Issue #14/95, July 20 - August 3, 2000  

Alice Cooper. Tuesday, August 2nd. Olympic Stadium (Metro: Prospekt Mira) 19.00

Yes! We're not worthy! We're not worthy! We're not… talented! Wait, can we say that about Alice Cooper? Well, what the dickens else are we going to say about him? He did that one killer song in the 70s, "School's Out For Summer," which spawned all kinds of long-haired teenage rebellion in the American suburbs. He did this kind of glam-rock S&M act that was pretty cool for its time, but looking back, it's, well, it's still pretty cool. That is, if you've been sucking off the same resin-caked bong all this time. Which you probably have. So, here's the deal. Alice (we call him Alya) has a new album out called Brutal Planet. As far as the music goes, well, it's pretty brutal. It's sure to pave new musical ground in the pot fields of his mind. And yours, too. We suggest you get a pirate copy at Gorbushka, then throw away the disk and use the cover to cut your phen on. What else? He was kind of a god here during the fabled Gorbachev years, occupying a second-tier dirthead ground beneath true gods like Deep Purple and AC/DC. Expect lots of aged dirtheads-turned-New-Russians to attend paying 1500 rubles for the front-row seats, while their obediently rebellious shithead kids will pay 250 rubles for the cheap seats, and get obligingly drunk and baked on wank Krasnodar shake. Take a walk down memory lane. If you have a memory. And listen to wonderful old tunes like "Welcome to the Nightmare," watch him guillotine a chick (wouldn't we all like to do that?), and see him hobble around stage, showing off his new style, called "Arthritic Glam Rock." This promises to be the last-ever stadium rock show of the Vladimir Putin era. After this, it's going to be nothing but Pugacheva and Alphaville. Tix: 250-1500R

Project "4-Rest Club." Friday, July 28th. Buddha Bar. 23.00

This is Moscow's answer to England's Renaissance Label, whereby, in the techno world, they gather together top-notch hep DJs and their heppy-hep record collections, hook up with some design-oriented fellas, throw in a kind of groupie-like following, then hit the club-touring circuit, remaking each club they appear in into their own god-like image. 4-Rest Club consists chiefly of DJ Volodya, who cut his teeth as the resident DJ at Titanik, and who was the first to bring the Renaissance fellas from England to Moscow (it was a bit of a disaster, since he had them appear at the flathead infested club Arlekhino, and they'll never return, scared as they are like a bunch of bitches). So the whole experience got him a-thinkin'. And he thunk up this idea. Buddha Bar is now under newish management, with nightlife guru Neil (Cabana, Papa John's) taking the helm and working his mojo as only he does best. Expect good house/progressive house tunes, and a crowd along the lines of Propaganda/Club XIII. Tix: Feis Kontrol

Vesna na ulitsa Karla Yukhana. Thursday, August 3rd. Sixteen Tons. 22.00

This underground avant-garde Moscow group, "Spring on Karl Yukhan Street," used to play full-on noise and wall of sound, then disappeared. Now they're back, and they're, uh, not exactly what they used to be. They're playing easy listening tunes along the lines of Sandra Dee, Frankie Avalon, that whole thing. Their lead singer is a chick. The music is very chick-friendly, inoffensive, and good for what they're doing. What are they doing, actually? God only knows. And he's dead, so don't ask him. Tix: 250R

Komitet Okhrany Tepla. Sunday, July 23rd. Hippopotam. 22.00

These guys are from Koenigsberg (occupied Prussian territory, aka Kaliningrad) and they're known as the first real Russian reggae group. Unlike noodle-necked white rastas, their lyrics were very bitter and mean. They started up some time in the late 80s, put out a killer self-titled album, then became underground stars and did what all right-minded underground stars do: they became junkies. At least some of them did. And, consequently, their music went downhill (not too unlike what's happened here at the eXile). The music became slower and dronier every month. Until it nearly stopped. Now they're trying to get their shit back together, and totally failing. So the point is to come to this show as you would watch an episode of "Dorozhny Patrul"—just to see some corpses with one opium-caked foot in the grave. Tix: fuck if we know

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