SONG-BY-SONG NOTES

FOREWORD

Vladimir Vysotsky (1938-1980) was and remains the icon of the 20th century Russian culture. More popular than Elvis Presley, more acclaimed than Bob Dylan, more worshipped than The Beatles, he was the most revered singer / poet the Soviet Union has ever known. In the 60s, 70s, and 80s there were few Russian households without his tapes. By virtue of his exceptional productivity (over 900 songs and poems), his relentlessness (hundreds of concerts, legal and semi-legal), his cult cinema and theater roles, his storytelling talent, and, above all, his outstanding honesty and courage, Vysotsky captured the souls of millions of Soviet people. The scope of his art was staggering: he wrote about almost every aspect of his era, and did so with brutal honesty and in-depth knowledge. Soldiers thought he was a war veteran. Sailors thought he was a sailor. Truck drivers thought he drove cargo. Miners thought he worked in mines. Thieves thought he did time. Cops thought he was one of theirs. He wrote songs from the viewpoints of widows, knights, farmers, test pilots, hippies, space pirates, witches, and drunks. He wrote from the viewpoints of microphones, jet fighters, monuments, and race horses. He wrote fairy tales and tales of prison camps. He wrote songs about Alice in Wonderland, James Bond, and Hamlet. His humorous songs provided relief and the opportunity to smile in the bleak Brezhnev era, but beneath even the funniest pieces, like “The Scapegoat,” “A Letter to the TV Show from the Mental Asylum,” and “Morning Exercise,” laid bitter irony and criticism of life around him. Many of his songs, such as “The Wolfhunt” and “Children of Books,” became the spiritual guidance for the disillusioned Soviet generation of the 70s. Finally, his love songs left people breathless.

His enormous success came gradually. Initially he was dismissed as a “non-serious” writer of street songs. Then he was marginalized by the Soviet authority as a “tasteless decadent.” He was allowed only one vinyl record in USSR, but his bootleg concert recordings spread faster than wildfire. His movie roles were terminated, his songs removed from soundtracks, his concerts cancelled, his book and record deals revoked. His constant struggle with the system led to a self-destructive lifestyle. He died at 42. His funeral, ignored by the government, was attended by almost a million distraught people. With drastic changes in Russian political and social climate, Vysotsky was fully accepted by the official culture. There are more movies about him than he was in. His recordings are now released in hundreds of thousands, monuments to him are erected in different cities, and streets are named after him. His songs are used in movies and cartoons. Thousands of people still sing his songs by campfires and from stages. Today he remains just as relevant in the Russian culture as he was 30 years ago. A singer, a sailor, a soldier, a spirit...

I was 4 when Vysotsky died, but his music was always played at my home and around me. I started playing Vysotsky as soon as I first learned to play guitar in 1989, like thousands of other Russian boys. My second or third song was his “Song of a Friend,” known at that time to every preschooler. I memorized the majority of Vysotsky’s catalog and played his songs at various informal gatherings, to relative success. After moving to the US, I almost immediately began translating his songs into English. My first translations were hideous, just like my English skills. But as my English improved, I kept returning to these translations and improving them as well. Some 15 years later I deemed some of them worthy of being recorded. I first attempted recording them with DJ Chkalov in August of 2005. I didn’t like both the process and the result. Then in May of 2007, my vocal coach, Polina Goudieva, offered me to record in her studio. I took up on her offer. The project was self-financed all the way. Quickly I realized that playing 16 songs in Vysotsky’s manner (one man, one acoustic guitar, five chords), so popular at various Russian cultural events, would be too boring for the American audience. I decided to change the arrangements, while preserving the melody. Some songs were left as acoustic, folk pieces. Some songs were given orchestral arrangements, similar to those on Vysotsky’s only vinyl. Others were completely re-arranged, made into blues, heavy metal, or even genre-bending fusion.

I enlisted all of my instrument-playing friends and hired some professionals. As opposed to “normal” bands that first practice and then go into studio to record, I was going to the studio with an acoustic guitar, and we wrote arrangements on the spot, with one guest musician at a time, leaving very little room for error. There were moments of triumph. There were moments of extreme frustration. I ran around all over the greater New York area: Chelsea (Manhattan), Huntington (Long Island), Princeton (New Jersey), South Brooklyn, Rockland (Upstate New York), and East Brunswick (New Jersey). Almost ten months later, in March of 2008, I have the cd in my hands. You can too.

