Реаниматор

Remember back in 2015 when the laboratories in Ammonov University in Yakutsk, Siberia said they were planning on cloning the woolly mammoth? Apparently they were only following up on their work in the Gorbachev perestroika era, more or less successful, in cloning all the members of Brian Johnson-era AC/DC and then releasing them into the wild in the dive bars of Leningrad under the name of Скорая Помощь (First Aid). Evidently, they would successfully repeat this experiment in the Yeltsin era in Växjö, which is how we wound up with Bullet.

Now, I don’t really want to rag on the metalheads who were taking a great number of legal and political risks by importing rock and roll into the Soviet Union, still less the bands of the perestroika era who were taking even greater risks. I know that First Aid together with their fellow bands like Aria, Master, Black Coffee, August and so on were instrumental in keeping the torch alive and giving the heshers of those times a local place to fly the metal flag. And there’s no question that First Aid have some talented musicians. The problem on Reanimator is that there is a massive mismatch between their talent on the one side, and their originality on the other.

First Aid weren’t alone among the Soviet bands in committing to a certain degree of hero-worship, let’s be fair. Aria’s second album, Whom Are You With?, opened them to the charge of being an Iron Maiden clone, for example—a charge which even today they haven’t really shaken off. Their first album Megalomania had an entirely original sound, though, and their subsequent albums starting with Heroes of the Asphalt gradually reasserting that independent identity. Likewise, Soviet-era veterans Hellraiser and Iron Stream still haven’t shaken off the reputation they have (justly or not) for being Metallica clones… and Stormspell didn’t do Iron Stream any favours in that direction with their marketing campaign, either.

But there’s only so much slack I can cut First Aid on here. The stuff that Master was putting out in the early 90s (Maniac Party) was – despite its faults – fresh, original, responding to reality and life. But this album seems to be stuck in their late-Soviet AC/DC-worship mode despite the wild political shenanigans going on in Moscow at the time. It doesn’t help that vocalist Valerii Andreev really does sound like a wailing Brian Johnson clone with a bit of Udo Dirkschneider’s mug added for extra charm, or that the riffs all sound like they came off of For Those About to Rock.

Lyrically as well, these guys seem to be on the ropes, poor bastards. The album was a songwriting collaboration of both guitarists and the bassist… oy vey. And so the themes are all: women-who-done-me-wrong, rebelling against authority (except the unquestionables), being an individual, not caring what everyone else thinks, I just want to rock, ‘come on, baby, come on!’ (seriously?). And if you’re titling your tracks things like ‘Rock ‘N’ Roll’ and ‘Heavy Metal Men’ – more than one of those to an album – that’s an indication that you’re starting to run out of steam. And then the direct shout-outs to Motörhead, Deep Purple, Accept and Metallica on ‘My Neighbour’ start to reek slightly of desperation.

Still, it’s competent. The tunes are catchy. Musicianship is unexceptionable for the style of hard rock they’ve chosen to play. One only wishes that they had more to say with the talent they have. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to crack open another Foster’s and listen to the original ‘Highway to Hell’, ‘Thunderstruck’ and ‘Back in Black’…

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