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Yevgeniy "JOSS" Ovsyaniker (Kiev)
Given the potential effortlessness with which house tracks might traverse international borders, East European DJs and producers working in that style are sometimes (pleasantly) surprised by bursts of overseas attention. Put differently, it is entirely possible that house aficionados wandering around Soundcloud or Facebook, even, would stumble across the instrumental catalog of a musician from Russia or Ukraine - and then require some kind of context, be it biographical or cultural.
Comments embedded in audio feeds or as status updates will probably be in that musician's native language, and so - once again - a certain degree of English-language information is required, in order to give Western visitors a vague sense of the artist's modus operandi. Wordplay and wit in some foreign tongue are unlikely to do the job.
Playing from CDs is esthetically unappealing...
One good example might be the well-known house DJ and producer from Kiev, known as (Yevgeniy) Joss. Having performed of late in Ukrainian, Russian, German, French, Israeli, and American clubs, Joss has good reason to adopt a confident tone. He attributes his success to "charisma, professionalism, and a [lasting] sense of style." Those same virtues, we're informed, also help to "set him apart from colleagues."
Within the friendly register of a PR text, we already sense a degree of competition. How, then, will this musician position himself with other promotional materials, such that English-speaking visitors might locate Joss' catalog relative to the discographies of (less impressive) compatriots?
He starts by excluding or "setting apart" some of the competition. The failings of various friends and neighbors are clarified when Joss celebrates a "surgically precise attitude towards his audience." Slapdash indifference is allegedly a widespread problem. Likewise, an unwillingness among local DJs to move beyond a safe, narrow style (or small record collection) is tangentially referenced in Joss' claim to "find space in his mixes both for uplifting funk and technical experiments." In other words, an air of spontaneity takes considerable effort - to the point where Joss' self-description adopts a register more suited to professional sport, perhaps. He speaks of a constantly rehearsed, finely-honed "ritual." There's no time for indolence or indifference.
Uplifting funk passages - and technical experiments
"A long-time advocate of vinyl, Joss knows better than anybody the importance of high-quality music. Each of his performances is a carefully considered and well-defined ritual. His live sets leave no room for fleeting, one-hit wonders."
This need to cultivate a reputation for difference and discernment has always been evident, even in the earliest interviews Joss gave to the Ukrainian press. Here he would trace his roots to youthful, impassioned experiments with tape recorders in the 1990s, before he had any access to modern tools. Those years are remembered with fondness. And yet even here, amid the comforting tones of nostalgia, our artist's phrasing would speak - at least tangentially - of workplace conflict. Joss would criticize other DJs for a "lack of 'inner harmony, in that their 'disharmony' starts showing itself on the outside!" A nasty worldview causes bad behavior. The proper soundtrack to proper behavior starts at home, as we'll see.
A public persona needs first to be cultivated on a private level. That may sound either obvious or superficial, but the dog-eat-dog contexts of modern Slavic music allow no room for sentimental slackers. They are equally unforgiving of pretense. Whenever, therefore, apparent joviality reveals itself as a mere charade, then - says Joss - "I've no desire to perform on the same stage as those people."
En route to a genuinely, consistently jolly philosophy (and lower blood pressure), this performer likes to stress the importance of good music and sex. Both, one would imagine, are within the budget and ability of even the most curmudgeonly artists. Surrounding actuality, however, and the pressures thereof make happiness a weakness, based as it is upon trust.
One healthier - and thus contrary - aspect of social life would logically be evident in the sphere of remixes, based on collaborations, not competition. One of the kindred - and professionally acceptable! - projects with which Joss has worked is Kharkov's Minianimal, whose two members are Alexander Aizatsky and Alexander Tereshenko. The duo have been performing almost as long as Joss, in other words since 2002, when Aizatsky and Tereshenko mapped out their early career to the sounds of D&B. Those youthful, noisy endeavors would eventually grow into club residencies and various aspects of sound engineering, especially after the twosome made a move towards the friendlier aesthetic of house.
And a wide-eyed, lop-eared logo.
