Boris & His Bolshie Balalaika - Psychic Revolution
Cat No: DELEC CD/LP 014
Release Date: 14th November 1994
[Track Listing] [Lyrics]
[Credits] [Reviews]
[Boris' Home Page]
- Toadstool Soup - 7:21 (Boris) - lyric
Boris - Balalaika, Guitar, Glissando Guitar, Synth, Programming, Vocals.
Dead Fly Ensemble - Backing Vocals.
Recorded & Mixed at Dead Fly Studios, St. Helens.
Engineer - Time Howard.
March 1992.
- Onward Christian Soldiers - 4:24 (Boris) - lyric
Boris - Balalaika, Bass, Programming, Vocals, Synth.
Bobby the K - Harmonica.
Recorded at Dead Fly April 1991.
Engineer - Tim Howard.
Intro sequence recorded July 1993.
Digital Editing by West Orange Studios, Preston.
- Purple Haze - 3:42 (Hendrix)
Boris - Balalaika, Vocals.
Pixie - Programming, Bass.
Recorded & Mixed at Pixie Music Labs, Leeds, Feb 1991.
Engineer - Pixie.
- Burnin' With The Fire - 6:41 (Boris / Walker) - lyric
Boris - Balalaika, Guitar, Programming, Vocals.
Recorded at Dead Fly March 1992.
Engineer - Tim Howard.
Remixed at Dead Fly II (Bun's kitchen) Jan 1994.
Verse lyrics by permission of Valerie Walker (Compost Coven, USA)
- Blacklisted Blues - 5:10 (Boris) - lyric
Boris - Balalaika, Guitar, Programming, Vocals.
Recorded at Dead Fly, March 1992.
Overdubs & Remix April 1993.
- Voodoo Chile (Slight Return) - 3:59 (Hendrix)
Boris - Balalaika, Programming, Vocals
Recorded at Dead Fly March 1992
Overdubs & Remix April 1993.
- Moonsong - 6:17 (Boris) - lyric
Boris - Balalaika, Synth, Guitar, Programming, Vocals
Recorded at Dead Fly March 1992.
Overdubs & Remix April 1993.
- Goin' Nowhere - 4:19 (Boris) - lyric
Boris - Balalaika, Guitar, Programming, Vocals
Recorded at Dead Fly March 1992
Remix April 1993.
- Psychic Revolution (Sunsong) - 7:40 (Boris) - lyric
Boris - Balalaika, Guitar, Glissando Guitar, Synth, Tabla, Programming, Vocals.
Recorded & Mixed at Dead Fly March 1992
Toadstool Soup
Toadstool Soup
Toadstool Soup
Drink it singly
Or in a group (repeat)
Know your mushroms
Else they'll rush you
Stomach pump
In hospital
Know your mushrooms
Else they'll bust you
Lonely night
In police cell
Toadstool soup (etc)
Amanita
You no eat-a
Else you end up
On the slab
Muscarina
Makes you greener
Death cap phalloides
You best avoid 'dese
Toadstool soup (etc)
Psilocybe
Makes you high-be
Psilocybe
Makes you fly (repeat)
High up on the misty moore
In the morning grass
Poking through thr morning dew
Those little liberty caps
Little groups of people
All staring at the ground
Wondr'ing if those creamy-nippled
Mushrooms are around
Toadstool soup (etc)
When you drink that toadstool soup
Your mind goes crazy
Colours mingle, senses tingle
Sounds look phasey
Feel the power burn
Inside your love
Knowing that your life below
May be as life above
Toadstool soup (etc)
Sitting round the burning fire
Sharing the cup
Psilly little mush-a-rooms
A-waking your head up
But your body
Finds gravity
All too much
Toadstool soup (etc)
Sacred fungus
is among us
Beyond space
And beyond time (repeat)
Toadstool soup (etc)
Inspiration
Revelation
From the aether
To your mind
But illusions
And delusions
So the first time
Take a guide
Toadstool soup (Lots to savour)
Toadstool soup (Full of flavour)
Drink it singly
Or in a group
Toadstool soup (It's delicious)
Toadstool soup (And nutritious)
Drink it singly
Or in a group
All together now
Toadstool soup (etc)
Onward Christian Soldiers
In the desert far away
Saddam invades Kuwait
Bush had said that it's O.K.
