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The romance of "independent" songwriting in the West is very much an outgrowth of the 1970s and '80s when there existed (slim) opportunites for DIY media to be showcased on regional or national outlets, either in the UK or US. Those decades marked a slow transition from the monolithic conservatism of post-war radio and recording to a slightly more democratic display of talent. Hence the adjective "independent": it spoke to the possibility of minor existence relative to a major, centralized broadcasting force.
Nowadays, however, that such centralized venues have been bludgeoned by piracy and/or economic decline, that dyad means a lot less. Independence is no longer a fitting term to describe songwriting away from the radio. In the Russian context, that same central position is occupied more by television, in any case. The most widely-known, recognizable faces in Slavic entertainment are, arguably, not those played on the radio, but those seen on television. Amd the ruins of erstwhile business online, one needs therefore to be seen in some form, either literally (on stage) or in metaphorical, digital forms (by attracting traffic).
A quick look at the significance of web-based amateur or "peripheral" music shows quickly that amid the endless number of options today, web surfers will always gravitate towards those sites with the largest number of archived tracks. Put differently: wherever fans of small-scale artistry exist, they do not want to visit one site per ensemble. They expect some form of visible cohesion.
Not only is the creation of new social nodes important in terms of PR. If formed locally in the East European context, they might also hope to construct scenes of local consequence, which both increase the opportunities for performing at home and the likelihood that nationally-recognized bands will visit. The creation of discernible activity works to the benefit of all.
Here, therefore, we'd like to pay a little attention to some fan-based activity in Siberia. That location is disadvantaged by its distance from Moscow, but it's also blessed with a large local population and relatively high incomes.
We'll be taking a band called The Just as our test case.
The Just are from Novosibirsk, yet sing in English. As if that weren't a sufficient challenge, there's also the group's name, which causes confusion before they've even taken to the stage. Native speakers of English and Siberian residents are similarly confused, but the quartet has no intention of adopting a simpler moniker. They just lay out the problem - and continue working:
"Due to that one English word 'Just,' the arguments never cease among these four musicians over how on earth people should translate their name. Some of the versions include 'Just' in terms of 'Fair' or 'Impartial,' 'Justified,' and 'Only/Barely.' What can be done to sort things out? None of the band members ever studied language beyond a few college courses... well, to be honest, Alex the drummer might have done, but he doesn't give a damn which version is right."
Nobody pays attention to him, in any case.
Currently on the band's page at Vkontakte their artistic claims are as bold as their contrariness. "From the moment you come upon this webpage, your outlook on the music world will change beyond recognition. Our aim is to further that change. Please leave your opinion about the band in the Comments box. We're open to all forms of collaborative work."
When we last looked at their output in the first few days of 2010, The Just were starting to win local competitions in Siberia; they have now triumphed in the Novosibirisk round of a national talent competition, which offers them a chance to travel to St Petersburg and compete nationally. Success at this civic level has meant that the "comments" requested from the band have come thick and fast from all around Siberia, as people wish them well.
Those same commentators may be relatively small in number, but they're loud in voice.
Likewise, the band's interest in "collaborations" appears to be manifesting itself less in terms of studio work than as encouragment along local streets, far from anything resembling the PR departments of a traditional music company. Already we are beginning to see the remarkable speed with which they're building a fanbase at home. That same base, it's worth pointing out, is extraordinarily good-natured. Given the ease with which spiteful, anonymous comments can be left around online forums, the general inclination towards pleasantry is a sight to behold.
The artists' ability to foster both admiration and a sense of widespread parity is important: they manage somehow to cultivate social relationships on both a vertical axis (amid adoring or respectful fans) and a horizontal equivalent (through witty banter). Such connections can have a significant consequence in the current financial climate. It's worth drawing a parallel with those Western bands who've managed to fund their studio work through fan-driven investments: a small contribution, say $20, might guarantee a signed copy of the CD when released, whereas a substantially larger amount might even permit a fan to play a small part in the recording process. The success of these schemes comes from an interplay between adoration and amity.
It pays to be nice, therefore, in various senses.
