Why, for me, Russia was first and foremost about music
Sometimes, curiosity about a country doesn’t begin with a trip. Sometimes, it begins with a song.
At first, Russia wasn’t a country on a political map for me. It was music.
There was ‘Rasputin’ by Boney M. – rhythmic, dramatic and impossible to miss. Then there was ‘Moskau’ by Dschinghis Khan, with its grand chorus and that colourful, almost fairy-tale-like image of a distant city. Then there was Ivan Rebroff with ‘Wolgalied’ and his extraordinary voice. And Heintje too, with ‘Abendglocken’.
These songs did not tell me what Russia was really like. But they conjured up images: of vast landscapes, deep voices, ancient churches, mighty choirs and a culture that seemed both foreign and familiar.
The Don Cossacks in Rümlang
Sometime between 2006 and 2010, I heard a Don Cossack choir singing in the church in Rümlang.
What has stayed with me, first and foremost, are the singers themselves: their distinctive costumes, their boots and their striking presence. But above all, it was their voices. Some reached astonishingly high notes, whilst others came from such a depth that you didn’t just hear them, but could almost feel them physically.
Added to this was the acoustics of the church. The voices filled the entire space, rose upwards, bounced off the walls and merged into something that could scarcely be broken down into individual notes.
It wasn’t just a concert. The atmosphere was truly unique.
For a while, the church in Rümlang seemed to be connected to a world far away. Not through a statement, nor through a political debate, but solely through voices and music.
Pictures are not reality
Of course, songs and performances like these do not paint a complete picture of a country.
‘Rasputin’ is pop music. ‘Moskau’ is a colourful production. Even Cossack costumes, deep male voices and romantic images of the Volga tell only a small part of a much larger and more contradictory reality.
But perhaps the first images do not need to be complete at all. Perhaps it is enough, for a start, that they awaken something within us: curiosity, attentiveness or the desire to find out more.
Music cannot explain a country. But it can open a door.
A country is made up of people
Nowadays, it is almost impossible to talk about Russia without politics coming into the picture. It is part of reality and must not be ignored.
But a country is not just its government. It is also made up of people, family histories, memories, poems, idioms and songs. People must not be reduced to political decisions over which they may have no influence whatsoever.
That is precisely why I am interested in languages and the stories behind them. A Russian proverb can sometimes reveal more about everyday thoughts and feelings than a newspaper headline. A song can preserve a memory. And a conversation can turn an abstract country back into real, individual people.
What music leaves behind within us
That’s why, when I think of Russia today, I don’t just listen to the news.
I also remember Boney M., ‘Moskau’, Ivan Rebroff and ‘Abendglocken’. And I remember the singers in the church in Rümlang: their clothes and boots, the high and low voices, the special acoustics and that unique atmosphere.
Perhaps my curiosity about Russia began right there – not with any claim to understand an entire country, but with a sense of wonder at something that moved me.
Sometimes a connection doesn’t start with the right words.
Sometimes it begins with a sound.
What about you?
Which song or concert gave you a better understanding of a country long before you met anyone from there?
Would you rather write it down for yourself first? →