Imagine yourself having a slight, very slight but still, hangover. Imagine yourself driving to a very remote part of a large city. Construction, devastation, abandoned houses. Imagine yourself stopping in front of an iron gate. The driver is honking and a guard (smoking, drunker than you were yesterday) is opening a door next to the gate, takes a quick look at you, nods and the gates slowly opens. The car can enter. Now imagine that the gates close behind you, and what you see inside the walls is like a squatter camp; small garages/houses built out of sheet metal, concrete, wood. Graffiti, trash, you name it. But this isn’t a place where people live. This is where the Russians keep there belongings, like an extra room to their apartments in the city. During the Soviet era all citizens were given a small apartment, a small piece of land outside the city, dutcha, and a small garage or storing place. And at one of all these storing places we have just arrived. The guys in the car starts to unload bags and instruments from the car. They take the lock of when of the metal doors and opens. It’s pitch dark inside but it smells like very old sneakers and cigarettes. We enter, someone switches on the light. There are two rooms. The first one is filled with stuff, instruments, computers, garbage, beer bottles. If you open another metal door you enter a sound (and air) isolated room, our goal: the recording studio. The bands get ready, smokes 200 cigarettes in the first room. ALL of us enter the “studio” and the guys start playing/singing/screaming. Remember your condition. Imagine the room being only 5x8 meters. Imagine 6 crazy Russians playing very load, and all walls are covered with loudspeakers. Big ones. And they don’t sing Mors lilla Olle, this is Noises- a Russian rock/punk/metal band. The sweat is dripping from the ceiling. Its rocking! Proper Rocking! It’s a normal Sunday in St. Pete!
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