Working for the BBC’s World Service in the middle 1960s, I used to broadcast a weekly pop programme in Russian, aimed at Soviet listeners. Countless people have asked me: ‘weren’t the shows jammed; was it safe to listen; did you get any feedback; what did they think of the Beatles?’ Some of the answers are to be found in two recent publications. One is Leslie Woodhead’s HOW THE BEATLES ROCKED THE KREMLIN (Bloomsbury 2013, in this article referred to as LW), the other, a lengthy two-volume monograph in Russian, by Vladimir Bokarev and Yury Mitrofanov, entitled HISTORY OF THE BEATLES IN THE USSR 1964-1970 (Roliks 2014, hereafter VB/YM).
Leslie is a former RAF national service student of the JointServicesSchool for Linguists, where he acquired more than enough Russian to carry out his later duties in Berlin monitoring Soviet military radio traffic for analysis at GCHQ in Cheltenham. His autobiographical memoir, MY LIFE AS A SPY (Pan Macmillan 2006), is as entertaining as convincing, especially for someone like me whose northern provenance and national service trajectory, albeit in the Navy, were similar to Leslie’s. For several decades now, he has been considered, with justification, one of the most distinguished and fearless of British TV programme makers. He’s the winner of several international awards and a pioneering producer of drama documentaries, several of which dealt even-handedly with Cold War controversies. Working as he did at GRANADA TV in Manchester gave him the opportunity in 1962 to direct the first ever film with the Beatles, shot at the Cavern Club in nearby Liverpool. He has remained a staunch devotee ever since.
Unsurprisingly, Leslie’s latest publication is as engaging and lively a read as you would expect from someone with those credentials, to which should be added his many filming trips in the USSR, where he was able to meet people as dedicated a fan as he. His version of the Beatles’ reception in the former Soviet Union is based very largely on testimony from these encounters.
Anyone involved in the Cold War (as Leslie and I can claim to have been, however peripherally) has a natural inclination to sympathise with those dissidents brave enough to confront Soviet power – Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Andrei Sakharov and Josef Brodsky spring to mind. There were many others, all regardless of talent, hostile to the Communist regime. But were these rebels, however just their cause, necessarily the best source of information about what was actually happening in the USSR? Effectively all Leslie’s Russian interlocutors were, to varying extents, dissident. It’s their recollections which prompt him to state (P16) that: ‘… the Communist leadership were determined to block the Beatles virus. Every hint of … seditious music was to be stifled. Radios were jammed, censors were equipped with record scratchers, sneering anti-Beatles campaigns were mounted.’ Abundant evidence adduced by VB/YM over 600 and more pages (plus three times that number of footnotes) shows that only some of those claims are true, and that Leslie’s thesis is seriously one-sided.
Between July 1963 and August 1968, the years of my employment with the BBC’s Russian Section, my colleagues and I must have played every Beatles’ single plus many tracks from their LPs. Throughout that period there was no jamming of our programmes by the Soviets. Of course, BBC broadcasts had been jammed, and the practice restarted some half an hour before Soviet tanks crossed the border into Czechoslovakia, very shortly after I left Bush House to work in TV. However, Leslie offers no proof that the music of the Beatles was ever the censors’ target.
I’ve no doubt that individual Communist leaders were hostile to all kinds of emanations from the West, including the Fab Four, but if the Soviet leadership was as united and monolithic on this issue as Leslie suggests, they certainly didn’t make it clear to one of their most noteworthy cultural icons, the actor Innokenty Smoktunovsky. Internationally renowned for his role as Hamlet in Grigory Kozintsev’s 1964 film, Smoktunovsky was invited to our World Service studios that year to give a lengthy interview and take part in a Desert Island Discs programme, both in Russian. On each occasion he talked in ecstatic terms about the Beatles and chose one of their records (sadly, I no longer recall which). These were programmes, it needs to be stressed, which he knew were being beamed to Soviet listeners back home.
