Morning. The husband is talking to his mother on WhatsApp.
Fedorov Miron Yanovich.
That was our first dog’s name, Miron. What is he singing?
Russian folk songs.
And right in the Olympic?
This was the introduction. Brief impressions of the concert: bravo, Miron, I think I won’t be mistaken if I say that it was his best concert. I don’t know how you can create a cozy homely atmosphere in a giant barn with twenty thousand people, but Myron succeeded. There were also infernal dances with wild round dances in the fan zone.
For those interested - a detailed report with a preamble. I attended two of Miron’s concerts. And I remember the last concert for the incredible number of snobs in the queue in front of the club, on social networks after, in the hall - everywhere. The level of some kind of mouse showdown was completely idiotic. Eighteen-year-old boys who boasted that they had been listening to Miron since his first mixtape, that’s all. Bad sound and complaints on Twitter about the responsiveness of the public (“but in Kemerovo they shouted better than you,” that’s all). Also, the previous two tours included a track-by-track performance of “Gorgorod”, supplemented by old hits. You understand that “Gorgorod” is a more intimate album, and as the locomotive of a concert it sounds somewhat strange. And - what is important - no interesting new material arrived in time for the concert (you are free to disagree with me, of course). To summarize, there were reasons for slight skepticism.
Fortunately, none of the past unpleasant moments at the concert at the Olympic Stadium were repeated. And somehow it was easy to forget about the lack of new material.
Some particularly rabid fans began to gather around three o'clock in the afternoon (the concert starts at seven). My husband and I calmly arrived at half past six, went into the Olimpiyskiy without queues, and found our seats. On the stage, in a cloud of blue light, frames of the animated screensaver lazily changed. Glinka played. We predictably joked about it. In fact, the classics sounded very refreshing and in keeping with the theme. Great choice. From thousands of people surfing the internet, it was very slow. The concert started at eight.
It was not even a concert, but a full-fledged show, with an excellent video for each song, with elaborate lighting, and good sound. Myron changed his outfit several times, like a true star. Black shirt-black T-shirt-black shirt with stripes-again a T-shirt. First he sang “Just a writer,” then the performance of fresh tracks began. All the latest features are from Bi-2, Fata Morgana, Machine of Progress, then somewhere there was “Bipolarochka”. Minor and thoughtful tracks were replaced by more driving ones. I read Corruption from time to time. Between the different “sections” of the concert there were instrumental beats with atmospheric animation for each.
Myron looked good-natured and happy, confident. I communicated a lot with the audience, and did not forget about the audience from the upper tiers or the stalls. I don’t know how he managed it, but the atmosphere was very cozy and homely. He admitted that he did not prepare leads for the tracks in advance, improvised, and was nostalgic. I read a number of early tracks - “Yeti and Children”, for example. He talked about the first and favorite beats that Porchi made with him - they were “Bigger than Ben”, “Tumbler” and “Ivory Tower”. By the way, tracks from “Gorgorod” were scattered throughout the track list; in the end, Myron read almost the entire album (except for “Who Have You Become”). “My Mentality” was performed a cappella (Miron’s remark: “Fuck it, my concert, I do what I want”). It was fun and soulful. It is clear that the hits from the first album were read (“East Mordor”, “Bug in the Anthill”, “Tentacles”, “The Eternal Jew”, even “In the Shit”). Do you know if you can use the word “shit” on Gossip Cop? ... Naturally, there were “Gremlin’s Song”, “Signs of Life”, “Chitin Cover”, even - yes! - “Volapyuk”.
People fought with all their hearts. In the finale, “Where We Are Not” sounded very atmospheric. Behind it is “The City Under the Sole.” Then Myron said goodbye and left. Particularly zealous fans ran to the wardrobe as soon as “The City Under the Sole” died down. We decided that at his biggest concert, Miron simply had to give an encore. Five minutes later he left. He brought the guys from KOTD, who came from LA to watch the concert, from behind the scenes. They were warmly welcomed. Then the entire Booking Machine poured onto the stage. Myron once again addressed all listeners. Then “Lie Detector” was loudly performed. Probably everyone was jumping at the end. I don’t know, because I jumped on my own and didn’t look around. Again, and with great anguish, “Where We Are Not” was performed (it was amazing, the best impression of the concert). Then - again, again - “Girl-f**k”. The concert ended on this cheerful note.
And... You know, one of the most valuable feelings from participating in such events is the feeling of catharsis. It happens very rarely, and than older man, the more difficult it is to penetrate him, to touch him to the quick. There was definitely a place to experience it. And then, of course, I had to return home, because I had to go to work tomorrow. Although there is work every day, concerts are not every day. And the night streets beckoned, and I wanted to go and experience this pleasant aftertaste for a long time.
Myron always emphasizes that he makes mistakes, that he is imperfect, that he is alive. There were different moments in his story, including not the most pleasant ones; in his work there are different lines, including redundant and flat ones. I am not inclined to idealize anyone. But there is definitely something in it, something that can touch a nerve. I wish everyone who really wants to attend his concert to fulfill this desire, fortunately, he has a fairly extensive touring geography.
P.S. Post at the request of Guru111. I hope you liked it =) Honestly, if it weren’t for your comment, I wouldn’t have thought of writing this report.
Updated 08/11/17 00:32:
Thanks for your feedback. In case the photo is not visible, I duplicate it from another hosting.