Changed his mind but it's too late
Christian soldier marching as to war
Who tells you
What you're fighting for?
Bright yung men go off to fight
And fly silver machines
In the Desert children die
With precision guided screams
Christian soldier...
Nothing but pain
From Saddam Hussein
War is insane
It's no video game
Relatives weep
For oil that's cheap
Stock markets soar
On the fortunes of war
Christian soldier...
Palls of smoke pollute the sky
Huge oil slick kills the sea
Watch the oily seabirds die
On 24 hour T.V.
Christian soldier...
Old men decide
Hung up on their pride
Young lives are gone
Reliving the Somme
Media lies
As humanity dies
Baghdad woman cries
"Remember my eyes!"
Christian soldier...
A hundred thousand, maybe more
Corpses rot in the sun
MassaKurd as they withdraw
Just so George can say he's won
Christian soldier marching as to war
Who tells you
What you're fighting for?
No more war!
Burnin' With The Fire
Burnin' with the Fire
Breathin' in the air
Drinkin' all the cool clear water
Living on the earth
Quicksilver messenger
Master of the crossroads
Springtime step lightly
Into my mind
Golden one whisper
Airy ferryman
Sail from the east
On the wings of the wind
(Wings of the wind)
Burnin' with the fire...
Desert flower
Flaming will
Crackle with energy
Under my skin
Red lion roaring
Pulses racing
Roaming the south
I am open, come in
(Oh come in)
Burnin' with the fire
Pearl grey warrior
Ghostly quest
Prince of twighlight
Sailing west
Intuition, sundown lady
Ancient serpent of the sea
Misty queen of twilight waters
Silverfoot come silently
(Come silently)
Burnin' With The Fire...
Mother of mountains
Mother of trees
Mother of midnight
Mother of earth
Root and leaf
And flower and thorn
Come to us, Come to us
Out of the north
(Come fire & earth & wind & water)
Burnin' with the fire..
(repeat chorus)
Blacklisted Blues
Ev'ry Mornin'
I look out the window
The Sheffield steely sky
Is full of drizzle
I hear the postman
Bring in the mail
It says
Regrests to say
That you have failed
Well I just... got no job
I just got those
Blacklisted blues
I got my education
I got degrees galore
But my reputation
Keeps my family poor
Faceless men
With their computer files
Keep watching over
Society's exiles
I got no... got no job
I just got those
Blacklisted blues
Economic league
M.I.5 too
Keeping the subversives
Hidden from view
Keep your nose clean
And don't have no point of view
It's a conspiracy
'Gainst me and you
Well I just... got no job
I just got those Blacklisted blues
A thousand applications
A hundred interviews
But every letter
Still brings bad news
Still, when you've got no job
You got no job to lose
So I'll kepp my freedom
And f*** those blacklisted blues
That's why I've got no job
That's why I've got those
Blacklisted blues
Blacklisted blu-ues
Moonsong
Full moon rising over standing stone
Feel the power of the Ancient Ring
Energy is spinning round and round
(and round and round)
While the earth's children
Dance and sing
The powers of darkness block our way
To Stonehenge on Midsummer's Day
The power of light will fill our hearts
And barbed wire fences fall apart
For father sun and mother earth
Reclaim the heritage of our birth
Await the sun on Solstice morn
Until the new age
Has been born
On winter moorland nights we go
To watch the full moon's icy glow
In herbal haze and fungal trance
We play, we pray, we sing and dance
Until the truth may be reveal'd
That all is true and magick real
That light and life and love are one
The old religion's time
Has come
Don't believe those T.V. lies
Just believe in your own eyes
Open your hearts and then you'll see
The truth that sets your spirit free
Through astral paths your mind may roam
Then to material world's return
And bring to others
What you've learned
You don't need no new messiah
Your spirit takes you ever higher
No blind faith in some vengeful god
No willing back for the masters rod
No wars to fight, to kill, to die
Love pure and tender, bold and true
Love the earth and she'll...
She'll love you (She'll luv 'ya!)
Full moon rising over standing stone
Feel the power of the Ancient Ring
Energy is spinning round and round
(and round and round)
While the earth's children
Dance and sing.
