
Pyotr Gazarov (New York/Moscow) and bassist Darya Chernakova
Pyotr Gazarov is a musician born in Moscow, but now living in New York. Known primarily as a saxophonist, he is already a graduate of the New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music. When interviewed by Russian journalists, he is often asked about two competing areas of interest: the rich domestic traditions of Slavic jazz and the opposing, troubled status of that same style today... from a financial point of view. Put differently, the artistic avenues open to Gazarov are promising; the fiscal options less so. And thus a classic conversation will begin: "Pyotr, why exactly have you chosen to play jazz?"
You have to work long and hard in order to achieve anything
One such interview, beginning with exactly that query, produced the following answer not long ago: "My main goal is continue playing - and to get better at one the one thing I love doing. You have to work long and hard in order to achieve anything." Effort and expertise are more important - and pressing! - than the promise of any specific goal. The lofty professional benchmarks that emerge from such an outlook (and which are defined by the weight of history) are later explained in simpler terms: "We're never able to say what might happen in the future, so I prefer to live in the present, making use of every passing second."
This emphasis upon industry and commitment, rather than accolades, is something he transfers to the Russian jazz scene as a whole, which he'd like to see improve. "It's often the case in Russia that listeners only have time for classic jazz. But this music is constantly developing, modernizing, and getting richer..." A thin line is sought between encouragement and critique.

Pyotr Gazarov, performing in Moscow
His diplomatic considerations continue: "Another problem is that 'jazz' for many Russians today is just a fashionable term. Some people may know the names of great jazzmen by heart, but they refer to them [publicly] only for the sake of effect..."
Away from New York, and closer to the risk of contradiction, Pyotr has regular opportunities to test these theories in Russia, and not only in an academic setting. His father is a restauranteur, and Gazarov Jnr. often plays to locals - thus continuing a family tradition, in that his very first saxophone was a present from his parents. Within a few years - and thanks to a summer camp in New York some while later - Pyotr would come to see the potential for playing in front of audiences, rather than a mirror. "I was suddenly inspired and I remember making all kinds of decisions at that moment. It became clear that I wanted to be a performer. I really wanted to play, compose, and 'invent' music, too..."
That drive and determination - as one might imagine - was only intensified with studies at the New School. Gazarov, sketching his New York experience for us, has said that the inability to choose "between five different [NY] groups on any night" fostered a sense of accelerated experimentation. There was much to hear, emulate, and - hopefully - outpace. Even after everyone had gone home.

In drawing upon the past - in order to match and then, perhaps, challenge the future - Gazarov still speaks of a growing skill-set in ways that parallel his experience of different nations and languages. As somebody who has crossed the world and entered a dramatically new cultural and linguistic sphere, he feels especially suited to a certain kind of musical innovation. Real-world surprises help to nurture an art-form built upon improvisation and swift adaptation.
"I love situations where improvised music is merged with a written score.... At the end of the day, though, [the constraints or worrying complexity of] a given style will never be the most decisive factor in my collaborations. After all, any style can be learned over time. And I know great performers who are working in distant, [very] foreign cultures - such as Indian classical music. I want to play with those people, too, even if learning their 'language' will take me many years..."
I want to play with other people, even if learning their 'language' will take me many years...
That implicit relationship between increased effort and cultural or linguistic expansion - between diligence and discovery - is furthered in another Moscow project, that of Lampa Ladino. They play upon modern Jewish and Spanish styles by way of a Sephardic heritage. The band's name comes directly from that context, in that "ladino" refers to the old Judaeo-Spanish language that is sometimes called "Judezmo."

Lampa Ladino (Moscow)
This unusual engagement with Iberian lives and legends comes primarily from band leader Grigorii Sandomirskii, a Moscow-based pianist and organist. Through both study and onstage expertise, he slowly began to combine Sephardic romances with avant-garde jazz. Kindred spirits were then sought around the capital's clubs and music schools: by 2005, Lampa Ladino had become a stable unit. The current line-up consists of Svetlana Svirina (vocals), Sandomirskii himself (keyboards), Maria Logofet (violin), Aleksei Andreev (guitar), Il'ia Vilkov (trombone), Dmitrii Ignatov (bass), and Irakli Choladze (drums).
This music is a logical progression of ancient practice
The resulting melange of habit, tradition, and risky innovation has been well received by the Moscow press. "This music is a logical progression of ancient practice. It has evolved just like people and the languages they speak. You can't call it '100% modern Sephardic music' - if for no other reason than these artists are from Moscow and not the Iberian Peninsula!" We're gradually starting to see that although physical transpositions - and emigration - may help to nurture a more "spontaneous" form of expression, an imagined or academic engagement with alterity can also do the same.
It's a matter of leaving home, in various senses.

