A recent article in an online newspaper had a piece of advice for piano salesmen: Guess the customer's age, count down to his 18th birthday and play the hit of that year. Chances are that it will be a song associated with graduating from high school, losing virginity or leaving home. In any case, the disturbed emotional chord will make the deal easier.

The target readership of "Russian Rock Poets" (Poety Russkogo Roka), a collection of song lyrics, is just such a crowd of piano buyers. Almost anything you listen to between the ages of 14 and 20 seems momentous, important and deep. Quite often, this notion gets rooted so deeply that it creeps into adulthood. Leafing through a book like this will evoke endless memories, and, with the music playing in your head, the lyrics will, once again, seem wise and poetic.

Which they are not. Stripping a rock song of its accompaniment is a cruel and unusual punishment. St. Petersburg's Azbuka publishers have already issued two volumes of the anthology, and promise that it will be a 10-volume collection. The only consolation is that the first books fail to include some of the seminal figures of Russian rock, such as Viktor Tsoi or Andrei Makarevich, instead comprising lyricists of the so-called St. Petersburg and Moscow schools. If these are anything to go by, 10 books of such poetry would be hard to bear.

This is not to denigrate the songwriters and their talent. The songs themselves might be brilliant; but, separated from the music, drive and charisma of the rock stars who sing them, the lyrics look either clumsy or pretentious or both. Many concentrate on alcohol and drugs: "He measured alcohol and cannabis / In the same glass, / He drank up all the vodka, / All the tequila and jazz / and rock 'n' roll." Some relish nonsense sequences: "You'll ask: / Moo! What is important to me? / I'll answer: / Moo! Nothing, I guess." Others rely on romantic cliches: "I'll be back to take you with me, / I'll be back to take you, / Believe me, my love."

It is especially painful to realize the banal and shallow nature of the lyrics written by Boris Grebenshchikov, a singer who has achieved near guru status in modern Russian culture. And what's even worse, perhaps the most professional verse in both volumes belongs to Maxim Leonidov, the former frontman of Sekret, who is looked down upon by most rock fans as too pop-oriented and lowbrow.

Some literary scholars have predicted that the next great Russian poet will be a rock lyricist, since this is the only form of poetry with mass appeal these days. Unfortunately, we're still waiting.