Zoom out Konstantine Bitjukov Yuri Hatenko Vladimir Bovykin

Z190-th year. Russia. The new political alignment of forces. The thieves had already collected in bands controlled from the top and with delight shoot each other off. Informers fink, as sewing machines, to anyone and on anyone, if only not to be killed. Addicts, who have been imprisoned in solitary confinement for twenty-four hours in a state of an abstinence syndrome, are ready to sell their own mother for a small Intentional failure to the nearest huckster. The political weathervane recalls propeller. Grown wolves tear Soviet resources to pieces. Sitting on top hunters gather stumbled ones into organized networks. Against this backdrop, only a complete political idiot can not understand that music can make a good tool for creating veil of public opinion. More so - rock music with its doll-like favorites... So I can not describe as a joke what was in Vladivostok, even with my sense of humor. Zoom Such a simple definition, as a collective badgering, does not quite fit the description of the events concerning the attitude towards me of gathered there hangouts. It was only the tip of the iceberg. Bitjukov died in 2004. Different memories remained - both good and not very. But just one word of his makes me respect him – the word which he quietly hissed through his teeth to me then in Vladivostok - "Run!". Everyone else, including my "best friend", didn't profoundly care what command concerning me would soon be forthcoming. Bitjukov guessed what kind of command would be. He was not stupid, however. It sometimes happens that the mind no longer finds any logical explanation of happening, but consciousness still tries to find a way out of deadlock. Then the supernatural begins. I escaped from Syndrome, jumping on the departing train, and clutching the handrails of the last carriage. For a long time I would not have traveled like that, the more so soon a tunnel named after Comrade Stalin appeared ahead, a tunnel, in which I definitely expected nothing good for me, so I had to jump off at full speed and for 300 meters before the tunnel by the command - "a-a-and - once! Everything went off, even without injuries. But this adventure, compared to what I had experienced for the previous couple of days, seemed insignificant. Adrenalin only deepened consciousness. Left alone with myself, I lay down to collect my thoughts and slowly, day by day began to remember the events of recent years, until I saw their overall picture. I was struck by a clear understanding of what I saw - Syndrome is irrelevant to the independent music, because only independent musicians can play the independent music. But then there were no them in this country on the big stage. There was a great game of "large" people, groups, parties, bands and other crap. Everything that was beyond their control became dangerous to them because it was uncontrollable. So they had to control. Everything. Despite the complete lack of money and a strong exhaustion because of understanding of the seriousness of the unfolding events, a couple of days later I was in Moscow and in a week I returned to Petersburg. In general, Vostochny Syndrome played without me at the first Soviet-Japanese rock festival in Vladivostok, at a water station KTOF, in September 1990, and I hoped that the history of Syndrome was over for me. Therefore, after the arrival of the group to Petersburg, in the first appeal to me on the phone my "true friend" heard very sincere words which started with "Fuck you"...

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