In the vast landscape of internet memes, few are as instantly recognizable and enduringly charming as the “Trololo Song.” This infectious vocalise, performed by Soviet singer Eduard Khil, unexpectedly took the internet by storm in 2010, decades after its original recording. But what’s the real story behind this wordless wonder? This article delves into the origins of the “Trololo song,” exploring its accidental journey from a Soviet TV program to global viral fame.
To understand the phenomenon, we turn to a revealing interview from 2010 featuring Eduard Khil himself, Mikhail Ostrovsky (son of the song’s composer, Arkady Ostrovsky), and music critic Artyom Troitsky. This discussion sheds light on the song’s unexpected evolution and its unlikely path to internet stardom.
The interviewer begins by acknowledging the song’s western internet fame, noting its alternative title, “I’m very glad that I’m finally returning home,” and its actual name, “Vocaliz.” She then poses the central question: why is this song a “vocalise,” lacking traditional lyrics?
Mikhail Ostrovsky steps in to share a personal anecdote. He recounts the close but sometimes fiery friendship between his father, Arkady Ostrovsky, and the poet Lev Ashanin. During one of their disagreements, in a moment of artistic defiance, Arkady declared he could create a song without any words. True to his word, he quickly composed “Vocaliz,” specifically intending it for Eduard Khil’s vocal talents.
However, the story takes a twist when the interviewer mentions another version, one involving an American cowboy and censored lyrics. Khil confirms this alternative narrative, and Mikhail elaborates. When the song was taken to recording director Silantyev, a staunch traditionalist, he questioned the very idea of a song without words. Insisting on lyrics, Silantyev brought in poet Vadim Semernin.
Semernin crafted lyrics about an American cowboy named John returning home to his Mary, who was knitting a stocking. But this version quickly hit a wall. During rehearsals for Silantyev, the director stopped them, exclaiming, “What John, what Mary? What country are you living in?!” He demanded lyrics that were “ours,” something relevant to Soviet life. Attempts to rewrite the lyrics with more “appropriate” themes proved unsuccessful.
Frustrated, Arkady Ostrovsky declared, “That’s it! No songs, no lyrics.” He decided the song would remain “Vocaliz,” simply titled “I’m very glad because I am finally returning home.” When Khil inquired about what to sing instead of lyrics, Ostrovsky’s solution was simple and ingenious: “You just make something up – like ‘A-a-ah’, ‘O-oh-oh’, ‘Ha-ha-ha’.” And thus, the iconic “Trololo” vocalise was born, seemingly out of creative compromise and a touch of rebellion against Soviet-era censorship.
Artyom Troitsky adds another layer to the song’s significance. He views the “Trololo song’s” internet resurgence as a restoration of artistic justice, recognizing the combined talent of Ostrovsky and Khil as a national and global treasure. He shares a personal perspective, recalling how, as a hippy in the 1960s and 70s, he and his peers generally shunned Soviet pop music. Eduard Khil, however, was a rare exception, earning their affection and respect. Troitsky attributes this to Khil’s exceptional, open, and understated voice, and surprisingly, to his slightly unconventional hairstyle, which resonated with their own rebellious image.
The interviewer concludes by affirming the perfect timing to finally hear the song, now famously known as “Vocaliz.” This interview reveals that the “Trololo song,” the internet phenomenon, wasn’t originally intended to be a wordless piece. It was a product of creative clashes, lyrical limitations, and ultimately, a spontaneous decision that transformed a simple song into a global earworm, proving that sometimes, the most unexpected paths lead to the most enduring fame.
