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Audience Killers (Riga, Latvia): "Rainbow"
Given the way in which web-based publishing (or piracy) erases any sense of meaningful chronology, texts and tunes can appear - and reappear - without seasonal logic. The rationale, for example, behind Christmas or summertime publications has long since vanished - together with serious talk of a profit incentive. Individual compositions, digital singles, and albums may now emerge - or reemerge - at any time of the day or night. Take, by way of illustration, the work of Riga's Audience Killers. Their small catalog is apparently no more than a two-track single, "Rainbow," which has suddenly appeared on Bandcamp, even though it seems to be a product of late last year. That brief renaissance would at least suggest that concerted activity has begun elsewhere online: somebody, somewhere is keen to grab our attention.
And yet a jaunt around some of the relevant Latvian sites, even tangentially connected to the band, soon produces a very different opinion. The group's two official sites both appear to have vanished forever - or at least until somebody feels like paying for their upkeep. Likewise, a Facebook account contains only one image: the pink picture below that, ironically, seems to reflect some discernible media interest. It suggests a photo-shoot of relative significance (even if the flanking adults look disengaged).
The only place of evident effort is Twitter. In fact the entire textual content of Audience Killers' Facebook account is now coming via Twitter in Latvian. One person - somewhere - is busy with a cellphone. A singular voice thus sounds out against an overwhelming impression of transience. Whatever once appeared in terms of bona fide songwriting seems now to have passed. A barely audible stream of tweets is the only sign of any impending activity.
There are some indications of future studio work: not only from those mobile notes, but also in the lyrics of the band's single. The basic refrain running through one of the tracks - "Mon Personage" - was: "I'm a plastic robot,/ Sleeping charming lady./ Vulgar kitchen monster,/ Guy from high-school picture./ It's sentimental." Placing aside the gender confusion in those couplets, it's at least clear that domesticity and nostalgia are both very unappealing. The desire to escape them would logically inspire new, focused effort.
Vulgar kitchen monster... It's sentimental
Time marches on, leaving a few hushed voices, and yet "fond" memories are dismissed out of hand. Nostalgia is not an option.
That same tension between fleeting time and hopes for enduring significance in one's biography can, of course, take generational forms. We could easily turn to a very different town or genre, and still find these worries about impermanence. Take, for example, the all-female pop-punk outfit from Samara, Fairy Meds. Although the members aren't terribly keen to announce their line-up in professional terms, it seems reasonable to assume that we're dealing with the four figures of Sasha Fedina, Emma Korolevna, Alice Fairy, and Bless Cherry.
Only some of these names are real. Knowing smiles are probably not to be trusted.
Even with rudimentary English, the theme of generational conflict comes swiftly to the fore, interweaving with tales of ephemeral experience. Time is moving too fast. Adulthood is both wanted and a cause for worry. It's expected and avoided at the same time.
Fairy Meds are admirably keen to invite criticism and (possible) praise - all in the name of objectivity. Criticism normally concerns their lyrics (in terms of pronunciation and/or grammar). Both praise and opprobrium emerge on the issue of Fairy Meds' on-stage speed and vigor: these tendencies towards performative haste are indicative, say commentators, either of stylistic paucity or an unwavering desire to address some real, troubling issues. With songs directed against "Suckers" and the fear of (one day) "stinking like Dad," only a stream of noise will suffice as defense against the passage of time.
Perhaps the clearest evidence of these fears comes in the song entitled "Jenny": "The f***ing clock is ticking... Oh Jenny, I'm so sorry." Friendship offers mild - though inconsequential - consolation against the grander, heartless movement of both months and years.
Dad's tanked up. Mom is a tart./ Such a well-bred family.
The only suitable reaction, perhaps, to physical demise is loud, even masochistic enterprise that - on occasion - does deliberate damage to the same "stinking" body that reflects the passing years. Hence these lyrics from Fairy Meds that border on a display of self-harm: "The blood from my nose is streaming down to the floor./ It runs so quickly. [It's] so strange, you know, spreading in a wonderful pattern." That same abuse or self-disgust is continued in other texts, addressing crippling sensations of nausea: "I'm lying on the floor, you know..." This horizontal position leaves our heroine "wrapped in [my] self-spewed guts./ Just one look in the mirror makes me sick." There are more pressing issues than correct grammar.
If words - shouted at top volume - are little help against fading experience, then perhaps there's greater refuge in an instrumental register. This summer we took a first look at a trio from the medieval city of Ryazan, founded perhaps in 800AD - and situated approximately 120 miles south of Moscow: IWFYLS. In the same taciturn spirit as their music, the band members usually like to define themselves in the briefest terms possible, specifically as Alex, Eugene, and Leo.
There are, oddly, some professional benefits to silence. Despite the group's rather standoffish attitude towards language, some English sites - untroubled by Russian verse! - have found it relatively easy to discuss the material of IWFYLS, which stands for the byzantine "I Am Waiting for You Last Summer." Alex, Eugene, and Leo recently told a Western webzine that their catalog is tinged with a certain "Russian flavor," despite the tendency of foreigners to tag it as "traditional post-rock."
What, therefore, distinguishes a local tradition from anything international?
It's pure human weakness to exist within one's memories
We approached Eugene (Popov) and asked him ourselves about the band's extraordinarily long name. He informed us that it has no direct connections to anything literary or cinematic. Instead, he continued, the expression "IWFYLS" is designed as the embodiment of "some romantic memories." Why "last" summer, though? And why apply the present tense to a past event? Popov said: "It's pure human weakness to exist within one's memories." The phrase in question, therefore, is meant both to explain the power of nostalgia - and then criticize it.
IWFYLS (Ryazan): "Medley Season" (2011)
Since the time we posed those questions, the same topic of local concerns and universal yearning has arisen in other venues. The worries we saw with Audience Killers return. They seem to reflect a genuinely widespread experience, judging by some of the comments at Soundcloud of late: "You guys are simply amazing. Your stuff is some of the most beautiful music I've heard in years. Just perfect!" Or, elsewhere: "Incredible ethereal beauty..." Many people have the same concerns.
Incredible ethereal beauty... (Soundcloud)
In a more recent interview with a Persian webzine, the members of IWFYLS have defined those "local" aspects of their craft. They feel that post-rock melancholy has a special place in Russia, where time's passage - for many people - offers little in the way of improved experience. "There are plenty of causes for inspiration here in Russia... The modern world certainly has problems - when it comes to how emotions might be reflected [in musical form]. People are becoming increasingly lonely: they put barriers between themselves and the rest of the world. That's typical for Russia, so I'm not surprised that post-rock is so well-developed here..."
This social rationale is then extended to even grander matters of climate: "It's also natural that Russian weather will influence the atmosphere of our music, too. One's mood always depends upon the climate..." Frozen lakes, black attire, and nothing to inhibit the passage of northern winds. Sartorial, meteorological, and heartfelt factors all combine — in ways both trivial and traumatic.
There are very good reasons why these young bands would have scant faith in retrospection - and harbor equal nervousness about the future, too. Some of these musicians rage against the (inherited?) failings of a previous generation, whereas others attribute their lack of security or shelter to the land itself. Shoegazing makes good sense when the horizon offers little comfort.
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