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The term "Free Crates" is currently used by a collective of Russian and Ukrainian beatmakers, although the organization tends to designate the German city of Bochum as its logistical center. From that foundation or stable base of emigre activity, begun by Kiev's DJ Bloodbeats, an increasingly long roster of Slavic towns and tunes is being established. It extends far into the Russian hinterland, so to speak. Take, by way of illustration, the town of Michurinsk, a rather unremarkable municipality of less than 100,000 people. Home to a slowly shrinking population, the town is located maybe 500km from Moscow.
Although Michurinsk's roots stretch back to the seventeenth century, its current dimensions are a direct result of Soviet industry, specifically in the context of aviation. State subsidies, needless to say, have become a thing of the past. And, as a result, the dual - and very modern - pressures of technological obsolescence and cutthroat commerce have not treated this region kindly in recent times.
Despite that considerable socioeconomic disconnect between Michurinsk and any hopes of modishness, Free Crates have both found and fostered the local talent of Vladimir Malakhov, shown below and otherwise known as Camel Crock. His assured pose speaks to the same flair that we see in the Free Crates logo. Somewhere within these distant, scattered locations lies a better sense of "place" and common purpose. As we'll suggest, a collective credo is gradually shaped by geography - yet not constrained by it.
Camel Crock (Vladimir Malakhov [Michurinsk])
The very term "free crates" serves to presage a few matters here, at least with regard to a general tone and worldview. Those two words, increasingly obsolete in a digital world, refer to the section within record stores where unwanted - or supposedly unmarketable! - music is given away. Victims of both fickle fashion and profit margins, unrelated CDs or LPS are gathered haphazardly and then offered, with no special purpose, to one and all. Stripped of both marketing and advertising support, the discs have nothing to say for themselves, at least not collectively.
Music that's filed away in the "free crates" needs to be given a significance by its new, financially strapped owners.
From funky hip-hop to alternative electronica (Fresh Crates)
For that reason, the staff in Bochum do a better job than their reticent proteges at collocating these Slavic tunes in some fixed pattern. Neither Mr. Malakhov nor his colleagues under discussion here have framed themselves with texts, taglines, or an attempt at elegant rhetoric. Silence presides in most places. Living in relatively isolated and similarly hushed locations - whilst unable to invest any meaningful effort in marketing decisions - these performers need to be blessed with a new, collective raison d'etre. Why, in short, are the recordings of these young men placed side by side? What do they possibly have in common - and who will spin that narrative for them?
Free Crates hope to lessen the detrimental influence of geography and local indifference by bundling approving reviews from around the web. Brief, yet upbeat observations are culled from various venues - and placed beside the digital recordings of their artists. Music is offered to the public with a handful of telling quips and quotes. A piecemeal manifesto comes slowly into being, phrase by phrase... thanks only to the enthusiasm of others.
Strangers begin applying meaning to the previously unrelated contents of a "crate." Pushy PR gives way to the vox populi. The first of these outside assessments proves to be the most striking. It comes in support of another Free Crates artist, this time from Togliatti. As we've said on several occasions, the national stereotypes surrounding this city are in some ways no jollier than those concerning Michurinsk. Togliatti is often likened to Detroit, for two good reasons. It is arguably the center of the Russian automobile industry - and is currently experiencing hard times in an increasingly unforgiving marketplace.
And yet - from within presumed depression, both personal and economic - there comes a single syllable of loud, indecent endorsement from Dza (Sasha Kholenko), one of Russia's best-known beatmakers. His response to the Togliatti musician Rbe? "Oh, f**k!" The level of surprise is joyfully - if not shockingly - high.
This'll contaminate your eardrums with an illness. It's sick, Samiyam-sounding, ill s**t
From Japan's Bugseed the tone is just as positive, though a little more restrained: "Lovin' his beats! Thanks for this!" Canada's Flow Worthy, however, swiftly returns us to places beyond the purview of decency: "This'll contaminate your eardrums with an illness. It's sick, Samiyam-sounding ill s**t." Should good behavior be required, it can be found elsewhere.