The Just remain very much a local phenomenon; consequently, it's interesting to see how their work is currently framed by the organizers of the talent competition already mentioned. That promo- or introductory text can be translated as follows: "Since The Just were formed, they've managed to play on the same stage as bands like Mari! Mari!, Cheese People, Limebridge, and many others. They stand out with their contemporary, high-quality sound, experimental approach to music-making, and the variety of their set-lists. We hear both male and female vocals, interesting arrangements, and a beautiful, unique use of keyboards..."
The ensemble is being framed for a potential national audience in terms of various harmonies, be they musical or social.
Words of online support for the band, attracted by these broad smiles and wide-ranging styles, are peppered with hyperbole and exclamation marks: "They're all mega-cool!!! It won't be long before The Just will be filling stadiums with millions of people! All their gigs will sell out in hours!" These dizzy heights of enthusiastic assistance soon reach the point where they become something of a norm - and people start playing with the other end of the register: mock criticism. That starts with some feigned ignorance: "Who are The Just? Are they some kind of band? Never heard of 'em."
This is followed by a supporter of The Just taking the quartet's faux mockery of their name and pretending to be genuinely peeved: "Their stage name's so complicated! They could at least have come up with something simpler. They seem to sing OK, though... except that guy with the curly hair :)" The smiley face at the end of the sentence deflates any sense of outrage. All pretence at upset becomes unbridled goofiness.
Such pretend jabs and jibes are wonderful proof of the high levels of trust between performer and audience. That situation, as mentioned above, is built upon a simultaneous development of respect and bona fide friendship, while the distance between those two states is kept deliberately small. Neither doe-eyed adoration nor a contempt born of excessive familiarity will help anyone, since the likelihood of people actually making money is slim indeed. Musicians and audiences are in this together, for the long run, precisely because massive fame and fortune are unlikely. In the meanwhile, therefore, decent coexistence seems a better option.
If we can draw more parallels with the US, it's worth mentioning that only twelve independently made and marketed albums in the last twenty years have reached Number One. Nonetheless, it may not be worth signing with a major, as only 10% of the albums released by major corporations ever make a profit.
Oh. the agony.
Goals, consequently, fade away and processes become more important. People simply want to come along for a ride, rather than be fixated on a form of wish-attatinment that lies in the cruel hands of finance. Fleeting desires take precedence over concrete (and extremely rare) goals. Therein lies the value of these pretend insults about musical cluelessness or anonymity; the truth - that anonymity probably does beckon - is too miserable to admit out loud. If musicians and their audiences can toss fake insults back and forth, the line between pain and pleasure becomes harder to define.
As they say in Russian, it makes a little "laughter through tears" possible.
One of the band members adds, in the same spirit: "OK, everybody! It seems that this 'guy with the curly hair' is ruining the band's appearance. We'll kick out of the group, take him aside, and give him a right talking to..."
The role-playing in Novosibirsk does not end here: kept anonymous by the workings of digital interaction, some individuals assume the pose of offended young males with less-than-straight hair. "Hey! Leave us curly types alone. We're good people." This then becomes a social stand-off, a cause for social unrest, even: "Hands Off the Curly Heads! Don't Touch Them Freckled Folks, Neither!"
It's amazing amid this good-natured give-and-take that any work gets done. The brand new release of an EP from The Just is, therefore, cause for celebration several times over. The five songs on display are just as catchy and structurally playful as the last release in January: "We Are Dreaming," offered here, is a particular joy. The songs can all be downloaded for free; should they meet with approval, the band's entire (modest) discography is also accessible through their page at Vkontakte.
And so, in the words of another local, we're left with "some really interesting music. It's very pretty, even uplifting in places, but it never goes crazy. The energy levels are just fine; it's the kind of stuff that let's you get going, if you want!" A low-level grumble creeps in from time to time: "The recording quality isn't fantastic and the production levels aren't much cause for celebration, either. There's a girl singing in some of the tracks - it doesn't seem to be the same girl who's playing bass guitar: I didn't like her voice..."
And yet, as we've seen thus far, camaraderie and closeness will win the day. "You're all nice to look at... well, you would be in Tomsk, anyway!" Such, it seems, is the secret to success in Siberian pop: look nicer than the people in neighboring towns.
The folks of Novosibirsk, as we see below, seem more than happy with their curly-haired songsters. Things in Tomsk, therefore, must be pretty dire...
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