Ciao, 2020!

Italy and Russia: a bond forged at a festival

Ivan Urgant (Иван Ургант) is a popular Russian TV host, who since 2012 has run the show “Vecherniy Urgant” (“Вечерний Ургант”, “Urgant Evening”), inspired by the format of the American late night show and broadcast by Pervyy kanal (Первый канал, Channel One), on state television [1].

On the evening of December 31, 2020, “Vecherniy Urgant” turned into “Ciao, 2020!”: a supposed New Year's Eve TV show imported from Italian television, hosted by Urgant in disguise, with the help of his usual staff and a rich array of guests.

Not only was every character given an Italian makeover in look and name (the host rebranded himself Giovanni Urganti), but the conversations were actually held in Italian, with a pronunciation that was, all things considered, acceptable within the obvious limits. Even the songs performed by the musical guests, a selection of 2020 hits from Russia and its neighbors, were translated. Although the quality of the Italian tends to drop in the sung parts, this doesn't undermine the listenability of the tracks.

The most curious aspect, however, concerns the aesthetic chosen for the show, which, despite its title, seems to be set in 1980s Italian television. To understand why, we need to go back decades, to when Russia was part of the Soviet Union.

If Italy is still one of the countries most admired by Russians today, it's also due to the way the Soviet regime made use of our culture, starting right after the war, thanks to its connection with the largest communist party in Western Europe: a relationship so solid that in 1964 Stavropol-on-Volga was renamed Togliatti. That's just one of the most obvious examples one could cite, from the popularity of Gianni Rodari's stories (which became so beloved that they spawned three animated featurettes, two films and even a ballet at the Bolshoi) to the huge commercial success of imported Italian films (“The Taming of the Scoundrel”, starring Adriano Celentano and Ornella Muti, remains one of the most popular films of all time over there).

And yet, perhaps nothing else managed to captivate attention quite like the Sanremo Music Festival did in the 1980s. The event had existed for decades without generating much of an echo in Russia, but starting in 1980 something unexpected happened: following the “Vesennie ritmy. Tbilisi-80!” festival (“Весенние ритмы. Тбилиси-80”, “Spring Rhythms. Tbilisi 80”), held in Georgia, rock music began to spread widely through youth culture across the entire Soviet Union.

The regime, however, would not allow official distribution of it except under strict control over lyrics and dress codes, and this bred considerable discontent: an attempt was therefore made to ease the situation by showing as much openness as possible towards foreign products. What was needed was something that would let the State keep up a permissive facade without actually importing values deemed subversive: attention fell almost inevitably on the pop song Festival of the friendliest Western nation of all.

It must be said, for the sake of historical accuracy, that no one has ever proven with hard documentary evidence a link between the rise of rock music in the underground and that of the Sanremo Festival within the official Soviet system: yet it's impossible not to notice the parallel development of the two phenomena, in an almost astonishing temporal synchrony (in that same 1982, the year of the Festival's TV boom in Russia, ⟦Q1⟧ made their debut), just as it's obvious that they implied diametrically opposed value systems (the fight for freedom on one side, sentimental platitudes and reassuring songs on the other).

The Festival would remain a major fixture of Soviet television until the dissolution of the USSR, and in Russia even beyond that, though without ever again matching the glories of the Eighties. In the local imagination, the Festival's aesthetic is in fact still that of that era (whereas for an Italian the Festival isn't tied to any particular period, and one can easily recall fragments from every era).

This explains why, in having to "Italianize" a Russian music show, it came naturally to the creators to also "Eightiesify" it. Besides the Sanremo of that era, similarities can also be spotted with programmes like "Discoring", "Popcorn" and "Drive In": the wealth of detail with which lighting, make-up, clothing and on-camera demeanour have been reproduced is quite striking.

The songs: original versions versus remakes

"Vecherniy Urgant" has a fixed backing band (a bit like Paul Shaffer's on the David Letterman Show), the Frukty (Фрукты, Frutti), whose keyboardist, Oleg Belov (Олег Белов), arranged four of the featured tracks specifically for the occasion. The remaining eight were instead reworked by their respective performers (or members of their entourage), following the aesthetic guidelines set out by Urgant and the show's other creators. The result is nonetheless so consistent that one might think it was all the work of a single musician, proof of the project's sheer quality. What follows is a track-by-track analysis, in order of appearance.

Giovanni Urganti and Tutti Frutti – "Cinque minuti"

The little jingle that opens the show like a theme tune is taken from a 1956 song, part of the film "Karnaval'naya noch'" ("Карнавальная ночь", "Carnival Night") [2]. The original version, "Pyat' minut" ("Пять минут"), was sung by Lyudmila Gurchenko (Людмила Гурченко) [3] and provided the soundtrack to the film's most important scene, right on the cusp of midnight on December 31st.

