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What are you listening to? Part III

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LizKat said:
Regina Spektor's Russian cover of The Prayer of François Villon (Molitva, by Bulat Okudzhava). The track is from her 2012 album What We Saw from the Cheap Seats.


There are a number of videos of Spektor's cover of this work; some are studio and some live performances. That one has some photos of Bulat Okudzhava in it, and also has English subtitles of the Molitva lyrics.

Okudzhava, of Georgian-Armenian ancestry, was one of those Russian-Soviet bards and other artists of the 1960s who managed to thread the needle between hopes for communism with a small c and disdain along with fear of oppressive Soviet-era governance. He wrote primarily in a folk vein, often humorously and so somewhat sardonically about life as it unfurled after Stalin. Unlike some who became overtly political when it was life endangering to do so, he lingered in the margins of independent artistry, and so was neither executed for offenses against the State nor openly praised by the upper echelons of Soviet times even as his popularity grew. Today the bards of that era are celebrated as a part of Russian culture: there are statues of Okudzhava in Moscow and his ancestral home is a museum... although some of his kin had not fared so well in the times after the Russian revolution and the roiled politics of Georgia, enduring imprisonment and then finally rehabilitation in the post-Stalin era.

Okudzhava's lyric in his Molitva could be taken several ways, since François Villon (a Frenchman of the 15th century) was a poet whose works have probably fared way better than he may have done in the end.

Villon was a petty thief living by his wits plus a nimble instinct for escape and perhaps also by violence, when he wasn't composing poetry for the ages. It's not certain that he perished on a gallows but it may have been what he feared for himself in the end. Villon's work Le Testament has sections that refer to the possibility, hence the brief glimpse of the cover of an edition of that work in the cited video above. Villon was in fact once sentenced to be hanged but at least in that case the sentence was changed to banishment.

Regina Spektor was born to Russian Jews in Moscow in 1980 and came with her family to the US at the age of nine, landing in the Bronx. They had emigrated here during perestroika, traveling first through Austria and Italy, with the help of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, which saw them through the refugee admission process. She had begun study of piano in Moscow; in the USA she attended both Jewish and secular schools, then completed a four-year program in classical music and composition at SUNY Purchase in three years.

As songwriter and performer, Spektor can be a stitch. Some of her jazz-inflected works run in the same sardonic vein as that of Okudzhava despite their stylistic differences, e.g. her plaintive track Love Affair, which addresses some aspects of being the daughter of a mother who might prefer a doctor or lawyer to... sigh, an engineer?... as prospective father of her grandchildren... when perhaps as a daughter all one has in mind after college for awhile is the chance to date a few guys before settling down.


Spektor's album 11:11 (2001) should not be missed either for a couple of its other phenomenal tracks, like Back of a Truck, and 2.99 Cent Blues. The woman has a voice to be relished, a keen eye for life in NY, and a wicked wit.

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Superb post.

Two things, or points, - actually, three - occur to me to add to your comments on Okudzhava: The first is that Georgia (Tbilisi, to be precise) was an unusually artistically advanced part of the old USSR.

An astonishing number of the best sculptors, dancers, ballet dancers, jazz artists, artists, musicians, movie makers of the Soviet era came from there (and it owed little to the fact that Stalin was also a Georgian; just over a decade ago, I spent over two years there, and was astounded by the incredible cultural vibrancy of the place.)

Secondly, after Stalin died, (or rather, after Khrushchev denounced Stalin in 1956 - a seismic event in the intellectual and cultural life of anyone who was deemed, or deemed themselves, remotely "progressive" in that environment, for it offered something akin to the promise of a possible communist "reformation"), artists rarely risked their lives for their art in the USSR; their freedom, yes, on occasion, their professional careers, most certainly, more than on occasion - for they could be silenced, denied an outlet, a publisher, someone who might record and promote their music and art, denied the right to travel - but their lives, no.

By the 60s and 70s, the penalties for engaging in the sort of artistic or cultural stuff that bordered on politics or history (and drew disagreeable conclusions uncomfortable for authority to contemplate) were different; you might be fired from your job, or transferred to somewhere less agreeable, (to a boring provincial spot on the border with Kazakhstan, for example), or your wife might lose her job, your children could be denied a university place - the passport to the better jobs and positions in that world and culture. But your life - and, in general, your freedom - were not usually under threat by then if you transgressed artistically.

