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Klaipeda is a town on the Lithuanian coast, overlooking the Baltic Sea. Its position between terra firma, frozen waves, and neighboring kingdoms has meant that Klaipeda’s history involves territorial claims from a number of empires, accompanied on most occasions by considerable violence.
By way of brief illustration, the second half of the twentieth century was dramatic enough. Towards the end of the WWII, as the promise of peace looked increasingly genuine, most of Klaipeda’s citizens were suddenly forced to evacuate. The closing months of conflict were still extremely dangerous for those who lived near the front line. Avoiding one force on a battleground, however, can sometimes mean acquiescing to another. Sure enough, the quiet streets and empty buildings of an evacuated county made it easy for Soviet troops to drive in – and stay.
Once within the Soviet universe, Klaipeda saw massive investment from Moscow, both financially and technically. Shipping and fishing became sufficiently important to the region that people moved to this distant, windswept port from all across the USSR, more than doubling the population as a result. To this day, maybe one quarter of the town’s inhabitants are native speakers of Russian.
Still perched, therefore, between languages and traditions, Klaipeda is the hometown of a new generation of artists, born on occasion after the fall of the Soviet Union. These include the young Lithuanian beatmaker ĀBCD, although he currently lives and works in London. That geographic switch, very much in the tradition of his native streets, has been orchestrated to the sounds of his favorite artists. When asked who inspires his current output, he namechecks Glasgow’s Hudson Mohawke, Rustie (London), Flying Lotus (CA), Dimlite (CH), and Dorian Concept (Austria) with particular enthusiasm.
The geographic sweep is considerable.
...pop tunes, dub aesthetics and modern glitchy/wonky electronica
The result of these multiple names, places, and passions is an equally “liminal” aesthetic, involving what our nameless instrumentalist likes to call a mélange of “pop tunes, dub aesthetics and modern glitchy/wonky electronica.”
A figure whose geographic and musical connections are so mobile, however, might be in need of some colleagues and collaboration, in order that nomadic clamor find a more stable and productive home. For ĀBCD that has meant work with the increasingly influential collective from Vilnius (above) known as Renegades of Bump, under the guidance of local maestros Vaiper and Harvey Clef. Our prior discussions of this project have usually begun with a quick explanation of its name.
In the early 1980s, a electro/funk single was released by Afrika Bambaataa (and colleagues) called "Renegades of Funk." Thanks to the bold production work of Arthur Baker, it would go on to become not only a major dancefloor hit, but also an enduring social statement. The track, in short, suggests a direct connection between civic art and social change.
Originally designed to improve awareness of gang-related problems on the streets of the Bronx, both "Renegades
of Funk" and later work by Bambaataa would be elevated to a grander stage and bigger social issues. His music and managerial know-how were once used, for example, to fill London's Wembley Stadium - at the time of Nelson Mandela's release from prison.
96wrld (in one context)
The same relationship between dancefloor hedonism and social reform was drawn even more clearly when "Renegades" was covered in 2000 by Rage Against the Machine. The band, in order to both vivify and canonize the original's message, made a now-famous video from countless spliced images of Black and Hispanic celebrities, almost all of whom played some role in the Civil Rights movement - artistically or otherwise. Fun and civic purpose ran side by side.
Renegades of Bump in Lithuania have done much to advertise the work of fellow countrymen: the newest of those efforts come to us as two mini-LPs, the first of which places ĀBCD face to face with Miša Skalskis, otherwise known as 96wrld and himself a resident of Vilnius. Online publications in Lithuania refer to Skalskis as “one of the country’s most promising musicians.” Various materials scattered around the web show that same expertise is developed in both classical and popular realms - as we document above and below.
And so, by positioning him together with ĀBCD, the folks at Renegades of Bump hope to wave the flag of a proud and occasionally jerry-rigged style. “Skalskis merges beats, wonky, dub, and other elements. It all coheres and then flourishes in entirely new forms.” Innovation grows from splicing apparent incongruities – and from the movement between them.
The second Renegades mini-album stars a couple more Lithuanian hopefuls, Deep Shoq (Donatas Rinkevicius) and Fingalick (Tomas Narkevičius), also from the capital city. Rinkevicius, operating “somewhere between hip-hop, beats, and electronica,” has a soft spot for metaphors taken from the world of aviation. One of his images is shown above, capturing the warm tones of a yellowing print - en route to sepia. It's a chromatic marker of fondness.
Turning those vague reference points into something (a little) more concrete, certain local writers have likened the sounds of Deep Shoq to “a slight loss of gravity.” Those same web-based scribes nonetheless assure local fans that dreamy, introspective soundscapes will not replace a key emphasis upon “dancefloor work for the legs and neck…” Every self-respecting renegade needs some bump.
Dancefloor work for the legs and neck…
This love of airborne imagery, so to speak, comes – at first - from a makeshift, even hodgepodge view of one’s craft. We’ve seen that the positioning of Klaipeda, in fact of all Lithuania, is historically tied to various patterns of transience, most of which had tragic consequences. Nonetheless, a dearth of stability can also foster liberty from jingoism, and in the work of these young artists – designed specifically by Renegades of Bump to celebrate national musical achievements(!) - we perceive a deliberate cultivation of kaleidoscopic or mosaic frameworks.
Neither fixedness nor immobility are viewed kindly.
96wrld (in another)
In fact, it’s precisely through a celebration of nothing in particular, of mobile significances, that other and grander imagery comes into being. ĀBCD’s grab-bag of influences – all across the map - becomes talk of Miša Skalskis’ “flourishing” new formal experiments. Then, from within “blossoming” ideas, we jump to figures of speed and vertical movement. And, in the context of Eastern Europe, the symbolism of moving “faster, higher, and stronger” is powerful indeed.
Whether one is within the Olympic movement or more frightening organizations of prior decades…
Fingalick , throwing caution and the risk of hyperbole aside, nudges this trajectory a little further. When we first came across his work, we paid attention to one of his pithier and more programmatic statements, built upon metaphors of fluidity and motion, rather than any predetermined or dogmatic contention. Confidence, in other words, came in part from a lack of goal-driven enterprise.
It's evidently hard work, all the same.
He employed no more than a handful of impressionistic terms to advocate a state that's far from speech – and
therefore fixedness. When asked about his potential as a young composer and his ability to publish, he spoke in terms of (endless) musical motion, rather than inflexible targets: "I can make it pour. [I am] the musician of a new
generation."
I am the musician of a new generation
What sounds like stable, stubborn conceit is in fact a claim made upon (relentless) movement and generic transience. The “musician of a new generation” is, according to the same logic, a figure of never-ending experimentation and undaunted empiricism. Although these young men espouse a work ethic that strives hard to shrug off the burden of custom, their very celebration of inconstancy and deviation seems a part of local history. It is itself a tradition or, at the very least, a habit learned from history.
The two new releases that showcase the music of Fingalick, ĀBCD, 96wrld, and Deep Shoq are tied to this custom of uncustomary practice. And certain color schemes suggest that a related, unrelenting principle of “faster, higher, and stronger” will endure for quite some while.
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