The new arrangement, put together by Belov, is a disco/rock hybrid driven by piano and synth bass, sung by Urgant with backing from the Frukty. The festive mood is front and centre right from the start: ⟦Q2⟧.

Niletto Niletti and Claudia Cocca – "Crush"

"Krash" ("Краш") was one of the biggest hits of 2020 in Russia. The performers are Niletto (stage name of Danil Prytkov) and Klava Koka (Клава Кока): two dance-pop singers, one leaning towards rap, the other more melodic, both of whom shot to fame just a few years ago via TV and YouTube.

On "Krash" they join forces, producing a compelling anthem straddling electropop and house, which for "Ciao, 2020!" is tinged by Belov with slight synthwave shadings, toning down the rhythmic emphasis and adding atmospheric keyboards. The track nonetheless remains faithful to the original, with the only radical change being Niletto's vocals, now much deeper and more baritone, in keeping with the dandyish affectations of certain Eighties stars, from Bowie's "Let's Dance" to Bryan Ferry's solo work. It's worth noting that, heard in Italian over an electro-pop backing with a tongue-in-cheek lyric ("Io sono maniaco, io strozzo a te"), it ends up serendipitously just a step away from Immanuel Casto.

Jony – "La cometa"

Jony is the stage name of Cahid Hüseynli, a Russian singer of Azeri origin who found fame a couple of years ago via Instagram: since then his rise has been meteoric, earning him a considerable following even in India and Turkey, despite not singing in local languages.

"Kometa" ("Комета"), released in September 2019, is a ballad layered with atmospheric synths and a highly intense vocal, underpinned by autotune-treated vocal harmonies. It's perhaps the track that was altered the least for the show: the backing, produced by Timofey Ognev (Тимофей Огнев) just as on the original, retains its slightly synthwave, slightly soul flavour, not unlike the more recent work of The Weeknd. The only substantial difference is that in the Italian version the autotune has been removed.

Arti e Asti – “Bambina balla”

Artik & Asti, respectively the instrumentalist and singer of the duo, made their recording debut in 2011, distributing their tracks through digital platforms. Their steadily rising popularity has recently landed them a deal with Warner. The pair are Ukrainian but Russian-speaking, which has helped their commercial fortunes.

“Devochka tantsuy” (“Девочка танцуй”) is a house anthem with a dramatically charged melody, carried by a powerful female vocal (Asti). The autotuned trap breakdown (Artik) feels a bit out of place, and indeed it was removed for the show version: reworked by Dmitriy Makarenko (Дмитрий Макаренко), the duo's regular producer, it turns into a synth-pop track with Italo-disco touches. There are orchestral flourishes played on a sequencer that recall the arrangement of “Ti sento” by Matia Bazar.

Crema de la Soda – “Piango al tecno”

“Plachu na tekhno” (“Плачу на техно”) is a dance-pop track released in 2017 by Khleb (Хлеб), a popular group of musicians and YouTubers. In April 2020 it was covered by Cream Soda, a Moscow trio devoted to electronic pop. In their version, the track is dressed up with a sweeping trance arrangement and an evocative female vocal (Anna Rome). It went viral during the coronavirus lockdown, partly thanks to the video showing a cast of colourful characters dancing on their balconies.

Cream Soda finally take the stage at “Ciao, 2020!”, once again shifting the track's centre of gravity, this time from trance to a sci-fi-tinged, cosmic Italo-disco.

La Dora – “Innamorata”

Dora is a young singer who has recently become popular thanks to word of mouth on social networks.

“Vtyurilas'” (“Втюрилась”) is a track written and produced for her by Igor Vlasov (Игорь Власов), a longtime techno/house musician who proves eclectic enough to tailor her a romantic electro-rock number, with plenty of room for electric guitars. Vlasov himself reworks it for the show, turning it into a slow electronic funk number with a Spanish flavour, complete with flamenco guitar and castanets.

Nicola Bascha with Danielle Milocchi – “La baldoria”

They are, without doubt, the two most eye-catching characters in the cast.

Nikolay Baskov (Николай Басков) is one of the biggest stars of Russian music, riding high for some twenty years now, with two parallel careers: one as a pop singer and the other as an opera tenor. A controversial figure, markedly effeminate yet marketed to the public as a Don Giovanni, he's known for taking contradictory stances over the years: in 2012 he formally protested against an anti-LGBT law passed by the city of Saint Petersburg, but has more recently thrown his support behind both Putin and Lukashenko.