In those years, many artists in the USSR occupied - in their art - a sort of "grey" zone, which neither supported nor criticised (openly) the regime, but which subtly, and with a knowing subversion, sought to undermine it; only those who understood this incredibly subtle and extraordinarily nuanced language - those "in the know" - understood the allusions.

It was a dilemma and a difficult balancing act at times: How to simultaneously save your soul, and your professional career, - without compromising (or sacrificing) either too much - and it was one that many of the artists in the 60s and 70s carefully walked.

The western media, and (western) cultural commissars - we can't all be Solzhenitsyn, or even Pasternak - mocked some of the (occasionally convoluted, and yes, contradictory) contortions of some of these writers and artists, never having had to face such acute dilemmas in their own professional (or personal) careers or lives.

Thirdly, while both of Okudzhava's parents were "repressed" (that was the verb used in the perestroika era to describe how Stalinist atrocities played out in the domestic setting), it is equally clear that Okudzhava was a member of the Soviet elite by birth, and after the arrest of both parents (and the murder of one of them) during the Stalinist purges of the 1930s and later, he still managed to be able to avail of the advantages of having been a member of the elite of that society - thus, a good university education (and Tbilisi was probably both safer and intellectually freer for educational purposes than Moscow would have been) was something he was able to obtain access to, (although, having served in the Red Army during WW2 would also have enabled and facilitated this process).

Anyway, terrific and interesting post.
 
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Scepticalscribe said:
Superb post.

Two things, or points, - actually, three - occur to me to add to your comments on Okudzhava: The first is that Georgia (Tbilisi, to be precise) was an unusually artistically advanced part of the old USSR.

An astonishing number of the best sculptors, dancers, ballet dancers, jazz artists, artists, musicians, movie makers of the Soviet era came from there (and it owed little to the fact that Stalin was also a Georgian; just over a decade ago, I spent over two years there, and was astounded by the incredible cultural vibrancy of the place.)

Secondly, after Stalin died, (or rather, after Khrushchev denounced Stalin in 1956 - a seismic event in the intellectual and cultural life of anyone who was deemed, or deemed themselves, remotely "progressive" in that environment, for it offered something akin to the promise of a possible communist "reformation"), artists rarely risked their lives for art in the USSR; their freedom, yes, on occasion, their professional careers, most certainly, - for they could be silenced, denied an outlet, a publisher, someone who might record and promote their music and art, denied the right to travel - but their lives, no.

By the 60s and 70s, the penalties for engaging in the sort of cultural stuff that bordered on politics or history (and drew disagreeable conclusions) were different; you might be fired from your job, or transferred to somewhere less agreeable, (to a boring provincial spot on the border with Kazakhstan, for example), or your wife might lose her job, your children could be denied a university place - the passport to the better jobs and positions in that world and culture. But your life - and usually your freedom - were not usually under threat by then if you transgressed artistically.

In those years, many artists in the USSR occupied - in their art - a sort of "grey" zone, which neither supported nor criticised (openly) the regime, but which subtly, and with a knowing subversion, sought to undermine it; only those who understood this incredibly subtle and extraordinarily nuanced language - those "in the know" - understood the allusions.

It was a dilemma and a difficult balancing act at times: How to simultaneously save your soul, and your professional career, and it was one that many of the artists in the 60s and 70s carefully walked. The western media, and cultural commissars - we can't all be Solzhenitsyn, or even Pasternak - mocked some of the contortions of some of these writers and artists, never having had to face such acute dilemmas in their own professional careers or lives.

Thirdly, while both of Okudzhava's parents were "repressed" (that was the verb used n the perestroika era to describe how Stalinist atrocities played out in the domestic setting), it is equally clear that Okudzhava was a member of the Soviet elite by birth, and after the arrest of both parents (and the murder of one of them) during the Stalinist purges of the 1930s and later, he still managed to be able to avail of the advantages of having been a member of the elite of that society - thus, a good university education (and Tbilisi was probably both safer and freer for educational purposes than Moscow would have been) was something he was able to obtain access to, (although, having served in the Red Army during WW2 would also have enabled this process).

