Raw lo-fi Siberian punk assembled from Letov's 1982-1985 songs, its release held back by KGB pressure.
Garage-punk from the same 1985 sessions, snarling and defiant against the grey Soviet everyday.
One of five records Letov cut single-handedly in mid-1987, playing every part under invented names.
From the frantic 1987 run, its acoustic songs re-cut electric into snarling anti-Soviet punk.
Bleak, nihilistic entry from the 1987 marathon, all murk, tape hiss and gallows humour.
Savage, sarcastic set from the same 1987 solo marathon, its cheery title turned inside out.
Raw punk aimed squarely at the totalitarian Soviet state, taped in the 1987 flood of records.
Home to the sardonic song that became Letov's calling card and an unofficial hymn of Soviet collapse.
Relentless, high-energy punk whose title riffs on Ostrovsky's Soviet classic, turned to mockery.
Another furious salvo from the frantic 1988 stretch, hammering punk energy over lo-fi tape hiss.
A sprawling, existential set whose songs circle disgust, futility and inward despair.
Apocalyptic yet hook-driven punk, pairing catchy melodies with visions of the end.
A poetic high point, crowned by its sprawling title epic of blood, faith and Soviet ruin.
Concise and intense, distilling the band's 1989 fury into tight, hard-charging songs.
An ironically titled set of bleak beauty, closing the band's ferocious 1980s run.
Covers of Soviet-era songs, Letov reclaiming old pop and film tunes in raw guitar dress.
A denser, psychedelic turn, trading blunt sloganeering for layered, wall-of-sound arrangements.
A 2005 reworking of the 1997 Солнцеворот material, remixed and reconceived with Natalya Chumakova.
