Poisk Seti: The Road from Tradition to Ironic Novelty

Poisk Seti are a foursome from the edge of Moscow. The subject of our attention on more than one occasion, the band traditionally obliges us to say a word or two about their name - before any other issues are discussed. Even on our first outing we remarked: "The band’s stage name is rather tricky to translate into English without sounding clunky; 'Web Search' would appear to be a reasonable option – in the sense of seeking a wireless signal, for example." Since that time, the group's four members have opted, instead, for a more negative version in English. Rather than stress the search for a (positive) signal, they prefer instead to emphasize the absence of a connection. Their MySpace page now offers the English-language alternative of "No Service." The reasons for that slight pessimism form the context of this post.

The band’s stage name is rather tricky to translate into English without sounding clunky; 'Web Search' would appear to be a reasonable option – in the sense of seeking a wireless signal, for example.

Once again, in terms of summarizing our prior coverage, it's worth reusing a couple more sentences. Last summer we noted, as a way of framing the group's eschewal of pomp and circumstance: "In essence, Poisk seti have always aimed for that thin line between the raised stage and the leveled dancefloor, following the footsteps of their other European idols as they do so, like The Arctic Monkeys, Franz Ferdinand, and The Hives.  Unashamed pub-rock for the hairier half of the population."

That low-key stance is evident even amid the expensive trappings of a video shoot. Cheap t-shirts and poor posture say a lot.

Here is the new Russian-language promo-paragraph, used to advertise both the group's raison d'etre and overall appeal. "The music of Poisk Seti is absolutely perfect for a number of people: fans of jumping, leaping - and even slam-dancing. The musicians are an unending source of energy: a storm of guitars, drums, and crisp, clear dance rhythms. Add to that the screaming vocals and loads of dynamism, also! After all, that's exactly what the band's fans have come to expect - and it's why they go to Poisk Seti gigs, too. The musicians have come a long way, now... so it only remains for us to wish them well in future endeavors, - and to enjoy the results!"

As they do indeed channel those same endeavors into a regular series of recordings, the Moscow press has been keen to praise Poisk Seti's work ethic. "We'd like to wish other young bands this same kind of stubborn diligence!"

Nonetheless, despite these admirable qualities, the band seems to have its fair share of enemies. This odd and lamentable situation was pointed out a few days ago with the release of the group's new single: "Ne Tormozi!" ("Don't Slow Down!"); the four tracks are all included here.

It was published with the help of an online journal, who framed the new tracks with a few words of warning. "Any new release by Poisk Seti is like a red cloth, waved before a bull. The matador is the journalist, and the bulls are all those people who hate the band. Their levels of hatred are so high that we sometimes wonder what makes these people foam at the mouth!"

The publication put the problem down to a couple of issues. First and foremost was that Poisk Seti could, perhaps, be accused of following strictly, if not slavishly in the traditions of Russian rock (though it's hard to imagine how). The second possible cause for complaint was drawn up according to a reverse logic: given the Western influences listed above (The Arctic Monkeys et al.), the group might be equally guilty of epigonism.

Defending oneself against both of these unrelated, juxtaposed gripes - simultaneously! - is clearly impossible. One makes claims of cultural retardation, the other of inadvisable, "forward-looking" plagiarism. Worse still, and indefensibly subjective, was the third grievance: "A clear lacuna in these [new] songs is the virtual absence of lyric compositions; the kind that Russian listeners might include in their 'folk' canon - or turn into [local,] cult classics. In place of that lyricism is, instead, non-stop drive. That's all very well, but it can be a little too much."

Those closing words, somewhat bizarrely, came from the Moscow magazine responsible for publishing the new songs. Implicit here is that the assumption that any anglophilism in Poisk Seti's repertoire may seem a little alien in the Russian context. The UK bands credited as major influences are, for the most part, exponents of irony and hedonism - in the face of social disappointment. A lack of inspiration in the outside world becomes a bittersweet, dismissive worldview, couched in uptempo pleasure-seeking. Failures outside the front door can be overcome with a joke, a beer, and a dance.

