Back in the USSR

I was born in USSR, the country where working class was supposed to be the ruling class. However, Soviet Army never hesitated to shoot at workers. On this day in 1962 there was a massacre committed against unarmed protesters in Novocherkassk, who organised a labor strike at local Electromotive Building factory. 26 killed. 87 wounded, hundereds imprisoned up to 15 years. The dead were secretly buried in false graves which were not disclosed to relatives until June 2, 1994.
I wish the hammer and sickle lovers had been there, in the very heart of mature #socialism.

#socialismkills

Tie Brian down

I believe this is not the first time a cheesy b movie wins Golden Globe for the best drama film, but this is the first time I give a damn. The success of Bohemian Rhapsody, the story of Queen that never happened in life, makes us participate in the tragic irony of watching the story of a talent we were not lucky enough to witness living, transfer into a piece of worthless modern so-called culture. I could've just said that this movie is of poor quality, but I’m going to give a short presentation. Several months after its premiere.

This messy story jumps from a cheap trick to a cliché, misrepresenting the facts and their meaning. If you are a Queen fanatic like me, you know the facts, and you are not buying the “based on a real story” thing, as those little lies give us touches to the portrait of a shallow, silly and, erm, ordinary person. We feel the difference between a lie and fiction, and people who worked on this project had their purpose to build a shining fabulous fence around the band. Now you’ve got your perfect Freddie, a bit eccentric, but submissive, the one you can make wait outside the closed door. And the most pleasant thing, he won’t tell you to fuck off, darling. And this is meaner than playing Queen songs with Adam Lambert.

As far as I know, Brian May did not want the story to be too dark (too real) as Sacha Baron Cohen who had to leave the project, planned to play a more sexually driven, complicated character. But why twist your own biography when the reality was way more interesting and cinematic? What’s the point? Why skip the awesome story of their early years but claim they were the only band who helped achieve the financial target at Live Aid? How about David Bowie and Paul McCartney, who also played there, may I ask?

They wanted a classic heroic biopic, I get it. There actually was a huge space for the manifesto maneuver as the story of Freddie Mercury and the story of AIDS are inextricably linked. Freddie was the first celebrity of this caliber to die from AIDS, but the movie happens to be a mess even at this point. He was diagnosed in 1987, two years after the Live Aid concert, so no, he didn’t have to fight the disease to play there, and died in 1991, only five or six years before effective antiretroviral therapy became the new treatment standard, which is a total tragedy.

Even the title is a bore. Apparently, Walk the Line is an awesome movie title, and the movie itself is awesome. With a cool love story and in-depth analysis of characters’ motivation. Speaking about the Bohemian Rhapsody song, I’m not a member of one of the greatest bands in the world, but the thing about musicians I know for real is that they never talk to each other at work in terms of ‘give it more soul’. Pathetic morons and talent show participants do. Which brings us back to Adam Lambert.

And by the way, do you know you have to have family in this life? A perfect classic family like Brian May and Roger Taylor had (LOL). Fuck music, fuck songs, fuck your talent and world tours. Who would consider oneself full of life without kids and family dinners and everything?  As if music is not everything.

Musical prostitutes, my dear!

I'm watching the Bohemian Rhapsody movie tonight. Yes, I'll go. Sadly, the state of affairs doesn't make me expect to see anything at least slightly as talented as it is supposed to be when it comes to Freddie Mercury.

Talent should be something very easy to spot for the people who were once awesome enough to write Radio Gaga or We Will Rock You, but we've heard what they've been doing recentry to have the lay of the land. What I'm trying to figure out is what one should do not do to fuck one's talent away like this. Oh how much I hate the Adam Lambert collaboration.

Every day my anger gets inflamed by the offical Queen FB page posts on how Freddie would've been impressed by the range and vocal ability of Mr. Vocalist. Involvement in delirium it is. If only vocal range was all it takes! Actually, it matters least. Who would you rather have in your band: a person who is able to sing The Fifth Element Diva Dance or a person who is able to deliver the original phrasing of Tumbling Dice? Oh, and write Tumbling Dice.

Yes, no one will ever replace Freddie, no one is trying to replace Freddie, I've read the comments, thanks, but this person's performance sounds like a worthless satire on rock singing, and rock presence too. Without trying to replace, why would you even place him in a rock band? Mind you, Lambert doesn't seem to understand rhythm at all. Just listen to this crap.

"When I'm dead, who cares?" - that's what Frieddie said, and I'm not trying to speak on his behalf like Mr. May. But firstly, Freddie heard where the drums were. Secondly, I want to know what Freddie did to make his bandmates think he would tolerate someone so mediocre and self-important.

Summer Moved On

One of my best summer memories is riding the train from Prague to Berlin to play some music of mine, listening to Exile, and thinking I'd actually made a couple of right choices in this life.

Ziggy, play guitar!

If God could make a visit—

Or ever took a Nap—

So not to see us—but they say

Himself—a Telescope

Emily Dickinson

I never felt at home in Russia, neither at school, nor at college. It doesn't mean I'm constantly miserable, but I don't belong here, I don't understand local people, and I don't get what's going on. 

I don't drink vodka, I am not orthodox, I don't value self-torture, don't hate rest of the world. I didn't cry tears of pride during the opening ceremony of the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, watching Natasha Rostova's first ball. 

I did cry though when the Starman hopped off. Ain't gonna write about David Bowie, got nothing to add to the things that have been recently said.  

But how I wish the progressive humanity stopped producing numerous dull, indie-comatose worthless songs and sent us, barbarians, some musical delight. It's dull enough in here. 
What a vacuum he leaves.