Goin Nowhere
Drivin' down the highway
M62
Contraflow 'round Manchester
So what is new
Artic in front of me
Artic at the rear
Breathin' lead and diesel
Got monoxide nausea
Goin' nowhere
Not very fast
Goin; nowhere
Just how long is this jam
Gonna last
Drivin' up the highway
M1 Friday night
Endless streams of traffic are
Stretching out of sight
Four hours out of London
Two more to Watford Gap
Right now I'm dyin'
For a coffee and a crap
Goin' nowhere
Not very fast
Goin' nowhere
Just how long is this song gonna last
Drivin' down the highway
On a clear and moonlit night
South from Scotland over Shap
Only one more car in sight
He's comin' up behind me
A blue light on my tail
Doin' over ninety
Striaght to jail
Goin' nowhere
Lonely night in a cell
Goin' nowhere
Travellin' sure is hell
Goin' on the railway
Whitesaver return
Squashed in caoched like sardines
Wanna see those walkmans burn
Waiting at the station
For a train to meet my date
"B.R. regrets to announce
Your train is three hours late"
Goin' nowhere
Oh what shall I do
Goin' nowhere
My train is stuck on
Frozen points at Crewe
Standin' at the bus stop
For a number 48
I'm in the rain for half an hour
Wondr'rin' why I'm always late
See the bus come round the corner
Say it's goin' pretty fast
Stick my arm out in the air
As the soddin' bus drives past
Goin' nowhere
Oh what shall I do
Goin' nowhere
Public transport's given me the 'flu
Flyin' out of Luton
On a Bank Holiday
Off on our summer vacation
To sunny Marbeille
Get there three hours early
To queue for the best seats
But the travel firm's gone bankrupt
And the refund will take weeks
Goin' nowhere
Stay home and watch T.V.
Goin' nowhere
Oh why do these things always
happen to me?
Psychic Revolution (Sunsong)
Turn on to the sun
Join the new age mission
Tune in tothe earth
Use your inner vision
Drop out of your hate
Greed and blind ambition
Now the time has come
To make your own decision
Psychick revolution
Cosmic evolution
Live together, love together
It's the only sane solution
Muslim Hindu Christian Jew
Moonie Atheist Rasta
You don't need no new messiah
You've no need for a master
Your old rulers and old creeds
Have led us to disaster
Now it's time to free your soul
The age of fear is past now
Psychick revolution...
We don't need no governments
We don't need no money
We don't need no nuclear bombs
We don't need milk and honey
We don't need no violence
We don't need no hate
We just need to save the world
Before it's far too late
(before it's far too late)
Share the telepathic dream
Beneath the moonlit sky
At a circle of old stone
From ages long gone by
In a ritual of peace
Receive the answers why
In our music and our dance
Our spirits soar so high
Psychick revolution...
So when the pressure gets too hot
You know the time has come
To join the festivals of love
Of power and freedom
On the sacred days of truth
We celebrate old wisdom
At the circles of earth and stone
All is one
Psychick revolution...
Love is the solution
For the psychick revolution
For planetary evolution
We need a green constitution
No more isolation
Try spiritual integration
Sing throughout the nation
Of the new age revelation
Seek throughout your mind
Seek and thou shalt find
Open your heart into your dreams
All is not what it seems
All war's past now
No more masters
No more signs
of destruction
Open your heart
Open your mind
Sing throughout the nation
Of the new age revelation
Turn on to the sun
Tune in to the earth
Love is the solution!
Boris was born the son of a Russian diplomat. In the early '60s his family defected whilst on a shopping trip to Sweden and Boris was brought up to experience life in the West. In 1967 he was lucky enough to see Hendrix perform his legendary Stockholm gigs, and as a result had a mystical glimpse of the future.
