#three chords

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You actually need four chords to play this song, but that's not the quibble today 🤪

At this point in the project, it's worth discussing what a ВИА (VIA) is.

They define a whole generation of Soviet music. The letters stand for Вокально-инструментальный ансамбль, 'vocal-and-instrumental ensemble': those were government-approved musical groups within the USSR, subject to the state's ideological recommendations, who modeled the development of popular music during the 60s through to the 80s. Ариэль (Ariel) of Week 3 was a ВИА. Many of the musicians I'll be showcasing later were ВИАs themselves, produced for other ВИАs, and/or started their careers as performers in a ВИА. Our musical guest for today, Синяя Птица (Sinyaya Ptitsa, 'Blue Bird'), was a ВИА - and a long-running one, as they performed for two full decades from 1972 to 1991. Fitting to the definition of an ensemble, they had a ton of musicians rotating in and out of the project. Just look at the list of their band members!

It was common for ВИАs to have a vast pool of performers. This, in part, contributes to their lasting influence today.

Синяя Птица first came into the spotlight with their 1975 hit 'Клён' ('Maple'). 'Три аккорда' came eight years later. (Sorry about the unwieldy album title on this one - 'Три аккорда' was first released on a four-track mini album with no other name than the tracklist itself.) They sang a lot of songs about love, whether lost or found, and nature imagery, all the really romantic things. Their catalogue encapsulates what ВИА music was intended to be: the feel-good stuff, usually dealing in love and patriotic sentiments and idealized imageries of the world and friends and family matters. The safe stuff, very beautiful in parts... but unchallenging to the establishment.

Anything heavier, or more critical, would have to remain underground until perestroika.

ВИА music was by nature stable. There was a set measure of quality and sentiment guaranteed in their work, and they were popular through the 60s-80s because they were in-tune with what the audience of the time enjoyed, and they were very good at making it. But on the other side of stability lies stagnancy, and many ВИАs did not survive beyond the mid-1980s: they were not able to adapt their sound to the music that poured in after perestroika, and the reliable sound they were known for became thought of as bland, derivative, and kitschy among the next generation of audiences.

Still, I want to defend them somewhat. ВИАs contributed hugely to bringing over new musical influences from across the continent, because they were fundamentally a reaction to the presence of Western 'bourgeois' music in the USSR. People sought out this material even when state censorship was at its peak: smuggled across the borders, illegally broadcast via radio, or distributed as 'bone music' (bootleg vinyls pressed with discarded x-ray film, as seen above). One must never underestimate mankind's desire to seek out knowledge. It was better for the state to provide a sanctioned alternative than to deem every one of those people an enemy. Like it or not, music was evolving throughout the world, and those in the USSR listened to it (including the musicians in ВИАs) however they could to respond to those inspirations. It's easy to feel that ВИА were lesser than the artists that came after them, but as previously stated, so many musicians in the USSR started their career in one. While the musical style of ВИА groups may not have changed much, the community, funding, and the performances facilitated by being in a ВИА went a long way towards developing the next generation of sound.

you turn around to look at him, hoping the darkness will conceal your glossy eyes. “hi,” you breathe out, pressure rising in your chest as you look over his shadowed face. those warm brown eyes, the scar on his cheek, the soft blush caused by the cool night air. he’s glowing, he always is, but his light is dimming. it hurts.

“it’s late, y/n. you didn’t have to wait for me,” he says, removing his jacket and hanging it up.

“i know, i wasn’t waiting. i mean, i was, but not for you,” you reply in a quiet voice, standing up from your seat at the piano. 

“what were you waiting for?”

you ignore his question. “dinner’s on the counter for you to heat up. i would’ve put it in the fridge when i made it but i wasn’t sure when you’d get home.”

“i’m sorry i’m so late, baby. i just got caught up at the studio, and we were writing and lost track of time-” he rambles, explaining his absence.