Maybe the celebrated actor was simply being courageous or foolhardy. He must have been aware of hostility to the Beatles in the Soviet establishment, especially during the first two or three years they were in the public eye. But wasn’t he much more likely to get it in the neck for participating in a BBC Russian language programme than for praising a British pop group? Yet we know his subsequent career was not harmed by this episode.
Although neither LW nor VB/YM cite any instance of individuals being punished for listening to or performing Beatles’ material, they both relate stories which indicate a climate of fear. The historian Mikhail Safonov told Leslie about a Leningrad school staging a show trial against the group, echoing the Stalinist show trials of the 1930s: ‘… the school kids had to denounce “the Bugs” as the Beatles were called. They were found guilty of anti-social behaviour.’ (P179). In similar vein, P81 of the first tome of VB/YM describes an Estonian group ELEKTRA performing BACK IN THE USSR on a 1970 tour of the Far East of the Soviet Union. They sang the song in English on TV and fans later asked them – weren’t they afraid to perform Beatles’ songs? If the local cultural commissar had challenged the performers they would have had what VB/YM call a ‘reliable alibi’. They knew the Beatles’ version of the song had been heard the previous year on all-Union radio. Furthermore, three editions of the sheet music for the song totalling 665,000 copies were printed in 1970 accompanied by a Russian translation of the lyric. VB/YM is chock-full with such statistics
Vladimir Bokarev and Yuri Mitrofanov are academics. The former has a doctorate in history for his thesis entitled ‘John Lennon’s social views, political and creative activity during the “youth revolution” in the west (1966-1973)’. He is the author of many articles on musical and historical themes. Mitrofanov is an archivist, bibliographer and has worked as a journalist covering press conferences and concerts of foreign artists visiting Russia. The principal aim of their book is to lay to rest the ‘myths’ enshrouding the Beatles and the USSR.
They show that by the end of the 1960s rock ‘n’ roll music in general, and the Liverpudlian Four’s songs in particular, were being played by literally tens of thousands of young Soviet citizens across however many time zones of that vast land. Leslie himself (P245) refers to Russian rock star Alexander Gradsky being able to list more than two hundred unofficial rock bands playing in Moscow alone during the late 1960s. The Beatles disbanded in 1970 by which time, according to VB/YM, they had won over a good deal of Soviet critical opinion. With citations from publications and other media outlets, their book traces and explains the reasons for this evolution in official judgements, from largely negative to mostly encouraging.
The first Soviet publication to mention the Beatles seems to have been SMYENA, the literary, socio-political organ of the Central Committee of the Komsomol, the young Communist movement. Illustrated with photos of screaming girls and of the four moptops leaping in the air in mid-chorus, the January 1964 edition carried an anonymous article entitled POPRYGUNCHIKI, literally ‘Jack in the Boxes’. This was also, as VB/YM point out (P217 T1), the name of a criminal gang who wore special springs on their shoes, used stilts and went around hooded as they robbed people in Petrograd in the years 1918-20. For SMYENA, denigration was the name of the game - the group’s performance was not art and couldn’t anyway be heard because of the noise from the audience: music and mania were equally worthless - ‘these two theses dominated the Soviet critique of the Beatles in the years 1964-5.’
VB/YM make no bones about the derogatory nature of many of the earliest articles on the Beatles in the Soviet press. On page 220 of Tome 1 they recall how in February 1964 the journal UKRAINA carried a piece entitled GUITARS, DRUMS AND ACROBATICS. It delineated the group’s output as a wild roar thundering over the British isles, ‘drowning out people’s consciousness as well as the enchanting melodies of the composer geniuses of the past.’ We’re told (P223/4 T1) that in April 1964 Paul Johnson’s notorious rubbishing of the group in the NEW STATESMAN was published in translation in the weekly digest of the foreign press, ZA RUBEZHOM (ABROAD). The following month, MUZYKAL’NAYA ZHIZN (MUSICAL LIFE) called the Beatles music ‘bourgois false art’ (P254/5 T1). In October that year the popular illustrated magazine OGONYOK (SPARKLE) sold nearly two million copies with a photo purporting to be of the Beatles on a publicity stunt sailing in a boat shaped to resemble a guitar. VB/YM comment (P227 T1): ‘The author of the note, just like the editorial staff of OGONYOK didn’t even know what the Beatles looked like.’
