Alla Pugacheva (or, more properly, Pugachyova) is Russia’s greatest living musical legend, a cultural icon, the voice of an era, a treasure of womanhood, an example of virtue, pride and fortitude… and one of the most pedestrian characters to ever grace the covers of Russia’s sleaziest, most rubbishy tabloids. Inappropriately clad in impossibly tight and short, short, short miniskirts while bopping her way across scenarios all over the world, the Great Pugacheva has become as famous for her exceptional musical abilities and stage command, as for her bizarre antics and the lack of dignity that she proudly showcases wherever she goes. In order to make justice to her personality, I’d have to describe her as a somewhat sane, completely careless and cheerful version of Norma Desmond. You know, a strange old lady who is mostly stuck in the past that, for some reason, you just have to love (or, as in my case, become obsessed with). As bizarre and silly as all that is, I still have to say that there’s so much more to Pugacheva than self-deprecating humour and a love for tacky, old-fashioned vaudeville style shows. She is a historical figure (albeit a minor one) and one of the loudest voices that rose against the homogenizing principles of Communism in Russia, not because she necessarily opposed the regime –personally, I think she couldn’t have cared any less about who was in power; she was The Woman Who Sings, after all, and that has always been her only concern- but because her massive and unparalleled stardom went against everything that Communism stands for. Alla is, by all means, the first and foremost diva in Russia (not to mention a great lyricist and very notable songwriter), and we all owe her some respect for that.Born in Moscow during the morning of a gorgeous April day in 1949, Pugacheva lived music since her earliest years: in 1954 she participated in her first concert, and from there went on to follow a music-oriented educational programme that led her to graduate as a musical conductor, pianist and choral arranger from the Ippolitova-Ivanovna music college. At sixteen, she released her first song: the utterly horrible (as the majority of her pre-fame material) Robot. After graduating in 1966, she started touring the entirety of the U.R.S.S. as part of a myriad of groups, the most notorious of which was Vyesyoliye Rebyata/The Merry Children. After a decade of incessant touring and intermittently working as a piano accompanist, as well as being the faceless voice for many famous songs in Soviet screen musicals - which give a whole new meaning to the phrase badly ideated and staged propaganda -, she entered the extremely prestigious Golden Orpheus competition in Bulgaria, and won by a landslide with the peculiar song Arlekino.
In the very beginning, Pugacheva had been a musical force to be reckoned (at least in terms of sheer potential), but soon after that she would become unstoppable – so much so that she even collaborated with ABBA’s true ugly woman and what I have no doubt was the inspiration for Misha, the round bear cub from the 1980 Olympics: Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson. They produced her disastrous in musical terms, and inexplicably successful in chart terms, English language album Watch Out! Both compassion and fear of being accused of deliberately instigating people to commit suicide, force me to warn you: it is NOT a good album. Unless you like really bad music (I’m referring to the equivalent of pouring molten lava into your ear), or are into extreme sadomasochism, don’t buy it.
Leaving artistic matters behind, the really juicy part of Alla’s life are her tumultuous marriages, her ever-oscillating weight, tasteless and inappropriate sense of fashion and obsession with plastic surgery which, by the way, hasn’t saved her from looking more and more bloated and hideous with every passing year – although I suspect that very heavy drinking, eating like a pig and chain smoking may have a little more to do with the fading of The Woman’s looks than anything else, as well as, in a far sadder note, the considerable deterioration of her voice. However, these things are insignificant when one concentrates in her love life.
In 1969 she married Estonian circus conductor (classy, classy, classy) Mikolas Orbakas, and the marriage produced Pugacheva’s only child: horrid, anorexic whingeing cow Kristina Orbakajte, who is massively popular in Russia because, well… There’s no reason for it, actually. Not even nepotism justifies the fact that people are crazy enough as to listen to her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice and shitty ‘music’. But I digress. Her marriage broke soon enough, but Pugacheva soon found love in the arms of film director Aleksandr Stefanovich, who is mainly responsible for her utterly laughable (and enormously successful) film career, the only tolerable moment of which is the film The Woman Who Sings, one of her official titles. After a most embarrassing divorce in which both parts whinged and complained endlessly about each other (in public, of course) while fighting like children over the many properties they had acquired during the course of the marriage, Alla married prominent producer Yevgenij Boldin, who worked in many of her records since the early eighties.
After unceremoniously dumping Boldin, in 1994 she married her now ex-husband, in-the-glass-closet flaming queen Filipp Kirkorov (who claims to be straighter than an arrow in spite of the fact that he looks like a cross between the average goat and Cher’s ugly transsexual sister), who went on to become one of Russia’s greatest stars, and will indubitably be the object of a lengthy, scary post in the future along with his new beloved; screechy-voiced plastic surgery freak Masha Rasputina (for whom he allegedly abandoned Pugacheva, although some other accounts say that she was already cheating on him anyway with comedian Maksim Galkin, another man who exudes about as much masculinity as Judy Garland). However Rasputina is, as far as I know, still married to the father of her two children… Oh, the sordidness and vulgarity of it all. Don’t you love it?
