Russian Cabaret Hits

Ken Bloom

I know it is convenient to think of small separate pockets of musical culture, such as "Russian", "Hungarian", "gypsy", Parisian, etc. but the real picture is more complex and fluid. It was then and is even more so now. In the late 19th century, musicians traveled and performed over quite a large geographic area. This was often driven by political events as much as artistic impetus. The horas, czardas, kholomeikas, and other similar forms were performed all over the place. I have found in the repertoires of touring artists of the time quite a range of national styles. I have copies of programs that Vasiliy Yemetz perfomed in the first half of the twentieth century that includes all sorts of things that were not Ukrainian, even though he was performing them on the bandura.
Paris has been a cultural mecca for many centuries and the fact that a wide range of national styles have come together in this place is something that predates the twentieth century and continues today. Take a look at the music of the Hotteterre family and you'll see what I mean.
The musical phenomenon that has become gypsy jazz is only one form in a long history of new combinations to emerge from this very potent musical stew pot.

MichaelHorowitz

A Vanishing Tradition:
Gypsy orchestras are getting hard to find
By Dork Zygotian

It has been said that all a Hungarian needs to get drunk are a glass of water and a Gypsy fiddler. Like many stereotypes of Hungary, it is one that dies hard. But one stereotype has been disappearing with alarming speed: the Gypsy violinist, strolling amongst the tables of fine restaurants laden with grand history. These musicians are fast becoming a thing of the past, victims of changing tastes, lost somewhere on Hungary's headlong charge on the road towards Europe.

Contrary to popular misinformation, Hungary is not the "home" of the Gypsies, but rather one crucible in which Gypsy culture developed and spread to many other lands. The Gypsies are Hungary's largest ethnic minority group. Historians and linguists trace their origin to north India, from which they fled in the eighth century due to war or famine. By the tenth century the Persian poet Firdusi records them as nomadic musicians, and by the 11th century they had reached Europe. In their own language they refer to themselves as Rom, and their language as Romanes. In Hungary there are two main groups - the so called Musician Gypsies, and the Vlach Gypsies, distinguished by dialect and traditional occupation.
Gypsy musical prowess has long been noted, and families of musicians tended to settle down in areas where the demand for their art was greatest. While preserving the percussive and vocal music of their own folklore, Gypsies adopted the instruments and repertoire of the non-Gypsy majority to make a living. In Hungary, this meant following fashions of the gentry. While Hungarian peasants sang and danced to the music of the bagpipe, flute, and hurdy-gurdy, Gypsy musicians were often hired by nobility and provided with the more fashionable violins, violas, and cellos - considered emblematic of western musical culture. To these instruments was added the cimbalom, an instrument with a long tradition in Asia. By the end of the 18th century, Gypsy orchestras were an established features of Hungarian entertainment.

As the urban areas of Hungary developed, so did Hungarian national consciousness and literature. One result was a form of composed popular song based on folk roots - the nota - which swept Hungary in the middle of the nineteenth century, and remains the backbone of the repertoire to this day. At the same time, the fast and rhythmic verbunk, (originally a recruiting dance) became an instrumental showpiece in the hands of virtuostic primas, or lead fiddlers, such as the famous Janos Bihari. The csardas, a peasant two-step far removed from the staid dances of the Hapsburg court, became a veritable dance craze, its popularity rivaling that of other ethnic dance crazes of the time - the waltz and the polka.
Large professional orchestras comprised of Gypsy musicians began to appear in the first half of the nineteenth century. History records the popularity of those led by the famed Czinka Panna, Ferenc Patikarus, Laci Racz, and the semi-mythical Czermak. Band members were often related, giving rise to family dynasties of Gypsy musicians which endure to this day, such as the Balogh, Berki and Lakatos families, many of whom have branched into jazz, winning international recognition.
The lot of the professional cafe bands held firmly during this century. Fifty years ago Budapest was the vacation center for the high society of Europe, and the presence of Gypsy fiddlers in cafes and restaurants was an essential ingredient.

Before WWII bands with vast repertoires of notas and csardas were a feature of the city's grand restaurants. The primas of the Margit Island Park orchestra, Imre Magyari, was treated like a king in high class Budapest society, while the famed Pista Danko was known for his repertoire of songs favored by Budapest's theater elite at the old Mikado Gardens. Turn of the century students from the university frequented the Champagne Flask, on Magyar street, to hear the ancient cimbalom player from Bihari's original band. Famous Gypsy orchestras were a major attraction at the Wampetics Gardens (now the Gundel) in the City Park, and even today older Budapest residents reminisce how young lovers would stroll in the park to listen to the music wafting out of this elegant restaurant. Of course, none of the better hotels would be without at least two orchestras.

