Andrei & Eleonora: Cosmic Disco Redux, Played "with a Big Smile"

The briefest of glances at the coverwork to a new EP from St Petersburg's Andrei & Eleonora would suggest that we're not supposed to take this project too seriously. Chromatic chaos, grainy textures, crudely-used color fields, enormous sunglasses, and a font found somewhere in the Land that Style Forgot. In precisely the same spirit, this duo is also happy to tell us they're influenced by "cosmic disco, space funk, 60s' soul, and 80s' electro." Were we looking for a little more specificity, a list of western inspirations would include funk or electro-disco pioneers such as Cerrone, Chaz Jankel, Harry Thumann, Gwen Guthrie, Larry Heard, and One Way.

The two musicians on offer here, resurrecting these latex-clad styles, are Andrei Nikonorov and Eleonora Babaeva; he, apparently is the embodiment of "electro" and she of "soul." In these observations we're close enough to retro-nonsense in order to doubt, once more, the levels of seriousness at play. We're told to expect an interface of French house with equally Gallic electro, plus "a few soul-divas in the style of Erykah Badu." As our eyebrows move northwards, a reassuring note sounds: "These combinations aren't as absurd as they first seem. The duo's music suits moments of contemplative solitude on a rainy evening; it also works well for dancing with a big smile."

These combinations aren't as absurd as they first seem. The duo's music suits moments of contemplative solitude on a rainy evening; it also works well for dancing with a big smile.

Those same smiles pepper the ensemble's promotional images, often with a knowing wink.

The very term "cosmic disco" invites that kind of jollity, since although it may be grounded in some perfectly serious tendencies of  70s' European dance music, modern technology has long served to condemn any talk of "cosmic" experience to the realm of light comedy.

The movement began in Italy and from the outset was grounded in respectable sources, such as Brazilian and jazz-funk traditions. In an attempt, though, to get away from the growing mainstream horrors of Italo-disco, DJs of a "cosmic" leaning would deliberately play their records at the wrong speed - either too slow or too fast. Commitment and silliness, therefore, were never too far apart; a big smile became a form of defense against marketplace cynicism.

There are parallels between this brief history, the insistently happy worldview thereof, and some opinions heard amongst the fans of Andrei & Eleonora. The duo recently posed a question in order to discover what people "value most when they go to a gig. What do you need to get a real buzz from the event? Does that feeling come from the show itself? From the songs in a set? Perhaps it's a consequence of what you hear - or what you see?"

The first respondent kicked things off with some direct observations, designed for the band themselves: "You need more contact with the audience. I like to feel that people are singing especially for me - as if they're looking right into my eyes! It would be good to have more contact between the members of the group, too. A change in the way you work together on stage." This rather selfish tone continued with a few words for Eleonora: "It would be super if you'd dance. The thing is that a lot of people are rather shy on the dancefloor - there's not enough booze! You need to get people going first of all. Try and come up with some ideas!!"

Amid all of these demands, increasingly colored by a dubious air of "intimacy," was the insistence that musicians "get closer to the audience. Get closer :) !"

While we check to see whether that individual is on a government register, another willing soul steps forth. "Personally I get pleasure from the music, concert, or show if there's some sense of drive - something really sincere. Something that goes straight for the heart. By 'drive' I mean a sense of excitement. Musicians should play/sing/dance/or simply be on stage such that the audience feels that same excitement. It's also essential that the whole thing be interesting - unique or unexpected, somehow - and varied, to a degree. A great deal is always decided by a sense of measure, a unique style, and by good taste, too..."

Enjoyment and excitement are tied to a measured sense of variety and surprise. The appeal of that moderation or a golden mean, it would seem, comes from the fact that our speaker doubts his own ability to maintain a calm and considered tone. "By the idea of music being heartfelt or 'penetrating,' even, I mean the sensation that a melody is actually digging into me. That happens whenever the artist gives it their all. Even when the performer isn't super-professional - in the technical sense - what's more important is a sincere show; that guarantees that the musicians are telling us something about themselves - something uplifting."

The poster pauses - and agrees with himself. "Yes... drive and a heartfelt performance; those are two ways that music can really grab people. After all, when the music's really catchy, the body starts to react..."

Yes... drive and a heartfelt performance; those are two ways that music can really grab people. After all, when the music's really catchy, the body starts to react...

People start shaking things.

This need for physical contact comes up very often. From another individual we hear the following, related concerns: "There's got to be some socializing, not only between the musicians, but also between audience members. The former can be developed or built up, but the latter to a large degree depends upon random factors." And how exactly can the likelihood of those chance factors be increased? "The music has to be as 'live' as possible. That tendency nowadays towards shows based upon nothing more than 'a laptop + a girl'... that's a complete disgrace. Even if the music is 100% electronic, the musicians should play at least something physically, over and above all the lip-syncing!"

The grumpiness continues: "I'd like to see set-lists made of songs in their concert versions, too... with all kinds of extra details, the kind of things that aren't included in the standard 3 min, 21 sec studio versions. We need a better quality of sound at the gigs. Bad sound is precisely the kind of problem for which we should stamp out all those f***ing 'clubs' nowadays, run by 'experienced promoters.' Even if you get a responsible sound engineer, who manages to turn up at your soundcheck, he can so easily p*ss off during the concert. That's the kind of person who'll give you a call on their mobile and tell you about his 'obligation' in another one of those 'clubs.' Ideally, you would get your own sound engineer ASAP... To be honest, in some cases, it'd be better if the musicians in question didn't give any kind of concert at all."

Maintaining a trademark jollity in the face of these demands can be difficult.

All these collected, critical comments tend to gravitate around a desire to see live, honest, and meaningful interaction between stage and dancefloor. That may sound self-evident and hardly worth the cantankerous gripes we see here, but a quick - and final - glance back at the history of Andrei and Eleonora's favorite music will explain, perhaps, why passionate concern and loud grievances are being uttered at the same time.

Most histories of cosmic disco, of which there are few(!), speak fondly of a small and sincere Italian scene that was soon spoiled. Developing in the 1970s long before Chicago house or NY rap, several Italian clubs, tucked way in the mountains, fostered a friendly, unpretentious environment that would soon be sidelined by the wealthier, glitzier, and more elitist clubs of Ibiza. In fact, many of Ibiza's early DJs were Italian, yet rarely credited as such.

Dance music in Russia has long fallen to the same fate, swamped by countless lasers, chrome-plated surfaces, and other forms of money-making spectacle. The music of Andrei & Eleonora goes back to the halcyon days of 70s' Italy, and - as a result - adopts a deliberately modest sound. Likewise their stage-presence is strikingly understated, almost to the point of self-mockery. Can these happy, inexpensive habits maintain their sunny outlook all the way to the primetime? Probably not... which leads to the self-irony that we hear in these songs, full of love for a fashion that never came to be.

The music of Andrei and Eleonora, especially in the remixes here from SPSM, is - as a result - a combination of social invitation and sentimental elegy. It's born of a promising style that dreamed of a great deal, but now - tragically - receives little of the credit it deserves. As a result, our musicians try to strike a middle ground between bold electro-disco and a respectful recreation of its humble beginnings. Dovetailing extrovert music with a sad heritage can be difficult; it requires a combination of confidence and concern: tales of both happy presence and impending absence.

Somewhere in the background of these contradictions is the same "big smile," remembering the happy hopes of an Alpine tradition more that 30 years ago.