It's obvious: dark voice of my ancestors is a disaster, my blood's calling makes me really sick. Sour belch from the words "national idea", gripes in the eyes from viewing Christ the Savior swimming pool, headache from the dashing whistle of kazak choir. And then suddenly you hear an old woman singing in the passage near a metro station, and the song sounds odd, as if it came from another planet, where Moscow has never existed - with its Jeeps and State Duma and state of emergency and all this bullshit. The only thing that exists is a huge country, so vast that it's not a country anymore, but a boundless steppe, but a boundless wood, without time, without freedom, with nothing but eternity and determination.
Hard-rock from Ural. Weird thing. Many years ago, when Moscow and Saint-Petersburg rock has become partly overweighed, partly drunk, partly exhausted, the center of music began its slow trip to the East. "Kalinov Most" hit the anemic capitals, it was thrown upon them like a cold douche. Clear and strong sound, texts reminding of Khlebnikov's zaum', but the main thing about all that - is strength and carelessness.
Maybe that's what they miss, our ex-Russian friends living in America. Maybe you should listen to this album if you think that it's time to leave this country. Maybe not. Still...
I've been seeking for you in the black grass
My beast nose has betrayed me.