Big thanks to everybody who participated and especially to those who participated and didn't charge me! :) You’re, indeed, awesome!

The album title, SINGER, SAILOR, SOLDIER, SPIRIT, is a reference to the English nursery rhyme, "Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy..." ("Царь, царевич, король, королевич..."). This celebrates Vysotsky's unique manysidedness and versatility.

1. “The One Who Was with Her Before” ("Тот Кто Раньше с Нею Был," 1962)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Thad DeBrock (acoustic guitar), Polina Goudieva (recording), Eric Kvortek (mix).

One of the more popular early songs by Vysotsky, it’s known to most Russians. A straight-forward example of the Russian blatnaya (“outlaw”) song: drinking, girls, gangs, street fighting, and, most certainly, prison. Vysotsky sprinkles it with his trademark humor. While he himself was never involved in any criminal activity or arrested, his post-war childhood was certainly closely entwined with the blatnoy street world, resulting in a hundred or so songs on the subject. This was one of the first songs that I translated, some time around 1993-94. Nevertheless I was never fully satisfied with it and kept improving it for over ten years, until penning the acceptable version around 2002, although the final touches were made during the recording sessions. Writing the second guitar part was not as simple as the song structure may lead to believe, and I’m thankful to Thad for coming up with some kick-ass acoustic strums and melodies. Notable quote from Polina (on Thad’s strumming in the final verse): “This makes me wanna dance!”

2. "The Cab Meter" ("Счетчик Щелкает," "Твердил он нам..," 1964)

3. “Seven Years of Blue” ("Ты Уехала на Короткий Срок..," "Бодайбо," 1961)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Thad DeBrock (electric guitar), Polina Goudieva (recording), Eric Kvortek (mix).

Another blatnaya song, about a guy both dumped by his girlfriend and busted by the police and shipped to the labor camp. The Russian original is sometimes called by the geographical destination – the Siberian town of Bodaibo, known for its gold mining. It also contains another verse, which, for some reason, I struggled with mightily, translation-wise. Finally I decided to abandon it altogether, rather than to allow four cumbersome lines to hinder the otherwise good piece. I realize this is a poor way to treat classics, but the end result, in my opinion, is still worth it. Out of nowhere came the idea of using electric, not acoustic, guitar here. This was a first song on which I worked with Thad (brought over by Polina), and he almost immediately came up with several excellent riffs. I nearly drove him nuts, demanding the lightning-fast minor arpeggio in the last verse. This song convinced me that Thad was the guy for the job. Notable quote from Thad: “People usually ask me to play slower... and you’re asking me to play faster?”

4. “Everybody’s Gone to War” (“Все Ушли на Фронт,” 1964)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Misha Leder (accordion), Anton Karnaukh (acoustic guitar, recording), Polina Goudieva (recording), Eric Kvortek (mix).

Several Vysotsky’s songs, most famous being “Everybody’s Gone to War” and “Penal Battalions,” signify his transition from the blatnaya genre to the genre of war songs, because they incorporate both themes. One of the trademarks of the WWII era in Russia were the signs on the doors of offices: “THE OFFICE IS CLOSED. EVERYBODY’S GONE TO WAR.” Equally widespread was the use of penal companies and battalions, where civilian convicts, court-marshaled soldiers, and demoted officers were given a chance to “redeem their crimes with blood.” These units were used in the most dangerous and sometimes hopeless frontline situations, and the survival rate was low. The song was relatively easy to translate, except the part about the camp warden, which was redone at least a dozen times. The idea of using accordion to emphasize its rustic feel belongs to Denis Imaev, the guitarist for Nevermoon, the bandmate of Dmitri Savin (bass on “Robin Hood”). Misha Leder, my accordion-playing friend, kindly agreed to assist me here, and at his home we came up with some parts for the song (one of a few times I practiced with somebody outside of the studio). However, the final version was, as usual, penned on the spot in Polina’s studio, with her active participation. We must have done at least ten different takes on the rundown during the “One day he was executed” line alone. The second guitar was more of an afterthought, to increase depth, and Anton Karnaukh quickly wrote two lines for me at his Princeton basement. Notable quote from Misha: “Uhm... I forgot everything we did the last time.”

