More meanings of this word and English-Russian, Russian-English translations for MONGOL SHUUDAN in dictionaries.
In January 1999, Valery Skoroded performed a solo acoustic set at the final concert of the festival “With New Rock! New names in “Gorbushka”, together with the groups “SerGa”, “Thursday Arutyunova”, “Kazemat”, “Artel”, “White Noise”, “Los Paranoies”, “Orchestra 100”, “The Wall”.
In 2002, due to a brewing conflict within the team, Mongol Shuudan disbanded. At the same time, Dyagel and Rickonvald create own group- “Angelica & Mongols”, continuing the tradition of anarchic songs.
Valery Skoroded, typing new line-up in 2003, records two albums - “Victim” and “Everywhere and Next”, released a year later.
Continuing to experiment, in 2005 “Mongol Shuudan” recorded the second acoustic album “Permafrost”, the name for which Valery took from famous theorist anarchism of Prince Peter Kropotkin.
Nevertheless, remaining true to the theme of anarchism, a year later the group released the album “Property is theft.”
In April 2007, Valery Skoroded began collaborating with an old friend and fan of the group, producer Vasily Vladimirovich Zakharov.
As of the end of summer 2009, the band has completely prepared material for a new album, which they should begin recording in the fall. According to Valery Skoroded, the album will be tougher than the usual work of the Mongol Shuudan group.
In December 2011, the group released new album « Natural selection", which included 16 completely new compositions.
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Musicians who played in the Mongol Shuudan group from 1988 to 2003:
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Drums
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"Mongol Shuudan"- the name of a Soviet and Russian rock band of an anarchist trend. Translated from Mongolian it means "Mongolian post".
The name of the group translated from Mongolian means “Mongolian post” and comes from the corresponding inscription on collectible stamps that were widely sold in Soviet era in the Soyuzpechat network of kiosks:
The musicians themselves define the direction as “anarcho-rock”. The genre of the group's various songs can be defined as punk, ska-punk, punk-hardcore, hard and heavy, hard and roll, rhythm and blues rock, grunge, chanson and their hybrids. The main theme of the songs is the theme civil war 1918-1922. On early work The group was influenced by "DK", but "Mongol Shuudan" is a rather original group that has created its own corporate style - songs in the style of "Makhnovshchina", which is dominant in the group's work.
The group was founded by Valery Skoroded in 1988, and all this time he remained and remains its permanent leader.
In October 1989, the group entered the Moscow Rock Laboratory without auditioning.
In November 1989, the first album entitled “Locomotive-Anarchy” was released, thanks to which the group gained popularity.
The next year, after the release of the second album - “Gulyai-Pole” (with the originally intended name “All Things”), the group receives an invitation to perform in Europe, and “Mongol Shuudan” goes on a tour of Germany and the Netherlands, upon return from which Skoroded records one of the first acoustic albums in the country called “Bandit Album”.
In 1991, guitarist Boris Shapiro, drummer Igor Ivankovich and bass guitarist Alexey Polyakov joined the band.
In 1992, Sergei Bodrov Sr. approached Valery Skoroded with a proposal to write music for the film I Wanted to See Angels.
On the initiative of the group's bass guitarist Alexei Polyakov, in 1992 Mongol Shuudan opened the first rock cafe in Moscow, Otradnoe. However, the cafe (also called "Burp") did not last long. One day, before a performance, Alexey Polyakov, who also served as director, dies from a knife wound, after which the cafe stops operating and the group breaks up for a while.
In a group once again the composition changes, and in 1993 she records one of the most recognizable albums - “Dog Nonsense”, with which “Mongol Shuudan” successfully tours Europe, and on the same platform with such teams as “The Exploited” and “”.
After the release of the next album in 1994, the group again updated its lineup: Alexander Rikonvald was invited as a guitarist, and Vladimir Dyagel was invited to play drums. The group existed in this composition for 8 years. Together they record 3 albums and several collections, the latest of which was the album “Good Riddance.”
Everything was very simple. We stood at the bus stop, next to it there was a kiosk “Soyuzpechat”, there were stamps in it, such beautiful ones, “Mongol Shuudan”, “Mongolian Post” means. Just a matter of chance and no Mongolian roots.
