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Last month Marc Almond released his new album, Orpheus in Exile, dedicated to the tragic life, times and tunes of Vadim Kozin, a chanson singer exiled by the Soviets to Russia’s far East because of his sexuality. Though packed with the classics of the Russian romance and folk genres, the record didn’t exactly take the classic route to completion: going virtually native, Marc recorded in intimate apartments around town and playing private shows for assorted oligarchs and biznessmen for the big bucks by night – a B.Eastie after our own hearts, then. Alex Jackson caught up with the story behind Orpheus…

Hey Marc, so you first visited Russia on a tour back in 1990, then lived there again circa ’01 and were back, on and off, over the last few years creating the new record – seems you can’t keep away, eh?

Some of the best times of my life have been spent living in Moscow. It’s a hard city to penetrate for Westerners but I feel privileged that I got to know a bit more of it and the way it works than most. I had an  apartment in a state-building that was just great to go back to after recording and make dinner for friends and it was wonderful to work with [entertainment Royalty] Alla Bayanova, Lyudmilla Zykina [Brezhnev’s favourite] and the Rossiya Orchestra. All thanks to great friends who opened doors for me, especially creative ones.

The creative experience was a good one I take it?

Recording was fantastic. The studios were really high quality, even tiny ones in people’s apartments had a great sound – especially for vocals. It was also wonderful to see some of Moscow’s decadent nightlife!

Speaking of which, gigging for oligarchs must have been insane?

I’ll always enjoy a bit of decadence if I have the opportunity but – even having lived in London and New York as I have done – I was stunned by the levels of opulence. Absolute decadence! At some of the private parties oligarchs would be sat on thrones like Kings and Queens, with great feasts attended by the beautiful people. Certain performances I’d rather not have done but I felt the end justified the means. Moscow can be very expensive and I don’t like to stay in bad places and eat bad food. More importantly though, I will not cut corners on my recording and it was very important for me to use the famed Rossiya Orchestra. I like the idea of being a wandering troubadour and I think it’s a worthy way to finance a project. I’d do the same again to record in Moscow more.

Ok, so why Russian folk and why Vadim Kozin?

I fell in love with it while touring Russia at the beginning of the 1990s and people gave me tapes. Simple yet beautiful melodies, melancholic but uplifting. And I related to it. For Orpheus I picked songs to tell a story of Kozin’s life: Probably Russia’s first gay icon, Kozin suffered for being a victim of his time and political climate. It’s about how life and circumstances change things, how what is forgotten one day is remembered and celebrated the next, how what is outlawed becomes accepted. I want people to love Kozin’s songs as I have, be interested in him and the times lived through and take something for their own lives from it. We sometimes take our liberties for granted.

In Greek mythology Orpheus’ music never lost it’s power, even when sent to Hades – just like Kozin in exile. Are you aligning yourself with these two figures – what is Marc Almond’s exile from?

I’ve often felt that I’ve been excluded, that I didn’t fit in and never felt I was good at communicating except through music. I still don’t feel part of a community, musical or otherwise. At times I’ve felt alone. Maybe that makes me some kind of exile? Though, I would never compare my privileged life to someone like Kozin’s.

Finally Marc, what project(s) lie in the pipeline?

I’m currently recording a more mainstream album as a follow-up to Stardom Road but all original songs. It’s called Variete and is out, I hope, in May. I’d also love to do an album of [fellow Russian folk chansonnier] Alexander Vertinsky songs but I fell out with his estate. They tried to get my previous ‘Russian’ album, Heart on Snow, banned in Russia as it contained a song – Nuit de Noel – they didn’t approve being included because I couldn’t pay them enough. They didn’t succeed. If I’m determined to do something, I do it.

Listen to Orpheus in Exile here

July 2, 2009
By Vijai

Living in East Europe, we no strangers to Lagos crack dealers, or ponzi scheme pranksters for that matter. Prague’s Radost was the ground zero for the city’s smiley-smiley Nigerian hustlers in the 90s, and so was Moscow’s Cabana club. A shout out to the glorious Eugene, whose tight white T-shirts were cool before they became fashionable elsewhere, and who made some Moscow gays very happy with his performances at gay mecca, Chance.

But what do we make of K.O.F.Y, a self-confessed crack dealer from Lagos who claims on his myspace page to have shared a cell with Fela Kuti? Unlike his hip-hop compatriots, our K.O.F.Y, who’s inspired by a former UN Secretary General, prefers to rap about African dictators, make strange calls to Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, and complains about slow download times on the internet.

The Afrojetset tracks are all set in a downtempo, ambient beat with some rap and globalbeat rhythms filling in the space. The brainchild of Belgrade hipster Vuksa Velickovic—who’s written a novel and writes sharp, satirical articles for local zines—K.O.F.Y is just so out there (a Serbian dude painting himself in blackface in 2009 for god’s sake) and politically incorrect. Fortunately, the tracks are laced with enough absurdity and strange, paranoid lyrics to make even a Mugabe choke on his lunch. And, hey, spoofing African dictators is a welcome change from run-of-the-mill celebrity impersonation, and ‘pussycontrol’ obsessions.

Check out our man, when he rings Hosni Mubarak on the track, They Call Me KOFY.

Hello Mubarak, this is KOFY …
We ask you not to use the washing machine
And the dryer
In the laundry room during the following times:
Monday to Friday from 12 until 2 pm

And here is our favorite video from the Return of the Secretary Genearl EP-Mugabe’s Lunch.

B EAST’s DDR Disco party was a huge success, thanks mostly to the kitschy-cool set played by our cassette DJs. Täter and Ostbrot played for a full two hours using nothing but tapes – most of which were probably older than the people dancing to them! And they weren’t afraid to use the microphone, MC-ing between songs.  Their mike technique reminded us of the skills that DJs were once expected to possess. “If you have a request, write it on a twenty euro bill and pass it up,” they said, reaching back into their catalog of old jokes (although, we would have thought it more authentic if they’d have requested East German Deutschmarks). The SPUs (they weren’t called DJs) showed their professionality, drinking only one beer each, and keeping track of their songs in a notebook. After all, these guys once had to pass an exam to receive a performing license, back in the days of the DDR. Before the gig, Ostbrot confessed to us – “I haven’t played a concert in twenty years!” Well, we’re certainly glad they came out of retirement to serve us a decent helping of ostalgia.

A big thanks also to VJ Linards Kulless from Riga’s Space:Garage crew, who supplied amazing visuals throughout the night. And a huge round of applause for the laptoprock team Shameless Limitless, who stepped up to the plate to perform an extra set after DJ Andrei Oid called in sick. The party raged until 5am, not bad for a Thursday night. Stay tuned for the next B EAST Berlin party.