Boris saw himself as a psychedelic crusader joining East and West with his musical vision of cosmic love and hope. He borrowed his Father's Balalaika, painted it dayglo, and left home for a life on the road. He performed a combination of street theatre and bizarre acid influenced Balalaika music in every club that would take him, and every street corner that needed him. By 1968 he was in Hungary helping to stir up the student's Psychedelic Surrealist Democracy movement and as the Russian tanks rolled in that same year, to put an end to the flowering movement, a naked and Bolshie Boris stood at the front of the crowd playing Purple Haze, through a huge PA, on his newly created electric balalaika. Of course Boris was arrested and spent the next 10 years in a Russian labour camp. By the time he got out, he was a changed man, the sparkle in his minds eye was dimmed, dowsed by the despair of imprisonment. When he finally discovered his family, he found them in England and so spent the years 1978-83 a quiet recluse studying the pagan roots of English culture. However things changed in 1983, when Boris discovered the Stonhenge Free Festival, and at 1984's event his old self returned. He was the star of the solstice night, his medley of traditional Russian folk songs and space rock improvisations brought tears to the eyes of anyone who was with it enough to remember what happened. 1985 however brought back dark memories for Boris, when the police trashed the travellers, at the infamous Battle of The Bean Field. Many people remember the cheers from the press when Boris smashed his Balalaika over the head of a foaming, out of control riot squad officer who was attacking a defenceless, old hippy. Of course this was never shown on TV...
And so Delerium finally persuaded Boris to go into the studio and record his first ever album. After an epic life of psychedelic adventure, Boris together with his Bolshie Balalaika has finally created the musical vision that he saw 26 years ago in Sweden, at the feet of the great guitar God, Jimi Hendrix.
Thanks to: Vicki, James & Robert, Richard Allen (Freakbeat / Delerium), Louise MacAuley (Artwork), Bun, Bri & Co (Poisoned Electrick Head), Tim Howard, Dave Evans & St. Helens Music Collective (RIP), Damian & Rob (Tansads), Rat, Geoff & Sue (THC), Sharon & Joe (wherever you are!), Mark Radcliffe, Club Dog, Keith & Steve (Space Agency), Daevid A., Hawkwind, Geoff C, Eugene (LCC), Pixie, Pete W, Demetri (for getting me up on stage in the first place, scanning & DTP), Stephen 'HQ' Lea, Splash Studios (Wigan), Syngen & RTS for DAT mastering, Baal's Brook, Paul (Dungeon) & Barry for illumination, and all those who the pi** in the early days!
All lyrics reproduced by Boris except "Burnin' With The Fire" by Boris / Walker, reproduced with permission.
The concept here is as inspired as Boris's appearance. Boris' Balalaika is a triangular, three stringed Russian folk instrument which has been electrified and put through so many effects that its original sound is unrecognisable. While the music inevitably takes a back seat to image in cases like these, for the record, Boris deals in rambling psychedelia with some "serious" messages and the odd Hendrix cover thrown in. The songs aren't great, but that's not the point. Boris is a brilliantly conceived novelty act - he deserves to be huger than Take That.
Definitely the oddest named artist I've heard for a while, it's a pity his music didn't make me take as much notice. It's trippy yet dippy and features two annoying Hendrix covers, a song about magic mushrooms and an ode to stone circles. File under unique!
Fans of all things Delerium may also wish to know that Boris & His Bolshie Balalaika now has his album out on CD: sublime sleeve-art this time (from the talented Louise MacAuley), but unfortunately I can't see the joke with this guy. The two Hendrix tunes might I suppose be prime contenders for future "worst ever cover versions" compilations, if that particular field hadn't been milked dry already, and Boris's lyrics attain a kind of spiritual high with the memorable couplet "Four hours out of London / two more to Watford Gap / right now I'm dying / for a coffee and a crap"
Boris is the son of a Russian diplomat who defected to Sweden in the early 60's. The liberating effect of seeing Hendrix perform in Stockholm in 1967 was enough to set young Boris on the road, taking his three string dayglo Balalaika with him. He busked his way across Europe, ended up in Hungary, and was locked up in a Russian labour camp for ten years after being arrested for his part in a demonstration.
On being released, he rejoined his family, who had by this time moved to England. He convalesced until fit enough to relaunch himself back into the alternative lifestyle of Paganism, drugs and music. The 1984 Stonehenge Festival witnessed him playing Russian folk songs and space rock is a now legendary performance. His reputation grew until by 1989 he was appearing at Club Dog, London, on a regular basis. Quite a story, I'm sure you'll agree. Now what about the music?
Sadly, little of the Russian influence remains. The Balalaika is fed through a series of effects pedals until the sound is unrecognisable. Furthermore, the music is essentially a rehash of Hawkwind, Steve Hillage and Black Sabbath with a dash of ambient-house added for good measure. Two Hendrix songs are also covered.
