Possibly 4th Street 20: Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yelstin

Rob Trucks's "Possibly 4th Street" expositions, in which he invites musicians to perform live and impromptu somewhere in New York City, run intermittently here at Sound of the City. This is the first one with a band named after a Russian president. We are very proud.

"I wish [Boris Yeltsin] was my dad. He seems like a big teddy bear I just want to like hug and cuddle up with. I want him to throw me in the swimming pool . . . and buy me presents and stuff."

all photos by Rob Trucks

Possibly 4th Street
Number 20 (Part One)
Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin

by Rob Trucks

On a Monday afternoon in late April, we gather in Central Park--Strawberry Fields to be specific--with the marble-mouth-monikered Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin. The boys leave their van off Broadway and, without realizing, approach from the north side of 72nd Street, right past the spot where John Lennon met his demise. But just inside the park, in the afternoon shadow of the Dakota, the Springfield, Missouri collective recognizes Strawberry Fields.

Like most any late spring day, an assortment of humanity has gathered: couples, young and old, taking a break from surprisingly active strolls, Upper West Side moms resting next to occupied baby carriages, tourists who've come to pay their respects or have their picture made at yet another New York City landmark, and a group of men primarily noticeable for their matching hairstyles--long, stringy, thinning--and loud, pontificating conversations. Guys you might see seated on barstools offering a running stream of opinions well before the rest of the city clocks out for the day. Except this is their bar. This is their social life. Here, in Strawberry Fields, they are regulars.

Flowers, both fresh and not-so, line the "Imagine" circle that defines the centerpoint of what is now known as John Lennon's figurative corner of the Park. But music--the primary instrument of Lennon's fame, fortune and force--is not allowed. The signs say so. White letters on green park placards suggest "meditation" as a possible alternative. But no music. Somehow that seems right, and somehow it doesn't.

But in Central Park there are plenty of places to perform. And it's a beautiful day made for wandering. So the Boris Yeltsin boys sit on steps, walks down rocks and stands in front of the picturesque lake, almost within reach of the paddleboats drifting by.

Those latent couples, resting moms, and camera-toting visitors can probably hear them. A pop band from Middle America--in a very real sense tourists themselves--strumming open chords and singing harmony. Faintly. In the distance. Carried by the wind. And somehow that seems about right, too.

Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin Performs "You Could Write a Book" in Central Park

Possibly 4th Street
Number 20 (Part Two)
Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin

Who:
Will Knauer of Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin

When:
Monday, April 21

You're from Springfield, Missouri. Is that the same Springfield the Simpsons are from?

It was almost the same city. There was a contest when the movie came out to determine which actual city it was, and my stepmom was actually in charge of the directors who had to film a video to prove that our Springfield was indeed the Springfield. And then everybody voted and we lost to Springfield, Vermont.

I didn't know there was a Springfield, Vermont.

That's actually where the Simpsons are from.

So did Springfield, Missouri finish second or do you just lose if you don't win?

We got a free movie poster, but we didn't win. I don't think there was a second place.

Let's talk about Russia since your band played there. Would you have made the trip if Boris Yeltsin wasn't one-third of the band's name?

We'd always wanted to [go]. Phil [Dickey] had actually been there with his high school, I believe, or his college, and we do think that one of the reasons we got to go over there was because of the name. One of our original goals was to play for Boris Yeltsin, or at least meet him, and we knew that was a small chance so we were hoping at least he would know about us. But he died about two or three months before we got to go over there.

How was the trip?

It was amazing. We felt like we were going home in a sense, like we were discovering ourselves.

I'm not an expert on the Eurasian sense of humor. Was there any worry that people would find the name of your band disrespectful in some way?

Yeah, actually we talked about that a lot. We joked that there may be like police guarding us as we went to the festival, or if we'd cause riots or anything. We knew that was a little far-fetched, but we were worried there might be some controversy. But it was actually almost the opposite because from stage I could see like people holding up signs that said our name and stuff, and they were very receptive. They were more just curious why we chose Boris Yeltsin because, you know, towards the end of his term he hadn't been the most popular man in office.

I believe the official story is that Phil's in the car with his mom and headed to the mall when he thought of the band name. Do you tell the same story in Russia?

I think we kind of got confused in high school where the name came from, because at the same time my brother had written a paper about Boris Yeltsin, and so like we kind of weren't sure like which happened first and so they're both kind of true.

So which story do you tell in Central Park?

I guess the Central Park answer is that Phil thought it up in his car around the time Boris Yeltsin resigned.