Anyway, terrific and interesting post.
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It's your post that's really interesting... it has added so much to the backstory of that Okudzhava piece. Thank you much for taking the time and making the effort!

I had read that some artists with connections to high officials in Stalin's government, sometimes art or music admirers in the military, were able to intervene and keep protégés or friends of theirs from being blacklisted as to future prospects for work, and yet later on slipped up, crossed the line and ended up out of favor themselves.​
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It must have been a hellish time to have to try to keep creative work from drawing the wrong sort of appreciation. Shostakovitch was one who had works denounced personally by Stalin and by the state media, and he retreated from symphonic writing for awhile after withdrawing his Fourth Symphony..He spent a few years in the mid-30s writing film music. Stalin liked patriotically themed movies and Shostakovitch apparently figured that helping to score those wouldn't get him in as much trouble: the results didn't really carry his stamp as he was focusing on the thematic material and directors' guidance.​
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I'm sticking with performances at least tangentially related to Russia tonight, although my next landing spot belongs more in the "what are you watching?" thread, I suppose. Anyway it's the wonderful 2013 Bolshoi production of Marius Petipa's La Bayadère. At least in the USA it can be streamed from Amazon's Prime Video offerings. Petipa himself was born in France but by virtue of his strengths in ballet (and mostly a series of encounters with other men's spouses while serving as principal dancer in a number of French companies), ended up having to leave France to stay in his profession.... and with an assist from his brother, he landed in Russia, to the great benefit of that country as he eventually became the long-tenured principal choreographer of the Marinsky Ballet.
 
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^I wish those ballets were performed more often in the U.S. but it's rare that you come across an American production of any Minkus other than Don Quixote, to say nothing of Glazunov's Raymonda.

I've been on a Haydn kick lately, and most recently the Piano Sonata No. 50:


This is a piece I remember hearing in childhood and it took me a long time to figure out what it was. I think for a while I had thought it was Mozart.
 
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Montagues and Capulets: Romeo and Juliet: Sergey Prokofiev.

A decade ago, I had the privilege of enjoying a spellbinding performance of this ballet at the Tbilisi opera house - Prokofiev's ballet based on Shakespeare's play...
 
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LizKat said:
I could have used some of that or maybe some straight up metal by time I finished hoeing out my studio in the afternoon. My playlist of alt stuff from 2005 or whenever was running out of steam and I was out of sweetness and light. o_O
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If you ever need music recs, feel free to shoot me a PM. I listen to a lot of this type of music that feels very invigorating and I love talking about music. :D
 
^^ Hah, today I'm almost ready to fish out Windham Hill / George Winston's December, since shouting at the weather gods from a distance this morning (with some choice tracks from Paul Butterfield Blues Band) didn't seem to work. It's almost 38 degrees but fat snowflakes keep coming down once in awhile. Insanity. It's nearly the month of May..

So if imprecations don't make these finicky weather gods happy, maybe placating them will some fake love will go over better. "I jes' love me some more winter, hey: hit it, George"...

Think that's not gonna cut it either though. I'm going to have to give up and vacuum the upstairs without any accompaniment at all after lunch. Keep the alternatives to ol' George comin'.
 
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LizKat said:
^^ Hah, today I'm almost ready to fish out Windham Hill / George Winston's December, since shouting at the weather gods from a distance this morning (with some choice tracks from Paul Butterfield Blues Band) didn't seem to work. It's almost 38 degrees but fat snowflakes keep coming down once in awhile. Insanity. It's nearly the month of May..

So if imprecations don't make these finicky weather gods happy, maybe placating them will some fake love will go over better. "I jes' love me some more winter, hey: hit it, George"...

Think that's not gonna cut it either though. I'm going to have to give up and vacuum the upstairs without any accompaniment at all after lunch. Keep the alternatives to ol' George comin'.
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You listen to Windham Hill?? :D

I love Windham Hill so so soooo much! I personally listen to Mark Isham, Shadowfax, and Ira Stein and Russel Walder the most, but really I can't think of something I've heard from the label that I don't like :)

I'll PM you with some music so as to not fill this space up with music I'm not actually listening to at the present moment.
 
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