“it’s okay shawn, really. go eat. i’ll be awake if you need anything,” you urge, a sad smile painted across your face. he walks to the kitchen as you head toward your bedroom. you grab your last-minute items, your purse, passport. most of your belongings are already in the car - you’re not surprised if shawn’s noticed that the condo’s just a bit more empty - but you can’t be bothered if he has.

you walk into the kitchen, bag in hand. he sits at the table, playing with his food as he fiddles with his phone. you study him for a moment, for the last time. “i, uh, i should go,” you stutter out from your place in the doorway.

he looks up with wide eyes. “where?”

“away.” you close your eyes, a tear slipping out. you feel like your world is crashing down around you, leaving you alone and exhausted.

“y/n,” he stands up, approaching you slowly. you feel like glass, even though he isn’t touching you. fragile, but sharp in the softest way only heartbreak can cause.

“you were right. the other day, on the phone with connor. you’re better off without me. i’m sorry for holding you back.” you brush your fingers across his cheeks. holding him gently, you press a kiss to his lips.

you rest your forehead against him, eyes closed, breathing synced. you step back towards the front door. “i love you,” you say, looking him dead in the eye. he’s still, silent, the situation only settling in once it’s too late. the door opens and closes, you’re gone.

“i love you, too.”

the walk to the underground parking area seems to last forever as you try not to let the tears spill from your eyes. as soon as you sit down in your car, though, a sob cuts through the cool night air.

you cover your face with your hands, salty tears rushing down your cheek and into your shaking palms. you hide away in that position, not sure from whom - maybe yourself, for a few minutes, before sitting up to lean your head back against the seat.

“maybe he’ll finally be happy,” you whisper into the darkness.

he only wishes you were right.

***

that was five months ago, and shawn’s reality is just settling in. sure, you’ve rushed to move on, forget him, but you look happy. you are happy, and you’re sure shawn is too. it’s what he wanted, after all, how could he not be?

he’s not sure how he isn’t, either. but every time he hears your name, or sees your face on a mutual friend’s social media, it gets a little harder. those five months ago, that phone call with connor, the consequences, everything’s still so clear in his mind. it burns more than his tongue when he sips his coffee too soon or touches the flame as he lights candles around the condo. it burns more than anything, and as more time passes, he just wishes he had you to soothe the pain.

his album just came out, and while you haven’t listened to it, your friends have. you don’t mind the sound of his voice, or his name. you try not to dwell on him too much, and that’s easier said than done, but you broke up for him. so, you’re trying to move on for yourself. not to mention the fact that your boyfriend would riot if you even mentioned your ex’s name, and you’re not ready to fight with him, too.

macy’s playlist is on shuffle as the two of you drive through the southern ontario countryside. it’s a calm, safe space, hardly a care in the world as you laugh at your best friend from the passenger seat. that is, until a certain voice sounds from the speakers, his voice.

“what song is this?” you ask, the first few lyrics swirling in your brain.

“because i had you, it’s one of shawn’s new songs so if you want to skip it you can.” macy smiles apologetically, not wanting to upset you.

“no, no it’s okay.”

you just listen. to the lyrics, to the melody, there's something so familiar about it. the song, it’s so obvious, is about you, about that night five months ago. the time it’s taken for you to let go, to finally find a bit of peace.

it’s all fine, maybe you felt yourself tear up just a bit, until you hear those three chords. the three chords that had echoed in the void of your heart for weeks after you left. you weren’t upset with him for using the melody, it was so simple, he probably didn’t even remember it was yours. but the song, the story, your story, you just can’t help but wonder.

***

he remembers. he remembers all of it. the shakiness of your breath before you left, the melody you were playing to make it all go away. shawn knows he should’ve asked you if he could use it in his song, but he couldn’t face you. as much as he craves you, he just has to let go.

he hopes you don’t listen to the album, that you won’t notice that almost every song he’s written since that night and years before has been about you. that when you walked out that door, he’d both gained and lost the most beautiful muse. but if you do listen to it, you’ll know. you’ll know the story, and you’ll know he’s sorry.

