Album Review: Where Will You Go by Baba Yaga
Alright, buckle up because we’re diving into Where Will You Go, the quirky 1992 pop-rock gem from German band Baba Yaga. Released under Deutsche Schallplatten Berlin, this album feels like a time capsule stuffed with neon vibes, Cold War nostalgia, and just enough rock grit to keep things interesting. It’s not perfect, but man, does it have personality.
Let’s talk tracks, shall we? First off, there’s “Red Bird.” This one hits you like a splash of cold water on a summer day—unexpected, refreshing, and kinda unforgettable. The melody dances between sugary pop hooks and raw guitar riffs that feel like they’ve been plucked straight out of an East Berlin garage rehearsal. What sticks with me is how the vocals soar, almost as if the singer’s trying to escape gravity itself. I mean, who doesn’t want to hear someone belt their heart out about freedom while sounding like they’re halfway to outer space? Yeah, it’s messy in parts, but isn’t that what makes it human?
Then there’s the title track, “Where Will You Go.” If “Red Bird” is the wild child of the album, this one’s the moody older sibling nursing a coffee at 3 a.m. The lyrics are hauntingly relatable—like, have you ever stared out a train window wondering where life’s taking you next? That’s this song. Musically, it blends soft piano lines with a steady drumbeat that pulls you along like a gentle current. There’s something about the way the chorus swells—it’s equal parts hopeful and heartbreaking, like saying goodbye to someone you’ll never really forget. Honestly, I can’t unhear it now; it’s stuck in my brain like gum on a shoe.
Oh, and let’s not skip over “Back In The U.S.S.R.”—a cover that somehow manages to feel both reverent and totally reimagined. They crank up the energy here, turning the Beatles’ classic into a high-octane anthem dripping with ‘90s attitude. It’s cheeky, fun, and reminds you why covers can sometimes breathe new life into old favorites.
So yeah, Where Will You Go might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s got charm for days. Listening to it feels like flipping through an old photo album—some snapshots are blurry, others are golden, but all of them tell a story worth hearing. And hey, maybe that’s why it lingers long after the last note fades. Or maybe it’s just because I’m still humming “Red Bird” under my breath. Who knows?
Final thought? If Baba Yaga ever decides to reunite and drop another album, sign me up. But only if they promise more songs about birds. Seriously, those feathered metaphors work wonders.
