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At the start of this summer, we were happy to discover the lo-fi/chillwave project in St. Petersburg known as RussianAdults. Designed to gather fuzzy, nostalgic noises from northern Russia and beyond, that same website has now begun to release music of its own, specifically through the parallel enterprise of "My Favorite Pet." Simple in design - both graphically and professionally - My Favorite Pet has set to work with the following brief text in Russian (colored occasionally by the use of a UK dictionary).
"Thanks to the help of friends who've already assisted with RussianAdults, a new digital label has appeared: 'My Favourite Pet.' It's a small project, one meant primarily to showcase Russian house and disco. We've got modest plans: there's no intention of 'conquering' anything, nor do we have anything special to prove. We simply want to share some great, homegrown dance music with the rest of the world. (Pretty modest, eh?) From time to time our releases will make their way to the standard venues, such as Beatport, Juno, and iTunes... plus various others."
Idealistic bloggers wait patiently for the first groundswell.
In the meantime they continue with their tiny manifesto: "Our output will vary from dancefloor chillwave to deep house and acid disco. We won't be investing our time and energy in studio-based perfectionism or pushy promo campaigns; everything'll be on a good-natured and amicable basis. The label will always be open to everybody: likewise, we'll always be happy to see new artists - just as we look forward to future collaborations, comments and feedback."
No studio-based perfectionism or pushy promo campaigns; everything'll be on a good-natured and amicable basis
These efforts have thus far taken the form of two EPs, both available through the outlets listed above. It's useful to ponder that debut roster here, over and above the obvious inclusion of RussianAdults themselves. More specifically, the first two releases have involved the combined efforts of Volta Cab, SPDSC (The Saint Petersburg Disco Spin Club), and Moonoton.
The first of those stage-names takes us far from St. Petersburg, to the city of Ulyanovsk and the gentleman shown below, whose real name is Konstantin Isaev. Here, on the banks of the River Volga, Mr. Isaev fashions an outlook as serious as the cultural associations of his hometown, famous nationwide as a center of automobile construction. Ulyanovsk is also connected directly to the management of Russia's Airborne Troops. The city's name, therefore, is synonymous with hard work.
As we noted on our last visit to Volta Cab's output, Isaev likes to frame his own work ethic with a handful of wise words from English producer Richard Norris. Translated back from the Russian, they read:
"It doesn't really matter where you find inspiration. A glance backwards [in time] doesn't mean that you fall automatically into anything retrograde. It all depends on whether you can place something old in a new context. You have to make things look - or simply be - new. Nowadays there's no such thing as a totally original idea." It's an attitude towards effort and novelty that should, perhaps, be viewed through the prism of another comment Mr. Isaev made at the start of this year: "My plan is [merely] to survive." A tough stance for tough times.
A glance backwards [in time] doesn't mean that you fall automatically into anything retrograde
That rather grim diligence or spirit of survival is colored somewhat - with a sunnier palette - by the more hedonistic standpoint of The St Petersburg Disco Spin Club. This artist, who vigorously hides his real name, finds a degree of escape from today's fiscal or social pressures through a recollection of times and tunes past. RussianAdults like to define their own dancefloor aesthetic as based on a "90s groove"; SPDSC casts a fond glance back to the same time period.
He sketches the general context for us: "As you know, 1991 saw the disintegration of the USSR. Immediately after that, loads of Western movies, music, culture, arts, books, comics, and computer games started flooding into Russia. There was a huge difference between what we had [culturally] in the late 80s and early 90s. I remember the first time I saw my father playing a computer game, for example. Standing next to him, I was so impressed that my leg started twitching!"
I remember the first time I saw my father playing a computer game...
Following those reminiscences, we can discern a collective rationale amongst several artists already discussed on FFM; together their influences and intentions start to extend the pre-Madchester, anglophile aesthetic of RussianAdults. This penchant for unadorned, yet enthusiastic rhythms might recall a time when another dance tradition first sounded through the radios of an equally pale nation. In other words, RussianAdults' move away from tape music towards Italo-house has a parallel in the past. From the same decades mentioned already.
These simply programmed, unassumingly performed tracks from Russia echo the joyful, yet slightly inelegant "Whoo!" that resounded - all of sudden - in 1981 at the very end of New Order's "Everything's Gone Green." From inside dingy bedrooms and underneath trenchcoats there emerged, as Tony Wilson would claim, an epoch-making moment. Working-class English boys discovered Italian and acid disco, after which they began to move down rainy cobbled streets - towards the Hacienda. Awkwardly.
So what, then, of the two EPs' less familiar names? Do they allow us to extend that tentative definition of RussianAdults' new project as homespun, nostalgic, and wantonly simple dance music?
The bona fide newcomer here is Andrei Moonoton, a Moscow musician and composer who - before we even pose a question or two - declares: "I'm truly in love in '80s house music." His real name, by the way, is Andrei Nikonorov. Once that mundane piece of information rises to the surface, it suddenly becomes evident that we're dealing with one half of Andrei and Eleonora. And that duo has also appeared on these pages before. A mystery is quickly solved - and a question answered.
Mr. Nikonorov lists his influences as cosmic disco, Krautrock, spacefunk, electro- or psychedelic rock, dirty disco, and - returning to outer space - galactic funk. All of those reference points recall the text we offered last August, when Andrei and Eleonora spoke in adoring tones of old-school pioneers such as Cerrone, Chaz Jankel, Harry Thumann, Gwen Guthrie, Larry Heard, and One Way.
Various incongruous elements line up and, en masse, create a signature sound. Just as the staff at RussianAdults promised, all shapes and sizes are welcome, since everything's designed to operate on "a good-natured and amicable basis." Hence the odd figures, in several senses. And the balloon.
The love of Andrei and Eleonora specifically for cosmic disco, in fact, takes us back a little further in time, to those days before the birth of Euro-house. It's a style that began in Italy and from the outset was grounded in respectable sources, such as Brazilian and jazz-funk traditions. In an attempt, though, to get away from the growing mainstream horrors of Italo-disco, DJs of a "cosmic" leaning would deliberately play their records at the wrong speed - either too slow or too fast. Commitment and silliness, therefore, were never too far apart; a big smile became a form of defense against marketplace cynicism.
RussianAdults practice the same decelerated escapism: "Sometimes our music sounds like slow-motion deep disco, sometimes like a electro-funk beat with some classic dance organs playing." The answer we hear to "industrial" concerns is Ulyanovsk is therefore threefold: slow down, look back, and lighten up. The staff at RussianAdults, as we've heard, dismiss fiscally sensible notions of "production value" or PR-work in favor of amity and other metaphors of unhurried friendship.
Slow-motion deep disco
A couple of weeks ago, RussianAdults reconsidered the past not of dance music, but of pop-rock traditions from the Soviet 1980s. A mixtape was produced, thanks to the efforts of some Estonian colleagues: it was framed with a brief discussion of that style's dual tendency towards "the chilly sounds of post-punk or elements of some absurd pop. Those extremes best reflected the mood of Russian society as it passed through a pivotal moment in its history."
A similar experience is presumably being undergone today, since the launch of My Favorite Pet is designed to offer a counterweight to both emotional standoffishness and "absurdity." The label advocates calm and consolation in the familiar forms of some cherished genres. They come from a time just before the world opened up - and the civil disorder of the '90s kicked in. And so the sounds we hear from My Favorite Pet are designed to bring dreamers back together - in order to (re)consider the past.
One more time, before another deluge begins.
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