Danya Milokhin (Даня Милохин), on the other hand, is a TikToker of just nineteen who only released his first songs this year: he has a particularly hard backstory, having been abandoned by both parents at the age of three, spending a long stretch in an orphanage, clashing with his foster family, drifting and struggling with alcoholism, but also finding social redemption through new technology. He frequently changes his look, defying gender stereotypes: for the occasion he showed up with a Mireille Mathieu-style bob.

“Diko tusim” (“Дико тусим”) was written by Igor Narbekov (Игорь Нарбеков), an up-and-coming producer about whom little is known beyond his Instagram account. The track is a bizarre, comic hybrid of trap and opera: to put it in terms an Italian audience might grasp, imagine a Tha Supreme track featuring Andrea Bocelli. Narbekov rearranges it for the show in an Italo-disco vein, switching its key from minor to major and changing its feel from syncopated and frantic to a straightforward, relaxed four-on-the-floor beat. The chorus in particular suffers for it, sung by Baskov in a much softer version than the original.

The lyrics, however, keep their surreal streak intact: the young trapper launches into the usual self-glorification (“Danya è un cuoco fresco un po' arrogante, se tu non conosci lui sei ignorante, non abbasso io la voce mamma, I'm a criminal”), while the tenor clumsily apes him in reply (“Sono il re del pop da tanto, conquisto 'sto TikTok. C'è solo un biondo in questo rap mondo, mamma è un crush non lo nascondo, tracking ogni discoteca, mia bellezza tutti acceca”).

It's perhaps the masterpiece of the show: the original is already the youngest and most contemporary track of the bunch, as well as the craziest, but it comes across just as credible dressed in a different era's clothes and with a different rhythmic approach, without losing an ounce of its viral power.

Giorgio Criddi – "Ragazza copertina"

Egor Kreed (Егор Крид) now has a decade-long career behind him, which has seen him become one of the most popular Russian singers among the very young. "Devochka s kartinki" ("Девочка с картинки"), produced by Alex Davia, Midas of the Moscow pop scene, is a futuristic, brooding R&B track with heavy use of autotune, somewhat in the vein of The Weeknd and Post Malone.

Oleg Belov turns it into an assault-mode electropop track, giving it an aggressive beat and pushing the keyboard riffs to the forefront (in the original they were buried in the background texture). He keeps the autotune, though, blending it excellently into the rest of the arrangement: if they'd used it back in the Eighties, it would probably have sounded like this.

Giovanni Dorni – "Cicchi"

Sadly, the most talented artist among the show's participants is the one who's caught on least with Italian audiences. While all the other tracks went viral, this one slipped by unnoticed.

Ivan Dorn (Иван Дорн) is a Russian-speaking Ukrainian singer who has spent the past decade or so cultivating a persona somewhere between underground star and mainstream disruptor, with polished sounds ranging from dance pop to R&B ballads, from synth-funk to deep house.

"Chiki" ("Чики") is the theme song of the Russian TV series of the same name, which tells the story of four prostitutes (the actresses were invited as guests on that same "Ciao, 2020!" and introduced as the stars of "Four Whores" – sic). The track is a brisk hip-hop number built on a backing that blends electro-industrial with Slavic folk, complete with sampled accordion. Belov has heavily reworked its tone, pushing it toward old-school hip-hop, the kind hybridized with electro and synth-funk (from Grandmaster Flash onward), trying to preserve – even in such a different context – the subversive charge of the groove.

Julia Ziverti – "Credo"

Yulia Zivert, a former flight attendant, made her debut in the music world in 2017, starting out on YouTube and quickly becoming one of the most popular Russian pop singers.

"Credo" (already titled that in the original version) is a track that blends dance pop, a nocturnal atmosphere and pitched vocals in classic wonky fashion.

Zivert herself reworked it for the occasion, stripping away the wonky element and steering it toward italo-disco territory. Worth noting is the addition of an effects-laden acoustic guitar, whose opening harmonics seem to nod to the post-punk masterpiece "Spokoynaya noch'" ("Спокойная ночь"), the old classic by Kino.

Little Big – "Mamma Maria"

The only weak spot in the selection is this gabber version of the famous Ricchi e Poveri song. Little Big are already known in Italy to anyone who follows the Eurovision: for everyone else, suffice it to say they're a St. Petersburg techno trio better known for their over-the-top antics and ridiculous dance routines than for their music. Still, dropped into such a surreal comedy show, even they end up making sense.

La Soldinetta, Vittorio Isaia e Giovanni Urganti – "Chiesi io al frassino"

“Ya sprosil u yasenya” (“Я спросил у ясеня”) [4] is a folk ballad that originally appeared as part of the soundtrack of “Ironiya sudby, ili S legkim parom!” (“Ирония судьбы, или С лёгким паром!”, “The Irony of Fate, or Enjoy Your Bath!”), a 1975 TV mini-series [5].

