Ahem. And now, I would like to present to you… the first of the Russian “bards,” the cornerstone of the anti-establishment movement in the Soviet Union, and the greatest musical legend Russia has ever know, Vladimir Vysotskii!
Bards, A (Brief) History
The late 1950s and early 1960s were marked by an era in Soviet history known as the Thaw (the time after Stalin’s death when Khrushchev was in power). During this time, Russian culture began to produce singer-songwriters known as “барды (bardy)” or bards. Bards wrote, accompanied, and sung their own songs called “авторксая песня (avtorskaya pesn’a)” or “author’s songs.” This type of music focused on the words rather than the chords — in fact, chords were often the same from one song to the next. Most of these songs were about social or political commentary, which was often deemed anti-Soviet.
Bards published their works through the “самиздат (samizdat)” or underground self-publications. Prosecuted by the Soviet government, they performed their music not on the official stage, but wherever they could — in factories, clubs, and private apartments. Their music wasn’t recorded in studios, but by the very people whose apartments they performed in, and then transmitted from one person to another on illegal homemade cassettes (you know, those little reels of tape they used before CDs came out?). The greatest bards managed to “go viral” this way despite being constantly on the run from the KGB.
Vysotskii
The most well known Soviet bard, and perhaps the most influential Russian musician of all time, is Vladimir Vysotskii. Writing about politics, war, love, and the human condition, Vysotskii epitomized the Russian concept of bard (although he preferred to call himself a poet).
His unique singing voice, musical style, and honest attitude towards Soviet life cemented his position as a musical legend in Russian culture. Although his music was never officially sanctioned by the government (with the exception of a few non-political pieces) or taught in schools/universities, his songs are nevertheless memorized by heart and sung to this day.
Vysotskii wrote literally hundreds of songs, most of which he performed with only self-accompaniment on the Russian seven string guitar. Much of his music contains difficult-to-translate idiomatic expressions or slang, as well clever political jibes or witticisms and difficult-to-grasp Soviet cultural concepts.
So why is this important?
When you travel to Russia, you’ll probably be invited to some parties or meet-ups. Invariably, these parties have guitars… and where there is a guitar, there is Vysotskii. Vysotskii is a household name across Russia — even today, many Russian anti-establishment musicians idolize Vysotskii and strive to emulate his effortless and honest musical style — so it’s important to know who this person was!
Sing-along!
Practice your Russian by singing along with this video! This haunting war song called “Он не вернулся из боя (On ne vernuls’a iz boya)” or “He didn’t return from battle” is about losing a comrade in battle, and only learning to appreciate him after he is gone.
Почему все не так? вроде все как всегда
То же небо – опять голубое,
Тот же лес, тот же воздух и та же вода,
Только он не вернулся из боя.
Тот же лес, тот же воздух и та же вода,
Только он не вернулся из боя.
Он молчал невпопад и не в такт подпевал,
Он всегда говорил про другое,
Он мне спать не давал, он с восходом вставал,
А вчера не вернулся из боя.
Он мне спать не давал, он с восходом вставал,
А вчера не вернулся из боя.
То, что пусто теперь – не про то разговор,
Вдруг заметил – а нас было двое.
Для меня будто ветром задуло костёр,
Когда он не вернулся из боя.
Для меня будто ветром задуло костёр
Когда он не вернулся из боя.
Нынче вырвалась, словно из плена, весна,
По ошибке окликнул его я:
– Друг оставь покурить! – а в ответ – тишина:
Он вчера не вернулся из боя.
– Друг оставь покурить! – а в ответ – тишина:
Он вчера не вернулся из боя.
Наши мертвые нас не оставят в беде,
Наши павшие – как часовые.
Отражается небо в лесу, как в воде,
И деревья стоят голубые.
Отражается небо в лесу, как в воде,
И деревья стоят голубые.
Нам и места в землянке хватало вполне,
Нам и время текло для обоих.
Всё теперь одному. Только кажется мне,
Это я не вернулся из боя.
Всё теперь одному. Только кажется мне,
Это я не вернулся из боя.
Pochemu vs’o ne tak? vrode vs’o kak vsegda:
To zhe nebo – op’at’ goluboye,
Tot zhe les, tot zhe vozdukh i ta zhe voda,
Tol’ko on ne vernuls’a iz boya.
Tot zhe les, tot zhe vozdukh i ta zhe voda,
Tol’ko on ne vernuls’a iz boya.
On molchal nevpopad i ne v takt podpeval,
On vsegda govoril pro drugoye,
On mne spat’ ne daval, on s vosdukhom vstaval,
A vchera ne vernuls’a iz boya.
On mne spat’ ne daval, on s vosdukhom vstaval,
A vchera ne vernuls’a iz boya.
To, shto pusto teper’ – ne pro to pazgovor,
Vdrug zametil ya – nas bylo dvoye.
Dl’a men’a budto vetrom zadulo kost’or,
Kogda on ne vernuls’a iz boya.
Dl’a men’a budto vetrom zadulo kost’or,
Kogda on ne vernuls’a iz boya.
Nynche vyrvalas’, slovno iz plena, vesna
Po oshybke okliknul evo ya:
– Drug ostav’ pokurit’! – a v otvet – tishyna
On vchera ne vernuls’a iz boya.
– Drug ostav’ pokurit’! – a v otvet – tishyna
On vchera ne vernuls’a iz boya.
Nashy m’ortvyye nas ne ostav’at v bede,
Nashy pavshyye – kak chasovyye.
Otrazhayets’a nebo v lesu, kak v vode,
i derev’ya stoyat golubyye.
Otrazhayets’a nebo v lesu, kak v vode,
i derev’ya stoyat golubyye.
Nam i mesta v zeml’anke khvatalo vpolne,
Nam i vrem’a teklo dl’a oboikh.
Vs’o teper’ odnomu. tol’ko kazhets’a mne,
Eto ya ne vernuls’a iz boya.
Vs’o teper’ odnomu. tol’ko kazhets’a mne,
Eto ya ne vernuls’a iz boya.
Vs’o teper’ odnomu. tol’ko kazhets’a mne,
Eto ya ne vernuls’a iz boya.
Why is everything wrong? Isn’t it the same:
The same sky, blue again,
Same forest, same air, same water,
Only he didn’t return from the battle.
Same forest, same air, same water,
Only he didn’t return from the battle.
He’d go quiet randomly, sing out of rhythm,
He’d always babble off topic,
He’d keep me up late, then get up early,
Only he didn’t return from the battle.
He’d keep me up late, then get up early,
Only he didn’t return from the battle.
That it’s lonely now isn’t the point —
I just noticed, there once were two of us.
It was as if the wind blew out the fire,
When he didn’t return from the battle.
It was as if the wind blew out the fire,
When he didn’t return from the battle.
Today Spring burst as if from captivity,
And I called out by mistake,
“Friend, pass me a smoke!” Silence —
For he didn’t return from the battle.
“Friend, pass me a smoke!” Silence —
For he didn’t return from the battle.
Our dead will not leave us in despair,
The fallen will be our honor guard.
The sky is reflected in the forest,
And the trees are colored blue.
The sky is reflected in the forest,
And the trees are colored blue.
There was plenty of room in the dugout,
And time passed, for the both of us.
I have all to myself now, but it seems to me,
It is I who did not return from the battle.
I have all to myself now, but it seems to me,
It is I who did not return from the battle.
For a comedic song, check out “Сказка о несчастных сказочных персонажах (Skazka o neshchasnykh skazochnykh personazhakh)” or “A story about unfortunate fairy tale characters.” For a song about cold Russian winters, listen to “Гололёд (Golol’od)” or “Sleet.”