Dzhon, having recently (May 2001) acquired his copy, has translated this excerpt to whet your appetite...or not, as the case may be. (It may depend on your tolerance for industrial cello.)
At the end of summer Bob arrived, one foot already out the door. After half a year in America and England it was impossible to understand what was in his head. He'd partied with Frank Zappa, spent a couple days as the guest of George Harrison at Friar Park together with Jeff Lynne and Tom Petty, who, along with Bob Dylan and Ray Orbison, had just finished recording the Traveling Wilburys album in David Stewart's studio. We were no longer on the same level with him. There was some kind of idiotic conversation to the effect that CBS didn't have enough money to pay for all the group to travel to the States, and other stuff to that effect, and therefore only Sasha Titov would take part in the recording of the solo album. Versions of this story were always changing and one couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was bullshit anyway, since at this time we all were all capable of paying for our own tickets if that was what was required of us. I don't understand why Bob couldn't come right out and tell us plainly that he didn't want to play with us.
Along with Bob there was a foreign film crew and they continued shooting a film about him, in which, for some reason, episodes about all our lives were included. On one of the days of the shoot we went to Komarovo to the place of Slavkin's girlfriend Irina. She was the granddaughter of Lennik the academy member, had a huge house, and right at the dacha was an observatory with a telescope. In summer we often partied at her place. Per the idea of the director, Michael Apted, we went with our instruments and were supposed to play a small concert in the clearing near the house. A bus was chartered and we went out there with all our friends. All day long we swam, fixed food, ate, drank and goofed around. You name it…everything except playing a concert. I saw that Michael was getting antsy and waiting: When would the group get around to playing? But everything depended on Bob and his whims. When the group finally played, some kind of bullshit began again. Bob sang Vertinskii and then some kind of gypsy number. Probably that was an option for the film, but I can't fathom why he had to ham it up in front of us. We'd heard it all a hundred times. And for that kind of unstructured situation it was entirely inappropriate. In general it was obvious that the group already didn't exist. And the situation was entirely artificial. I couldn't imagine that we could just go somewhere all together, sit in a clearing and begin to play.
More or less the same kind of bullshit took place when the filmmakers came to our homes. We also hammed it up as much as we could. I rode a bicycle through the most picturesque parts of the city. As a matter of fact, I often do ride along these routes, but when you do it for a camera you feel like a total doofus. My garrulous ma told some family story, in her blindness not seeing where the camera was, and therefore she came out very naturally. Happily I was able to convince my brother Alexei to disappear somewhere.