Valery Skoroded
The musicians themselves define the direction as “anarcho-rock”. The genre of the group's various songs can be defined as punk, ska-punk, punk-hardcore, hard and heavy, hard and roll, rhythm and blues rock, grunge, chanson and their hybrids. The main theme of the songs is the theme of the Civil War of 1918-1922. The group's early work was influenced by "DK", but "Mongol Shuudan" is a rather original group that has created its own corporate style - songs in the style of "Makhnovshchina", which is dominant in the group's work.
The group's first concert took place on April 1, 1989.
On the initiative of the group's bass guitarist Alexei Polyakov, in 1992 Mongol Shuudan opened the first rock cafe in Moscow, Otradnoye. However, the cafe (also called "Burp") did not last long. One day, before a performance, Alexey Polyakov, who also served as director, dies from a knife wound, after which the cafe stops operating and the group breaks up for a while.
The group once again changes its composition, and in 1993 it records one of the most recognizable albums - “Dog Nonsense", with which “Mongol Shuudan” successfully tours Europe, and on the same platform with such teams as “The Exploited” and “ "
However, remaining true to the theme of anarchism, a year later the group released the album “Property is theft.”
In December 2011, the group released a new album, “Natural Selection,” which included 16 completely new compositions.
Number albums
Live albums
Singles
Collections
Musicians who played in the Mongol Shuudan group from 1988 to 2014:
Guitar
Bass guitar
Drums
Saxophone
Keyboards
Other tools
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Near the village of Pratsa, Rostov was ordered to look for Kutuzov and the sovereign. But here not only were they not there, but there was not a single commander, but there were heterogeneous crowds of frustrated troops.
He urged his already tired horse to get through these crowds as quickly as possible, but the further he moved, the more upset the crowds became. By high road The area where he drove out was crowded with carriages, carriages of all kinds, Russian and Austrian soldiers, of all branches of the military, wounded and unwounded. All this hummed and swarmed in a mixed manner to the gloomy sound of flying cannonballs from the French batteries placed on the Pratsen Heights.
- Where is the sovereign? where is Kutuzov? - Rostov asked everyone he could stop, and could not get an answer from anyone.
Finally, grabbing the soldier by the collar, he forced him to answer himself.
- Eh! Brother! Everyone has been there for a long time, they have fled ahead! - the soldier said to Rostov, laughing at something and breaking free.
Leaving this soldier, who was obviously drunk, Rostov stopped the horse of the orderly or the guard of an important person and began to question him. The orderly announced to Rostov that an hour ago the sovereign had been driven at full speed in a carriage along this very road, and that the sovereign was dangerously wounded.
“It can’t be,” said Rostov, “that’s right, someone else.”
“I saw it myself,” said the orderly with a self-confident grin. “It’s time for me to know the sovereign: it seems like how many times I’ve seen something like this in St. Petersburg.” A pale, very pale man sits in a carriage. As soon as the four blacks let loose, my fathers, he thundered past us: it’s time, it seems, to know both the royal horses and Ilya Ivanovich; It seems that the coachman does not ride with anyone else like the Tsar.
Rostov let his horse go and wanted to ride on. A wounded officer walking past turned to him.
-Who do you want? – asked the officer. - Commander-in-Chief? So he was killed by a cannonball, killed in the chest by our regiment.
“Not killed, wounded,” another officer corrected.
- Who? Kutuzov? - asked Rostov.
- Not Kutuzov, but whatever you call him - well, it’s all the same, there aren’t many alive left. Go over there, to that village, all the authorities have gathered there,” said this officer, pointing to the village of Gostieradek, and walked past.
Rostov rode at a pace, not knowing why or to whom he would go now. The Emperor is wounded, the battle is lost. It was impossible not to believe it now. Rostov drove in the direction that was shown to him and in which a tower and a church could be seen in the distance. What was his hurry? What could he now say to the sovereign or Kutuzov, even if they were alive and not wounded?
“Go this way, your honor, and here they will kill you,” the soldier shouted to him. - They'll kill you here!
- ABOUT! what are you saying? said another. -Where will he go? It's closer here.