Anyway, Pugacheva still remains an icon in spite of the fact that she cancels presentations and concerts at whim, has only released three albums of deliciously bad original material in more than a decade and has theatrically retired and pathetically come back (or was it the other way around? ;-P) enough times as to have had fifty music careers during her lifetime. If you want to buy some of Pugacheva’s records, I’d advise you to purchase one of the many compilations she has released since 1996. Rechnoj Tramvajchik/The River Ferry is a good start – buy it, or any other of her records, here or here.
Finally, after this lengthy article, we come to the selection I’ve made. I hope you enjoy these songs, as most of them are truly exceptional, and a few of them are, at the very least, entertaining. Here they are!
Айсберг - Ajsberg/Iceberg
This amazing ballad is my favourite song by La Pugacheva. The first time I heard this, I thought about Dalida in the mid-sixties… However, this is from 1981! Never mind – it’s one of the most ravishingly beautiful ballads I’ve ever heard, and the lyrics are superb (not to mention, Pugacheva’s voice is a million times better than Dalida’s, and the arrangement is far beyond what anyone ever did in the sixties). “Like an ice mountain emerging from the fog/The iceberg navigates across the boundless seas/Fortunate are those who know how dangerous it is on the ocean!/How dangerous it is when a ship meets the iceberg on the sea!”. The song is a marvellous metaphor for a woman’s conscious choice to “rush head on into love” and meet the dangerous iceberg, whose obscure feelings lie hidden underneath black, dangerous waters: the most unsuitable of lovers, who will destroy her. Amazing song. The original video is… well, watch it and you’ll understand the meaning of the word ‘peculiar’.
Стринные Часы - Starinniye Chasy/The Antique Clock
This is my second favourite song by Pugacheva. This time, we are faced with the sorrowful tale of a desperate woman who tells her grieves to the aching memory of her estranged lover – a man she can’t forget, even though he abandoned her long ago. Sadly, the only one who listens to her is an antique clock, her only true companion in life and, through suffering and despair, her true soul mate: the clock was also in love with the man, and as he broke her heart, he broke the two Cupids that marked the clock’s ticking… Isn’t this the most original soap opera plot you’ve ever read about?! ;-P The chorus is particularly heartbreaking, and truly expresses the desolation caused by the betrayal of a love: “It’s not possible to go back in life/And time won’t even stop for an instant/Let the night be boundless and my house remain empty/As the antique clock keeps ticking away”. Amazing. Video of a ‘live’ performance.
Балет - Balyet/Ballet
This song is, well, catchy is the best way to describe it… along with pompous, unbelievably pretentious and totally kitsch. Composed by Igor Nikolayev, one of the best songwriters I’ve ever known of, it has a solemn, stout melody and an outrageously tacky instrumentation that’s half bad stage musical, half Baroque fanfare. I don’t have much to say about it, except that it is a good showcase of both Pugacheva’s mid-eighties’s, pre-tobacco and booze utter ravage, voice. It has also a spectacular end, with what seem to be armies of instruments fighting against each other for dominion of the melody. Video.
А Я В Воду Войду - A Ya V Vodu Vojdu/And I Shall Enter The Water This song is one of Pugacheva’s few incursions into dance territory. As it always happens with her, the lyrics are quite good, even though I consider this song to be rather peculiar. The melody is there, it’s just that it seems to try to go against what a beautiful melody is supposed to be… It is definitely a strange song, but it is also full of hooks and its repetitive, aggressive chorus will be stuck to your head for days. It comes from the 1998 compilation Da!/Yes!, which mostly contains songs that Alla sang during her televised Christmas concerts during the previous five years. The album is as peculiar as this song, combining downright odd folk/rock fusions and strange techno ballads – not precisely Christmas music, but enjoyable nonetheless. Hilarious 'live' performance that showcases Alla in all her glory. ;-)
Не Обижай Меня - Nye Obizhaj Myenya/Do Not Aggravate Me
This song is one of the few original tracks included in the beautiful 2001 semi-compilation disc Rechnoj Tramvajchik. It is one of the best songs I’ve heard by Igor Nikolayev, and it’s truly delightful in every sense. A very special ballad that combines a rapidly flowing melody and a fast beat with a profound sense of desperation and hopelessness, it is rich in both beauty and theatricality; it starts very slowly, with a tearful Alla reciting the lyrics in a broken, wistful voice. When things cannot become any more pathetic, the song explodes into a cheerful quasi dance song that drastically contrasts with the extremely sad melody and mournful lyrics. Beautiful. Live performance of a very vocally diminished Pugacheva.