5. “The Airfight” (“Песня o Воздушном Бое,” “Песня Летчика-Истребителя,” “Их Восемь, Нас Двое,” 1968)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Yuri Naumov (9-string acoustic guitar, recording), Gene Sakirsky (vocals), Polina Goudieva (recording).

One of Vysotsky’s many war songs, this is Part 1 of the two-part cycle (Part 2 being “Yak the Fighter”). Although, being born in 1938, Vysotsky has never been in combat, the power and conviction of his songs was such that many people were positive that he was indeed once a soldier. He frequently received letters asking: “Are you that Vladimir Vysotsky, with whom I was breaking out of the encirclement by Kiev?” or “Are you that Vladimir Vysotsky, my bed neighbor in a field hospital?” etc. He himself often stated: “Even though my generation never had a chance to fight, we live the war by other means, for example, artistic.” This song talks about two fighter pilots, both killed in combat, but even in heaven not wanting to quit. On this song Vysotsky perfected the theme of “friendship under fire.”

When I was working on this track, I got an idea of turning it into a duet. The lines unexpectedly nicely fell along the parts of two people conversing. So I invited my buddy Gene Sakirsky, another big fan and performer of Vysotsky’s songs, to sing with me. While his vocal delivery is drastically different from mine (and I know some people were not too happy with it overall), the song turned into a conversation of two different people. In the mix we lowered Gene’s voice and put a wave-filter effect on it, to imitate two characters talking on the radio: one closer, one farther away. Another participant in the song is the legend of the 80s Russian rock scene, Yuri Naumov. I was a fan of Naumov since first hearing his music in 1992 and dreamed about getting him involved for a long time. I first approached him via email in 2005, but he replied that he was very busy at the time and unable to help me. However, when I resumed my recordings in 2007, I wrote him again, visited him in person, and this time he decided in my favor. I brought him several songs, out of which he ultimately chose to play on “The Airfight” and “The Flight Aborted.” On this one, he tuned his one-of-a-kind nine string acoustic guitar a whole octave lower, creating the illusion of spinning propellers. I think it turned out magnificently, and I’m very grateful for his contribution. Notable quote from Naumov: “You’ve got this energy of an angry wolf cub.”

6. “War in the Mountains” (“К Вершине,” “Ты идешь по кромке ледника..,” 1969)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Alex Lenner (electric guitar, 5-string bass), John Macaluso (drums, mix), Polina Goudieva (recording), Don Chaffin (recording, mix).

The song was dedicated to Mikhail Hergiani, a fabled Soviet mountain-climber, who perished in the Alps. Vysotsky wrote a dozen songs about mountain-climbers, most of them – for the soundtrack to the movie “The Vertical” (1968). During its filming, he spent several months in the base camp of Elbrus (Caucasus Mountains), observing climbers and writing songs. The soundtrack to this movie became his first official recording. This song was not on it and is, in fact, one of the lesser known songs from his “mountain” cycle, yet it somehow always clicked with me. This was one of my more recent translations. The central line in the original is a Russian proverb: “A smart man doesn’t go up the mountain, he goes around,” that has no English equivalent (the closest would be “work smart, not hard”). So, to preserve the proverb, I inserted a variation on the famous “If the mountain does not go to Mohammed, Mohammed goes to the mountain.” My final version says: “To the weak, the mountains won’t help… But to you they walk (not to Mohammed),” meaning that the mountains really help those who understand and respect them, as does the main character. Plus, the rhyme “Mohammed / summit” was too good to pass up. Thanks to Jen Dondero for her consultation.

I always wanted to make it a real rocker – it always felt like a rock march to me – and my good friend Alex Lenner came up with a killer riff and a bass line for it, which were both recorded in one day. Legendary John Macaluso, whom I met at the ProgPower 8.0 USA festival in Atlanta, provided the drums, which were recorded by Don Chaffin in his Long Island studio. John and Don then both mixed the song. The drum setup, the recording, and the mixing were done in just 4 hours! The vocals in the mix are higher than they’d be in a normal rock song, but, hey: this is not a normal rock project! Notable quote from Don: "When mixing, you gotta listen to the lyrics: every word will tell you exactly what effect to put on it."