Over the past year, rapper Oksimiron has turned from just a popular subcultural artist into one of the main characters Russian life. In hindsight all this looks like a clearly choreographed production, but in reality the sequence is such that it was impossible to predict the turns of this plot.
Without releasing albums or even individual tracks for a long time, he disappeared from the public sphere (including social networks), then returned, lost a rap battle to Gnoiny, released the sad song “Bipolarochka” and a sudden collaboration “It’s time to go home” with “Bi-2”. After which he won a battle in Los Angeles, where his opponent was the battle rap star Disaster.
Today all this looks like an ideal PR campaign for the biggest concert in my career at the Olimpiysky,
for which, a few days before the show, all tickets were sold - 22 thousand.
This is no longer a record in Russian rap, but nevertheless, all previous events took place rather in virtual space or, in any case, did not accommodate so many spectators in person, in real time. In addition, even at the start of his career, after returning to Russia,
Oksimiron’s concerts were criticized because the artist was not always able to reproduce his machine-gun verses live.
IN in this case the stakes were higher than ever. "Olympic" is one of the largest and most complex venues in the city. Here every now and then there are problems with the sound, then with the passage of the public (as at the recent DDT concert). However, it was with getting inside the sports complex that everything was in order.
Although, decent organization and sound would, of course, not be enough here. Oksimiron's stadium tour was supposed to be not just a series of reporting concerts, but a full-fledged performance, the advertising basis of which was the silhouette of the Roman Colosseum and the word Imperivm.
In accordance with the majesty of the plan, in half a bowl concert hall before the start of the show, a bluish twilight reigned, and the stage was covered with a white canvas, onto which macabre pictures were projected, equipped with an alarming string soundtrack. At about eight in the evening, introductory shots of the Colosseum among the smoking ruins of a futuristic city and a (emphatically) big-nosed figure frozen against this background with a bundle of knapsack slung over his shoulder floated across the screen. Then Miron Fedorov himself appeared behind the curtain,
who began the concert with the song “Just a Writer” from the album “Gorgorod”, which can already be perceived as a life credo.
To call the crowd of thousands “loyal” would be a gross understatement. The people screamed and rose up, fireworks lit up on the right side of the fan zone, the stands lit up with lights mobile phones. The artist standing on stage, however, had every right to such an attitude. Over the last few tours, he has honed his performing skills, and in this case it was reinforced by the scenography.
Behind the rising and falling screen were the columns of the gladiatorial arena,
which turned every now and then, turning into something like a grotto, where the fighters wait to enter the sand. Behind there were several screens, each of the more than two dozen songs of the two-hour concert had its own video sequence.
Only the holders of tickets to the side stands were left in some disadvantage - the sound reached there late, they saw the stage as if in cross-section, and even the video screens looked past them..
But this eternal problem"Olympic", which is why these places are sometimes not sold at all.
And even there, perhaps, it was difficult not to succumb to the general euphoria. The internal dramaturgy of the show, built around tracks over the past almost ten years (starting with the 2008 “Yeti”) held up, as is often the case in contrasts. On the one hand, Oksimiron’s popularity is based on a rare combination of grime, an English subspecies of hip-hop, dance rhythm and healthy anger, which Russian music was sorely lacking in the 2000s. On the other hand -
youthful maximalism, wild pathos and rabid egocentrism in the tracks were interspersed with emotional entertainment with declarations of love to the public and calls for world peace; not a man, but a cloud in his pants.
Comparisons between Miron and Mayakovsky have long become common place, but it will still not be possible to get far from them. The great proletarian poet made Russian poetry, which tended to be laconic, caustic, talkative and emotionally loose. No one has yet called Mayakovsky the grandfather of Russian rap, but it seems that this title may well arise in the very near future, given that one of the most popular artists of the genre has repeatedly declared his love for the work of Vladimir Vladimirovich. And rap, where in to a greater extent than traditional poetry, it involves a dialogue format in which the artist yells into the viewer's ear. So such a title would look completely harmonious.
Actually, the main question regarding Miron - right up to his current largest meeting with listeners - was precisely this:
will his regularly mentioned Oxford training be able to germinate on the local soil or will it remain a curious incident.
Judging by the concert at the Olimpiysky, the current stage is unlikely to become highest point. It is clear that a lot of people always flock to such events. different people, but nevertheless, few are able to unite schoolchildren with their parents, bearded extreme sportsmen, young goth girls and, for example, a woman walking around the fan zone in trousers with stripes.
Well, when for an encore to perform the last three songs, Fedorov brought his entire team onto the stage, who began to jump wildly and wave their arms, it became clear that there is something ineradicably (fortunately) Russian in turning a serious show into a cheerful revelry. The founders of the largest Canadian battle rap platform King of the Dot, invited by Miron, were somewhat watching what was happening at this time (a battle with Disaster took place there).
Men with the names Organik and Avi Rex, it seems, did not quite understand why at a rap concert there was a Roman arena on the stage, a man was jumping around, waving a scarf, and something completely unimaginable was happening in the hall: a couple of tens of thousands of people they recite the words in Russian very quickly in chorus, not forgetting to jump. And there will probably be people who will present serious and fair claims to this show, but hardly anyone will argue that the best pre-party of the century October Revolution, in general, it was impossible to wish for.