Brighton Beach's Russian Accent

Velour Material Russian emigres have been a Brighton Beach fixture ever since theSoviet Union opened its doors in the late 1980s. And every weekend,the Brooklyn neighborhood's restaurants and nightclubs are full ofmusic that's hard to find anywhere else. Daniela Gerson paid avisit to the oceanfront community, and sat down with one long-timefixture, singer and composer Victoria Lisina. Victoria Lisina sits alone at Primorski's Restaurant in BrightonBeach. As Saturday afternoon turns into evening, diners chat inRussian and feast on platters of meat dumplings and pickledveggies. This Brooklyn enclave is home to immigrants from acrossthe former Soviet Union, and Victoria knows songs to please themall. Victoria looks like the diva she is --- she wears stretch pantsthat cling to her rather voluptuous body, a red velour top, and ahomemade fox-fur and Velcro headband. The 52-year-old singer closesher eyes and sings a sweet ode to Leningrad and childhood friendsfrom the Communist Youth Group. Victoria's songs are pure nostalgia. Her own memories of growing upin Kharkiv, Ukraine's second largest city, are more complicated.She was a successful musician conducting a popular classical andjazz orchestra that performed in movie theaters. But she couldnever feel completely secure -- Victoria is Jewish, and in the1980s anti-Semitism in Ukraine was widespread. Her son was beatenup in school for being Jewish, and even members of her ownorchestra refused to play for a group of visiting Israelidignitaries. "In Ukraine, in Soviet Union, in Russia -- all the time wehave danger, from the beginning of the state. This is true. All thetime we felt that we were not a citizen of that country," shesays. "All the time strangers." So when the Soviet empire began to crumble, Victoria and her familyfinally had the chance to leave. She dreamed of making music in theland of her favorite singer, Ella Fitzgerald. Victoria also plannedto sell her compositions to Broadway musicians. But she quicklyfound that none of her accomplishments in Kharkiv were worth muchon 42nd Street. "And I realized that I have to be in different situation, tochange the profession maybe to survive and I was crying half ayear," she says. Victoria made her way to Brighton Beach andfound she could survive by singing in the neighborhood restaurantsand nightclubs. "This is special country. Country inside the country, BrightonBeach is Russian country." But it's Russia circa 1985. Djs in Moscow and Kiev spin the latesthip-hop and techno, but in Brighton Beach Soviet-era standards arestill the rage. The nostalgic mix includes Russian pop, cityanthems and love songs. Along with Hebrew, Victoria's latest CD, "InternationalProgram," boasts her original arrangements in eight otherlanguages. But after nearly two decades in America, Victoria islosing faith that her name will ever be known beyond these fewblocks where Brooklyn meets the ocean. "Our profession is not for this place. Music is some sort ofsoul subject... it's not material stuff. We can only imagine tohear and to feel -- this country for to sell and to buy." And Victoria is tired of the late nights entertaining drunk Russianmen who don't appreciate her compositions. She has decided she willsing the music she wants, or not at all. So now there's a newsinger at Primorski's on Saturday evenings. Before the disco ball begins to flash, Victoria wraps herself inher fur jacket and declares herself done for the day.