7. “The Ballad of the High Jumper” (“Баллада Прыгуна В Высоту,” 1970)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Thad DeBrock (acoustic guitar), DJ Chkalov (recording), Polina Goudieva (recording, mix).

Vysotsky was a huge sports fan and wrote a couple of dozens songs about various sports (including speed-skating, boxing, marathon, American football, sky-diving, horse racing, and, of course, hockey and soccer). Some of them were serious, but mostly humorous. In many of them he had some sort of a twist, where the main character, in addition to the typical challenges of a given sport, faced some other obstacle to complicate his life even further. “The High Jumper,” with its “athlete vs. coach” standoff and the triumph of the former, has always been among my favorites. I translated it in the late 90s, and with time it changed very little. In the later version Vysotsky added a verse at the end about a cheating wife, but, in spite of its easy translation (“While I was flying high at the top, there on somebody else she went down”), I left it out, because (1) that wasn’t the version I was used to and (2) it would have completely destroyed the triumphant feeling of the song.

In August 2007, Polina went to Russia for a month, so I decided not to waste time and record my parts for this song in the UltraSky Studio of DJ Chkalov. This was a mistake, because, as it turned out, the room sound and the mike were totally different from other songs, and I have heard several not-so-flattering comments from both Polina and Eric about the quality of the recording. I even considered re-recording it, but Thad liked the groove there and insisted on sticking with it. Recording his guitar parts took longer than in any other song (a session and a half). We just kept hitting the wall, trying to create the part that would enhance the song. After we came up with the “coach’s sliding bass theme” (in the 2nd and 3rd verses), it started flowing much better. This turned out to be one of Polina’s favorites, so she ended up mixing it. Eric’s notable quote: “It’s a first time I hear a song that mentions a groin pull!”

From the cycle “LOVE & FAMILY AFFAIRS THROUGHOUT HISTORY”

8. “Caveman’s Love / Stone Age” (“Любовь В Каменном Веке,” 1969)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Thad DeBrock (acoustic guitar), DJ Chkalov (recording), Polina Goudieva (recording), Eric Kvortek (mix).

When I was 15, I loved this song to no end. My mom still loves it, and so do thousands of people that have heard it. Vysotsky’s punchy humor always set him apart from other songwriters, and this song is a good example. It’s easy enough to deduce just who this “caveman” really is, and that the Stone Age only provides the backdrop for a rather modern “head of the family” figure. The cycle itself consists of five pieces: “The Stone Age,” “The Biblical Times,” “The Ancient Rome,” “The Middle Ages,” and “The Age of Renaissance.” I translated 4 of 5 (all but “Biblical Times”), but the translation of “Ancient Rome,” while being a solid work, to me lacked that certain spark, so I decided against its inclusion, leaving a total of three. This was the first song that I started recording, in the summer of 2005, in the studio of DJ Chkalov. After recording two songs, I thought that it wasn’t working and put the whole project on hold until better days. The only thing remaining from those sessions was a single mp3 track of the voice and the guitar, mixed and compressed. After returning to this song, I was so impressed with the performance that decided to use this mp3 in the new version. This is why the rhythm guitar sounds so strange: it was taken from the original compressed mp3. Plus, it’s the only track where I do more than one guitar part. Thad put his guitar on top of it, and Eric made the best out of all of this to result in one of my favorite numbers. Eric’s notable quote: “I haven’t hit you… YET?”

9. “Knight's Tale” ("Любовь В Средние Века," "Рыцарский Турнир," 1969)

10. “Love in the Age of Renaissance or the Real Secret of the Mona Lisa Smile” (“Любовь В Эпоху Возрождения,” 1969)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Anton Karnaukh (acoustic guitar, recording), Vladimir Ponomarev (keyboards), Polina Goudieva (keyboards, recording), Eric Kvortek (mix).

