Back to Dustar with their 1983 fusionary outpouring Carousel [with a lossless]

On the strength of the previous posting in these pages, Black River, I bought this one with not a little trepidation since the experience of purchasing from anywhere in the former (and future) Soviet Union can be somewhat chilling, comrades-- actually I swore I would never buy a record from the country of Russia itself, but I had to relent, finding that Russian records are one of the very few things you can only find in Russia...  And let me add that I also will never buy a record from Mexico after getting badly ripped off with those Batiz LPs I posted earlier, to the point of having to use a paypal complaint that dragged on for months to get my money refunded.  I mean I have nothing against Mexicans, but I will never buy a record from one.  And I won't buy anything from Italy either, partly because everything is quadruple the 'normal price'-- their library records are treated like lost Renaissance paintings from Botticelli-- I guess people are getting sick of the quattrocento and they've moved on to the 1970s. Just like they charge twenty euros to walk into tiny churches which elsewhere in the world are perfectly free to walk into.  I guess the fact they elected a stand-up comic to head a political party says it all about how seriously they treat comedy.  (Of course that's nothing compared to the United States.)  And while I'm at it, I swore I would never return to France after experiencing the rudeness that every visitor is well aware of (as I've described in many previous posts) particularly the time we went to a toy store near the palais elysee and my young kids got screamed at for looking at some toys.  They're famous for their food?  Today, only if you happen to be a dog, whose bathroom privileges extend to every street-- the worst croissants and macarons I've ever had were in Paris.  There the cappucinos were so awful and expensive we were reduced to going to Starbucks for decent coffee, shamefully (which at least never happened in Italy).  In Spain, world-famous for its paella, I had not only the worst paella I've ever tasted, but I never had a good one.  National dish, you say?  Why don't you offer it (along with that over-rated manchego cheese and terrible dessicated iberian ham) to the space station astronauts in lieu of freeze-dried foods as a great scientific experiment, & see what they prefer.  Maybe they'll go for the Parisian croissants and coffee then, and then jump out the airlock for a spacewalk. Thank god for the US of A, where I had the best paella of my life, in Las Vegas (!), and where you are always guaranteed service with a smile and a handgun...

Anyways, after the rant the music, as George Santayana once said.  A pastiche of quotes from the stupid orchestral Star Wars theme song by Williams to the Layla riff plus others I can recognize but can't call up names for along with the customary slavic folk songs opens this set somewhat inauspiciously and the title of the first track presumably might translate as 'messed up'.  But don't worry, it gets better (otherwise I wouldn't have bothered to purchase this), very quickly, and by track A3 the introduction is just so lovely it's impossible for me to focus on anything else in my vicinity once I hear the synths pick up that nice fat melody atop very delicately layered electric guitar chords and a nice syncopated rhythm:





And I'll let you discover the other Soviet riches in here so far completely unknown to mankind-- sorry, humankind, but really mostly the male gender, on this LP... to paraphrase the great Putin's "Russia has the best prostitutes in the world:" they certainly have some of the best music in the world...