you know, and it hurts so much more than you could’ve imagined. in the months since the breakup, his voice had never really bothered you, but when you could tell that you caused the pain he had written about, every single word hit you a little deeper. as soon as you walk into your empty apartment, you drop your bags and collapse on the sofa.

you feel cold, even as you snuggle deeper into the cushions and you feel yourself start to sweat. you swear you can hear someone moving around you, even though your roommate is out on a business trip all week. you’re dizzy, you’re sweating, your head’s pounding. your heart starts to race, your breathing quickens. “i can’t do this right now, i can’t fucking do this,” you choke out.

you rub your hands up and down your arms to ground yourself, shutting your eyes tightly. it’s not stopping you from working up into a panic, and it definitely doesn’t help when his words sound in your head. “you’re okay, baby. i’m here. it’s just me, it’s just shawn,” he’d say to comfort you. it did comfort you, or, it used to, but this time it just sent you farther away from your peace of mind.

“but i’m not okay, and you’re not here. it’s just me.”

***

you lie in bed awake, every little sound amplified in the darkness: the buzz from the air conditioning, the flapping of your curtains, the roar of the cars from the downtown street below. it’s like the sudden return of heartbreak broke the numbness you’ve been living in, bringing you back to the harsh reality of what you used to have.

you sit up in bed, then reach over drowsily to grab your phone. the screen lights up with a picture of you and some friends at the top of the empire state building a few years ago, you had been visiting shawn on tour and met up with them while you were there. you squint slightly as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, 2:39 am reads the clock when you can see properly. you open your phone to the home screen before selecting the spotify app. you sigh, then type in his name. “this is probably a really bad idea.”

shawn mendes it reads, the cover of his self-titled album shining brightly into your bedroom. his face split into three, flowers growing in the empty spaces. it’s much prettier than his other two album covers, much more artistic. he’d never really had an eye for design, so you can’t imagine it had been his idea.

you press play, the first track starting to sound out loud before you pause it to grab your earbuds. once you’re settled, you start the song again, and start to hurt, again.

every song, you can tell when it was written. in my blood, you’ve heard that one before. shawn said it was one of the most vulnerable pieces he’s ever written.

nervous, it’s what he used to be like around you told through a story; not quite the same, but it’s yours. it’s the adrenaline of a young relationship, the excitement of someone new.

lost in japan, he’d written just for fun - you remember him coming home from the studio so tired but so excited, it was a new sound, and it was the start of a new era.

where were you in the morning?, it’s a situation you’re sure he’s encountered numerous times since the end of your relationship. you hadn’t heard even a bit of it before.

like to be you, it’s the exact dynamic you two always had when you were in a fight; it’s perfect. “julia michaels!” he had said that evening when he walked in the door. “i can’t wait for you to hear this song, honey.” if only you had known.

fallin’ all in you, has you in tears almost immediately: the first verse encompasses what you had, the second verse what could’ve been. you had plans, the two of you, to have a few kids, grow old together. “trapped up on a tightrope, now we’re here,” shawn sings.

“where did we get lost?” you think as the song finishes. you used to be so sure that you’d last, and he was too. you wish you knew when he fell out of love, when that promise of forever became empty.

particular taste, it’s new; you hadn’t heard it until now. the girl, whoever she is, you just wish that you could be her, even for only a moment. to have him completely mesmerized, to be that kid in love.

why, you’re not sure why it hurts you the way it does - it doesn’t even line up with your relationship, but the feeling it awakens is all too familiar. it’s like your heart had heard it in another world, waiting for the day it would run through your mind like it had your blood. the feeling confuses you, but as the song comes to a close, you close your eyes to cry a bit, too.

because i had you, there it is, that song. it’s so stupid how it breaks your heart - you thought you had gotten it all for yourself, now. yet, the song rips it to shreds, tearing away at the memories you’ve tried so desperately to let go of. he did this to himself, you think, but you wonder if you hadn’t gone, maybe neither of you would be so broken.

queen, it’s new, too. with every song you haven’t heard before, jealousy burns a little hotter. you’re glad this “queen” isn’t you, but you wish that the songs that were about you weren’t so sad.

