SERGEY KURYOKHIN INTERNATIONAL INTERDISCIPLINARY FESTIVAL

Article from S.Kuriokhin Anthology CD

Many times I wrote about Sergey Kuryokhin and his music but never had I thought that one day this writing will descend on me as a burden, heavy and unbearable... We knew each other for nearly twenty years. A lot, probably even too much, happened in these years. Different were my perceptions of his personality. He incited joy and admiration, annoyance and anger; he could bewilder or make you seriously think. He was a musician and composer, actor and director. Unlike some exalted obituary writers, I wouldn't call him a philosopher or an art theoretician. He left behind no serious written works. But I understand where these appraisals come from. He always reflected on art and always enjoyed sharing his reflections. He loved to impress with his paradoxical judgements and ever changing values. A musical erudite, he could talk about music infinitely, often staggering others with the scope of his knowledge. The whole idea of "seriousness" was alien to him. He couldn't stand things serious. Seriousness for him equaled boredom - art's deadly enemy. I remember how, at the very early stage of his professional musicianship, saxophonist Anatoly Vapirov in whose band Kuryokhin played at the time, tirelessly but vainly tried to instill seriousness into his ever rebellious pianist. "In a climactic moment of Vapirov's composition, - Kuryokhin confided, - all I want to do is put a clown's nose on."

Sergey Kuryokhin lived in a rush. In such a rush, that nobody could ever possibly keep pace with him. He rushed ahead of his fellow musicians - constantly changing his styles and musics; he rushed ahead of a musician in himself plunging first into multi-media shows, then television and film, and lately into politics. He was ever on the run, a dozen appointments every day, constantly inventing, establishing and organizing foundations and institutes, publishers and record labels, festivals and political parties.

I have known him for many years, we were friends. I saw every or nearly every film he made as composer or actor, I have every record he made in my collection, I must have seen scores of his concerts. For hours and days we talked and chatted, listened to the music and swapped records - his favorite pastime. I interviewed him, wrote sleevenotes to a few of his records, reviews about his concerts. However, I never wrote a major piece on him. It always seemed that the time for summing things up had not come, that there was still a lot ahead, that his most important work was ahead. Now, when this life, short in human terms, but long and extraordinarily rich in events and accomplishments, ended so abruptly and tragically, the time seems to have finally come. And yet I cannot sum it all up, my mind is as much at a loss as ever. It dashes from memory to memory. Memories are vivid; ideas, images and words flash here and there in an insolvable puzzle. They resist, they stubbornly refuse to come together into a coherent portrait of an artist.

Better than anybody else he exemplified the time of change he lived in. Sensitive to the spirit of the time, he was always the first to feel new winds coming. With times he learnt to predict and even generate changes.

When new jazz was coming out of age in the Soviet Union he played jazz and made himself a name as dexterous flashing pianist who played solo and in ensembles. When rock music became the voice of the generation he was next to the country's best rockers, playing along and later forming his own Popular Mechanics which embraced rock, jazz, folk, classical, baroque, brass bands, circus, zoo: you name it. When Russian film finally got out of censorehip he plunged into film composing scores, wrting filmscripts, and even acting. The last year of his life he immersed in politics: as everywhere else bewildering everybody who knew him, provoking anger, irritation or envy.

He lived playfully but left an enormous amount of work behind. It will be put together, issued, reissued and studied. His ever rebellious mind which defied any categorization will be analyzed and scrupolously pigeonholed.

Before it happened let's celebrate the spirit of Sergey Kuryokhin. Spirit of life as an artform, and spirit of art as the only way of life.

Alexander Kan

(a fragment of an article written for Divine Madness, an Anthology of Sergey Kutuokhin's music, published by Leo Records in 1997)