History
The late 70’s going into that of the 80’s was no doubt a strange time. Its twenty-year-spanning contents consisted of nothing but several ways in which a world can be so culturally and hemispherically divided, while at the same time uniting over the smallest and most pivotal things. Think fashion for one minute, and then technology the next.
The one that triumphed over all, however, was almost always music.
No matter the language, and no matter the genre. If the message it conveyed was indeed a shared one – throughout wars, nations, and politics – then it was to be consumed by even the farthest reaching section of the masses.
And though she as a nation sprawled ever so enormously on the surface of both a map and the globe itself, Russia was – especially during its soviet era – akin to being on a different planet altogether than the one she resided in, with the rest of the western-dominated world.
The milieu of examples that can be provided to prove this surpasses aplenty. Therefore, it is perhaps a thankful happenstance that the best one to present is music, seeing as that it can be just as visually and literally dissected as it can be audibly. In fact, despite the absolute obstacle that was their language barrier (and not just their cultural differences), there were countless instances, just before the fall of the Berlin Wall, wherein music was a great communicator between them and another – if not multiple – other contenders in the supposed fight for the free world and everyone’s place in it; as well as their roles in it thereafter.
America was the champion of “freedom”, of course, while England was apparently full of spies. Russia – always deemed the burly, snow and bitter winter-weathered “villain” for the reason of its past. Besides such a pyramid of so-called super powers, it is any wonder why, of all the nations and its languages to incidentally compliment, that Russia would pick Spain; and a Spanish song nonetheless, to translate into their own language. United in trauma though they were over the same consequential world war, they parted far from friends and allies, and remained stoically so for quite some time.
Then came the late 70’s, all jarring and upending with old grudges that were deteriorating like old newspaper. Regimes that were paying homage to constricting and isolating ideas were suddenly dismantled, and built atop it were shining new beacons of democracy, extending kindly hands towards what were once considered old friends.
The invitation to relearn the way of the world came in response as an open door than a hand back; a choice that one nation, so slightly behind than the rest, must make on their own in order to move forward.
And they did, one inclining foot after another – they chose music.
And what’s more, is that they chose a song whose subject translated to something so utterly universal: missing someone when they are gone.
‘¿Porque Te Vas?’ 1976
It officially translates to ‘Because You’re Leaving”; more so a statement than a question as to whether or not someone is.
And as for its sound – it rings of a child, high-pitched and whispering, in a shock of wonderful abandonment at where they now find themselves. Or rather, where they shall be, which is alone.
Said lonesome threat is written all over the track and its tone, bobbing between the balance of two forcefully rhythmic feet as if trying to distract itself from the matter at hand, all with the likes of a funky brass and a somewhat chipper beat. Walkable and/or with a groovy stride, at least.
The way in which she sings – she, being Jeanette – is almost purposefully eerie. Rather than mask the somber nature of the lyrics in any way, it instead practically amplifies it with a very visible breathiness on her part, and that – like a creative choice done by any performer – conveys an array of actions that could very well be transpiring. She could be left breathless, for instance, at the swiftness of such a decision on her love’s part. Or such callousness in leaving her is the breathtaking element above all.
Either or, she is the antithesis of the norm once established by some female vocalists of her time. Rather than clear and bouncy, she is almost silent and muddled.
And that leads into the doubled vocals themselves.
Lobbing on top of it another layer of ghostly resonance (not dissonance), two scarily young voices singing the same lyrics almost adds to the track an inescapable chill beneath the skin. Alongside it, even, is the furthering of the image of it being children that are singing, and not simply a young girl to her lover. Especially when considering the meticulous nature of the first and second verse: the frowning upon a sunny day, a heart being sad whilst in the middle of a city; waking up to no expectation and being absolutely destroyed by it. An overall sense of letting what was once loved and established walk into oblivion. And of its own volition, no less.
Not to suggest that solely internalizing the external is only something a child in mourning will do. But children themselves are such creatures devoted to habit. Especially when so young.
Disrupt what they live and breathe to believe as the way of the world, and surprisingly their first instinct is not to immediately burst into tears.
It is to stand there, mouth agape and wide eyed at someone daring to do so.
And then the tears come; and witnessing such does a number on the heart alone.
“All my love and promises will leave with you,
You’ll forget about me, You’ll forget about me,
Next to the station I will cry just like a kid
Because you’re leaving
Because you’re leaving
Because you’re leaving…”
‘V Posledniy Raz’ 1979
This one, all the while, translates into what could be something else entirely, while remaining within the same realm as the grief felt above.
Only now, amplify it by way of not just the loneliness of a child, but that of a loneliness that drives one mad.
Romanize it, and the title reads ‘One Last Time’, sung by Lyudmila Barykina.
With lyrics by Vladimir Lugovoy. Affectionately, as well as with the utmost respect, he is to blame for the absolute scenic shock that is the reiteration of the Russian lyrics. Visual, dramatic, and a feast for both one’s sense of imagination and dark humor as it may be.
The tempo, to start, is not so much worlds slower, but akin more so to the original song getting hit in the head, and is now walking around in a sort of delirious, concussed state. Smiling; giggling, even. All with the addition of a dull pain and a bloody nose.
All breathiness and high pitch remain. But instead of a younger sense of innocent longing, and thus leading into sulking, there is this absolutely frightening sense of… ending it all, so that one may be reunited.
Suicide, in shorter (and perhaps more scandalous) words.
Or at least, that is the underlying nature of the first verse, if one were presented with the English lyrics.
“Everything reminds me of you,
And you’re nowhere.
There’s a world remaining that saw us two together
For the last time.
A room with a balcony and a window.
It’s bright right now;
Clear as the day that saw us together –
For the last time…”
The words themselves, flitting between remembrance to save a semblance of sanity and declaration of giving up, teeter so quietly; so dangerously. Legions more than the original, even.
What child-like nature that even dared to remain has all but vanished, and now in its place is perhaps still an individual so young and malleable at heart.
Hence why the subject at hand, and the results of its enormity, seem so massive – and destructive.
But to the self, and not to anyone or anything around them. What funkiness that is being imitated from the original, if anything, is meant to assure those who have lingered that everything is fine. Just sway to the beat, and all will be well.
But, genuinely, how can one when what they’re being left with sounds so threateningly final?
Final on the listener’s end, at least. To the one rehashing this open letter of sorts, what seems like a finite ‘last time’ to us, is to them an opportunity, where this one last time here in this mortal coil is an entryway into a semblance of forever that is specifically tailored to them and their memories.
Just as long as it is better than the forever they are doomed to live in life, which began with a doom that was like death.
Goodbye, Either Way
… Leave it to the beauteously lethal way Russian translates into English for the song to take on a whole new meaning.
And leave it to Spanish to lay the groundwork for its grieving roots in the first place.
All three languages, so egregiously separated as physically as they have always been culturally. And yet, they share to the tune and pace of one singular song how utterly obliterating missing a part of one’s being can be, and what destruction it may sew.
What they all understood as if speaking in a tongue that is unifying understandable, at least, is that grief put to melody is the easiest to dispense, the most beautiful to orchestrate, and the better to share amongst others who have lost, but cannot convey.
So, then – convey in a way that two may hear and absorb.
And as for the others – sift into its origins, and find raw and palpable, a grief that is universal, as it is almost worrisome.