youth, it’s cute. a nice refresher from the love songs, but nothing worth dwelling on. the message is powerful, but you’re too distracted by the love songs and heartbreak anthems to pay much attention.

mutual, you remember hearing it before. it was always fun for shawn to play with fiction, test his storytelling abilities, so when this song came around, he was more than excited to put it out. it’s a bit more basic lyrically, but the melodies and aesthetic appeal to your tired ears.

perfectly wrong, it seems innocent at first, but as the song goes on, the lyrics start to set in. it’s the story of what you and shawn were before you left - he’d probably written it around the time of the breakup. you just wish he had said it to your face.

when you’re ready, it’s probably the most sickeningly cute song you’ve ever heard. of course, it’s familiar, you’d heard him playing the melody, or something similar, just a couple of years ago. it’s clear that he’d written it early in your relationship or been inspired by that time, and it’s adorable, but it pains you to hear how hopeful you both were. you genuinely thought you would last, get married, grow old together, and it seems that shawn did, too.

you know your boyfriend won’t like that you’re listening to shawn’s music, he hates shawn more than you ever could. you can’t even say you hate him, after all, he’s the one who fell out of love. you hate that you had to leave, you hate that you’ll never look at a piano the same way again, you hate that you’ve become the muse of his heartbreak songs; but you could never hate shawn, not when you still love him more than anything.

you think maybe you’ll never get over him, they say you’ll always remember your first love. but for now you just hope that you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay like you thought he would be. it’s too late to go back for him, run back into the apartment and beg to fix your relationship. he was supposed to be your forever, but you know that dream’s long gone, you woke up to hellish flames and the screaming chaos of your mind and reality. shawn’s too far gone, and you need to stop reaching.

you’re happy with your current relationship, aesthetically, anyway. he’s there for you, and he’s supportive, and he’s lovely. his job is secure, you know that you can call and know that “soon” means a few hours, not weeks. it’s a storybook romance, he’s perfect for you, and you’re perfect for him. it should be working, and it might be if your heart wasn’t so broken, but you still feel the butterflies start to fade, and the sparks starting to cool down.

part of you, somewhere deep down, knows that you and shawn could’ve figured something out, that you should’ve; but he didn’t fight for you when you left, and you didn’t speak up when you had the chance. you were only 16 when you fell in love, just high school lovers who thought you could be more. you were young, and reckless, and hopeful. everyone warned you that it wouldn’t last, but you wouldn’t listen.

you would lie under the stars, shawn would tell you that you were meant to be forever, that those very stars had aligned perfectly for you to meet. one of those nights, you were 18, you sat in the back of his jeep. “hey babe?” shawn said, looking over at you fondly.

“what’s up?”

“i think we have one of the greatest loves of all time, truly. like nobody’s perfect, but we’re perfect for each other, y’know?”

“yeah, yeah i do know, and i agree.” you smiled, then kissed him softly. in the back of his jeep, under the stars, pretending like you’d go down in history. and for that moment in time, you thought that maybe you would. 

***

your sister still asks if shawn will come back, she’s only a kid, she wouldn’t know better. but you know that he won’t, he can’t. he can write songs that’ll never see the light of day and text messages he’ll never send, but he can’t come back to you.

he can’t come back to your family, to those nights spent all together, teaching him how to make your favourite foods, dancing in the kitchen to songs he’d never heard. he can’t come back to sitting at the large, round table to eat the meal that he could never get quite right, but always tasted perfect because he had put so much love and care into trying.

you want to forget so desperately, you can’t take seeing his honey eyes staring back at you when you’re trying to fall asleep, the ache you feel when you sit down at a piano. he haunts you, living in the depths of your mind and the sharpness of your breath. you want to tell him to go away, leave you in peace. but he lingers, as does his power over you.

shawn’s trying to move on, too. but in the eyes of every one-night stand, every failed date, you’re right there. you’re not his, and he knows it all too well. he has to let go, he has to, but he doesn’t. he knows he broke your relationship, that he was just upset and confused and it ruined his life. he wants to text you, at least tell you he’s sorry.

