Boris Grebenschikov, the founder of Aquarium, is the Leo Tolstoy of the Russian rock, independent and alternative universe. Back in the Soviet times, in the first half of the 1980s, Aquarium was one of a pretty large number of “underground” bands that the Soviets grudgingly tolerated. They could even give concerts in small culture houses and record albums that got chain-copied onto thousands of tapes. Not that Aquarium’s, or Zoopark’s, or even Kino’s lyrics was particularly anti-Communist–it wasn’t, but it sounded very disturbing to Soviet censors, who sensed a menace in everything they could not understand.
I won’t pretend to understand it all either. Here’s the song that gave the title to Aquarium’s 1993 album, Radio Africa. I tried to do without punctuation marks where possible.
A dazzling day
my nature doesn’t let me sleep
the firemen are driving home
they have no business here
Soldiers of love,
we’re moving like phantoms of fairies
on streetcar tracks
we know electricity by sight
but is this a good reason?
Untie my hands
I
am calling Captain Africa
A hundred thousand words
all in vain or a theft of fire
from blind gods
we know how to burn out like spirit
in spread-out palms
I will take my own
there where I see my own
a white Rastafari, a transparent Gypsy
a silver beast in search of warmth
I
am calling Captain Africa