America Needs a Shaman

​Words. Boy, did I have some for you. I scripted this article out with an intro which I decided to scrap for reasons. Those sharp literary blades are still in the hopper if needed. Instead, today I give you the following musical comparison, which should essentially make most of my original points in a less rhetorically-taxing fashion. It’s music, so it should be fun. Rather, I hope the first tune depresses and/or enrages you. The second is very upbeat and uplifting. It is my high hope that something causes the all-too-real message of the first to give way to the joy and empowerment of the second. Let’s get this underway, shall we?

The first song is an English translation of a French-Canadian ditty that someone forwarded to me. To the extent possible, please enjoy “Dégénérations” as performed by David Mathewes:

​Well now, your great great grandmum, she had fourteen kids to raise.
And then your great grandmum nearly followed in her ways.
Then your grandmother had three and decided to prevent.
And your mom had just the one - and she was an accident.

As for you, little girl, a different partner every night.
And if anything goes wrong, you go to town and put it right.
But in the silent morning, you can almost hear the sound
Of a big kitchen table, all the children gathered round.

This tune is wonderfully melodious yet very depressing. It’s depressing because what it describes is real and true. This is the short story of the collapse of generations and a people. Our people. Almost the entirety of post-modern life is dedicated to whittling us down from large, happy families to sitting alone in boxes. All of it is and was a malicious set of lies, a purposeful plan to reduce us to nothing. And even today, if one listens, the liars and fools repeat the mantras of ease, freedom, and pleasure, all of which end up looking like misery, slavery, and death. 

Deep in the lyrics, the subject young man is encouraged to “fight the temptation to commit armed robbery” as he grapples with his hopeless existence. Given the mass gravity of the situation, and given that it is the product of a war against our people, I suggest that the temptation might rightly drift towards a more lethal crime. I also suggest if well-directed, yielding to such temptation might be more of a necessity than a crime. 

As aside to our wicked enemies: When, if ever, it comes, know that you earned it. 

Just as the enemy keeps pouring gasoline on our raging national inferno, so too do so many of us still pretend we’re living in a bygone era where the lies still appear at least somewhat plausible. I have my year and you likely have yours. If any Americans want to step out of 1982, 1859, or 1054 and enter the current year with an eye for survival, then we have to do a little better in recapturing our lapsed spirit and sense of identity. Other societies not so dissimilar from our own offer glimpses of what that might look like. Scott Ritter visited Russia this year and came home telling and bragging about the palpable presence of the Russian identity. Russia is still run by and for Russians. Therefore, the whole of Russian culture acts as a perpetual promotion of the Russian nation. Our road is harder, as America is run by and for satanists who actively hate, suppress, and exterminate the American nation. Our fight will be ours largely alone. Still, we may find fun in the fighting, especially if we dare do things like regain the lost popular culture. Here comes the fun song!

Until the other day, I had never heard of Russian pop-rock singer Yaroslav Dronov by his given name. I had heard, very briefly here and there, of his extremely popular stage persona, Shaman. Heretofore, I had stupidly written him off as the Russian Justin Bieber. He’s not and I made a mistake. Correcting my mistake has proven somewhat pleasant and a little addictive. Please watch this recent live performance of Shaman’s “I Am RUSSIAN” and/or read the translated English lyrics below:
​​

"I am RUSSIAN" 
(English lyrics mechanically translated via Yandex, with micro-tinkering by Perrin:)

I breathe in this air.
The sun in the sky is looking at me.
A free wind is flying over me.
It's the same as me.

And I just want to love and breathe.
And I don't need anything else.
The way it is, and you can't break me.
And all because,

I'm Russian, I'm going to the end.
I am Russian, my blood is from my father, heh-heh.
I am Russian, and I am lucky.
I am Russian, to spite the whole world.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

I am Russian!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
This song flies into Heaven,
And He calls me with Him.
And my heart is burning in me,
Lighting the way home.

Where you just want to love and breathe,
And I don't need anything else.
That's the way I am, and you can't break me.
And all because,

I'm Russian, I'm going to the end.
I am Russian, my blood is from my father, heh-heh.
I am Russian, and I am lucky.
I am Russian, to spite the whole world.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

I am Russian!
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

I'm Russian, I'm going to the end.
I am Russian, my blood is from my father.
I am Russian, and I am lucky.
I am Russian, to spite the whole world.

I am Russian.

Musical tastes, of course, vary. I suspect for many that tune is one of the rare, catchy types that do not require an exact understanding of the words. It’s also somewhat of a testament to the lingering multi-lingual effects of all that is the Indo-European philologic tradition, because one can if one tries, detect certain similarities (e.g., “я русский”, sung “J’ah” or “Ya” “Rooskie” comes almost cleanly across the mind as what it is, “I’m Russian”). When the words are understood, they are powerful! The song is a short defense and celebration of what it means to be a proud living Russian. To a lesser contemporary extent, it is also a hard slap right in the face to the anti-Russian forces of Clown World. “[t]o spite the whole world” means to spite those who would enslave and destroy Russia. 

Notice anything about the video? Specifically about the crowd? That’s what young Russia looks like. That is the demographic composition of about 90% of the whole Federation, and closer to 99% of the population west of the Urals in the “European” Republics and Oblasts. Compare that, if one dares, to wherever one lives in the former United States. Then, keep the comparison going.

American boys and girls, at an alarming rate, don’t even know whether they’re boys or girls. Many of their idiot elders won’t tell them for fear of being called bad names. I doubt anyone in Shaman’s audience has that problem. Young Americans are told to hate their people, their history, and themselves. Young Americans are told their country was founded on the (fake) “sins” of racism, slavery, and White supremacy. Young Americans, a vanishing breed, are told to be homosexual deviants, to never have children, and to kill any children that do come along. Young Americans are essentially enslaved, early in life, to various classes of people, large and small, weak and powerful, who hate them. Young Americans will be saddled with onerous usurious fake debt before taking on more fake usurious debt. They will work for less than Depression-era wages. They will not own homes. They will not get married, or have children. 

Young Russians like the ones in the video are born into an ancient culture still willing and able to violently defend itself. They will emerge into that culture free and clear to navigate. They will find plentiful jobs in the booming west of the country, and free land in the booming east. They will marry each other and produce future generations. Russian governments, industries, and institutions are run, again, by and for Russians. They promote the existence of their people. Russian women work to build families. Russian men kill to defend it all. Russia, uber alles, to spite the whole world if necessary. The one scenario is worth singing about. 

Americans once had something like that. Something worth loving, living in, preserving, and defending. Political and physical control of that great space between Mexico and Canada has been lost (past tense) by Americans. The question now is whether enough of them want to preserve some remnant of what was lost. For my part, I think that’d be a fine idea, and about the only one worth entertaining. How about we do it? Let’s spite the whole world - especially our weak, demented, lecherous little overlords.

Third song! I’ll close out with a micro music minute. Think you know Rick Astley? Here’s his “Never Gonna Give You Up” as covered on a Casio electronic piano by Russia’s outstanding and lovely Gamazda (Alexandra Kuznetsova), pronounced: “Gah-Maz-Dah!”:

Deo Vindice!

This piece was originally published at Perrin Lovett on July 26, 2023.