Foreign, folk and native

Peter Mamonov died. Yuri Saprykin says goodbye to this great musician and actor

Musician and actor Peter Mamonov died on July 15. He was 70 years old. At the end of June, he was hospitalized with Covid. At the request of Medusa about the lives of Peter Mamonov - Dandy, Meloman, eccentric, hooligan, resoner and old man, journalist Yuri Saprykin says.

Peter Mamonov lived several lives. A strict young man with a large bastard with an incredible ability to dance; Lumpen-intelgent from a deep underground, combining translations from Norwegian and work as a loader in Vinnoy; rock star with international engagements; an actor who played the Russian king and the Russian saint; The hermit that has moved from the glory of the human in the personally created deserts. Dandy, Meloman, eccentric, hooligan, resoner, old man. These lives were poorly combined with each other, other of them overgrown with legends - such as the story of the shock sharpening in the chest after a street fight in the Hermitage garden. Each of them has some kind of challenge.

"Petya, dear father!" -shouted to him at the concerts of "Sounds Mu" in the late 1980s. Mamonov was the most impossible rock star-without heroic romance, erotic charm, teaching and pathos. He wore a mustache and a jacket, was broken and wrong - and therefore his native, as only imperfect can be family. His abilities and glory surrounding him would be enough for several brilliant quarries. But of all the arts that Mamonov was engaged in, the most constant was the art of leaving, refusal, self -release. He behaved according to Maxim Brodsky: “If you have chosen something that attracts others, this means a certain vulgarity of taste” - and every time, climbing the next pedestal, sharply went to the side. Leaving a place forever unoccupied - after all, every time it was the place created by him for himself, unique and inhabitable.

The word “father” was also not accidental-even when Mamonov was bending three deaths and fell backward on the stage, it seemed that there was some kind of knowledge of life, more adult, composed not of common places, but from his own falls and rebirths. Once I ended up with him on the same stage, led something like a creative evening at the Gogol Theater: Mamonov sarcastically joked about his previous biographical quirks, but perked up noticeably when the conversation came about his favorite music. “Listened here the solo album Bet Gibbons - through it, the wind is just blowing!” It seems that Mamonov was busy with the search for this wind, the power that needs to be passed through himself and convey to the outside, which may come from the Cabbie Checker or Efrem Sirin , who can make him writhe in unimaginable stage paroxysism or read white poems under white noise, but if you managed to catch it, it becomes important how muck you are and what you are rubbish - but you can fly.

Haught-wretched concerts and detached-cold records of the early “Sounds of Mu”, ascetic eccentric “Mamonova and Alexei”, mysterious isolation of the heroes “Taxi-Blue”, “needles” and “legs”, unpredictable exit to the “bald brunette” of the Stanislavsky Theater, rude driving the composition of the “sounds” of the “sounds” of the 1990s, incomprehensible Records and performances of the last 20 years, even his departure to Orthodoxy and the role in Lungin's Island-there was some danger in all this, something discouraging and going beyond. Mamonov knew how to achieve this effect even through television, aligning and subordinating to himself. And its transcendental execution of the “gadoplytnes” shown in the “Musical Ring” on the first program of the central TV in the prime time for Christmas 1990, and the royal exit in the Earth-Athos program, where Mamonov skillfully drove him to lay him in linear-one-dimensional schemes, and his other media appearance-all this, without a doubt Russian popular absurdity.

So it could not be - but this was undoubtedly. He really knew how to be folk, and foreign, and his own on the board, and incomprehensible to horror. And this wind, which he caught, and his knowledge of life is, perhaps, only different synonyms for indicating the incomprehensible complexity of life that he showed in himself.

Like his hero from the "island", who made himself a coffin and tried on it in advance, at some point this difficulty in life included death. Mamonov talked a lot about her and learned to live with her - and at the same time continued to include his favorite records in the night program passing by all the radars at the Echo of Moscow.

He managed to perform a jubilee tour of the most status television show - and remained unrecognized and devoid of official titles; The news of awarding the Order of Friendship came when Mamonov was already in a coma. He left an unspoken discography of solo albums, one is strange than the other; It is good that journalist Alexander Morsin managed to draw up an exhaustive guide on it for the 70th anniversary.

He knew how to choose a well -aimed word and accurate sound, like few - and seemed to get away from verbal communication more and more, following the Rozanovsky principle: “You will look at the Russian man with a sharp eye ... He would look at you with a sharp eye ... And everything is clear. And no words. ” He left - and now he left.

But it is worth to subside this day, lie down and eat bread, it is worth falling asleep, and in a dream I sing: this is an elevator on the sky.

Yuri Saprykin