Disclaimer: Some meanings in this post, unfortunately, get lost for those who don’t speak Russian. However, I hope it will still be interesting for English-speaking readers. Thank you for reading!
Today, my wife and I went to a solo concert by Artur Smolyaninov. Artur is an incredible actor whom I first saw in one of the lead roles in 9th Company, a film about the war in Afghanistan, where his character is the only survivor after a brutal battle. Later, I remembered him from the series 9 Months, where he played almost the exact opposite—a young man who desperately wants to avoid military service and is instead assigned to alternative civilian service as a maternity nurse man in a maternity hospital.
Since then, I’ve seen him in many roles, and I’ve always enjoyed his performances. In 2022, when the war started, Artur was one of those who couldn’t stay silent. He spoke honestly about his views, and as a result, he was forced to leave his homeland—a decision that, of course, impacted his acting career. But for him, staying true to himself as a human being was far more important.
At the same time, beyond acting, Artur had also been writing songs. He never considered himself a professional songwriter, musician, or singer. But it’s clear that sharing this part of himself with the audience matters deeply to him.
Even before the war, in 2020, he formed a band called Smola (there’s a play on words here, as the Russian word “smola” (resin) sounds similar to the beginning of the actor’s last name). With this band he recorded several songs. But after leaving Russia, he had to start over from scratch in his musical journey. And in Riga, he put together a new band, which he named cheLovek (‘chelovek’ in Russian means ‘human’).
At the concert we attended, Artur performed solo, accompanied only by his acoustic guitar. As he put it himself, “I’m still a little-known musician, the organizers aren’t even willing to invite a pianist.” The concert was incredibly intimate, heartfelt, and deeply moving. Artur gave it his all, playing for almost two hours under the stage lights. At the same time, he joked, reacted brilliantly to what was happening in the audience, and had no hesitation in responding to remarks from the crowd between songs. After the concert, he even held a small Q&A session with the audience.
Honestly, this was one of the best concerts I’ve attended in recent years.
At the end, Artur came down to the audience, didn’t hide from anyone, and gave everyone the chance to take a photo with him. I don’t usually go for that kind of thing, but with Artur, we happily made an exception. In the picture, Artur, my wife, and—most prominently—my belly turned out best. (Yeah, it’s probably time to part ways with that again.)
But since this was, first and foremost, a concert, I’d like to share the song that resonated with me the most—“Elsinore.” Not too long ago, Artur’s band cheLovek released a music video for it. I really like the studio version, but I have to admit that the acoustic performance at the concert was just as powerful and emotional. The lyrics are filled with references to films and songs from our Soviet childhood, and I’m sure only Artur himself truly understands all of their meanings:
From the very first lines, the song reminded me of an image I recently came across on the internet—both funny and sad at the same time. Unfortunately, I don’t know the artist, but it felt incredibly in tune with the song.
The text on the image translates literally as:
Here we are, no longer children.
We have finished growing.
Where is the sky?
Where is the wind?
Where is the joy ahead?
This is a direct reference to one of the most well-known songs, Krylatye Kacheli (Winged Swings), from the movie The Adventures of the Electronic, where the lyrics go:
Childhood will end someday,
For it is not forever.
The kids will grow up
And scatter everywhere.
But for now, we are only children,
We still have to grow and grow:
Only the sky, only the wind,
Only joy ahead!
Only the sky, only the wind,
Only joy ahead.
