023 – I Saw Here Standing There – Natasha


Original Version: Recorded February 11, 1963
Ukulele Version: Recorded December 1 2011

Written by Paul McCartney
Credited to Lennon/McCartney

Natasha: Vocals
Mike Leslie : Ukulele
David Barratt: Marching Robot Army

Produced by David Barratt Abattoir Of Good Taste, Brooklyn.

Natasha is a classically trained singer-songwriter born in Ukraine. Her first recording, "This Is Autumn" was released on tape when she was 15 years old, followed by the appearance on "The Morning Star" in Moscow – Russian answer to "Star Search". In 1996, her family moved to New York where she joined the rock band, Waterwalls. In the year 2000, she formed the electronic rock band, Discrete Encounter, and together with Russian composer Taras Mashtalir, recorded three albums. She also collaborated and released two singles with veteran DJ Reade Truth. Besides, she is a poet, a model, and, occasionally, a news anchor for the Russian television network NTV America. She is also the cover model for the new Devo album "Something For Everybody", and she studies acting at The Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute. 

This is one of her poems

Написан последний абзац,
Глаза уже больше не видят
Безобразия. Без – компромисс.
Здесь то любят, то ненавидят,
То смеются над нашим "дай",
То уродуют наши снимки.
Не обманывай. Не болтай.
Мы – не люди. Мы – невидимки.
Всё стремимся найти покой
Там, где дьявол котёл готовит. 
Когда снег превратится в соль,
Когда грязь повернётся в поле,
Когда луч обезвожит свет,
А вода обласкает тело
Мы вернёмся сюда на нет.
И закажем святое дело.

(Декабрь ’08, Питтсбург)

When the last door is shot
In the desert the last stream of rain
Is stopped I’ll be quiet
For only those who say they know 
Can compete with the dead
When the last snow turns black
The sidewalk will stay wet for a while
I’ll be kind to all who sleep
My apartment is always empty
No one comes and no one goes
When the last window is closed
Underwater the last fish completes
Its swimming pattern you will give me both
Of your hands and one of your smiles
Who is that behind my back? 
He always talks and talks and talks
I can’t distinguish the words
But I can arrange the sounds
Into equal portions of good and bad
When the last dinner is served
The old version of me will disappear
The last version of myself


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