Kirkorov decided to apologize in an original way for the “naked” party

The singer released a song on hot events

The “naked” scandal begins to be overgrown with music, and following the apology in prose, Philip Kirkorov released a song called “Rumors.” In four minutes, Philip conveys his emotional state in rather sad tones and thus continues the tradition of musical reflection on high-profile events.

“The city loves stupid clichés, cat rumors, and I’m already getting used to these trifles, to envy and ridicule…”, “Don’t judge, I’m just a person, I would like my heart to remain in me…”. The authors of the song include Kirkorov himself and Sergei Revtov. Despite the fact that the song sounds crude, as if it was put together in a hurry from hackneyed musical clichés that came to hand, its release seems to be a very logical move.

In prose, Philip is weaker than in musical lyrics, and if in public apologies he is on an equal footing with those who make complaints against him, then with a song, the pop star rises to the artistic pedestal, looks at everything a little down and looks like a person who knows how to do what he needs to do. what haters can’t do.

In an effort to translate the scandal into a musical plane, Philip, as in many other situations, remains, perhaps not the most diligent, but a faithful student of Alla Pugacheva. In 1987, the singer wrote the song “Dear Author” based on the poems of Ilya Reznik, which became her reaction to the scandal in the Leningrad Pribaltiyskaya Hotel.

Then the star’s request to stay in her favorite room did not find a response from the hotel administration, the conversation turned out to be quite nervous, and the newspapers were instructed to teach the “presumptuous star” a lesson. As a result, Pugacheva was left without broadcasts on radio and TV for some time, but the concerts continued (these were too profitable events for the Soviet state to cancel them), and at one of them Alla performed a new song, addressing it to all the journalists who took up the cause , they poured buckets of mud on the singer.

Statements on a hot topic do not pretend to have a long life, but “Dear Author” was an exception, and the line “Beat your own so that strangers are afraid, beat your own so that they don’t get ahead!” one might say she went among the people. Against the backdrop of the manifesto of Pugacheva and Reznik, Kirkorov’s “Don’t believe the rumors, only the first snow is to blame for this. And maybe it’s my fatigue that’s to blame” sounds, of course, much paler, and the drama itself looks staged, and not in the most convincing way.

Philip in “Rumors” is sad, regrets and declares the right to make mistakes, while for Pugacheva the best defense in a situation where she was most often presented with stupid claims was always an attack. “Dear author! I read your article. By taking half a drop of fact, you have filled the cup with lies!” — not shy about straightforwardness, she lashed out with sarcasm and caustic mockery in “Dear Author,” and in the song “People, People” from the legendary album “How troubling is this path,” Pugacheva shows a fat fig to philistine curiosity: “What do you care with whom the bread is made?” I divide in half, who am I waiting for on a dark night, with whom am I going where?”

Despite the fact that Kirkorov now, and Pugacheva in the distant eighties, are essentially defending their personal territories, we are, of course, talking about musical statements of completely different values. In one case you want to believe every line and breath, in the other – not so much. However, the naked scandal soundtrack gives the star some edge. A song, even the simplest one, is always stronger than ordinary words and will be remembered better than the names of provincial inquisitors. This musical statement literally asks to become collective. All together in the studio in front of the microphone Kirkorov, Lolita, Bilan, Anna Asti, Glyukoza, Instasamka expose their artistic souls. Why not “Closing the circle” of the era of confusion and vacillation? Or even the whole We Are The World, We Are The Children…