Agata Vilchik & ECHO OF THE SECOND SUN

Report about the performance of Agata Vilchik’s band “Echo of the second sun” on the third international music festival Detali Zvuku Kyiv, 2007:

http://www.indie.kiev.ua/review12.html - http://www.indie.kiev.ua/index.html

http://agatavilchik.com.ua/press.php?show=5&lan=eng - Oleg Martynov

Chief editor scrutinized me, then he tapped on absent watch on his hand.

- Well, where is the promised account of Agata Vilchik concert tour in Moscow? Where is the interview? Where are the photographs, for God's sake?

- Nowhere, - I could only shrug my shoulders.

- What do you mean "nowhere"? It should have been here yesterday!

The editor looked like a mountain that crushed Mohammed.

- Nowhere and will never be. You can fire me.

- Are you crazy? And who is going to do your work for you? You should have told me a week ago? What shall I put into this issue?

- Just write some usual rubbish about Russian rock. It is fashionable again, - I shrugged my shoulders. - By the way, here's the money.

A five hundred rouble note lied down between us. Editor rubbed his eyes.

- You did not even visit the concert? You spat upon your job...

- Visited, - I interrupted him.

- So what? Are you a journalist or a vegetable?

- If I did not visit, I would have invented something. By the way, do you hire vegetables?

Mobile phone has one very peculiar property - it rings when you don't wait for any call. I'd just left the editor's office, casting a last glance on the "Wrath List" that was where the editor's door plate should have been, and there it was. It was Masha.

- Pasha, why did you give me that disk? - she started without expressing any sympathy.

- Well, perhaps, because I wanted you to be fired from the University, - I paid back.

- No, be serious. Why did you give me that disk?

- Are you speaking about Agata Vilchik? How did you find her?

- I cried through the night. Listening to "Tenderness" and the one with Tsvetayeva lyrics.

- I believe you. And she killed a journalist in me.

- Why did you give me that disk? I cannot hear it any more...

It looked like Masha could not hear me too. A couple of minutes later I managed to tell her what had happened.

- I want to visit her concert! - immediately claimed my interlocutress.

- Only in Kharkov now. Maybe, you want to write a disk review? You can write for the most advanced musical magazine in vicinity instead of me...

- Take a break. What review? Am I a reviewer or what?

- No you are not. Which means - you can do well.

Not getting what she wanted, Masha cut off without saying goodbye. And late at night this letter never arrived to my e-mail address:




It starts with smooth immersion into an unusual and undeveloped world. You are pulled out of the imaginary reality and transferred into the real one - the one, which is not seen and not heard. You are turned inside out and you feel that they are waiting - what happens to you next. There is only one question left - where does this voice come from?

You are waiting for the answer, but Agata does not respond to your stupid expectations. The second song gives birth to shamanism and sounds, broken rhythm and absence of meaning. Then you understand that you have to get everybody out and stay at home alone. You understand that there's no need to understand. Words are a lie and routine, odd means of expressing some sense. Any word is absurd, whatever language it is pronounced.

After the first shock you are waiting for the same, but - alas. Everything is such that does not exist. Feast your eye upon the musical picture. Stay still and try to imagine. You will fail.

Then try to feel. If you did not turn off this music and if you did not escape into your narcotic dullness.

Crying woman in a green room - it is you. The real one. When you cannot hide. Just take a microphone, press "record" and be real. Then we will see the real cost of your tears.

You will be frightened after that. And will not understand - why.

Agata will grant you a masterpiece you have never heard. It is called ... does not matter. It is about absence of time and about eternal "I would go and go". And, at last, you would believe her. And all your doubts would vanish in the abyss of illusions. And you will take the same train, take wing, and you will feel tenderness and quietness. You will dissolve in everything under sobbing and contrasts of "There's nothing left where there's no you".

Debris of reason will awake inside you under consolation of ear-drums. You will decide that it's too much for the first time and will continue. Since if you don't listen attentively to words - you won't understand, if you do - you will understand even less. And let the song continue for five, ten minutes - you sing with her: "I would listen and listen".

Then the words are mixed with your tongue and you will feel freedom. The same freedom that, perhaps, Agata experiences (I do not know, I did not ask, but feel it somehow), when she sings or some other might does it.

You do not care who is zalatabar and why he leaves, because what you did not expect happens in the last song about tenderness. You freeze at its first sounds, you want to ask her about what she asks you - what to do with this - Alexey Samoylov

http://agatavilchik.com.ua/press.php?show=3&lan=eng - Rada Anchevskaya (band Rada&Ternovnik. Moscow)

http://agatavilchik.com.ua/press.php?show=2&lan=eng - Yulia Gajvorunsaya Magazine “What? Where? When?” 2005

Korean doctors believed that a person, first of all, consists of sounds. Sometimes they even prescribed soft percussion over head - for resonance and overall health improvement. As for us, we live in a chaos of sounds and got used to it. We are used to waste words, speak about nothing and be suspicious of silent people.

When I met Agata Vilchik - she was a child. Silent child that inquisitively studied you with her penetrating eyes - if you were of interest for her, and never cast a glance if not. It was difficult to communicate with Agata, if one can call it communication. She was silent nearly all the time. Nobody could suppose then that she would sing. And how! She works in the style, which is usually called "Russian rock", however, I think that the borders are much wider here.

Nowadays Agata makes her records in the "NN Studio". I should confess, when she rips the strings and becomes breathless with her own voice, or, vice versa, builds with her voice shivering fragile vaults - I feel frost-bound. I heard people, frightened with this gust, saying "Theatrical!", but I know Agata for several years and (I hope) feel this person. Her voice comes from the very depth of her self and she sings with all the vigour of sincerity that God bestowed her upon. She sings with such a feeling, with such a tension that it seems that all her body should smart. And it also seems that she feels pain as it was painful for Andersen's mermaid to set foot on land. Agata does not know how to "just to sing", without tearing her soul and without putting her complete self into the voice. Each song is the last one.

Agata draws attention. Her talent was evaluated at various competitions and producers went crazy about her. However Agata herself does not understand why coins should start jingling when you throw your heart to people. That is why, peering into the world with her sad eyes she, most of the time, keeps silence.

- "NN Studio"

http://www.rock.sumy.ua/home/read/88/#comments - http://www.rock.sumy.ua/