Russian folksongs
Monday, November 18th 2002, 2105 hours
Location: Morehead Lounge, Graham Memorial
Weather: cold
ome ten minutes ago a concert ended here: a Russian folksinger named Jamuna, singing in a strong
quavery voice while accompanying herself on a guitar. It was lovely music; I've always enjoyed folksongs, and though I
don't understand a word of Russian I liked these very much. They filled and vibrated in the air, melancholy and passionate,
a little wild - somewhat, to my undiscerning ear, like Spanish folk music. But such songs, here! The Morehead Lounge is a
very well-appointed place, in classic drawing-room fashion: wood panelling, rugs, armchairs, portraits and paintings on the
walls, carved wooden furniture, massive fireplaces, and three large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was a little
like stepping into another century. Several members of the local Russian community were there, too, and at one point she
asked them to sing with her. Imagine the sound of rough, basso male voices singing together in unison; a makeshift Russian
chorus, if ever there was one. Delightful indeed.
She talked between songs, of course. Towards the end she began talking about how wonderful it was to be here, exposed to so many musical styles - rock and jazz, she says, were banned in Russia - and coming to America was like opening up a window and letting the wind blow in. And now she's got to go back to Moscow in a few weeks, and wishes she could stay. I know the feeling.
Her final song was in English, though it utilised a traditional Gypsy melody. Throughout her set she'd tried to sing in English several times, though it was hard to understand given her thick accent. This time, though, we knew the words already. She said she liked the English words, said they captured the spirit of the song. And towards the end she changed the tense of the lyrics, such a small, such a significant change:
These are the days, my friend / we thought they'd never end...
Yes, I guess that just about sums it up for us.