Another “period piece” that has more references to our own “period” than to a historical one. While translating it, I never fully believed this would work: the song was just too long! Yet, after a few adjustments and corrections several years down the line, I think I was able to do it justice. One notable change is the line from the original: “See, just like that, I have married an intellectual!” In Russia, the main premise is that “an intellectual husband” would not necessarily be rich, but he would not drink, abuse his wife, and overall be a serious status upgrade for a “common” girl. In American culture, marrying an intellectual is not all that dreamy. Consequently, I changed it to something American women dream about: a celebrity.

Vysotsky used to start this song with humming and making lute-like sounds, which I replaced with a baroque harpsichord. Still the song was lacking spark. Anton’s guitar certainly helped (completed days before the whole project was finished), but it was still too much like all the previous tracks. Then it occurred to me to make it a light-hearted, free-flowing, improvised piano track, sort of like what they had in silent movies. I begged Volodya (who already did a magnificent job on “Children of Books” and “Ships”) to extend his grace to another song, and he did. Then, of course, there’s this non-serious “baroque” string coda that I thought would fit a very non-serious song. Notable quote from Volodya: “Everything I just played sucks." Notable quote from Eric: “That’s some crazy piano playing... crazy in a good way!”

11. “Heavenbound (The Ballad of the Gallows Field)” (“Баллада О Лобном Месте,” “Разбойничья,” “Сколь веревочка не вейся..,” 1975)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Polina Goudieva (keyboards, recording), Eric Kvortek (mix).

One of my all-time favorite songs. Written for the movie “How Czar Peter Arranged His Arab’s Marriage,” it was never included on the soundtrack. The tale of a luckless fellow, driven by poverty to crime, then persecuted and hanged, is incredible in its power and imagery. I began translating it back in 1994 and worked on it for 13 years. I consider it to be my best accomplishment, perhaps not even by the end result (other songs flow smoother), but by the task itself. I have taken some serious liberties with it, starting from the title. The word “heavenbound” is my own invention for this song. It’s not part of the original, but I want to emphasize the point of hope: a man finding better luck in the afterlife. Vysotsky’s lyrics are very deeply Russian, full of folk expressions and proverbs. To adequately preserve the mood, I turned to the English “gallows” tradition, most notably “The Ballad of Reading Gaol” by Oscar Wilde. As far as music goes, this is also my most experimental track, the farthest from the original. In fact, the only thing left from Vysotsky here is the translated lyrics and the vocal melody. All music is written by Polina and myself. We tried merging different genres here: hard rock, folk, goth, classical, and even dance. The first verse is very claustrophobic, talking about the man’s unlucky past. His misfortunes are further emphasized in the second (“jumpy” guitars and almost dance-y beats) and the third verse (swaying orchestrations, ending in the axe’s hiss). Then the song makes an abrupt cutback to the acoustics, but of a special kind: the guitar sounds deliberately out of tune, giving it a crazy, shaky, almost “leper-like” feel of a man losing his mind. This is the end: the fellow is to be hung at dawn! Then the orchestra returns, signifying the man’s ascension to heaven. My love for heavy metal served me well in this song: the “execution” songs by Iron Maiden, Morgana Lefay, and Tarot put me in the proper mood. Thanks to Marian McLellan for reviewing the translation. Notable quote from my wife: “This song really made it all worth it.”

12. “Robin Hood” (“Баллада о Вольных Стрелках,” “Робин Гуд,” 1975)

13. “Children of Books” (“Баллада о Борьбе,” “Баллада о Книжных Детях,” “Средь Оплывших Свечей..,” 1975)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Vladimir Ponomarev (keyboards / orchestral arrangements), Polina Goudieva (recording, mix).