but right now he’s staring up at the ceiling of his apartment, another woman beside him, curled up in his sheets. she’s beautiful, dark eyes to match the warm brown of her skin. she glows in the morning sunlight, long eyelashes fluttering slightly with every slow breath.

she’s kind, and warm, and loving. she’s supportive when shawn needs her, and she can take care of herself without his constant attention. from afar, she’s everything shawn needs and has ever needed, but to shawn, she’ll never be just right for him, because she’s not you.

he looks down at his shirtless chest, gently pulling the covers off his side of the bed. he pulls on his boxers, a pair of basketball shorts next. he looks back at her, watching as she opens her eyes slightly, a small yawn leaving her plump lips. 

she reaches over to the other side of the bed, but when she feels the empty space, she fully opens her eyes. shawn’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, now fully-clothed, but exhausted.

“you good?” she asks, bringing the sheets up with her to cover her bare chest as she sits up against the headboard.

“i’m so sorry,” shawn chokes out. “i just can’t love you the way you want me to. i want to but i can’t-“ he shuts his eyes tightly, “-i can’t.”

“it’s her, isn’t it?”

that is, until a light knock sounds from the door. you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been secretly hoping to hear from someone other than your roommate, who would’ve just walked in. you grumble in your half-asleep state when you stand from the couch, the soft cushions bouncing below you as you rise to your feet. you pull your cardigan tighter around your body, standing still for a moment when you reach the door to rub your eyes.

they’re still slightly closed when you open the door, muttering a questioning, “hello?”

“hi,” the person in front of you breathes out, the familiar voice rushing to your brain.

you swear you’ve never opened your eyes so quickly.

there he is, disheveled and slouched over, but so, so relieved. he hadn’t expected you’d actually answer the door. you’re still speechless when he speaks again. “i know this is borderline stalkerish, but amir gave me your address and i really needed to see you,” he sighs with a slight smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

your jaw is slack for another moment before you finally speak. “uhm, i, uh, shawn.” confusion crosses your features when you stutter out your jumbled thoughts. “it’s been six months.”

“i know, i know but please, just hear me out,” he pleads, almost desperately.

“come in, then. and tell amir that i have some things to say to him next time we see each other!” you turn around, leading him into your home. he only chuckles. you enter the small kitchen, turning on the overhead light before leaning back against the countertop.

“welcome to my humble abode,” you laugh at the small space, suddenly self-conscious. “it’s obviously not as big as your condo, but-“

“no, it’s perfect. it’s very you,” he smiles, glancing around the room.

“thanks,” you mumble shyly, before speaking up again. “do you want tea?”

“do you have the mango stuff?”

“i might still have some,” you reply, rummaging through the cupboards. “ i think i brought it with me when i moved out of your place.” the tension thickened at the mention of you leaving, and honestly, you can’t believe you’ve gotten this far without bursting out into tears. 

maybe that’s why your head is stuffed in the cupboard you know doesn’t have mango tea in it, just so you don’t have to look at him. you haven’t gotten any of the tea since you moved in, since you left, for that matter, but you haven’t let it leave its place at the back of the cupboard. while it may seem that it’s just tea, it’s all you’ve had left of him that’s yours and yours alone.

“so, shawn,” you clear your throat, easily grabbing the tea from its place in a different cabinet. “what’s up?”

he’s silent for a minute, watching as you turn on the kettle. he’s looking down when he speaks again, “i miss you. i know you have a boyfriend, but i really do.” he looks up at you with wide eyes, the warm brown colour filling your vision.

you laugh, turning back to face the counter. “you basically wrote an entire album about it,” you pour the hot water over the teabags in your ceramic mugs. “i’m not sure you could’ve been less subtle. besides, we broke up a couple weeks ago.” you look at him over your shoulder with a shy smile.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be, it’s not like i’ve never gone through a breakup before,” you assure, a slight tone of sadness present in your voice. you walk over to him, a mug of tea in each hand.

“y/n come on, please don’t be like that,” he sighs, taking a mug from your hand. he’s never liked to see you upset, and this is no different.

