In my previous post, where I discussed the TV series The King and the Jester (Korol i Shut), I mentioned that the show largely adheres to the real history of the band. I was able to compare the fiction with real-life events thanks to the memoir of one of the band’s creators and long-time members—Alexander Balunov, known by the nickname “Balu.”
Balu has written several books, and I decided to read his very first one, published in 2016: Korol i Shut: Between Kupchino and Rzhevka…
The book is a collection of memories about the creation of each of the band’s albums, various episodes from their lives, the members of the golden lineup, and, of course, the two main leaders—Mikhail “Gorshok” Gorshenev and Andrey “Knyaz” Knyazev. Although Balu is the primary narrator, for many chapters he brought in other contributors, including Knyaz, violinist Maria Nefyodova, Alexey Gorshenev (Gorshok’s brother), and even their mother.
Balu made the book interactive from the start. The print version includes numerous links (in the form of QR codes) to audio fragments he references throughout the narrative. These links were intended to direct readers to Balu’s personal website—kroogi.com. However, the site is no longer functional, meaning these links now lead nowhere. But Balu also created an audiobook version, which he narrates for the most part, occasionally enlisting actors to help. This audiobook is completely free and available on the author’s YouTube channel. There, you can either listen to the entire book (though without the photographs included in the text version) or access the mentioned audio fragments directly: the audiobook on YouTube (with audio fragments matching the book chapters exactly).
For myself, I chose a mixed approach: I comprehend text better when reading rather than listening, especially since the “print” version, as I mentioned earlier, includes many photographs and illustrations. However, the audio inserts add extra value—they allow you to hear the difference between the early and later arrangements of the same songs, as well as how Gorshok gradually changed his singing style, eventually arriving at his signature low, raspy tone.
Balu tries to structure the entire narrative in a more-or-less chronological order: from the earliest days of meeting and forming the band, which was then called “Kontora,” to his and Knyaz’s departure from the band, and ultimately, to the passing of the legendary Gorshok.
In the same chronology, the book includes chapters about each of the band’s albums. In these chapters, Balu discusses the facts surrounding the creation of each album, memories from friends, and separately, each song on the album (this is where most of the audio inserts are included).
The memoirs are one of the most fascinating parts of the book because many of these details can’t be found elsewhere. For example, as I mentioned when discussing the series, Gorshok’s first wife, Anfisa, is portrayed there rather negatively. Her first appearance is borderline pornographic. Later, she’s constantly shown as a hysterical fool. In contrast, Balu speaks very warmly about her, giving a completely different impression. Though he doesn’t deny that she and Gorshok lived in a world of illusions, often disappearing into drug-induced trances for days at a time.
There are many sketches of life “on the road” between performances, as well as a fairly detailed exploration of the split within the band, which intensified during the creation of the musical Todd. Balu doesn’t seem to sugarcoat or try to absolve anyone—he tells the truth as it was, or at least as he saw it.
While this is all fascinating, Balu isn’t the best storyteller. At first, it’s engaging, with different facts about the people and the beginnings of their creative journey, but over time, the narrative becomes fragmented. Even within a single page, it often jumps from one fact to another.
As a result, the book doesn’t come across as a cohesive story of the band. Many people are mentioned only by name, with no further details. And heaven help you if you don’t already know who they are, as the chapter will feel like pure noise to you.
Scattered facts about everything and nothing, never coalescing into a full picture. About Anfisa, there are only a few mentions of meetings with her; about Gorshok’s addictions and his constant attempts to recover—almost nothing. And where did Olga, Gorshok’s last wife, come from? Not a word.
Even about himself, Balu is inconsistent: one moment he has a favorite wife, then there’s someone named Irishka (also with no explanation of who she is), then it’s back to his wife, then Nastya, the mother of his youngest son, and then Irishka again. I felt like I was losing my mind at this point.
The lengthy chapters dedicated to “listening” to the albums together with the audience and friends are somewhat interesting at first. However, as they progress, it becomes increasingly repetitive. Either “this is my favorite song,” or “Gorshok brought this one,” or “Knyaz composed it on a ZX Spectrum.” By the fourth album, this repetitive commentary becomes tiresome, whether you’re reading or listening.
All of this is presented through the lens of “we always wanted to make hits and super-cool music.”
However, you can’t take away the fact that the band etched its name into the history of Russian punk rock. And the book, while not the best in terms of storytelling, is very honest and, like the series, filled with love for the late Gorshok. Yes, his behavior and conflicts led to many of the original members eventually leaving the band. But they all still love him and consider him a friend.
While my final rating for the book isn’t very high, I did find it interesting to learn how the band was formed and lived. Balu also wrote a second book, but I’m not sure yet if I’ll want to read it.
My rating: 3/5
