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Three new recordings from Moscow and Kharkov create an interesting viewpoint on the possible relationship between peace, calm, and deconstruction in modern songwriting. In other words, they ponder a sense of relief that comes from dismantling the status quo in some form.
It makes sense, in discussing such issues, to begin with the young Moscow pianist Andrey Nailer, shown below and usually referred to as the keyboard maestro in Readmylife. Away from his bandmates, Nailer specializes in a peaceful aesthetic that sits precariously close to the doors of an elevator. In the past we've said the following: "These are simple and attractive melodies, marked by an overriding melancholy. They look straight in the eye of an easy-listening modus operandi without flinching; they're not afraid to dally with elements of MOR, yet are decorated with sufficient percussive bells and whistles to suggest a more knowing composer."
What looks like immobility is actually more vivid and complex. Wait long enough and he will move.
His newest net-single is called "Keepsake" and accompanied by a small text in Russian; it calls upon this same interplay of elegance and easy listening. The opening lines draw a parallel between the structural elements of a recent Nailer video and his music. Even as pure metaphor, the text is instructive:
"B&W video footage erases the line between reality and illusion. The image splits into three. Each and every time the camera offers up new facets whilst returning, over and over, to a close-up. We're demarcating, it seems, a clear rhythm. Elements of glare and/or overlay combine in a single, complex image." A slow, tentative passage is mapped from the integrity of a single close-up to more fractured, detailed patterns.
There's no subject line here, just a kind of ornamentation...
The logic of deconstruction continues, equating abstraction with increased appeal as it does so: "There's no subject line here, just a kind of ornamentation. The frames come together like the canvas of an abstract, subjectless painting. We have before us a story without words; an intricate interweaving of sensations and emotions. They can be vague and imprecise; on other occasions, though, they're precise enough to be born of the present moment."
And then, in the closing lines, individuality and this kind of imprecision are also brought together:
"From that [process] we get the impression of music that's absolutely personal. It's as if we see everything that constitutes the musician's life. The viewers/listeners are left alone with what's most important - the music, its creator, and themselves..."
Nailer's gentle, restrained compositions gain - allegedly - from their unwillingness to make crude, confident statements that are fixed either in form or location. It's an unassuming outlook that's developed in surprising ways by the Yekaterinburg outfit Synoptix and a new collaboration with Ukrainian chanteuse Natasha Smirina (below in Kharkov). Smirina is best known for her career with Pur:Pur and Kooqla, both discussed here frequently.
The distance between them? More than 1,200 miles. You'll have to shout if you want to be heard.
Self-expression through a happily fractured, homeless structure works to great effect across a map. Disparate stylistic gestures become distant towns.
Synoptix make frequent claim to their position in between beatbox and guitar-driven pop; that generic mishmash becomes the starting-point for other productive fissures. "The band's wide variety of styles reflects all our preferences and passions. Everything [then] combines as a unique musical genre."
That dovetailing has led to tests or experiments with more - unrelated - collectives also discussed on FFM, such as Toho-Do, Cheese People, and Sansara. A chameleon aesthetic, to be sure (fueled by caffeine and therefore unlikely to stop).
The two members of Synoptix (shown below) also say "this is a really interesting experiment for us, conducted over 2,000km. The instrumental sections were recorded in Yekaterinburg, the vocals in Kharkov, and the mastering was handled in Helsinki's best-known studio!"
The instrumental sections were recorded in Yekaterinburg, the vocals in Kharkov, and the mastering was handled in Helsinki's best-known studio!
Some of these linkages are happily attributed to fate. A recent posting from Yekaterinburg declares: "We've been joined by a saxophonist!" As if by chance.
Likewise, if we look the pages of Smirina and Pur:Pur across Ukrainian social networks, we find statements such as the following, suggesting that future developments also depend upon audience whim: "Who'd like to attend a [hypothetical] Pur:Pur gig in Odessa? Personally I really would..." Both past and future events are voluntarily dissolved in random possibilities.
Much to ponder.
From 4-4-2 Records comes a second Moscow release, again turning formal and geographical disparities into a unified outlook. The work in question is by ABC100 (aka Aleksandr Siniagin), whom we touched upon briefly in the context of a recent Datenbits compilation.
This virtually anonymous artist describes his output as a combination of noise and glitch that's then edited using various "literary techniques - in order to create sound collages... and thus conjure an abstract view of culture."
I focus my mind on the mechanics of verbal entertainment
In a different venue, ABC100 clarified this creative process a little. He claims to look for parallels between the narrative arcs of great novels and the structure of his own instrumental compositions. "I focus my mind on the mechanics of verbal entertainment."
It should be pointed out, however, that he traces the development of famous stories less from an event-driven perspective than a phonetic one; put differently, he tries to transfer the sonic evolution and appeal of a story into musical forms. This is what ABC100 calls the "dynamics of [or within] the syllable." He stresses the interaction of appealing sounds, rather than fixed, unwavering words.
This idea has now been extended within a wonderful new CD: "A Lot of Crabs." The formal breakdown (and reconstitution) continues: "ABC100 tiptoes through the debris of post-modern electronica. He finds tiny shards that glimmer in the sun, places them in his pocket, and takes them home. Here he puts them together with sticky-tape and glue, in order to toss them back into the world...."
He finds tiny shards that glimmer in the sun, places them in his pocket, and takes them home
One of the glitch-rich instrumentals on display goes by the simple title of "Deleuze." After the Frenchman's chance emergence on FFM twenty-four hours ago, his theories make even more sense here. This ABC100 instrumental is built on endlessly punctuated applause: some clapping starts, stops... and starts again. The object of admiration and applause does not endure; it comes and goes. What we see not only in this composition, but also across the entire album - and even the other artists mentioned above - is a quintessentially Deleuzian concept. By bidding farewell to stable styles, locations, and fixed designations, our individual artists lay claim to subjectivity as an open system.
Shifting assemblages take the place of confident (arrogant?) stasis. Change, chance, and therefore potential predominate. In the words of the Frenchman, art by its very nature manufactures “blocs of sensation... compounds of percepts and affects.” Or, put differently, this is what Nailer calls "an intricate interweaving of sensations and emotions." And heaven only knows where that's heading...
And so we have some bold and constant statements from Moscow, Yekaterinburg, and Kharkov - all in support of inconstancy.
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