As the gaiety of Budapest nightlife declined following the devastation of the Second World War, so to did the demand for musicians. Bands found it less lucrative playing to empty restaurants. The talented youth went to conservatories, often graduating into the Rajko Gypsy orchestra, a Party sponsored troupe featuring young Gypsy musicians. Even the gray gloom of communism could not entirely wipe out Budapest's need for Gypsy music to accompany wine. Many of the old songs had been banned, and poor indeed was the primas who did not have an encyclopedic command of outlaw repertoire.

Finding a good Gypsy band in a restaurant is getting harder today. The Kulacs, on Dohany utca, comes close to the original spirit of the classic restaurants, as does the Matyas Pince, host to the Lakatos family dynasty's orchestra. The Gellert Hotel preserves the real atmosphere of the grand old days when the band strikes up an after dinner tune. Many first time diners are surprised when the violinist approaches the table to play. If you don't want to have a violin in your soup course politely decline. An after dinner bottle of wine, however, is the classic time to call over the band. Why not ask for "your song?" Discretely slip the primas a five hundred forint note (western currencies gladly accepted) and make a request. Suggest the classic Monte Csardas, or the emotional Hullamzo Balaton Tetejen ("On the Waves of the Balaton") or the sentimental Csak Egy Kislany Van A Vilagon ("There's Only One Girl In the World"). Most band leaders have an inexhaustible repertoire.

The fashion of an evening of Gypsy violinists accompanying wine and nota, hardy enough to withstand two centuries of Hungary's turbulent history, has had a hard time maintaining itself among the young generation. Many younger Hungarians are more likely to dine on pizza and then slip out to discos. The Gypsy bands are no longer a ubiquitous part of the Hungarian cultural landscape. One has to hunt them out, preferably in countryside inns where tastes have not gone over to the cheesy sounds of the Casio organ and saxophone, or the all purpose cassette deck. The music is still out there, and now as ever, still worth the search.

Ken Bloom

Back in the early 70's, when visiting New York city, you could go to the Hungarian bars and hear cimbalom players, German restaurants and hear Toni Noichel play zither all night, or over the west side to the Greek bars and hear great bouzouki and clarinet players. Many of these fine musicians were recent arrivals to this country and most of the patrons of these places were nationals of the represented country. I considered it a privilege to be able to find these places and get a window on cultures that seemed to me somehow familiar and yet different from I had grown up with. Unfortunately, most of this is gone. You can still find some of it but you have to know who toask to find it. Once in a great while you can recapture a bit of it. Last Ocotber I got to play a wedding with my Swing compatriots. We were all in evening dress and it was much like playing a small cabaret before WWII. Along with the Swing standards we also played some of the Eastern European repertoire, espesically waltzes. Now that's a gig I'll always remember. Too much fun and got paid as well!

MichaelHorowitz

Ken Bloom wrote:

Back in the early 70's, when visiting New York city, you could go to the Hungarian bars and hear cimbalom players, German restaurants and hear Toni Noichel play zither all night, or over the west side to the Greek bars and hear great bouzouki and clarinet players.

Sounds great...only in NYC!

I had to go to Budapest to hear a Gypsy orchestra....however there's a huge Greek scene here in Seattle. They came here in big #s for the fishing industry. I used to go to the Greek night clubs to hear this awesome bouzouki player named Taki. Amazing player....and he owns a falafel shop a few blocks from my house. Has his records all over the walls....and has the best falafel in Seattle!

Man, Greeks know how to party...they don't even start till like 1am!

'm

Ken Bloom

Hi Michael,

Sounds about right. I went to a flamenco gypsy wedding in Marin County one time. I got invited because I played Turkish clarinet. It went on for three days. Plenty of food, plenty of wine, and constant music and dance. Definitely what I would call fits of Dionysian Frenzy!

sockeye

Any of you guys listen to Balkan/gypsy brass bands like Fanfare Ciocărlia or Boban Marković Orkestar. Lots of fun! I'm no musicologist but every now and then I hear something in these angular brass lines that reminds me a bit of something Django would have played.

