Bop: Microfunk and the Peculiar Upside of Crushing Boredom

The Russian poet and Nobel Laureate Joseph Brodsky once gave a speech to the students of Dartmouth College on the philosophical benefits of boredom. "It is your window on time's infinity. Once this window opens, don't try to shut it; on the contrary, throw it wide open. For boredom speaks the language of time, and it teaches you the most valuable lesson of your life: the lesson of your utter insignificance. It is valuable to you, as well as to those you are to rub shoulders with. You are finite, time tells you in the voice of boredom; and whatever you do is, from my point of view, futile."

There are, held Brodsky, great benefits to be drawn from this humbling realization: "Boredom is an invasion of time into your set of values. It puts your existence into its proper perspective, the net result of which is precision and humility. The former, it must be noted, breeds the latter. The more you learn about your own size, the more humble and the more compassionate you become to your likes, to the dust aswirl in a sunbeam or already immobile atop your table."

Similar ideas can be found in the minimalist work of St Petersburg musician and DJ Aleksandr Dmitriev, otherwise known as Bop. Before we even encounter the man and his output, we're informed that the primary driving force behind his discography is "laziness." Next in his list we find "veganism," and therefore a hint of vigor - in so much as (surely!) there must be some effort involved in maintaining that ethical stance. Nonetheless, we're immediately dropped back into the realm of sloth with his following three nouns. Dmitriev sings the praises of "sleep, philosophy, and freedom."

The less he does, the more he benefits on a philosophical plane. Should military service beckon, that stance may have to be reconsidered.

Mr. Dmitriev recently gave a brief interview to a D&B project in the southern city of Kazan. It lasted just over six minutes, during which time the following phrases were somehow dragged into the light of day by a local journalist.

"Shall we start?" "Sure: I don't have anything to do at the moment." "How are you?" "I'm OK and so is my dog, Booyaka. He's sleeping. That's what he usually does." "What does your typical day look like?" Dmitriev answers that his time is basically divided between sitting at home and touring: "It's all pretty boring."

Talk turns to physical effort: "How do people dance to your music?" "Different people dance in different ways! I'm not forcing anybody to go out onto the dancefloor... You can dance if you want - or not, if you don't want to!"

Different people dance in different ways! I'm not forcing anybody to go out onto the dancefloor... You can dance if you want - or not, if you don't want to!

"How much time does it take to write a track?" "It all depends. As little as a day, or as long as a year. You can start working on something, but then it'll get stuck at some point. So you end up going back to it and slowly adding stuff." "We'll be adding one of your tracks to the interview when it's published. Can I ask you some specific questions about it?" "Um... I won't really have anything to say. It'll be a track just like any other. I write a track and then I'm done. The works speak for themselves. They don't need any kind of commentary."

His refusal here to address the question seems rather impolite and yet admirable at the same time. The scale of Dmitriev's music is mirrored by his efforts in the realm of PR: both are tiny. This wanton understatement is clearly of no financial benefit. One could even argue that the strength of will needed to refuse promotional opportunities is greater than any energy invested in self-aggrandizement.

It takes more effort to think humbly - or poorly! - of oneself than to indulge in self-flattery.

By downplaying the importance of one's music - and the media outlets used to promote it - Dmitriev is emphasizing other values - on another scale. He clearly has little time for the fleeting fuss that usually surrounds promo-work.

Bop is responsible, to a large degree, for the excellent Microfunk.Ru project, on the home pages of which he introduces himself in the following manner. "Hailing from Saint-Petersburg in Russia, Bop is a new breed of producer intent on re-writing the rules [of dance music] with an intoxicating, ice-cold sound. He embraces influences all the way from deep techno and minimalist dubstep through to idm and ambient drum & bass."

"At the turn of the millennium, however, he was listening to diametrically opposed sounds. At that time, Bop was discovering the heavyweight output of Konflict, Ed Rush & Optical, and others. But it wasn’t long until he found the experimental edge of D&B more appealing; here the likes of Photek began inspiring him to carve out a sound of his own. On heavy rotation on the Bop home stereo now you’re more likely to hear idm, dub techno, free jazz yeah, trip hop, and even hardcore punk."

It all happens at home, where he continues to pen minor sounds for minor activity, en route to the "philosophical freedom" of sleep. In the meanwhile, his recordings have been played on the BBC, both at the Asian Network and by Mary Ann Hobbes.

"Bop is a green tea-drinking, banana-eating vegan with a dog named Booyaka, who - despite the calming and soothing nature of his music - frequently gets mad when there’s no hot water in his apartment. He also says he can’t see without his glasses, but fortunately for us his ears are in perfect working order! When he’s not busy playing classic 8-bit computer games from the eighties, Bop finds time to co-manage the label Microfunk (with Dephecta) and a free netlabel called Microcircuit."

Whenever a promotional tone presides, it's hardly to be taken seriously. "Cast aside your D&B aspersions, Bop is an artist light-years ahead of the game and he’s determined to win the symphonic Space Race by stretching the parameters of electronic music." Below we see one of his less successful attempts; the result was a large amount of feedback and a tonality that only be described as nasal.

Cast aside your D&B aspersions, Bop is an artist light-years ahead of the game and he’s determined to win the symphonic Space Race by stretching the parameters of electronic music.

Both participants and colleagues at Microfunk were recently asked to work on the smallest project imaginable; a resulting audiofile and video were shared with the public a few days ago. "And so, friends... finally, from the baking oven of our swollen brains we're able to give you a rich crab salad of tracks. These are works that you wrote, using [nothing more than] the famous [Roland] 808 kick drum. We decided to make a video-film for the mix, too. That way everybody could understand - visually - where his/her work sits in the composition. If you're not bothered by all that, then you can simply download the mp3 and listen to it. Thanks for taking active part in our community."

The amount of effort involved in doing so is hardly extensive. Taking "active part" involves a free digit and a mouse.

This downscaled frippery is all overseen by the symbolic figurehead of Booyaka, who - according to the latest figures - is four years old and a big fan of three aspects of modern culture: fresh caviar, D&B, and Maria Sharapova. He dislikes being photographed and traveling. That same dislike of photographers is evident from the picture below. He clearly has more important matters on his mind; philosophical options that are best exercised when asleep.

A recent study found that dogs actually mimic the movements of their owners. A sleepy, tight-lipped canine is therefore a mirror of his master. Both of the individuals shown below are happier in the wide world of slumber than they are awake. When obliged to remain vertical, Dmitriev continues to make small, understated compositions, treading the thin line between delicacy and absolute silence. Often out of boredom.

As our poet said: "You are insignificant because you are finite." That sad, yet sage realization will only come to those who make small noises on a broad backdrop of silence. It will come to those who realize the tedium of timelessness, adopting as they do so the suggested poses of "precision" and "humility."