In “Ciao, 2020!” it's sung by Urgant in a duet with Monetochka (Монеточка), a refined electropop singer and one of the leading names on the Russian indie scene (“La Soldinetta” is indeed an unlikely translation of her moniker). Providing vocal harmonies is her husband and producer, Vitya Isayev (Витя Исаев). In this new guise she moves closer to Monetochka's own style, albeit with a more retro and nostalgic approach.

Sketches and jokes

Although performed in Italian, the comic interludes between the songs are written for the local audience (the special is entirely subtitled in Russian): this makes some of the wordplay incomprehensible to Italians. Below are the most striking examples.

• (3′ 30”) Matteo Crustaldi, aka Dmitry Khrustalev (Дмитрий Хрусталёв), makes his entrance saying: “Once I took a taxi and woke up on Lake Como”. Last November the actor, a regular collaborator of Urgant's, fell ill while in a taxi, and after being taken to hospital was placed in a coma (in Russian “komu”, “кому”) as a precaution. He later recovered without any lasting effects, in time to record the show.
• (7′ 22”) In the scene devoted to director Alessandro Pallini, played by actor Aleksandr Pal (Александр Паль), reference is made to a gay-themed porn film he supposedly made: it's a more significant moment than the ironic tone might suggest, given that in Russia the LGBT community's freedom of expression is restricted by a law enacted in June 2013.
• (16′ 01”) Following a joke about Vesuvius, there's a reference to “The Last Day of Pompeii”, the famous painting by Karl Bryullov (Карл Брюллов), one of the greatest painters of 19th-century Russia.
• The objectification of women on the most frivolous, commercial kind of television is also mocked: both Allegra Michele (the actress Alla Mikheyeva, Алла Михеева) and Ornella Buzzi (the influencer Olga Buzova, Ольга Бузова) are portrayed with implausibly oversized fake breasts.
• (22′ 35”) A viewer from Bari, named Bari Alibassi, is announced as the bingo winner: the reference is to the well-known manager and music producer Bari Alibasov (Бари Алибасов).
• (40′ 12”) The famous comedian Garik Kharlamov (Гарик Харламов) becomes Enrico Carlacci and sings a biting stornello in the style of the great bard Russian Vladimir Vysotsky (Владимир Высоцкий). The first line he utters is “tu puoi lasciare pantaloni abbassati” ("you can leave your trousers down"), but to Russian ears, due to a phonetic coincidence, it sounds like “stupido sfigato, hai pisciato nei pantaloni” ("you stupid loser, you pissed your pants"). The peak, however, comes at the end, when Carlacci repeatedly insists “canti e balli” ("sing and dance"): “e balli” sounds like “yebali” (“ебали”), meaning “to fuck”. Even Urgant himself can't hold back his laughter.
• (46′ 55”) Towards the end, Philipp Kirkorov (Филипп Киркоров) appears, often referred to as the king of Russian pop music. Though he doesn't sing, he shows up dressed, quite literally, as a king, under the name Pippo the Second.

Notes

1A definition that actually calls for a good deal of qualification: although the state formally owns only 34% of the channel's shares, the private shareholders who control the rest are all more or less connected to Putin and loyal to the Kremlin. Add to this a series of restrictive laws (Voice of America – Russian Media Fights for Survival Under Putin) and an aggressive use of the judiciary (Freedom House – Nations in Transit 2015: Russia), and it's easy to understand the limited scope of the programmes broadcast on the channel. In such a context, Urgant remains the figure who comes closest to the concept of satire, although – drawing a parallel with his American counterparts – he has admitted to being closer to the soft line of Jimmy Fallon than to the “trench warfare” approach of John Oliver, which in any case he would hardly be allowed. ↑

[2] The film was directed by El'dar Ryazanov (Эльдар Рязанов). Little known outside the countries of the former Soviet Union, Ryazanov was one of the greatest Russian directors, the author of a long series of comedies and melodramas, able to keep his output accessible while maintaining a high level of artistic quality from the mid-1950s to the early 1990s, ranging across the most varied settings. His discovery by Western cinephiles is still awaited. ↑

[3] Gurchenko was one of the most important figures in Soviet culture, a multi-award-winning singer and actress with an enormous filmography. ↑

[4] The song was originally composed by Mikael Tariverdiyev (Микаэл Таривердиев) – the author of many film scores, well established within the Soviet state apparatus – and sung by the bard Sergey Nikitin (Сергей Никитин). ↑

[5] This mini-series is also the work of El'dar Ryazanov. It is still broadcast around New Year's in many former Soviet countries (which explains why Urgant chose its soundtrack to close the show). Although a shortened version exists, which was shown in cinemas, it is best to watch the full three-hour cut. ↑

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google