Lampa Ladino (left, Il'ia Vilkov and Grigorii Sandomirskii, center)
In an interview with Zvuki.Ru, Sandomirskii explained that his first contact with Sephardic music came from some recordings made in New York, which he had at home - on the other side of the world. Difference - and estrangement - had both instantaneous and considerable appeal. "I really liked the recordings; they gave me goosebumps and I went off in search of other releases! Some things were suggested to me by other folks, and a good deal was shipped to me from Israel, too." And, when Svetlana Svirina happened to hear similar material performed live in Moscow, she contacted Sandomirskii with a passionate request to sing from the same canon.
Collective efforts, born of unexpected surprises and a foreign tongue, began to find both compromise and productive conjunctures.
Traditional music in the embrace of the avant-garde
In producing what Zvuki.Ru has accurately called "traditional music in the embrace of the avant-garde," Sandomirskii often stresses that "what's really important is for the band members not to lose control over a common idea [as they play]. Otherwise the whole thing will fall apart! I hope that we're always able to maintain some sort of balance, and that an artistic result emerges... rather than some kind of clumsy combination of elements." Innovation spins around a central shared concept, which is in no way subverted or altered by dizzying deviations upon the canon. Quite the opposite, in fact: the "common idea" of which Sandomirskii speaks is that of dissimilarity and otherness, as a way of engendering new harmonies.
"Fusion," he decides, is perhaps the only suitable definition.

Lampa Ladino (Maria Logofet and Svetlana Svirina)
And that leads us back, happily and once again, to the work of Moscow jazz/house/funk outfit Venger Collective. The band's current team-sheet includes Iulia Tereshchenko (vocals), Evgenii Rinkevich (bass), Aleksei Iushkevich (guitar), Andrei Shmelev (drums), Dani Yard (saxophone), and Tigran Khachatrian (keyboards). Together they continue to celebrate some of their primary influences from the English-speaking world: Jamiroquai, Incognito, Stevie Wonder, Brand New Heavies, Earth Wind & Fire, "etc."
As band members said in a summertime interview with Russian TV: "What we play is something that occurs after you've mixed jazz, funk, disco... and club music, too! Sure, it's dance music, but it always has some kind of relation to jazz, also..." The dual allure of variegation and interaction continues to play a big role.
Jazz, funk, disco... and club music, too!
As ever, the idea of combination is attractive (and doable): brash, unqualified claims regarding the future are not. What results is a simple, yet ultimately charming raison d'etre that colors most of the ensemble's PR materials. To Russia's booking agencies, from coast to coast, they declare: "We guarantee the perfect festive mood - and always make the best sound!"
Alterity is appealing - over and over, in many places.

Venger Collective (Moscow)
The most pleasing sounds are those of (seemingly) easy change, born of hard work, and themselves a marker of adaptability - which guarantees survival. The new ground uncovered by that effort, if we might build upon the thoughts of Gazarov, demands a new vocabulary - or a new language, even, in this case a melange of Spanish, Hebrew, and other initially incompatible registers.
In that spirit, Venger Collective yesterday released a collection of eleven tracks, recorded live at Moscow's Masterskaya Club. They are available for free download - and designed to the mark the rare, unexpected confluence of three numbers in the calendar: 11.11.2011. Listeners are invited to enjoy a vivid document of "the musicians' drive and improvisation[al flair], all mixed together with the audience's [upbeat] mood." Strangers converge in order to enjoy unplanned, impulsive sounds, themselves offered as variations upon well-known standards or norms.
The musicians' drive and improvisational flair is mixed with the audience's mood
Judging by the words of Pyotr Gazarov, Lampa Ladino, and Venger Collective, the philosophical value of "tradition in the embrace of the avant-garde" (or any other innovation) is found in the fact that collective divergence and incongruity will occasionally interweave as brief, surprising concord. Disjuncture breeds novel harmonies. The musicians also suggest that - perhaps - the world works in the same way: for those people who work hard, can adapt to history's machinations, and are full of improvisational "drive." That's a constantly unnerving, though rewarding process; it requires new sounds to designate or explain the unfamiliar experiences en route.
And so the search for novel registers continues, high and low.

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