Lingvisto (Alexey Kozintsev [Penza])
Germany's WhuDat magazine declares the output of Rbe to be "an absolute treat for all music gourmets... It's really pleasant downtempo material - and just right for the weekend." Vladivostok beatmaker RJB, showcased on this site before, employs the same positive phrasing: "An excellent release. It's really detailed, solid stuff!"
None of these observations, as we see, are determined by geography. And so Malakhov, far away in Michurinsk, is able to enjoy words of support and respect from Poland, for example. "These are loud, discordant, and [constantly] broken hip-hop beats... Camel Crock confirms that many Russian artists are working to a very high standard today. This is cool stuff! Enjoy"
Loud, discordant, and broken hip-hop beats... Enjoy!
Sadly, perhaps, one of the worst-written (albeit positive) reviews comes from England, more specifically from Derby's The Word Is Bond publication. All the same, a few well-placed syllables can save those observations from grammatical meltdown. What results is the following: "Russian producer Camel Crock is dropping another jazzy supplement on us... These are twelve tracks of hardcore jazz foundation!" And then, with more Free Crates material in hand, the staff at Word Is Bond declare: "We provide the [right] tones for your [emotional?] nature!!!"
Three exclamation marks serve to underscore the fact that sounds from Michurinsk - both in design and receipt - are somehow able to overcome the awful distances that keep Mr. Malakhov physically at home.
If we turn to a third and final producer - known as Lingvisto and living in the city of Penza - this odd relationship between landlocked lives and emotional freedom becomes especially clear. Penza's population is just over half a million, and yet Lingvisto (Aleksey Kozintsev) refers to his hometown as a faceless mark on an empty military map: he calls it zone "P-19."
In the briefest of terms, he then declares on another venue to be the author of "Vibrations from the heart of the provinces. This music conveys a positive message to all cities - and countries. Every note - every particle - of these tracks shows you a little bit of myself and my own universe. Do the right thing: listen to some tasty music!"
Vibrations from the heart of the provinces
Not only do empathy and harmonies serve to combat physical burdens. In one small and well-hidden snippet, Koznitsev draws upon a study of chess that attributes psychological - and even spiritual - qualities to the various wooden figures on the board. He finds special appeal in the bishop: "This piece represents the rulers of the spiritual world. Its movements across the chess board are based upon triangular patterns..."
Those particular trajectories are then given a significance far from ostensible reality - or angular lumps of wood.
"As the bishop moves across the white squares, he denotes the intellectual, positive path in life. If he moves onto the red or black squares, then his direction symbolizes the devotional path." These statements, sketching an intangible flight from actuality, are then nudged further still. Keen to link mundane experience to something bigger and better, Mr. Koznitsev quotes some additional, related lines in which the bishop's diagonal moves are linked to "existential" or "emotional states of the astral body"!
No matter the distances of Penza, Togliatti, and Michurinsk from Moscow, other directions are still possible. They concern much greater mileage (be it mental or spiritual) and have already been blessed with approval from colleagues in England, Germany, Poland, Canada, and Japan. Dreaming is much better than driving.
Ironically - and happily - it is the distance from business practice and heartless fashion that has granted these artists a certain liberty. The staff at Free Crates are able to weave patterns of freewheeling significance precisely because they develop in the middle of nowhere. Neither tradition nor trade interfere.
Mental or starward flight likewise seems easier when one is granted a distant, physical horizon - or "blessed" with provincial tedium. The statement from Dza above shows how much more exciting those audible, "astral" movements are than any stroll across the map, be it diagonal or direct. And, for the imaginatively challenged, a little chemical help is always available on sleepy streets. Below we see some of the creative tools that go uncredited on the Free Crates sleeve notes. As the right-hand image shows, much physical effort goes into escaping physicality. For these three musicians, the work certainly pays off.
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