To his credit, Boris is a versatile musician, handling guitar, bass, programming, synth, tablas and vocals. There's no denying his talent, but it appears to be wasted on this venture. Pity. (Barry H. King)
Modern entertainment music is populated by lots of strange characters, but the hero of this review is really something special: Boris was born to the son of a Russian diplomat whose family defected to the west in the early sixties, while on a shopping trip in Sweden. He grew up in relative material comfort but saw Jimi Hendrix perform in Stockholm in 1967. The experience impressed young Boris deeply and from then on he became a kind of psychedelic crusader trying unite East and West. He took his fathers Balalaika, painted it dayglo and started a life on the road, performing in every club and at every public occasion where they would allow him on stage. Great story so far, isn't it? But the press release that came with the album gets even crazier.
The first time I ever heard of Boris, musically speaking that is (for his reputation was a fast-spreading rumour even before then) was in 1993 when Delerium Records released their fantastic "Fun With Mushrooms" compilation. Boris opened the album with the hilarious "Toadstool Soup", a track that is also present on "Psychic Revolution" albeit in a different, much longer version. Boris's debut album features nine songs: two Hendrix covers and seven self-penned compositions that express his visions of cosmic love and social awareness; like in "Onward Christian Soldiers" (about the Gulf War), "Blacklisted Blues" (about unemployment) or "Moonsong" (about pagan consciousness) while the title track, "Psychic Revolution" is a seemingly old-fashioned but still bitterly needed plea for universal brotherhood and such things. The album is a true solo project on which Boris handled all the instruments himself, including of course his mucho distorto electrified balalaika, thus creating a psychedelic framework for his excellent lyrics to develop within. All the recording and producing was done in the Dead Fly Studios (of Poisoned Electrick Head) in Liverpool. It took Boris a few years to create this album but the end result is really worth listening to: about 50 minutes of warped sounds, intelligent (humane, even) lyrics end enough tongue-in-cheek humour to turn this debut into a real winner. Rock music (and the rest of the world, for that matter) needs people like Boris real bad!
A really recommended album from a true free spirit who needs your support. Go for it!
An anti-nuclear propelled anarchist balalaika is spreading emissions of multicoloured light over one of the most original Delerium products for this prolific 1994: "Psychic Revolution", made of material in some cases dating back to two years ago, is a mushroom shaped melting pot, loaded with electricity and rhythm, related to the end of Sixties rebel and pacifist acid rock tradition but employing present days languages and technologies. Son of a defected Russian diplomat, guest for ten years of a Soviet working camp after a hot '68 in Budapest, he'd been previously struck down the way to Stockholm by one of those renowned Hendrix exhibitions in the Scandinavian lands; after such a long wait, his extraordinary experience has eventually been exploited for a vinyl synthesis in the Dead Fly Laboratories, i.e. Poisoned Electrick Head's headquarters, and the result is coherent with the premises: the powerful cosmic energy effortlessly channelled thru' the album's nine tracks reflects a nimble dance of synapses and neurones, fed by a rich scanning of effects and timbres and, at the same time, by a genuine underground inspiration. The opening is care of a refined version of "Toadstool Soup", the tasty consomme which acted as ouverture and leitmotiv for Delerium's catalogue of titbits "Fun With Mushrooms"; the very personal cover versions of "Purple Haze" and "Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)" transcribe for the three stringed instrument the seminal Hendrix blazes, "Onward Christian Soldiers" is the whipping post for both Bush and Saddam, and an ideal ark is traced from Vietnam to the Gulf, from T. Leary to the new shamanism, from Country Joe's and Jefferson's desecrating irony to Club Dog's psychedelic rites, without minding the risk that a little excess of naivete could ever weaken the strength of the protest; the cocktail of cosmic balalaika and glissando guitar, of synths and programmed percussions, stirred by Boris' wise wand in a mostly solo performance, brings the reaction to conclusion so crystallising the new plan of peaceful evolution; "Psychic Revolution (Sunsong)" talks of cosmic evolution, of love and of violence reject, and be careful not to underestimate the power of alchemical persuasion. This balalaika kills fascists...
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Delerium Records. info@delerium.co.uk
