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The difficulties of songwriting - and then performing - in towns across Russia are no mystery. The graceless lurching of a failed music industry constantly forces any kind of "creative" work to acquiesce to other, more pressing issues. Such as the search for a basic income. When we combine these fiscal challenges with Russia's geography, things only become harder. Take, for example, the location of Murmansk, the world's largest city north of the Arctic Circle. What are the options for performing artists?
This region's considerable distance from Moscow - over 900 miles - and dwindling employment have both led to a shrinking population. The longer one waits, the emptier the city becomes. It can be hard gathering an audience when most people are heading for the train station.
As a result of these local headaches, which only appear to be worsening over time, any faith in promotional rhetoric is going to be minimal. Advertising is unlikely to overcome the failings of a national economy or lessen the distance to a faraway horizon. By way of example, the unwelcoming image above shows a Murmansk vacation resort called "Comfort Valley." The use of summery adjectives has done nothing to actually fill the hotel in question. Talk is cheap and action is underfunded.
This double dilemma leads, not surprisingly, to music websites with very little to say.
There is one Murmansk ensemble whose members' stage name speaks to the pressing issues at hand: they're known as Hearts, Guys and Guitars. The stress here, to paraphrase those nouns, is on people, passion, and some hard-won instruments. The band occupies a couple of web venues at MySpace and Bandcamp. Neither offers any biographical or aesthetic context, at least not in verbal forms; a collection of images at Flickr merely increases the weight in favor of pictorial evidence.
Once again, there's little point in verbal finery - and so, as a result, what one encounters is a rather forward, even confrontational type of narrative. Hard times produce tough talk. The band's debut EP, intriguingly titled "Practica," begins with a track called "Poka" ("Thus Far..."). The words describe some pleasant, yet fleeting states such as springtime, love, and fidelity, all of which - "thus far"... - are operating as they should. A surrounding, unsympathetic society, however, will seemingly lead to the demise of all three. Patience brings no rewards.
I'm already old - and you're already dead
Over the course of the three songs on offer, this sense of cynicism grows. The closing number "Tishina" (Quietness), opens with a Russian equivalent of "dum-dee-dum," spoken a couple of times. There's little point in even forming a coherent sentence. But what exactly are the forces running contrary to speech? What makes silence a logical reaction? The lyrics begin: "Greater than me, greater than you; greater than words - and all our dreams... Time goes tediously by... I'm already old - and you're already dead."
Quietness indeed. As the opening statement of a poetic or musical career, those lines are fairly dramatic. A vigorous response is needed to Old Father Time and the sizable, sluggish girth of Mother Russia.
Much closer to Moscow - and more talkative - are the Nizhny Novgorod outfit Pent Haus. Although the band's webpages, dotted around Vkontakte, also have little time for polished PR-speak, some alternative effort is invested in a series of "Conceptual Suggestions Re: the Popularization of Art." The grandiose title gives us little indication of seriousness, but - upon reading the first few paragraphs - it's clear that considerable enthusiasm is nonetheless involved in the search for a plan:
"One head is good, but five are better. Together we'll conquer the world!!! Our weapon is music and our horizon is the entire planet!" This unexpected declaration of intent suddenly runs into actuality, however - and the need for outside guidance: "Our plans... are YOUR IDEAS! Let's share some thoughts on how to make a little money - or how to get our music to the masses. We'll consider any advice... and maybe we'll be open to some material assistance, too :-))"
Let's share some thoughts on how to make a little money
The very first comment from a chance reader says it all: "What kind of 'masses' are you talking about?" In an age where centralized media is a fading notion, in which direction should an ensemble look? How to garner attention? And, from a geographical point of view, in which direction should one move - physically?
One thinking head anticipates the help of four more.
Another fan hopes to be more constructive: "Try yourself out at various musical competitions. Show yourself wherever you can. It makes sense to invest in some advertising, too - that way you can get your banner on the kind of website that important people visit. You guys play the music a radio station would like, so there's good reason for you to try that avenue, also... Despite everything, however, you still need to look for good connections..."
...money, money, money, connections, connections, connections!
These well-intentioned, yet imprecise suggestions continue until their author decides to summarize matters: "In short, what you need is money, money, money, connections, connections, connections! :))" Pent Haus, unsure of a proper trajectory or progressive career, are told to go looking. But where? A level of commitment endures, yet without any sense of tried or tested direction.
This conundrum is audible - and visible - in one of the band's new songs - "With the Eyes of the City." It seems initially to place much faith in - or simply celebrate - the hedonism of a major metropolis. The video, however, shows a man so dissatisfied with urban clubs, casinos, and so forth that he almost commits suicide. The only relief from his search for objective value(s) comes from sprinting through the premises of a nightclub, climbing the stairs, and reaching the building's rooftop. Here with evident relief, he stares out to the sunset.
Once again we find ourselves amid countless negative options and some positive, yet unclear alternatives. Dead ends and distant horizons predominate. A troubled world = messy hair.
We've written on several occasions about the Vladivostok outfit Mari! MarI!, who are so far from the structured workings of Moscow showbiz that their new album includes a song in Chinese. Not long before this new multicultural release, the band also reorganized their entire website, stripping it down to some absolute basics. The only three rubrics on display are now "Album," "Rider," and "Tour."
Recording, travel plans, and sustenance en route. Motion and noise; nothing else matters.
Album. Rider. Tour.
The album, released this week, has the equally straightforward title of "1." Only when a second digit appears in the future will a trajectory be discernible; thus far we have one audible step - in some direction. This enduring sense of (mere) activity, rather than of unidirectional advancement, is clear in the way Mari! MarI! talk of themselves. "Without any radio play or TV performance - in fact with the web alone - the band has managed to attract great interest and garner the support of many fans, too." There's a sense of centrifugal flight here - outwards to the ether - that's more redolent of dissipation than progress. The impression, in other words, endures of some passage into nothingness - which, needless to say, can be worrying!
In an attempt, perhaps, to give these ongoing, yet necessary efforts some discernible structure, the album's eleven tracks are punctuated with a brief and stately instrumental "Interlude." A diminutive, independent recording adopts the vocabulary of grand theater and antique cinema.
Time for a snack in the foyer.
That aura of imposing, canonical status (and stasis) is very short-lived, however. Once we begin the second half of the proceedings and the remaining five songs, not only do we run up against the Chinese language. We also encounter 192 seconds of stuttering distortion with the title of "Werther, Lotte, and Albert." This reference to Goethe's suicidal romeo does not bode well; in fact, if the original story is anything to go by, then the greater or more insistent the sense of romance, the worse things will end. Self-destructive German lovers may not be the safest role models.
Two worldviews stand face to face: incredible dynamism that's invested in a traveling project - and the sense that, sooner or later, it'll all come to an end. Perhaps badly. And so, sensing their inability to master fame, fortune, or even a stable income, the members of Mari! MarI! throw caution to the wind. The album comes to us with five brief sentences in Russian: "We're young. We're from Vladivostok. We've recorded our first album. We're cocky. We don't care."
All extraordinary men... have ever been decried by the world as drunken or insane
The rationale behind this ephemeral, intense lifeline may come once again from Goethe's impetuous, self-harming hero. In that same tale we find the view that "all extraordinary men, who have accomplished great and astonishing actions, have ever been decried by the world as drunken or insane." The fragmentation of actuality has begun - a very long way from Moscow, and even further from its bright lights.
Distance and determination go round and round.
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