This epic song was also written for the movie “The Arrows Of Robin Hood” and shared the fate of “Robin Hood”: excluded from the soundtrack, included in “The Ballad of the Valiant Knight Ivanhoe,” then reinserted into re-release of “The Arrows.” Titled in Russian “The Ballad of the Eternal Fight,” it is, undoubtedly, one of the finest examples of Vysotsky’s dual genius: in both the philosophy and the charisma. In the post-war Soviet Union, before television or Internet, the adventure books of Walter Scott, Robert Lewis Stevenson, Alexander Dumas, and others were the main source of both entertainment and learning for kids. Re-enactment of historical battles and projection of literary adventures onto the daily lives played vital part in their development. Vysotsky always considered personal strength (both physical and mental) to be the most important human quality. In this song he describes the process of maturation from a boy to a man: first through the books read, then through life’s struggles, eventually establishing one’s place in the eternal struggle between good and evil. The song talks about strengthening of the character through challenges and losses and heavily employs medieval imagery. The final two lines – “[If] in the heat of the battle your lesson was learned, then you have read some valuable books as a boy!” – I consider to be among the greatest in world’s poetry.

Translation of “Children...” was very challenging. Not just a story, this is a feast of imagery and expression. It took me about ten years. The smoothness is perhaps not as perfect as in some other numbers, some of the word choices and expressions may feel awkward, cumbersome, or odd. My main concern was to recreate the spirit of the original and, obviously, squeeze it into the appropriate singable meter. I realize that for today’s children, in both Russia and America, historic books and adventures are not exactly “the school of life.” But I still love this song to death and feel it’s an integral part of Vysotsky’s spiritual legacy. Obviously, I did not have the luxury of a real forty-piece orchestra that he used, but given the conditions, I think Volodya and Polina both performed superbly. Many hours in the studio were spent listening to the individual parts of the original and recreating them. At some point it turned out that I was playing one chord incorrectly (damn you, B-flat!), and several parts had to be re-recorded. Was it worth it all in the end? I hope so. Notable quote from myself: “Those damn children!”

14. “The Submarine (S. O. S.)” (“Спасите Наши Души,” “Песня о Подводной Лодке,” 1967)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Thad DeBrock (electric guitar), Alex Lenner (5-string bass), Yuri Liakhovitch (drums, recording), Polina Goudieva (recording), Eric Kvortek (mix).

Vysotsky called it “an anxiety song.” I’ve first heard it when I was 6 or so. It does not require much explaining, except, perhaps the “pronged, silent death,” which refers to the sea mines (mines have horns). I have heard an opinion that many of Vysotsky’s songs are typical Soviet “rousing” calls-to-arms, praising heroism and death for Mother Russia. To me it’s absurd: if you tried using “The Submarine” to recruit for the Navy, young men would run in the opposite direction. But Vysotsky, of course, admired courage and fearlessness in the face of death, and praised these qualities better than anyone I know. In the course of translation, I changed a couple of lines here and there (the line “She cannot be captured” came almost straight from the movie “K2: The Widowmaker”), gravitating more towards the overall “flow” of the song, rather than to the “word-for-word” approach, but it came out pretty close. The most difficult part was not the translation, but a proper vocal performance: one of the most challenging ones. I also consolidated five original verses into three, just so I wouldn’t have to sing the chorus too many times. And, much like with “Mountains,” I wanted to make it a rock song. Thad’s guitar is simply superb here; I especially love it at the end of the second verse. Alex’s bassline is pretty nifty. Yuri’s drums I was not too thrilled about: he played an extremely technical part with a rather thin sound, so Polina and Eric simplified it but could do nothing about the sound. Still, I think the song rocks. Notable quote:

Vadim: “Can you play a higher note here?”
Thad: “Actually, I can’t. It’s the highest note on the guitar.”

15. “The Flight Aborted” (“Прерванный Полет,” “Кто-то Высмотрел Плод,” “Песня о Том Кто Не Спел,” “Не Долюбил”, 1975)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Yuri Naumov (9-string acoustic guitar, recording, mix).

This song is very popular among both younger people and Vysotsky’s translators. It was written for the movie “Mr. McKinnley’s Escape,” and yet again none of the nine (!) songs he wrote made the cut. Vysotsky also tried for a part in this movie, but fell in disfavor with the authorities again, and his participation was scratched. The song is, of course, largely autobiographical: about a man prevented from achieving his dreams. Written 5 years before his death, it correctly depicts unrealized aspirations and ambitions of Vysotsky. Of course, in 42 years he has accomplished several lifetimes worth of achievements: 900+ songs and poems, theater and cinema roles, four marriages (his longest – to the French superstar actress, Marina Vladi, with whom he, in fact, had a chance to “drive in a shiny car he bought”), traveled worldwide, when it was impossible for an average Soviet citizen, and finally became a national hero and the country’s most revered poet. Still he felt like he could accomplish more, if only given a chance. He never even saw his poems published! The theme of “barely missing a target” goes through many of his works: “Yak the Fighter,” “The Charge to Escape,” “The Rope Walker,” and late period poems.