The first Soviet media outlet to examine reasons for the Beatles huge success was the March 1964 edition of the satirical journal KROKODIL (P222 T1). The lads are said to have no merit, but 5 million fly posters all over the USA announcing ‘The Beatles are Coming’ must have helped their visit. (‘If Christ himself were to visit, he wouldn’t have a tenth of the advertising.’) A cartoon depicts Republican Presidential hopeful Barry Goldwater being advised to play a guitar and have a Beatles haircut. KROKODIL claims that neither the Liverpool 4 nor the far-right politician will have lasting success. George Harrison’s facetious, self-deprecating remarks to journalists about the group’s musical abilities are taken at face value as evidence that they were actually talentless. According to VB/YM this piece had a powerful influence on subsequent Soviet articles about the Beatles.
Within a year, however, KROKODIL seems radically to have changed its tune (P242/3 T1). S Khalipov’s January 1965 article, TRANS-ATLANTIC PSYCHOSIS distinguished the performers from the hullabaloo surrounding them. It referred to ‘jolly songs played fervently and enthusiastically’ leaving an ‘indelible impression’ in the hearts of young American fans.
The first Soviet periodical to offer a detailed, positive evaluation of the Beatles’ work was SOVETSKAYA ESTRADA I TSIRK (SOVIET STAGE AND CIRCUS), in April 1966. Director A P Konnikov was a recognised authority on music hall and variety shows, ‘a representative of the Soviet musical establishment’ (P244 T1). A year earlier he had made an ‘official’ visit to Paris to hear the Beatles, evidence that the cultural authorities were looking for a ‘more objective take on the Beatles phenomenon’. His article, IDOLS AND IDOLATERS, rated highly their musicality, instrumental ability and enthusiasm – ‘they give it their all’. He even praised their outfits, neat hair dos, and denied there was any ‘jumping around’. Bokarev and Mitrofanov (P248 T1) write of the ‘revolutionary significance’ for the development of Soviet Beatleography of Konnikov’s article, thanks to which the Beatles went on to have a ‘complete musical rehabilitation’ in the USSR.
By September 1966, PRAVDA itself had got in on the act thanks to an article by Oleg Orestov entitled THOUGHTS AND ANXIETIES OF ENGLISH YOUNGSTERS. According to VB/YM (P310, T1), the daily’s London correspondent wrote of ‘the tawdry hype fading away to reveal that the best young pop singers are fine lads often with progressive views’. John Lennon is quoted as saying that he liked the Soviet Union. George Harrison’s rejection of American involvement in the Vietnam War is mentioned. There’s also reference to the Beatles refusal to sing for segregated audiences in the American south. Where before the Beatles had been accused of being ‘accomplices of American imperialism’, they’re now being seen as potential allies in the campaign to turn world opinion against what was termed the ‘American Vietnam venture’. Significantly, this policy had been announced only months earlier at the 23rd Congress of the Soviet Communist Party (VB/YM P311 T1).
Once the Beatles ceased to be perceived as politically alien, it was perhaps inevitable that they would become culturally acceptable. By February 1968 MUZYKAL’NAYA ZHIZN was beginning to recant. Where four years earlier they had dismissed the Beatles oeuvre as ‘false art’, in an article called NEW TENDENCIES they were now reporting the Beatles as moving on to ‘more serious forms of creativity, performance and diverse expressive means’. The SERGEANT PEPPER album, released eight months before, was said to contain a majority of songs distinguished by their ‘melodic flair, poetical lyrics and at times sharp parody’ (Pp254/5 T1).