“like what, shawn? hurt? sad? conflicted?” you look at him with glossy eyes, and he can see the disconnect. you’re simultaneously so close and so far away from him and yourself. it’s hard for him to see you like this -  even harder knowing that he caused it.

you sit down on one of the round barstools, looking up at him while he stares down into his mug. “thanks for the tea,” he smiles forcefully, eyes flickering up then back down.

“it’s no problem.”

the room falls silent again, the only sounds the soft passes of your breathing. you’re not sure what to say, and you’re about to ask if shawn wants to take his tea with him when he breaks the silence.

“i love you,” he says, surprising himself with the firmness he speaks with. you’re surprised too, your breath catching in your chest, looking at him, bewildered.

“no, shawn, i- you can’t. you can’t love me.” you shake your head.

“i do!”

“no! if you love me now, you would’ve loved me six months ago,” you sob, tears finally running down your face.

“but i did. i did love you and i haven’t stopped. i never stopped loving you, y/n,” he tells you, walking over to your spot at the counter. he brushes his thumbs against your cheeks, the fresh tears running slowly down his hands.

“i’m sorry, shawn, i really can’t do this. not after everything you’ve done.” you push him away gently, sliding off the stool.

“what do you mean, ‘everything i’ve done’?” he asks with furrowed brows.

“the album, shawn! every single song on that album, your album, taunted me like i was the one who fucked up. you fell out of love with me shawn, you can’t release an album full of old love songs and expect me to beg for your forgiveness. i never wanted to leave you, but i wanted you to be happy. why couldn’t you just let yourself move on like you so desperately wanted to?” you cry, breaking his heart even more than you already had.

“i told you, i never fell out of love with you! i never wanted to move on, i wanted to fix us!” he exclaims, the hurt turning into anger.

“well that turned out fucking great! now we’re standing here in my kitchen, brokenhearted, at 9 pm on a saturday because of it!” you yell back, trying not to be too loud for the sake of your neighbours.

“i don’t know what to tell you, y/n,” he says, the initial rage bubbling back down.

“obviously you do since you showed up here in the first place!” your tea’s abandoned on the countertop, and all of the frustration you’ve been holding in for the past six months is flying out of you. while you’re sure you’ll regret all of this in the morning, you can’t bring yourself to care.

your cheeks are flushed and your breathing’s heavy, you’re more angry than shawn’s ever seen you. he hates this too, he just hates when you’re not happy, and he hates that you’re not his anymore.

“y/n, it’s always been you, i promise. i was stupid and i made a mistake. i’m so sorry.” he wants to make you look him in the eyes and see the sincerity floating behind them, he wants you to believe him and every word that he’s saying, but he won’t, and he doesn’t.

“you made a mistake and you broke me, shawn. i’m sick and tired of being so lonely but i can’t find the will to change. i don’t want to feel like this, but i can’t go back to you,” you breathe out, your voice lowering to almost a whisper.

“i never wanted to hurt you,” his voice is almost as low, but just as full of emotion.

“i know,” you smile, and for the first time in a while, it’s almost genuine. “i don’t hate you shawn, i never could. and i don’t want you to think that this has been easy for me either, because honestly, these last few months have been some of the worst of my life. when i walked out of that apartment i walked out on my best friend, and i am sorry.”

“please don’t apologize, it’s my fault, i know,” he says sheepishly.

“you’re right, it is your fault,” you reply with a giggle.

“well, uhm, now that i know you don’t hate me, this’ll be a lot less awkward.” his eyes scan over your face, trying his best to read your emotions.

you laugh again, “it’s already awkward, shawn. what are you doing?”

“please, please just let me hold you,” he pleads, his eyes staring into yours.

“what?”

“i just- i don’t know or care what happens when i leave, but i need to be close to you. i’m not ready to lose you, y/n. i can’t lose you. this is painfully awkward, i know, but i promise i’ll shut up if you let me have you for a bit. or i’ll just leave, if you’d rather, which i can totally do-”