[Gramophone intro, needle drop, vinyl crackle, mechanical gramophone noise] The old gramophone is still playing [vinyl hiss, mono texture] Dancing to the records I carry my old electrophone [vintage radio vocal, band-limited, AM radio effect] It holds memories, it holds the power of nostalgia The power of nostalgia? [spoken, playful pause, vinyl crackle swell] This is a party for five hundred people in Kazakhstan We’re not going to host it in a restaurant, are we? Of course not [light swing groove kicks in] We’ll set it up in Szydzik’s yard You know him — he lives in Karaganda Where? Where? In Karaganda? [call-and-response, eastern female vocal chant “ah–ya”, background] We’re on the Urals, and with whom and where… Even in my own yard [vinyl backspin accent] Turn on the gramophone for the kids And the melody purrs on the gramophone [clarinet + muted trumpet, vinyl surface noise] Whether in Kazakhstan or the Urals Or on Aunt Zina’s balcony I decided to take the gramophone down from the top shelf [suspense stop, needle scratch] And it turned out… it was a gramophone! I send a call to my friends [spoken swing phrasing] Give me a record at seventy-eight revolutions Phew… spins I want to listen to ABBA — “Money, Money” [short eastern chant “oh–oh”, rhythmic] So that money flows into my pocket Skyscrapers, skyscrapers [radio vocal returns, mono] And I am so small Play the record for me So I lose my peace How naïve was the fairy tale [vocal softens, vinyl hiss fades up] A song about a blue, poor dog “Blue, blue — we don’t want to play with you” Mmm… And in the musical, which wasn’t even called that [theatrical swing hit] There was a little blue dog And he wasn’t embarrassed The record doesn’t scratch [vinyl texture emphasized, warm analog tone] It accumulates tango patterns Like a vintage hard drive The miracle is not that the record is intact [groove drops to minimal, vinyl only] The miracle is that we haven’t broken the gramophone yet While trying to turn up the volume What is a gramophone? [young male voice imitation via female narrator, playful] Ladies and gentlemen, do you even know my age? Shouted some boy [modern beat subtly appears] About twenty years old Said he only knows codecs, Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, and MP3 Boy, take the record-postcard [clean vocal, wide stereo] Listen, shed a tear, And hand over your MP3 Yes, there were such flexible disks [vinyl crackle blends with digital glitch] On which non-artists recorded their voices For progress does not stop It moves forward From gramophone records To neural networks and digital notes Thanks to digital notes [ female vocal profanity layered, hypnotic] [vinyl scratches, broken VHS] Now both you and I Lay our poems onto music And we happily show it [full neo-swing groove returns] To the whole world Not just in Szydzik’s yard In a world where everything leans toward autotune [vinyl crackle alone, no beat] Remaining slightly scratched But an original record — That’s almost rebellion Yet the needle doesn’t lie [final needle drop, vinyl hiss fades out] And it stings just right [Outro: gramophone slowing down, vinyl crackle, mechanical stop]
