kuprik, who joined Lesopoval after Sergei Korzhukov’s passing, performs “I’ll buy you a house” and other group hits at his concerts.
Live performances are plentiful. The troupe tours regularly, performs at corporate events, and participates in national programs on Radio Chanson and Chanson TV. The audience tends to be older, with relatively few under thirty in the halls, because Lesopoval speaks to listeners who know, lived, and set poetry to music. Younger fans attend with parents, and adults aged 30 to 40 return out of nostalgia and understanding. The tempo is measured and melodic, with a gentler rhythm than today’s fast-paced pop. It invites listening rather than frenetic dancing, though it remains danceable in a restrained way.
Group members note that the audience is growing younger thanks to online communities. New active soloists use social media to counter the stereotype that chanson is for a sedentary crowd, offering a glimpse into the lives of everyday people. This fresh interaction brings new crowds to their shows.
Reflecting on the Lesopoval phenomenon, change comes from outside while the core remains intact. Modern life brings new supermarkets, gadgets, cars, and technologies, yet human essence stays the same. The songs show how ordinary people navigate different circumstances in their own ways. In many tracks, listeners may recognize a personal story, as Maxim Porshin observes, finding his own feelings echoed in the music.
Predicting the next big trend in Russian music is impossible. Some tunes may fade quickly, while classics endure. The enduring appeal of downloading tests a memory of longing for a pond house in the Moscow region, and the refrain of There was a boy, there is no boy continues to resonate. It does not matter where one works—whether in a government office or a forestry enterprise. Lesopoval has shaped generations with humor, stories, and moments of reflection.
As long as a white swan glides across the lake and a shooting star arcs overhead, life remains buoyant. If missteps occur, one can simply acknowledge them and move forward, a sentiment echoed by many listeners. The content reflects a personal view that may differ from editors’ positions, but it captures a broad cultural moment. [citation: Lesopoval archives]