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A few days ago, we sketched the development and importance of Moscow's Highway Records for recent house and techno - not only in the capital, but also further afield. At the same time, we considered related hopes for some kind of leveling or democratization across "provincial" locations, such that far-flung exponents of quality dance music might avoid the condescending gaze of Moscow and St Petersburg. Addressing that issue directly, the head of Highway Records - Mike Spirit - voiced the contention that communicative, cultural, and even financial differences across the nation are slowly being erased.
As we mentioned before, the symbolism of Highway, shown above, does much to endorse and advocate that same romance of musical "transport," far from home. The symbols are quickly put to work.
Mr. Spirit recently gave an interview to the Krasnodar press on the subject of modern dance music, and what might link three locations such as Moscow, Krasnodar, and Zaporozhye to general benefit. His line of thought began after a specific question, in which he was asked whether cities outside of Moscow, St Petersburg, and Kiev have any chance of participating - meaningfully! - in the development of dancefloor culture. His response, in positive tones, reflected the fact that increasing numbers of "regional" projects are evident at the national SWMC Festival in Sochi. "Every year, I see more representatives from Kazan, Rostov, Tula, Ekaterinburg, Krasnodar, and other cities..."
If, though, we look a little closer at the back-catalog of Highway, we can see two other trajectories taking shape. The label draws upon artists not only from (increasingly) distant locations; it also has links through its impressive roster to international, collaborative projects. Take, for example, the figure of Seva K, an early colleague for Highway, who came to Moscow from his hometown of Velikii Novgorod. As a locale mentioned in chronicles over one thousand years ago, Velikii Novgorod is a fitting location from which to spin tales of great travel...
Nonetheless, should we be looking for a genuinely epic example of conquered milage, we might turn to Pavel Iudin, who has also performed for Highway and a host of other labels under the stage-name of Paronator. Velikii Novgorod is approximately 300 miles from Moscow; Iudin's hometown of Zima is a thousand miles away - and certainly within striking distance of the Mongolian border.
Local architecture has changed little.
Zima, in fact, is an almost legendary location, despite its small population of 30,000. Long ago, it was nothing more than a collection of wooden houses until merchants began passing through in the late 18th century... on horses. Steam-driven traffic accelerated that process, of course, although not until the end of the following century. Geographers were certainly unwilling to call Zima a "town" until the 1920s. Due to the fairly predictable problems of post-Soviet unemployment, Zima's population figures have now gone into reverse, an issue probably not helped by Mr. Iudin's exodus.
Inspired by fellow Zima resident, poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko, Iudin's thousand-mile train journey to Moscow was, no doubt, a consequence of certain civic failure at home and possible success elsewhere. Romance thus played a more important role than fiscal planning - and a book of '60s verse en route would have been fitting company.
Having now forsaken his childhood expertise on the guitar and trumpet for a couple of turntables, Iudin/Paronator has proven the logic of his Moscow move through a host of collaborations with Electronic Elements (Holland), Proton Music (US), and Seamless Recordings (UK). He also claims the explicit blessing and approval of Hernan Cattaneo (Argentina), Pole Folder (Belgium), and UK staples such as John Digweed, Nick Warren, or Jody Wisternoff.
The streets of Zima rarely see such guests.
Paronator (Pavel Iudin)
Those overseas connections are most evident, perhaps, with the duo Monaque (Alex Monakhov and Serge Que), whose work is split between Moscow and New York. Although they've recently held down a Moscow club residency and worked with some well-established German labels, they also spent a good part of last year playing in Mexico City, Tel Aviv, Buenos Aires, Miami, and - eventually - New York.
We'll probably be playing in a city close to you very soon...
None of the DJs mentioned thus far have much to say for themselves. Work is clearly more important than chit-chat. In that same diligent spirit, Monaque tend to conclude their promo-statements with a far-reaching promise that "We'll probably be playing in a city close to you very soon..."
Monaque's centrifugal romance combines neatly with the "inward" yearning of Seva K and Pavel Iudin towards the BIg City. Both processes help to counter the centralized self-assurance of Moscow, which works to nobody's benefit beyond the capital ring-road.
Matching this geographic runaround in generic terms is (Evgenii) Freska, who has somehow managed to engineer the transition from a youthful passion for Black Sabbath and(!) Kraftwerk to modern DJ-ing expertise. Like Iudin, Freska also has a schoolboy's background of (countless) guitar lessons, but he would begin the slow, inexorable shift to urban dancefloors once he discovered a drum machine. That change in emphasis eventually led to a melange of "lounge and experimental rock." As we can already see, stylistic purity was not a concern amid what he calls a studied "lack of prejudice.... Music's truly magnificent when you can't pigeonhole it." That outlook continues today.
Music's truly magnificent when you can't pigeonhole it
The Western press has made positive noises: "You really must listen to this. It's a pleasure to hear something [composed] with such freedom, yet still within the boundaries of beat-driven electronic music. Why don't more people make stuff like this?" In fact, echoing that aesthetic liberty in spatial terms, Freska's travels to Moscow and St Petersburg also began from afar. His hometown is the Arctic port of Murmansk.
Of all the four musical projects under discussion here, Freska's has led to the most interviews. As a result, it's worth turning to some of his comments in the press - in order to gain a little context for this endless Wanderlust, be it stylistic or spatial.
In either case, additional funding never hurts.
Asked on one recent occasion to define his catalog in five words, he chose: "Music [itself]/ Fresh/ Unpredictable/ Soulful/ [and] Epic." The idea of endless, willful transitions leads to a very grand conclusion. Goals are reached through a process of constant movement, in other words through the avoidance of one (fixed) destination. Movement is validated above goal-oriented activity. Diversions and deviation beat anything linear - a strange "highway," by any standards.
That variegation - of constant locations or frequent stylistic shifts - leads, apparently, to a sense of cohesion! A "sense of equilibrium in life" is what Freska conjures from an admirable unwillingness to sit still. His talk of transitions, transgressions, and other wayward movement is easily invested with a (real) sense of romance. In a land where geographic, financial, and cultural lines have been so clearly - if not cruelly - drawn, the appeal of various "crossovers" is considerable. Movement becomes a metaphor for opportunity.
Freska's Western observers continue to make approving sounds, at a distance of many time zones: "This is the perfect crossover between pop and electronica"; "Big, big talent"; "Very, very, very, nice!" Each and every repetition carries Highway's optimistic worldview one step further from home.
If Mike Spirit's desire has been to extend Highway's philosophy of active inclusion to smaller, "provincial" towns and cities, then some of his colleagues have been transporting the same credo even further afield - all the way from Zima to Miami. And that's a very long way, in several senses.
Freska (and a sense of geographic sweep)
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