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Where there is no law, but every man does what is right in his own eyes, there is the least of real liberty
Henry M. Robert

Notes Underfoot

8 December, 1998 - 00:00

A lot has been written about this story (incidentally, quite typical of
our times), and The Day is no exception. Why bring it up again?
To once again quail at the cynicism with which our culture is being trampled.
We often hear an old saying, "The dog barks and the caravan moves on."
If our public conscience (the dog) remains silent the camels, outwardly
graceful but inherently thickheaded, will turn our world into one giant
lifeless desert.

However, there was a music store on Khreshchatyk called Noty (Notes).
Every resident knew it for its small stage with a shining polished grand
piano and small signs on the door announcing miniature chamber concerts.
Then came perestroika and the music store, along with the other cultural
and educational institutions, fell into decay. There were less music, fewer
books, and fewer customers. To keep afloat a traditional technique was
applied, leasing out part of the premises to businessmen. It was thus that
Noty suddenly became Kobzar, housing the Komora firm, one of Kyiv's several
dealers in musical instruments and related equipment. The firm was one
of the first to start selling CDs here.

The place looked gorgeous with the grand piano, music and art books
(ancient and modern) skillfully displayed, violins and cases, strings,
and sparkling rows of CDs. This lasted two or three years, but every pot
of gold finds its owner who wants to hear coins clinking melodiously in
his pocket. As fate would have it the upper part of the building was occupied
by the giant Derzhahroprom (State Agribusiness Committee), and this mighty
monster immediately perceived the weakness of its downstairs neighbors,
while the Noty and its companion, Mystetstvo (Art), on the ground floor
looked out of place to the bureaucrats above.

The Kyiv intelligentsia succeeded in preserving Mystetstvo after noisy
rallies in front of Derzhahroprom, but not Noty. The store stood empty
with peeling walls beaten by time and people (CDs and other Komora merchandise
quickly disappeared from the counters and windows). Hope dies last. People
had hope until the store's name was removed from the facade and painted
over the windows. Of course, Kyiv natives did not expect to see a conference
hall in place of the store which Derzhahroprom said they needed so badly
when pressuring the bookstore Mystetstvo out of business. Many thought
that the premises would be used for a showcase agrarian shopping center
with fresh meat from Cherkasy, honey from Poltava, or tomatoes from Kherson.
Instead we can see now huge sheets of music paper with Frank Sinatra's
saccharine "Strangers in the Night" and three dummies clad in concert costumes
holding violin cases. The notice reads VD ONE (the owners obviously missed
how funny the name is in English - Ed.), and the place sells high-priced
clothes. A more subtle humiliation would be hard to imagine.

Only silence follows. Another high-priced store opened in our low-income
capital. But, lo and behold, what designer fantasy, soaring creative thought,
and refined allusions! The display windows of the late lamented Noty now
sport a dummy dressed in tails and playing a double bass. What a beautifully
sentimental idea for all those bookstore and movie house managers! Just
the thing if some of those strangers in the night glorified by Mafia minstrel
Frank Sinatra, and those that used to patronize such stores decades ago
and who frequent them now, run into one another. Something gets in their
eyes, he sang, and now it is in the gleaming silver eyes of the dummies
in the window. Is it a hypocritical smile or a sneer of condescension?
This is something worth thinking over while glancing at the giant sheet
of music paper.

 

 

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