Only three months later, the May edition of the same periodical printed the musicologist L B Pereverzev’s thoughtful piece THE BEATLES – APPEARANCE AND REALITY IN POP MUSIC (P256ff T1). He cited American composer Leonard Bernstein’s comparing Beatles’ songs with Schumann’s. On page 272, VB/YM emphasise the political significance of this article. MUZYKAL’NAYA ZHIZN was the official journal of the Union of USSR Composers and the Ministry of Culture: all their publications needed to pass the Ideological department of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the USSR. The authors conclude that this article must therefore have been approved by the Soviet establishment.
On page 2 of his book Leslie says that the Beatles were ‘never allowed to play’ in the USSR. ‘Never invited’ would be nearer the mark, for their music was made available in considerable quantities whether in the form of printed musical scores, a few original recordings, cover versions by Soviet and western artists, even a handful of radio and TV broadcasts. Of the latter the most striking is the transmission on 31 Dec 1966 of Paul McCartney’s YESTERDAY rendered by Tiiu Varik in her native Estonian (VB/YM P192 T2). The black and white studio performance recorded in a Tallin studio can still be seen on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x0XJHojI8Y.
Between 1967 and 1970 the Soviet record company MELODIYA issued 26 Soviet and foreign disc versions of 12 Beatles’ compositions (VB/YM P43 T2). The first to be released was John Lennon’s GIRL, classed as an English folk song. In 1968 they followed up with HARD DAY’S NIGHT sung in Russian by Emile Gorovets, this time with the correct attribution to Lennon & McCartney (VB/YM P56 T2). LADY MADONNA appears to have come next, again sung by Gorovets. The youth journal ROVYESNIK (PEER as in ‘same age) published in July 1969 550,000 copies of the Russian text of his vocal (VB/YM P324 T1). It also brought out Russian and English lyrics of HARD DAY’S NIGHT, YESTERDAY, GIRL and BACK IN THE USSR, the latter only in Russian (VB/YM P32 T2). The authors explain that the many mistakes in transcription and translation arise from English texts being written down by ear.
According to Bokarev and Mitrofanov’s calculations (P133 T2), Soviet musical journals published more than 2,251,000 copies of 10 Beatles’ songs – musical notation plus Russian and English lyrics in 1970 alone – the 100th anniversary year of Lenin’s birth, they remind the reader.
During the last three years of the Beatles’ existence as a group (1968-1970), more than three million copies of their songs with music and translations by Mark Podberyozsky were made available to Soviet customers. Between 1969 and the collapse of the USSR in 1991, in excess of two million copies of GIRL alone were printed in Kiev, Moscow, Leningrad and Alma Ata (VB/YM P233).
One Soviet vocal-instrumental ensemble VESYOLYE REBYATA (JOLLY LADS) sold nearly 16 million recorded cover versions of Beatles’ songs between 1970 and 1991 (VB/YM P63 T).
In the period 1965-1970, 22 Soviet films for the cinema incorporate 22 Beatles’ songs, either originals, Soviet or foreign versions. ‘No one Western or Eastern European artist’, the authors assert, ‘was featured so prominently’ (VB/YM P226 T2). Bokarev and Mitrofanov boldly describe the Soviet establishment’s later approach to the Liverpool 4 as ‘official popularising’ and it ‘didn’t stop in 1970 but continued in 1971 and in all the following years of the existence of the Soviet Union’ (P132 T2).’
Historians and commentators may disagree what brought the Soviet Union to an end. I for one would certainly like to believe that the Beatles played a part, even though there was no subversive intent when I played their records on my Friday night pop programme all those decades ago. Bokarev and Mitrofanov have persuaded me that Soviet fulminations against the Fab Four were too isolated, ill-co-ordinated, so much at variance with Russian youngsters’ experiences, and above all, simply too short-lived for John, Paul, George and Ringo to be considered serious contributors to the demise of the Red Empire.
Неплохой документальный фильм. Показательно, что в определенный момент Лесли отчеканивает, что имеется все основания полагать, что за Железным Занавесом Битлзы значили существенно больше, чем они когда-либо значили в родной Великобритании. Наводит на размышления...