Several images in this song are rather mysterious: “Taurus, his Zodiac sign, was lapping up the Milky Way,” for example. Vysotsky’s own sign was Aquarius, and the image, positioned at the song’s culmination point, is unclear. The line “The girl who’s always alone” in Russian can also be interpreted as “The girl who was his one and only,” yet I chose to go with the former meaning, because to me it emphasized the second verse’s point of “failing to benefit others”: the protagonist left behind “undiscovered mysteries,” “unresolved problems,” and so on. Other than that, the song was a pleasure to translate, especially after I came up with the “My oh my” mantra. The biggest challenge was to align the tenses: past and past perfect.

This songs features the second and final contribution of Yuri Naumov to the album. Yuri is not the world’s biggest fan of Vysotsky – he only likes a handful of his songs – but I knew this song would be right up his alley, and indeed it was. The vocals / guitar recordings that I made with either DJ Chkalov or Polina did not satisfy Yuri, and he demanded from me to replay and re-sing the whole song, start to finish, five times, into a single audio input, with no metronome. After that he spent countless hours editing takes, writing his own parts, and playing with sounds, equalizers, compressors, reverbs, and god knows what else. I'm not even sure if the slight vocal distortion was accidental or done on purpose. The result sounds different from other album tracks, but overall I think it’s a great track. Notable quote from Yuri: “Those peanuts will flatten your voice, put ‘em down!”

16. “Ships” (“Корабли,” 1967)

Vadim Astrakhan (vocals, acoustic guitar), Thad DeBrock (electric guitar), Randy Coven (bass), John Macaluso (drums), Vladimir Ponomarev (keyboards / orchestral arrangements), Polina Goudieva (recording, mix), Don Chaffin (recording).

One of Vysotsky’s biggest hits, the orchestral version from the 1975 record being known to virtually every man, woman, and child who lived in USSR in the 70s and 80s. The song is, of course, not just about ships, but about Vysotsky’s own hope “to return.” He made a reference to this song thirteen years later, in his final poem, “The ice above me and the ice below..,” written mere days before his death on July 25, 1980. His fans perceive this song as the tale of Vysotsky’s resurrection. His prophecy has come true: Vladimir Vysotsky does indeed make appearance in the public spotlight twice a year, on his birthday (January 25) and deathday (July 25), exactly half a year apart.

Simpler songs can be more difficult to translate, and this was certainly the case. A simple “I will surely return” does not give the Russian line true justice, especially considering that Vysotsky gives it so much in this performance. I had six different versions of it, finally going with the most basic one. Recording this song was a nightmare. It was positively cursed. I started it in June and finished in January. There was always something going wrong when we attempted to work on it: people sick, people stuck in traffic, people canceling and disappearing, bad sounds, missed notes, and so on, and so forth. Even Randy Coven, one of the world’s premier bassists, whose services I enlisted because of his long history with John Macaluso, had a tough time with it (Johnny, btw, gave the tune a real kick in the ass with his incredible drumming on a cold October morning). Thad struggled with notes. Volodya broke seven sweats, painstakingly trying to recreate the complicated arrangements of the original. We stayed true in the first two verses, and then decided to just let Thad loose in the third. The modulation change in the 3rd verse (the whole song shifts from Am to Bm-flat) complicated the recording of the midi tracks. Also, Polina suddenly became dissatisfied with my vocal performance and demanded for me to re-sing the song one day before the mastering was scheduled. But, at the end, I think we were able to capture the spirit of the original, making it a fine conclusion for the album. Notable quote:

Polina: “We spent so much time on this song that you owe it.”
Vadim: “I spent so much money on this song that it owes me.”

IN CONCLUSION, I THANK YOU FOR YOUR INTEREST IN THIS PROJECT! I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!

VADIM A.