Who Knows?

wkLast night, the peaceful icefloes (i.e. sidewalks) of Ulitsa Kazanskaya were disrupted by a two-hour burst of sonic sunshine from within Club Sochi, thanks to Moscow reggae-rap-rock-ska group W.K.?, a.k.a. Who Knows?.

Normally I disdain such mixed-genre labeling, which reminds me of how snobbish foreign languages rename technology; why do Finns feel the need to call a computer an “electronic thinking machine,” rather than just coopting the English word?  But in this case, the group truly earned such a lofty categorization with its eclectic style.

I also normally avoid anything having to do with “rap-rock,” but W.K.? fleshes out any lapses into rote Limp Bizkit-esque yell-alongs with a horn section and DJ/synths man.  And their rhythm section was as tight as the Barrett Brothers.

Speaking of which, I was sorrily disappointed that I didn’t get to hear a Russian-accented Bob Marley cover, as trite as that is.  I mean, after someone sang a line from “No Woman No Cry” at the beginning of a similarly flavored W.K.? reggae anthem, I was expecting something more.  And after I noticed that the bass player was wearing a Wailers tank-top, I found myself really jonesing for some Tuff Gong.

P.S.  A singing telegram for the swarms of bouncers that are throwing shade everytime I find myself at Sochi:  La-la-la, go to hell, la-la-la-la-la …  I mean, you’re guarding a hippie club, not a nuclear silo.  Come to think of it, you’d be a lot more needed at some aging Soviet missile base, keeping nukes out of the hands of terrorists.

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