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Non Cadenza: "Eternity" (2011)
As this text is being written, the St Petersburg jazz/funk ensemble Non Cadenza are performing live in Moscow - all in support of their new album. By their own admission, the musicians wrote, buffed, and polished these fourteen songs over seven years' of constant touring. Not surprisingly, therefore, Non Cadenza's reputation has been grounded solidly in stagecraft and (mobile) professionalism. In the framework of these extended efforts, the CD's title seems especially fitting: "Beskonechnost'" (Eternity).
Jazz, soul, a dash of hip-hop, and other stylistic innovations
With music and lyrics by founding member Alexandra Almazova (above), Non Cadenza have garnered a solid and hard-won reputation far beyond the limits of their hometown. Their music has likewise been heard from the same stage as Moloko's Roisin Murphy and - in quieter surroundings - within national TV dramas, broadcast across Russia and Ukraine. Moving with similar gusto across various styles or genres, the band picked up a national pop award in Moscow last year - and then played at the prestigious Usad'ba Jazz festival a few months later.
This happy inconsistency was recently assessed by one Moscow journalist as a melange of "jazz, soul, a dash of hip-hop, and other stylistic innovations." Novelty comes from an interface of traditions.
Posing for posterity
Overseeing this complex activity are Ms. Almazova (vocals), Viktor Savich (bass), Aleksandr Potapov (drums), Arman Sidorkin (keyboards, vocals), Andrei Polovko (saxophone), and Aleksei Degusarov (guitar). Always close by is the ensemble's irrepressible manager, Yana Chudit, who solves the kind of last-minute problems that emerged only yesterday. Copies of the CD were delivered to her office only hours before the Moscow concert... and it suddenly transpired that they lacked almost all information regarding both her own business - and that of the recording studio.
The effort required to endure in the face of such "surprises" is certainly reflected in the ensemble's name, which they interpret in terms of some unflagging, unfailing commitment to their craft. Indeed, Almazova in one recent interview aligned the term "non cadenza" specifically with the noun we now find on the new CD: "It means something along the lines of 'unending' or 'eternal.'"
Whenever we play our old songs live, we always try to give them a new sound
Somewhat ironically, that commitment to things processual - to open-ended experiment - made the recording of this (or any!) album aesthetically tricky, in that a famously "live" jazz band was not initially keen to fix its performance as an unchanging document. "After all, whenever we play our old songs live, we always try to give them a new sound. Sometimes that bothers some people - but it's just the way we work."
Planning variations upon a setlist at the Koktebel Jazz festival, 2011
The issue at hand is one of playing, respectfully, upon traditional forms - including the band's own discography. It's a celebration of liberty. That same fanfare in honor of freedom, however, immediately begs the question as to whether improvisational display actually requires fixed, unchanging recordings - or a canon - in order then to exercise a good-natured "deviation." When precisely this conundrum arose in another interview a few months ago, Almazova reconsidered the role of CDs and other hard, archived media.
A CD is something that gives tangible pleasure. It's a kind of [historical] artifact
"[Maybe] a CD plays the role of a frozen moment [in our ongoing efforts]. It allows musicians to assess their growth... It's certainly important that something remain behind after we've played a show! There should [perhaps] be a disk... something audience members can keep at home or in the car. Something that gives tangible pleasure. It's a kind of [historical] artifact."
It establishes a (fleeting!) norm or unwavering standard - that in turn gives the musicians a chance to frustrate audience expectations. Surprise, after all, only exists in realms where expectations endure. Put differently, variation requires consistency - before it takes flight.
Left to right: Aleksandr Potapov, Arman Sidorkin, and Sasha Almazova
Not surprisingly, another problem in forging these necessary pitstops was financial, since the band was equally committed to qualitative issues. If material was to be set in stone, it should reach the highest possible benchmark. The production values of "Beskonechnost'" are lofty indeed - and surely cost a pretty penny. This is, by any standards, an impressive recording. On several occasions over the last year, therefore, members of Non Cadenza turned to public support or sponsorship systems. In actual fact, even though this long-awaited album has now appeared, the ensemble's web-venues still sport heartfelt requests for a few spare coins.
A related engagement with tradition is evident in some new recordings from Uzbek singer Sevara Nazarkhan, about whom we've written before. Moscow's OpenSpace magazine once called her "the most internationally famous 30-year-old woman born in the Soviet Union." When we last considered her work, the subject under discussion was a collection of upbeat, Russian-language dance tracks that would hopefully allow Nazarkhan to break into the Moscow market.