Professional connections with SCSI-9 and Anton Kubikov in particular would lead to shows in Moscow. Aizatsky and Tereshenko are now - as a result of these trips - well-established in their hometown, where they regularly display a willingness to experiment across deep-, minimal-, and tech-house, together with elements of jazz and idm. Involvement in the Ukrainian beach festival of Kazantip (where we see Joss above) is an equally clear sign of how well appreciated these efforts have been. Several comments at Soundcloud also operate as support: the levels of trust and empathy seem higher than in Kiev, and yet...
"This is beautiful, deep, and restrained music, too. You've got a really gentle sound. There's a magical atmosphere: it's dreamy, but not forced." Those comparisons, again as with Joss, suggest some places where (feebler) colleagues tend to fail. Even within public celebration we can hear echoes of an ongoing critique: the competition for respect among "colleagues" obliges critique to endure. Natural selection can be noisy.
Something romantic - and mystical, even...
Other public observations at least look back on Minianimal's live performances with gratitude for some brief avoidance of melancholy(!) - which apparently is pervasive: "I recall Kharkov with fondness - and hearing this track when I was there. It has an atmosphere that really touches your heart. It's hard to explain the sensation - but it makes little 'impulses' run beneath your skin! .. This music sits on the border between something romantic and mystical, even. The border between disappointment and joy..." Multiple references to a fleeting sensation continue to show that everyday experience falls well short of a dancefloor's charms.
Minianimal, therefore, earn much praise for sounds of great value, broadcast against a less impressive backdrop. These are joyful texts - within a sad context. How, then, to tip the odds in favor of optimism and friendship?
Given that constant interplay between brief hedonism and conflict, between "joy" and disappointment," where might dance music operate in an easy-going manner? One of the artists whose work has appeared together with Minianimal is Alla Farmer, a resident of Samara and often celebrated on this site. She has a new EP this month, "Cosmic Coyote." It comes with its own promo-text and potted bio. Here, though, we sense a happy blurring of the line between music and quotidian experience: it takes place in an apparently slower town. Provinciality begins to sound extremely appealing.
I was born and raised on the banks of a picturesque Russian river - the Volga
Ms. Farmer tells - or reminds - us: "Alla is my real name: I was born and raised in the sunny town of Samara, on the banks of a picturesque Russian river - the Volga. My parents, being musicians, always surrounded me with the finest sounds. They even sent me off to a music school, where I was very happy. I've always loved singing and have used loads of different instruments as long as I can remember. My friends have always included the kind of people for whom music is vitally important."
As Joss implied earlier, private experience usually finds direct expression in the (public) workplace. Or on the walls of public venues. Farmer's biography, therefore, begins on a promising note.
She goes on: "Whenever I'm not busy with my band - 'Bajinda behind the Enemy Lines' - I write music at home using whatever tools I can find. That solo material has been released all over the globe, though I prefer to publish with Russian labels. In either case, it's a real joy to work locally and - thanks to the internet - my recordings can always be sent anywhere across the planet!" The joy of local experience never fades; in fact it becomes the sine qua non of anything "bigger."
Full-blooded house compositions and old-school disco
"Music is my life. One of the ways in which I'm able to express myself is through DJ-ing. I do that both as a solo performer and with Lena Deen: together we form the duo 'Toxic Tuna.' In fact, there are all kinds of tracks in my bag right now: there's crowd-pleasing techno, some accessible dance numbers with a touch of jazz, full-blooded house compositions, and some old-school disco... When I DJ at exhibitions or cultural events, I like to play something with a broken beat, but if I'm playing at somebody's private party, then I'll probably opt for tracks that have stood the test of time."
Tracing a line from Joss to Minianimal and then Alla Farmer, across southern Russia and Ukraine, we can see how the tone of these promotional materials changes. The civic tensions lessen and the line between audiences and families is reduced. In an increasingly difficult and cutthroat environment, the simplest of homespun values take on a new importance. The problem, of course, is how to defend them. Living in a "sunny town" on a "picturesque river" seems a very good start.
Samara and the River Volga
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