Rostov thought about it and drove exactly in the direction where he was told that he would be killed.
“Now it doesn’t matter: if the sovereign is wounded, should I really take care of myself?” he thought. He entered the area where most of the people fleeing from Pratsen died. The French had not yet occupied this place, and the Russians, those who were alive or wounded, had long abandoned it. On the field, like heaps of good arable land, lay ten people, fifteen killed and wounded on every tithe of space. The wounded crawled down in twos and threes together, and one could hear their unpleasant, sometimes feigned, as it seemed to Rostov, screams and moans. Rostov started to trot his horse so as not to see all these suffering people, and he became scared. He feared not for his life, but for the courage that he needed and which, he knew, would not withstand the sight of these unfortunates.
The French, who stopped shooting at this field strewn with the dead and wounded, because there was no one alive on it, saw the adjutant riding along it, aimed a gun at him and threw several cannonballs. The feeling of these whistling, terrible sounds and the surrounding dead people merged for Rostov into one impression of horror and self-pity. He remembered last letter mother. “What would she feel,” he thought, “if she saw me now here, on this field and with guns pointed at me.”
In the village of Gostieradeke there were Russian troops, although confused, but in greater order, walking away from the battlefield. The French cannonballs could no longer reach here, and the sounds of firing seemed distant. Here everyone already saw clearly and said that the battle was lost. To whomever Rostov turned, no one could tell him where the sovereign was, or where Kutuzov was. Some said that the rumor about the sovereign’s wound was true, others said that it was not, and explained this false rumor that had spread by the fact that, indeed, the pale and frightened Chief Marshal Count Tolstoy galloped back from the battlefield in the sovereign’s carriage, who rode out with others in the emperor’s retinue on the battlefield. One officer told Rostov that beyond the village, to the left, he saw someone from the higher authorities, and Rostov went there, no longer hoping to find anyone, but only to clear his conscience before himself. Having traveled about three miles and having passed the last Russian troops, near a vegetable garden dug in by a ditch, Rostov saw two horsemen standing opposite the ditch. One, with a white plume on his hat, seemed familiar to Rostov for some reason; another, unfamiliar rider, on a beautiful red horse (this horse seemed familiar to Rostov) rode up to the ditch, pushed the horse with his spurs and, releasing the reins, easily jumped over the ditch in the garden. Only the earth crumbled from the embankment from the horse’s hind hooves. Turning his horse sharply, he again jumped back over the ditch and respectfully addressed the rider with the white plume, apparently inviting him to do the same. The horseman, whose figure seemed familiar to Rostov and for some reason involuntarily attracted his attention, made a negative gesture with his head and hand, and by this gesture Rostov instantly recognized his lamented, adored sovereign.
“But it couldn’t be him, alone in the middle of this empty field,” thought Rostov. At this time, Alexander turned his head, and Rostov saw his favorite features so vividly etched in his memory. The Emperor was pale, his cheeks were sunken and his eyes sunken; but there was even more charm and meekness in his features. Rostov was happy, convinced that the rumor about the sovereign’s wound was unfair. He was happy that he saw him. He knew that he could, even had to, directly turn to him and convey what he was ordered to convey from Dolgorukov.
But just as a young man in love trembles and faints, not daring to say what he dreams of at night, and looks around in fear, looking for help or the possibility of delay and escape, when the desired moment has come and he stands alone with her, so Rostov now, having achieved that , what he wanted more than anything in the world, did not know how to approach the sovereign, and thousands of reasons presented themselves to him why this was inconvenient, indecent and impossible.
"How! I seem to be glad to take advantage of the fact that he is alone and despondent. An unknown face may seem unpleasant and difficult to him at this moment of sadness; Then what can I tell him now, when just looking at him my heart skips a beat and my mouth goes dry?” Not one of those countless speeches that he, addressing the sovereign, composed in his imagination, came to his mind now. Those speeches were for the most part held under completely different conditions, they were spoken for the most part at the moment of victories and triumphs and mainly on his deathbed from his wounds, while the sovereign thanked him for his heroic deeds, and he, dying, expressed his love confirmed in practice my.