The most internationally famous 30-year-old woman born in the Soviet Union
That desire seemed reasonable enough, given the ease with which this artist had negotiated various languages and traditions in the past. Classically trained as both a singer and dutar player, she first released an absolutely priceless Russian/Uzbek crossover debut CD in 2000.
This led to attention from both French producer Hector Zazou and Peter Gabriel. BBC World Music awards followed, too, yet in all of these instances, given Nazarkhan's native tongue, she has always remained very much "on display." In other words, her songs need for international markets to be shown visually, in that almost nobody is expected to speak Uzbek.
Perhaps for this reason, and following the Moscow foray, she now returns to her roots for the newest recording, "Tortadur." Here we find eleven traditional if not timeless texts, recorded at the studios of Uzbekistan's national radio - and then mixed in London's Abbey Road studios. The nationally renowned classical musicians with whom she works here are Temur Makhmudov, Kudrat Samadov, Ahmajon Dadaev, Abdulahat Abdurashidov, Abdurahmon Holtojiev, and Farhod Mirzaev.
Although - to Russian listeners - this may seem a swift retreat from northern markets, we should not forget some loud words of praise spoken last year about Nazarkhan by Alla Pugacheva. Arguably the most famous Russian chanteuse of the twentieth century, Pugacheva extended the geographic sweep of the OpenSpace remarks and publicly declared Nazarkhan a "world-class star." The doors to Moscow are always open - and we include one 2010 remix of her mainstream material here, showing how easily she can operate between night clubs and conservatories.
Recording at the studio of Uzbekistan's national radio, 2011
Even when speaking to the Moscow press - during those 2010 Slavic performances - Nazarkhan was already thinking about "Tortadur," at least in theoretical terms. And so, with a little archival work, we might find comments or predictions such as the following: "I'm working on an album of Uzbek folk songs. It'll be an unusual project, because we'll be recording things really - really! - simply. Totally in domestic surroundings." The image above shows well the spartan context of those Tashkent sessions.
"We want to attain a kind of surprising, 'natural' sound. We've been able to invite the very finest musicians from all around Uzbekistan. The kind of people who've absorbed that heritage since childhood. With the expert guidance of that same collective, we've gathered the very best folk songs, too... though they may not be the happiest! We chose the most sincere works: the ones full of heart, soul, and yearning...."
We gathered the very best Uzbek folk songs... though they may not be the happiest!
The admission of melancholy was extended in other interview: "We're working on a collection of Uzbek folk ballads... They'll be very hard to listen to for an 'unprepared' audience, but I absolutely adore the result."
That willful "return" to the severity of a pre-commercial canon occurs, paradoxically, because Nazarkhan has been coaxed into the vague, yet profitable realms of "world music." By her own admission, she relates to any such market-driven notion "with a certain wariness." Although, therefore, both Sevara Nazarkhan and Non Cadenza may be known for their innovative playing upon canonical or classical works, they both feel - over time - that any such liberty is senseless without a coexisting bond to tradition.
Nazarkhan goes on: "The more I mature, the more I come to love classical Uzbek song - without any kind of [generic] meddling. This newest album is simply a collection of works that I love. No electronic instrumentation whatsoever..."
Our chosen performers from both Tashkent and St. Petersburg thus recognize that innovation - or, perhaps, desire - is unavoidably the (gentle) flouting of some taboo. By its very nature, that kind of freely willed deviation into crossover jazz or world music actually recognizes the authority and power of source materials. Endless difference, of course, would involve no such transgression and therefore lose all claim to meaning. Novelty is tied inextricably to law; movement requires a stable starting point.
The more I mature, the more I come to love classical Uzbek song - without any kind of [generic] mixing
For all the romance of experimentation, it seems that our northern champions of touring and intricate surprise will continue to make the occasional (and expensive) recording. Only by fixing their sound on hard media - or by overtly respecting the canon - will further displays of ostentatious difference be possible. Likewise, the more melancholy, "severe," or "difficult" these Central Asian works become - from an audience's standpoint - the greater one's opportunity for future difference, deviation, and display.
Everybody gather round and sing the classics. Once in a while.
Nazarkhan on Russian state television with Viacheslav Butusov
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