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Kr.Ai, part of the Balakovo Flava collective
Moscow's rap and hip-hop are often tied to place in ways that recall a US heritage: confrontational claims are made in order to celebrate a certain zip code or street, even. Pride and pugnaciousness resonate together, since the surrounding world needs to be taught a lesson (apparently). These kind of loud, "regional" gestures, however, only make sense if one's neighbors live close enough to care. What happens to rap if we carry it half way across the biggest country in the world, and place it in some southern provincial towns? How will the role of address - and addressee - change in a leafy, unfashionable district?
An underground organization from a ghost town
One good example or test case might be the rap collective known as Balakovo Flava, based in the town of Balakovo not far from Samara, which is maybe 600 miles from Moscow. The young rappers in and around this organization have just published an album by two of their members, known as "Kr.Ai." Placed together - as the noun "krai" - those two syllables spell the Russian word for "region," but a little investigation into the overall credo of Balakovo Flava reveals that it views itself as "an underground organization from a ghost town."
Making territorial claims is hard if that same territory is invisible. As we'll see from these and other southern performers, the raison d'être of rap alters if it's based in places that are neither well-known nor able to claim any kind of chic heritage. Insolence and insecurity enter into a complex relationship.
Balakovo, near the Volga River
Balakovo is home to less than 200,000 people. Historians trace its origins to the 18th century, when Catherine the Great declared that religious dissenters, who had fled Russia for Poland, could return if they settled in these southern (empty) territories. Proximity to the Volga River meant that religion was gradually supplemented by trade, and Balakovo flourished. Records from just before the Revolution show that the town was home to six churches and seven schools.
Things changed radically in the 1960s, when the Saratov Hydroelectric Station was built nearby. It soon powered a host of industries that sprang up locally - and swiftly - thanks to the abundant energy. These facts and figures may give an impression of healthy growth, but if we take a look at English-language sites that mention the town today, the impression is very different. Industry's gain has meant the loss of uniqueness.
The region is served by Balakovo Airport - which currently does not work
One Western site informs us that "Balakovo is the location of the Saratov Hydroelectric Station on the Volga River and the Balakovo Nuclear Power Plant. It is served by Balakovo Airport - which currently does not work." Nobody's coming or going, so the relevance of regionally proud performance drops swiftly. Local pride requires both a discernible border or boundary and an audience beyond it. The members of Balakovo Flava feel cut off from the mainstream, in several senses.
These disappointing relationships with mapmakers are extended in the work of Moresebya, otherwise known as Vyacheslav Kislyi from Rostov-na-Donu. Kislyi's hometown is approximately the same distance from Moscow as Balakovo. He avoids the regional rant of much modern hip-hop and turns instead towards a more introspective tone.
One web venue declares his key textual emphases to be "Love, depression, paranoia, absurdism, and surrealism." Selfhood is removed from all loud and flattering tales of criminal activity; in fact the real world falls away altogether in favor of melancholy musings.
Love, depression, paranoia, absurdism, and surrealism
Kislyi offers us a small explanation for one of his compositions, "Oskolok" ("Shard" or "Fragment"). It concerns the slight distance between dream and reality or, on a smaller scale, the thin line between imagined and actual acquaintances. He pulls a moral benefit from the text: "You could become absolutely everything for someone who's willing to live with you - until the final seconds of their life." That same soulmate, however, may not exist. What we find, therefore, is the consideration of a social promise or potential - yet the thematic emphases listed by Moresebya imply that real-world happiness is rarely encountered. Stories are concluded in more satisfying and safer ways by one's imagination. A bold exit into the surrounding world is unlikely to increase the chances of success. It's already clear how far we are from the chutzpah of mainstream (or marketable) rap.
Moresebya (Vyacheslav Kislyi, Rostov-na-Donu)
On that note it's worth mentioning Kislyi's stage-name, which consists of two terms: "More" (tr. "Ocean") and "Sebya" ("Oneself" or "Myself"). There's evidently no bridge from private issues to public promise: individual experience alone seems like a boundless and bewildering expanse. In that same metaphorical vein, as somebody unwilling to brave the rough waters of actuality, Kislyi tells us that he's an "individualist, something of a child in his view of the world. This is Moresebya [a "sea of oneself'] in which everybody also finds themselves."
Another southern town - Taganrog - gives us the rapper known as Chen (aka Chen Friss), whose career is tied to the well-respected collective "Broken Sound." Once again, this location is approximately the same size - and distance from the capital - as our other two venues. Nonetheless, Chen has experience as a television presenter for a Moscow music station. This link to the big city seems to produce a more confident, confrontational style. His newest recordings come courtesy of the Moscow rap label, 2-99 Records, and are entitled "Pravda?" ("Truth?").
There's more and more hip-hop around, but it's becoming less interesting. Why is that?
The staff at 2-99 flesh out the context for us: "The album's title is simple - and yet complex, too. Chen asks questions both of himself and his audience, while providing some answers. There's more and more hip-hop around, but it's becoming less interesting. Why is that? What's missing?"
Chen (aka Chen Friss, Taganrog): "Pravda?" (2012)
At this point the label suggests that we recall a famous scene from the 2000 Russian gangster flick, "Brother 2" (Brat 2). Towards the end of the film, the hero - Danila Bagrov - asks an American mobster whether power is found in material gain. Answering his own question, Danila insists that: "Power is found in truth." The scene continues to inform us that a man deceived still has truth on his side. These lines have enormous resonance in Russia, and are known verbatim by countless young people. They turn losers into moral victors. And so an immaterial quality comes to the fore, canceling the material or geographic differences between mid-size towns and huge, moneyed cities.
Chen's recordings draw, for that reason, upon the heritage of Public Enemy, Onyx, and (early) Beastie Boys, hoping thereby to ignore the bling and razzmatazz of recent times. "From the first of those acts, Chen takes a mental awareness and clear-headed reasoning. From the second he takes aggression and an energetic delivery. From the catalog of the third band - Beastie Boys - he draws constantly upon wit and self-mockery, not to mention a rich use of samples and quotations."
Constant wit and self-mockery
The rappers and collectives mentioned here - from the southern towns of Balakovo, Rostov-na-Donu, and Taganrog - have a special relationship to that American tradition. We've already suggested that they tend not to namecheck specific places or figures of local pride. There are no territorial claims made, since - as we can see below - the musicians feel themselves to be very far from mainstream attention or "capital" audiences. It's hard to put a flag in emptiness.
Vyacheslav Kislyi
In the end, our southern rappers work in the name of values that have no fixed home. As the residents of so-called "ghost towns," they draw not upon the cocky myth-making of downtrodden inner cities; instead they champion absent values. They speak in favor of qualities that are "missing" (as Chen says), no matter where one is - and so these tracks might find application nationwide.
Whether they will, however, is an issue that brings us back again to geography and the problems of distance. Hence the leaning towards humor and self-irony that Chen mentions. In fact the entire screenplay of his favorite "Brother 2" is sometimes interpreted as a parody of gangster swagger, since it's so excessive in tone. Bravado reaches the point where it can't possibly be true.
The deceived have truth on their side. That makes them stronger.
In short, therefore, these young men laud the potential and promise of values that may stand no chance in the real world. Arrogance, as a result, does not shout down irony. Six hundred miles from Moscow is far enough to save them from dangerous displays of arrogance. And that can only be a good thing.
In the West, Taganrog is best known as the hometown of Chekhov, who famously noted that: "Any fool can face a crisis. It's day-to-day existence that wears you out." Never mind the guns and urban drama of mainstream rap; these southern performers are fighting a longer - though quieter - battle.
Monument to Anton Chekhov, Taganrog
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