World - Glasnost moves rock group up to the top When Andrei Makarevich dropped by the Tribune bureau here last week for this interview, the babushkas who preside over our front lobby eyed his shoulder-length black hair, his denim-and-sneakers attire with deep suspicion, and pegged him straightaway as a “hooligan type.” By their lights, that’s pretty accurate: at 35, Makare- vich is one of the undisputed pioneers of Soviet rock and roll, and still one of the hottest musical performers on this side of the world. He is lead singer and chief composer of Time Machine, the legendary Soviet rock group which has survived nearly two decades of official non-and semi-existence, withering attacks from the press, and some social quarters charging them with being carriers of “nihilist” and “alien” ideas, and shifting musical fashion. It is today emerg- ing into an unexpectedly bright new era with all of its explosive grassroots popular- ity intact. OLD ORCHARD Flowers for all occasions #15-4429 Kingsway Burnaby B.C. V5H 2A1 Telephone 434-3533 (Tall free 1-800-663-1014) THE FACTS ON FREE TRADE: The CUPE fact book Edited by Ed Finn $12.95 (paperback) THE FREE TRADE DEAL Edited by Duncan Cameron $16.95 (paperback) CANADA U.S.A: Prob- lems and contradictions in North American economic integration. $7.95 (paperback) Mail orders please include O¢ per book. 1391 COMMERCIAL DRIVE VANCOUVER, B.C. V5L 3X5 TELEPHONE 253-6442 Makarevich and Time Machine will soon journey to Toronto to perform at the Cana- dian Tribune Labour Festival Aug. 28, and it will be very interesting to see how their painfully-evolved Russian rock style trans- lates to Canadians. “T think by now we are one of the oldest rock groups in the Soviet Union,” says Makarevich, a surprisingly boyish-looking man with curly locks and bright — almost mischievous — eyes. He speaks nearly flawless English. “We are 19 years old. For the first ten years of our existence we were amateur — we didn’t even dream of being” able to work professionally. That was impossible during the 1970s. “T can’t say that we were a ‘forbidden’ group,” he says. “There weren’t any forbid- den groups in the Soviet Union. But, you know, rock music was underground. It was not recognized as an official kind of art. So we, like a lot of other groups, had no pro- ‘motion at all, no radio, no TV, and no possibility to make records — we made our own recordings, with simple tape recorders.” Like a whole generation of Western rock musicians, Makarevich was first inspired by the Beatles. ““We began from listening to the Beatles, trying to copy their songs, trying to write our own,” he says. ““That was in 1968”. “Tt’s funny,” he muses. “My first songs I wrote in English, because at that time it seemed impossible to sing rock and roll in Russian”. Time Machine’s official popularity dates only from the onset of perestroika in the USSR. Just a year and a half ago, the state recording firm, Melodiya, finally produced the group’s first LP. In fact, they made four albums within a year — and sold a total of four million copies. But genuine popularity had arrived much earlier. “I think we began to feel it around 1975,” says Makarevich. “It was rather unexpected for us. Somehow our tapes, recorded by fans at concerts, became widely listened to around the country. In every city and town, young people were singing our songs. They began to invite us to tour. “Perhaps our first great surprise came in 1976, when we were invited to Estonia for the first time. They had a little more free- dom in those days than Moscow, and they arranged a rock festival. When we came there we were quite scared, because we thought we were absolutely unknown there, and they had a lot of their own popular groups Singing in the Estonian language. “But when we played — it was like a shock — suddenly we saw that they all | Belfry-Puente Theatre Project presents i Wasn’t Born Here (Historias de Viajes Inesperados) Stories of Latin American Immigrant Women : A collective creation directed by Lina de Guevara. Friday, September 9/8 p.m. Kitsilano Neighbourhood House 2325 W. 7th/736-3588. Saturday, September 10/8 p.m. James Cowan Theatre 6450 Gilpin St., Burnaby/291 -6864. Sunday, September 11/7 p.m. Vancouver East Cultural Centre 1895 Venables (Victoria & Venables). Suggested donation $5. Organized by: The Chilean Community Association of B.C. Info: 525-0089/432-7157/430-0329. 6 e Pacific Tribune, August 24, 1988 FROM MOSCOW knew our songs and they were singing along with us. That Estonian festival was the first time when we felt like we were something”. The mature style of Time Machine deve- loped out of many influences. “Jimmy Hendrix and Pink Floyd, Creem and San- tana, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple, Elton John, Stevie Wonder,” recalls Makarevich. “But most important for us, always, the Beatles.” Yet Time Machine’s music has moved far from those origins, and in directions that are in some ways unique. For one thing, says Makarevich, “‘the Russian language is quite different from English phonetic patt- erns, and it gives our music a new struc- ture.” For another, he notes, the Russian folk melody is a genre he and the group have been deeply imbued with from child- hood, and this too modifies their music in unexpected ways. Time Machine’s lyrics tend to be far more intense and penetrating than those of most Western rock musicians, as well as most © Soviet ones. “TI think..one of the main reasons we became popular,” says Makarevich, “was because when we began our lyrics looked rather different from official songs which sounded from the official stage. In those days everybody used to sing that everything is fine, that we are the first in the world, I love you, the sun is shining, and that is all. “We sang about our problems, and about our inner problems,” he notes. “Now when I’m trying to translate some of my old songs, I realize that not all of them are translatable. It’s difficult to make them understandable for you, Americans or Canadians, because your problems were completely different.” Time Machine’s official big break came only in 1979. It was then, “during the warm wind just before the. Olympic games,” | Makarevich recalls, that Goskoncert — the state booking agency which arranges con- certs and appearances for all recognized Soviet performers — called them in and conferred professional status on them. After that, says Makarevich, “we were allowed to give official concerts all over the Soviet Union — except in Moscow. Nobody knows. why. We all lived in Moscow, but weren’t allowed to play there.” Until the group went professional, Makarevich earned his living as an archi- tect. Time Machine’s long-time bass guita- rist, Alexander Kutikov, had worked as a sound engineer. Drummer Valeri Yefremov was a chemistry graduate. Only Alexander Zaitsev, who plays keyboards, actually has a musical education. “Some American critic told us recently that our style is too ‘broad’. That’s appar- ently not a good fashion now,” says Makarevich. “Every group is supposed to keep to its style — if you play metal, you play only metal. But when, say, the Beatles began, they didn’t keep any style. They tried to make every song in a new way. That’s what we’re trying to do. That’s why, maybe, our music is not too modern. I think that after the ‘70s, there were no great discover- ies in rock music ....” In the past couple of years perestroika has washed over the country, affecting every- ' one’s life. For Makarevich and Time Machine the change has been tremendous, bringing the press, radio and TV exposure their popularity had always warranted, and also a new opening to the world stage. It is, for an old, battle-scarred group, a won- drous new experience, but also a whole new set of challenges. “If somebody had told me three years ago about all the changes we have now, I would never have believed it,” Makarevich observes. “Nobody expected it. And the main trouble, I think, is that a lot of people got used to—for a long time, 50 years — they got used to not believe in promises. And therefore not to do anything. That is the main trouble of perestroika. But I hope that it’s only beginning ....”