Speaking of Russian restaurants, etc. here's a little story. I have a love of ethnic food. I try to hunt down and sample just about any type of cuisine I can find -- Philadelphia has immigrants from just about everywhere and there are restaurants here serving cuisine from just about any country you can imagine. Philadelphia has a HUGE population of Russian expatriates who came here mostly since the 1980s. About 10 years ago I asked a Russian cabbie for a recommendation for a good Russian restaurant and he sent me to a place called "Golden Gate" in Northeast Philadelphia. I went with my wife on a Saturday night. What a bizarre scene. The whole parking lot was full of Mercedes, Lexuses, etc. The place is colossal and very fancy in a kind of gaudy way. Lots of marble, mirrors, etc. Turns out we were there on the night of some very rich fellow's daughter's sweet 16 birthday party. This was a BIG party. No expense was spared. The restaurant was open to the public but most of the couple hundred other people were there for the party. There was a stage and a very professional band with about a dozen musicans playing an odd mix of top 40 pop, discoish dance stuff and Russian music that wasn't exactly traditional but sounded more like disco klezmer. We were given little tiny glasses, empty. You're supposed to bring your own vodka, as they don't have a liquor license. A fifth per person seemed to be the typical allotment. They were all saying toasts and doing shots of vodka constantly. We felt a bit out of place and ordered what seemed like a decent amount of food -- potaoes with garlic, ham with beets, gherkins and garlic, and chicken kiev. After eating we asked for our check and the waiter explained that we should wait awhile and then order more food! He told me we had our table for the night and most people stayed 4-5 hours. Well, we were feeling full (the food was good) and a bit like strangers in a strange, strange land, so we took the risk of offending him and called it quits. It was quite an interesting night, one I won't soon forget!

John

zav

Hi, All.
Sorry for some delay in reply. Thanks to scot for saving my time, providing a VERY precise and detail info (you are not Russian, are you? :shock: ). To summarize:

>1) Are these tunes actually popular in Russia. If so, when? Early 20th C, still today?

They were very popular among immigration. Now INSIDE the country they are popular as well as some old hits in America, for example, BUT - there are STILL extremely popular among all Russians abroad. Usually, everybody are very happy even hearing my poor voice singing all mentioned songs.


>2) Or are these more a product of the scene in Paris?

So, most songs were written before. Some of them are Russian "folk" songs, some - are really gypsy songs (for example, there is gypsy song "Berusovie" with gypsy words, for sure). A lot of songs have similar harmonic structure, that's why wrong names during recording. In general - there were (and still IS, for example, Angelo is married a russian-gypsy woman from Moscow "Romane"-theater) a lot of real gypsies, came from Russia with all other immigration after 1917. And they continue to sing all songs that WERE popular among Russian people (so, mostly with Russian, not "Rom" words). Some songs added later, one of the most popular example - "Valse of Officers" from Matelo's disk, that is SOVIET (M. Fradkin/E. Dolmatovsky) song "Accidental Valse".
I don't know, who wrote it first, but "Anniversary song" were recorded by soviet "jazz" Leonid Utesov orquesta as "The waves of Danube" in the middle of the 40th also.


Will be glad to answer further questions.

Anton

kimmo

scot wrote:

Even on "Manouche-Partie" (1960) there are two Russian pieces - "Two Guitars" and "Kalinka".

And Les yeux noirs, of course. And there's one that I always thought was a Russian tune, but is credited to Archibald Joyce: Songe d'automne.

We have lots of Russian immigrants in Finland, many of whom aren't doing so good. There are several older men, who play accordion in the street corners in Helsinki, even in freezing winter. They all play Songe d'automne, not because it's supposed to be particularly popular in Finland but because it's their core repertoire. To me it sounds every bit so Russian that I really have hard time believing it was originally composed by The English Waltz King.

kimmo

zav wrote:

I don't know, who wrote it first, but "Anniversary song" were recorded by soviet "jazz" Leonid Utesov orquesta as "The waves of Danube" in the middle of the 40th also.

Danube Wawes is composed by Joseph Ivanovici, it's a fairly long through composed waltz with several parts. Anniversary Song is a jazzy adaptation of it's A and B sections. And as with other waltzes (Les yeux noirs and Songe d'automne) Django turned Anniversary Song into 4/4.

zav

Dear kimmo, thanks for explanation about Waves of Danube!
Totaly agree about "Russian-style" of Song D'Automn.

Here is song "Ochi Chernie" (Dark Eyes) perforemed by Valya, Alesha Dimitrievich & Co

http://pcbec3.ihep.su/~anton/tmp/Ochi.mp3

And here is Czardas by soviet 7-string non-gypsy guitarist Sergey Orekhov

http://pcbec3.ihep.su/~anton/tmp/czardash.mp3

Enjoy!
Anton