it as the number for the contest. At some point, it dawned on me that if the song was called "The Yellow River" then the chorus also should sound "Yellow River!" but not like that fuzzy "Alloverida". So, it was not in vain that Alla Iosifovna at her English classes was driving it home to me that "London is the capital of Great Britain". Anatoly peevishly wrinkled his nose but had no trumps to ward off my stock of knowledge. To reward my linguistic feat, Chuba let me sing the backup in the chorus:"Yellow River! Yellow River!is in my mind and in my eyes."
That immensely inspired me, because in our VIA I had the very necessary but so inconspicuous role of the rhythm guitarist.
For the second number, we chose "Paint It Black" by The Rolling Stones. We knew the chords to the song and even its true title, but we did not know the lyrics and just were using dummy "doo-wop" like some seasoned scat singers:
"Doo-wop doo-wop doo-wop doo-wopDoo-wop doo-wop pá-ba-baá
Yet, knowing the name, you could guess what the song was about and if you know the lines meter then – full ahead!
"Black clouds towered in the sky over the cityThe drops of falling rain are black as coal tarNo stars reflected in the puddles: nor big, nor bittyBlack fog has stolen them and hidden way too far…"
(… in the film "The Devil's Advocate" with Al Pacino as Prince of Dark this song sounds at the concluding credits, the original, of course. But at that time it was too early for Hollywood to shoot that movie. And, by the by, performing "The Yellow River" in Russian, our garage VIA had outstripped The Jolly Guys of Alexander Booynov who released it a couple of years later, substituting Karlsson-on-the-Roof for the original river:
"Now we hear,Now we hear,The motor buzz,The cheerful buzz.High in the airStraight from the roofOur dear friendIs flying to us…"
Thus a love song was mutated into the RepBase anthem…)
Before the VIA competition, we rehearsed for days on end leaving Club only to have a midday meal at the pavilion "Meeting" by the Station square where we ate dumplings, flushed them down with gulps of beer from a bottle of Zhigulyovsky shared between the 4 of us and considered ourselves cool dudes who could play rock.
Precisely one day before the contest, our rivals—VIA "The Kristall" from Loony—dealt us a preemptive blow. They came to our school to play the trash at the graduation party of our class. Earlier, we offered the school management our music services for the pram dance free of charge, however, the proposal was turned down and they hired The Kristall instead. In our native school, we did not pass for musicians! Like prophets never heeded in their native lands, indeed…
Of course, The Kristall had a well-established reputation. Sasha Basha, educated at the piano class of Music School, played his organ very competently – both "seven-forty", and waltz, and rock'n'roll, but it, still, hurt.
The revenge took place at the contest because we had hidden reserves. Firstly, Pavel Mitrofanovich let us grab for the occasion the 50-watt amp. And secondly, we carried the day even before making any music, our looks when appearing on the stage showed at once who were predestined winners.
Okay, suppose you've got an electric organ and music education plus a team of musicians trained at "playing trash", but who would care a damn about all that crap the moment when:
"…And now in this cozy Central Park Summer Cinema, we invite on stage the vocal-instrumental ensemble… The Orpheuses!!."
At which moment, there came out four dudes with three (!) horned (!!) guitars!!!
And, on top of everything else, each of them, all the 4 rigged…
…IN WHITE PANTS!!!..
Oh, my! There is no way to bring over the meaning of white pants in Konotop of 1971, kinda divine trappings and you can’t put it any clearer because our triumph came to pass before the world-wide rise of the denim civilization.
Where had so snazzy outfit come from? In Department Store opposite Main Post, they were selling the so-called "canvas for household needs", 1 ruble 20 kopecks a meter. After the very first wash, the fabric turned into gray saggy burlap, however, we appeared on stage in pants in their pristinely virgin, unwashed, state.
Mother made them—all the four—with her sewing machine, two days before the performance. The ongoing pants fashion of the day rejected the wide waist belt in favor of no belt at all, the stylish dude's pants then started at the middle of the hips. One meter and ten centimeters of "canvas" were more than enough for a pair of trousers.
The only bad news was that I screwed up my part in the "Yellow River" vocals.
During the rehearsals, Chuba kept frowning at my third in the chorus backup, and in the knock-up chant before going on stage in the Central Park's Summer Cinema he just grabbed his head in despair. So at the moment when we had to yell together into a single microphone, "Yellow River! Yellow River!" I only opened my mouth without producing any sound at all. It was the same trick as singing "The Internationale" at the All-School Komsomol meetings or in the make-believe performing of "Jericho" at a CJR game.
Chuba made round eyes on the other side of the mike because I left him without the third, to no avail though. The Orpheuses convincingly carried the day but on my vocal career, there was put the final cross. Still and all, we did it!.
~ ~ ~
You strain yourself, you pine away in exhausting efforts to reach your goal and after you've done it triumphantly all there remains for you is just living on… Probably, that’s the hardest part.
"Where to sail?" poetically described such situation Pushkin, and Chernishevsky paraphrased the question in the artless prose, "What’s to be done?"
"That is all,Say "bye!" to dreamsLive your lifethe way it seemsRight to you.Find your answers,Find your ways,Find your path to happiness.Do it, do!"(music by V. Sakoon, lyrics by S.