In the Russian tradition, however, rock music has often been used as a tool of sage, melancholy consolation. (Dancing is a rare option indeed...) The spirit of rebellion within that same domestic heritage is minimal, since the assumed pressures of external society have, typically, been much greater than anything "surmountable" with melody. Music could not alter or overthrow the status quo; it therefore sought positive alternatives. Civic woes were not maligned, so much as they were avoided.

Do other publications subscribe to these same views of contemporary songwriting and its "proper" options? Time, perhaps, to move on from the monoliths of the past.

If we move to another webzine of similar standing, the same doubts and complaints are voiced. "Poisk Seti are an ensemble of contradictions. Some pretty serious conflicts have arisen on our site, all across the comments, forums, and so forth, concerning the band's output. The people taking part in these scuffles can be divided into two clear groups: enemies and allies."

Poisk Seti are an ensemble of contradictions. Some pretty serious conflicts have arisen on our site, all across the comments, forums, and so forth, concerning the band's output. The people taking part in these scuffles can be divided into two clear groups: enemies and allies.

On this occasion, though, the magazine's editorial staff used to the same viewpoints in order to reach a slightly different conclusion. Same facts, same views, but an alternative deduction. The editors started by highlighting the two determining factors in Poisk Seti's already noted above: high levels of energy and irony.

"The band's songs are recorded in the best punk traditions: in other words, everything is handled in one take, with all the instruments playing at once and together. Only the vocals are added a bit later. What results is a kind of live recording, without complex notes all over the place, or multi-level guitar work. The whole affair is handled honestly... If you suddenly find yourself organizing a party, the kind of event where you need proper music, full of drive, then give Poisk Seti a call."

No matter the venue; the gentleman on the right does not look like an arbiter of Moscow nightlife.

As we can see, the issue of "excessive drive" is here not a problem. The failings of surrounding actuality can, therefore, be counteracted with energy, at least when channeled into loud forms of escapism. Sung forms of misery and collective commiseration are not, it seems, the only option that's open to songwriters. So what exactly are the constituent elements of that same actuality; what, put differently, are the phenomena of today's surroundings that may, perhaps, prompt an ironic response?

"The band casts an eye across all of reality's unpleasantness - and everything that can be considered fashionable: the output of Apple, today's 'golden youth' (rolling up banknotes in the toilet), real-life Barbie dolls, the band Manciure [for some reason!], metrosexuals, lesbians, and drugs. It's all done without excessive protest, battle cries or any summons to rebel, yet there is a clear element of irony."

The logic of that response would be as follows. The traditions of Russian rock, forged under Soviet conditions, not surprisingly related to a fossilized present with intelligent, if melancholy forms of escapism. The status quo, as noted, would not change; that kind of grim permanence prompted, instead of ill-judged "rebellion," an equally impressive alternative. Take, for example, the famed interest of Grebenshchikov in eastern religions; decades of Soviet ideology could be "outdone" by centuries of something else. Po-faced grandeur became the order of the day, though, whether one was a proponent or opponent of socialist normality.

Today, in the conditions of late capitalism, cultural milestones, anchors, and social buoys float by with bewildering speed. Hence the list of fashionable "values" above. Commercial, sexual, and cultural interests are lauded... only to pass by with equal rapidity as they fall out of fashion. Raised in a world of new, "democratic" options, these young men, full of youthful romance, watch countless objects of desire (not ideals!) flit before them. The presence of irony is no surprise. One may dream of anything - yet so little is worthy of protracted attention and effort. The picture above, taken on the edge from Moscow from the band's hometown, shows how quickly downtown glitz and glamor fade away...

The slow and difficult acceptance of irony as a "valid" component of Russian rock makes much sense in the setting of a nascent, commercially-grounded democracy. At some point, hopefully, stable values will replace the ironic smiles and smirks of Poisk Seti's repertoire. Establishing any such beacons of admiration amid the fickle workings of Moscow's marketplace, though, will not be easy. At least, for now, the band is happier investing their time and effort in an energetic aesthetic, rather than the introspective escapism of their forefathers.

The new single's artwork shows, at least implicitly, how Poisk Seti view the constraints of the here & now. Anybody suffering from this degree of claustrophobia, yet who still manages a rallying call of Ne tormozi! deserves respect. In the meanwhile, a couple of ironic grins and expressions of mock discomfort can certainly be forgiven. Partying, in any case, must surely be preferable to pouting.