Author: Lasha Gabunia

 

 

Introduction

The experience of music is a profound joy, and for many music lovers, it’s not just about listening to recordings or attending concerts—it’s about owning them. People are naturally possessive; they want to hold and touch what they love. That’s why so many music enthusiasts collect music. Until the early 21st century, owning music meant accumulating physical media—vinyl records, cassette tapes, or compact discs. Music had a tangible form that could be placed on a table, a shelf, or even carried in a pocket. It involved not only sound engineers but also designers, printers, distributors, and transporters. The final product had a distinct look, color, and even smell. You could put a record on the player and admire the cover art and booklet.

However, from the 21st century onwards, owning music became more of an abstract concept. It referred to digital files stored on a computer’s hard drive, an iPod, or in cloud storage, which had no physical form—nothing you could touch, hold, or smell. Perhaps this is why, starting in the mid-2010s, vinyl records and cassette tapes saw a resurgence in popularity.

Music in Old Kutaisi

Before the advent of the Internet, smartphones, satellite TV, and FM radio, life in Kutaisi was simpler and slower-paced. Communication relied on telegrams or landline phones, and a trip to a call center was necessary to make long-distance calls, often involving a long wait. Kutaisi was a city where trolleybuses still carried passengers, football leather balls cost 11 rubles at the sports shop “Spartak” on Paliashvili Street, and the local rugby club “Aya” was still called “Sahlmsheni” (Housebuilding). Family photos were often taken in photo studios, with photographers like Ilo Khakhiashvili capturing memories.

Water wasn’t sold in stores; instead, you could quench your thirst from public fountains scattered around the city. Payphones and soda machines were a common sight, as were slot machines in cinema lobbies. Music wasn’t as ubiquitous as it is today, blaring from smartphones and tablets. Back then, music was limited to TV and radio programs, airing only two or three times a week. Classical music was heard more frequently through the so-called “line radios,” wired into almost every building in Kutaisi, which broadcasted programs from the State Radio of Georgia. The local Kutaisi radio studio contributed an hour of daily programming.

Music in Soviet-Era Kutaisi

In Soviet Kutaisi, the most frequently heard piece of music was undoubtedly the anthem of the Georgian SSR, played online radio every morning at 6 AM and again at midnight. Music was also a key part of the pre-match and halftime experience at the Torpedo football stadium, with Georgian pop songs often filling the air. In cafes, Soviet pop music dominated the playlists. During the 1980s, restaurant and wedding bands—often quartets or sextets—performed live music for patrons. However, the arrival of Japanese synthesizers (especially from Yamaha) during the perestroika era gradually reduced these bands to trios, then duos, and eventually, a single musician handling everything with a synthesizer.

Synthesizers also fueled an underground music scene, particularly the so-called “party songs” recorded illegally on cassettes, which people referred to as “Georgian,” “party or feats,” or “shofruli” (named after the Russian word for drivers). These songs were a blend of Iranian, Turkish, Greek, Armenian, Gypsy, Russian, and Georgian musical elements, often played by drivers on long-distance buses. Even established groups like Via Iveria contributed to this style. By the 1990s, this genre was referred to as “dari-durs,” and by the early 2000s, several radio stations were reviving this pseudo-Georgian music.

Music was also a part of funerals in Kutaisi. Musicians, typically a trio with a medole (a Georgian percussionist), an accordionist, and a clarinetist, would be hired to perform. With the rise of tape recorders, funeral music could also be pre-recorded on tapes, often in poor quality, with pieces like the overture from Zakaria Paliashvili’s Daisi becoming associated with such events—an association I had to overcome to appreciate this masterwork as I grew older.

The Rise of Tape Recorders

The mass spread of music in Kutaisi was greatly aided by the growing availability of car tape recorders and audio cassette players in the late 1970s. These devices were becoming less of a luxury, especially with Soviet-produced tape recorders flooding the market. Cassettes were favored over vinyl records because they could be copied, were easy to carry, and didn’t take up much space in a car. Music lovers would record songs on vinyl, radio, TV, or other devices. Kutaisi had several “household service” studios, and later, private studios where people could gather to record tapes, discuss music, and exchange records. These studios were a haven for music enthusiasts like me, where we built friendships that have lasted a lifetime.

Music Collecting and Distribution

The main music formats were still vinyl records and cassettes. Imported Western vinyls, brought in by sailors, athletes, diplomats, and actors, were rare and expensive—often costing between 50 and 100 rubles. Contrary to rumors, no one was ever arrested for importing or playing Western music in Georgia. Soviet-made records could be purchased in department stores, and the only official label in the USSR was “Melodiya,” founded in 1964.

Vinyl records were priced according to their content: Soviet pop, jazz, and rock cost 2.50 rubles, foreign pop, and rock 3.50 rubles, and classical music and folklore were priced at 1.45 rubles. Socialist countries like Romania, Bulgaria, and East Germany also produced records, and their licensed albums of Western artists were highly prized, often selling for double their official price.

In the late 1980s, I once heard that a store in Tskaltubo had the 1984 debut solo album Desert Moon by Dennis DeYoung, released in Yugoslavia. I rushed there and, after some persistence, managed to buy the album at twice the normal price. Stores like the Ninoshvili Department Store and kiosks in the Rustaveli Bridge underpass were also key places to find records.

Music and Us (Conclusion)

Music entered each person’s life in a unique way. For me, it came through my music-loving uncles, who had a fine collection of Western records. My first album, Alone Together by Donny Osmond (released by Melodiya in 1977), was a gift from my parents and marked the beginning of my own collection. In the 1990s, when music stores in Georgia had all but disappeared, I would spend much of my student scholarship on blank cassettes.

Today, accessing free, high-quality music is effortless, thanks to streaming platforms like Spotify, SoundCloud, and YouTube. Additionally, vinyl records, cassettes, and CDs can be found in online stores. In the past, finding music required effort, persistence, and a fair amount of luck. This journey, filled with excitement and anticipation, made the music even more special. I would often write notes on the liners of records and cassettes, recording where I bought them and who gave them to me—a habit I continue to this day.

Kutaisi has always been a musical city, home to an abundance of music lovers. This deep connection to music laid the groundwork for the “Kutaisi wave” of the 1990s, which introduced Georgian punk, electronic music, and hip-hop to the world. But that, as they say, is a story for another time.