Saturation Fest Zine (2013)

     

    Moments before the rest of our music partners arrive to our little rehearsal shack, Renata and I playfully harmonize together, laughing at silly songs we've heard on the radio. We've known each other so long that we are almost the same person. Many people forget who they are and who they used to be, but our every form of art is influenced by our memories and where we came from. Our harmonies have come from the hidden harmonies buried deep under the blankets of our childhood recollections. We both hold on dearly to our young summers in the countryside of Russia. We lived close to our mothers' uncle during the summertime. It was about an hour long walk on a dusty old road surrounded by acres and acres of linen fields. Along the way we would pass a frightening cemetery, a forest, and a giant sand pit with red dirt. By the time we reached the house, we were always covered in dust, tired and hungry. This would call for a refreshing dip in the nearby lake or a cup of tea by the window. On some occasions though, our cousin "Renat" would pull out his guitar and sing songs that he wrote, while we all gathered around the couch to listen. Afterwards, he would teach Renata and I a folk song or two and we would sing along while he sang a background harmony. We didn't know that these songs would instill in us a love and appreciation for music that was soon to disappear into the time of lost generations and history. We would all get up as a family to make our long walk to the forest to find the delicious meal of the day- mushrooms of all colors, shapes, and sizes. The prettiest ones were the ones we weren't allowed to touch. Walking through the tall linen fields, we would almost get separated from one another. The tall grasses rose over our heads. I couldn't see Renata, but I could hear her asking her mom a question, and my mom singing as she walked in front of me. Once we entered the forest, there was always a cool breeze and a quiet calm, as if we were the only ones there. We would all hum the songs as we put our freshly picked mushrooms in our baskets. Some of the pine trees were like giant church bells and we would climb underneath them to hide. I'll always remember the different sounds we've collected over the years that awaken small, forgotten memories. The sound of a branch breaking, traveling past every leaf, bouncing off the bark and into our ears. Someone singing a familiar song, as if from afar, and us not being able to make it out completely. It's these little things that influence a memory and a song. Walking back home, everything we passed became familiar. The linen fields and dirt road turned into a melody, the footsteps added to the rhythm. All the things we touched, all the places we went, and everyone we saw asked to be a part of a memory. When the evening became weary, we would lie down with it to go to sleep. As our grandma brushed our hair, she sang the things on her mind and we slowly drifted into a long, calm world of sleep, dreaming dreams of everything we would remember. As my eyes open now, I write down everything I can remember and try to share the story in a song.

    Lost Pants

    In the year 2006, I set out on a journey to reach the top of my favorite natural rock formation- Half Dome. These swooshie black pants were my favorite pants because I could wear shorts underneath them, they were light, and they kept me very snuggled and warm. When I left early in the morning to start the hike to Half Dome, it was pretty chilly, so I put on some shorts and put my pants on top. Around 10am the sun showed its face and it begin to get really really hot. I decided to take my pants off and hide them off trail in the bushes somewhere so that I could grab them on the way back down. Well, everything in our back pack was starting to get pretty heavy so we started leaving random extra flashlights under rocks all along the trail to get them on the way back. We reached the top. It was breathtaking and is still the most amazing and beautiful sight I've ever seen. I remember that we took our sweeeeet time coming back down and the sun had completely set. I met a bunch of people along the way and they gave us food cause we were hungry 15 year olds that didn't bring enough. It was dark and we didn't make out anyone's face, but the group we were with called themselves "The Pillow Pack". They traveled all over the world, hiking and only bringing a pillow. They helped us find all our missing items that we left all the way up the trail-all, except my beloved pants. I tried with all my might to find them, but I had to let them go because it was getting late (and I didn't wanna look like a crying fool over a pair of pants). The next day we drove back to Riverside. The next few months I had dreams of Half Dome. The dreams included a little section on the right side of the dome where a secret society lived. I had dreams of my pants being cold out in the wilderness somewhere, and dreams of them being ripped up to be used as carrying packs for the secret society, so I vowed to the moon and stars that I will find them. My chance came when my parents were taking a trip to San Francisco 8 months later and decided to make a little stop while going through Yosemite. I came along with the sole purpose of reuniting with my long lost pants. My mama reminded me that autumn had come and gone, and winter has already made its mark and the ice had just begun melting. She told me that my pants probably got buried even deeper into the ground and I will most likely never find them. But parents never believe in you anyway so what's new? I begged them to give me one hour so they did. It was freezing, there was bits of snow everywhere and all around, and the trail up Vernal Falls was very slippery but I went as fast as I could to reach the vicinity of where my pants where resting. When I got to the V shaped rock to the right, I climbed on top of it and continued to make my way through the forest to the area where I thought I had left them. Through the mud, bark, pine needles and snow, I found nothing. My heart was broken. I came all this way to rescue my beloved pants and they weren't there. All the memories started running through my empty and shattered heart, making me bleed sadness on the inside, knowing I will never feel the same way about any pair of pants again. Suddenly, as I hung my head in disappointment and impending grief , BEHOLD! There were my pants- torn, abused by the harsh conditions, but shining like the pot at the end of the rainbow!! I grabbed them and together we danced around in circles, with me singing that I would never betray them again. I came home satisfied, feeling like Prince Charming who saved his princess. Now, here I am, 10 years later, about to take them back to Yosemite tomorrow, where the love affair all began!

    The People We Encounter (Part 1 of many)

    It was a sunny, end of summer Saturday morning, way earlier than we were used to waking up. We met at our usual meeting place, got ready, and started our ritual of whining about needing tea. Al was lecturing us about how getting up early is refreshing and how he does it all the time. We had two shows that day. The first show was in a huge park in our hometown. We had been booked to play this almost seven months in advance and had nearly forgotten about it until a couple of nights before. Our arrival and set up time was 10am, a barbaric time of day that I never see because I am not- and will never be- a morning person. We set up our instruments and waited. Somebody brought us coffee and through the morning haze, I don't remember who that person was- but thank you. The festival we were playing was an annual celebration of being drug and alcohol free. It was to encourage people who are living in sobriety, and to educate their friends and family. The stage was set up far away from where the festivities were and the sun was beating down on the stage. We played our set and were greeted by a lot of passerby's and usuals who came to our hometown shows.

     

    One man came to us and introduced himself. For the sake of privacy, let's call him "Steve." Steve told us he loved our work and that he's happy we are supporting him at this festival. We felt good and noble playing there.  Playing for a charity event, especially one that supports being alcohol and drug free makes you feel really good... until you have to go play your next show that day, which in our ironic case, was a Beer Brewing festival for all the breweries in the Inland Empire. On our way to our cars, a giant group of teenage kids ran to us asking if we've already played. We said that we did already, and they looked really upset. They told us they drove all the way from orange county to see us and missed it (probably because of 91 traffic). We decided to do a little acoustic show on the grass for them. We played all the songs they requested and they took videos of us and listened so intently. We said our goodbyes and see you laters, and then went off to get tacos.

     

    We arrived at our next show which was at a hangar with airplanes all around. We took a walk, took some pictures, got some cups and started tasting all the different beers. When it was time for us to play, the wind started picking up and there were a lot of alien noises coming through the microphone because of the wind. We played a more upbeat set than the slow, sorrowful morning set we played earlier that day. Some people were dancing and some were eating. After our show, we started packing up our stuff and looking forward to tasting more beers from the brewing companies. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and guess who it was. STEVE! We said  "Steve! What are you doing here?? Weren't you just at the-" And the liquored up Steve interrupted to say "Can I get a picture with you guys?" We agreed to the picture and when we looked back at the photo on his phone, we noticed that he had the biggest smile on his face.