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"Sablia," the Russian word for "Sabre," might suggest that we're dealing with a loud, hirsute and aesthetically challenged ensemble. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth. We turn immediately to Mr. Oleg Nesterov, owner and spiritual guru at Moscow's Snegiri Records. He has the following background sketch to offer regarding Sablia's two core members.
"She was born in Vitebsk and ran off to St Petersburg after an unhappy love affair. It was in this new city that Galia Ozeran became Galia Chikiss; the nickname came from [mass murderer!] Chikatilo. Friends called her that because she used to wear the same [shocking] red sweater and stockings all the time. Her music was always unusual; attentive listeners could frequently tell that her songs grew from initial improvisations..."
Tunes would slowly come into view.
And the other half of Sablia? "He is an obvious hero of the new decade. His name is Arsenii Morozov, whose band - Padla Bear Outfit - has been talked about all over the place... whilst causing extremely heated arguments, too. Together, Arsenii and Galia have now formed the band Sablia, whose chosen genre has been defined as 'mortgage punk.' In other words this is music for people over 30 who've got both a mortgage and children... and yet, deep in their hearts, they remain punks - as indeed they once were."
This project is gradually coming together at a time when Galia Chikiss is struggling with the release of her new/forthcoming album and the birth of Sablia, all at once. And Yes, she does indeed have children. Not only do they bless the pictures of her Live Journal blog on a regular basis, but this debut disc from Sablia is punctuated with the sounds of gurgling, giggling toddlers.
Whatever the artful musings of this album may be, its authors are knee-deep in daily life. Our artists, shown below, may look longingly towards the stars, but junior members of the family are always pulling at their trouser legs.
There's a toddler lurking in that snow.
This balancing act of fine arts and family life conjures an air of uncertainty whenever Chikiss speaks of her new project. On that same Live Journal account, she recently wrote: "I've got a feeling that yesterday's concert might actually have been a success. I'm left with a pleasant feeling of exhaustion; my batteries are totally run down now! It's different, though, to the sense of disappointment that I used to have in the past. Sablia's debut was totally spontaneous and shambolic; we didn't rehearse a single time, but the whole heady affair turned out to be really good fun."
And so we are now grateful recipients of the first full-length recording, entitled "No Car and Not Enough Time" (Ni mashiny, ni vremeni). Again the daily hassles of the over-30s move to the foreground.
It has been well received by the Moscow press. "Arsenii's work-rate shows no sign of slowing, neither during the week, nor on the holidays. This may already have been called 'mortgage punk,' but 'mortgage folk/pop' might have been better. The recording is both quiet and quick in tempo; the whole CD hardly lasts 30 minutes. There's a general toy-town atmosphere here that almost childlike; it's certainly very domestic in tone - the kind of thing that would suit a New Year's holiday, for example."
In a recent interview with Aleksandr Gorbachev, Galia Chikiss admitted that for all of Arsenii's slapdash aesthetic, she always thought Padla Bear Outfit are destined to be "future stars," whereas her band is "Heaven only knows what." Nonetheless, she overcame her nervousness and played a joint concert. "It didn't really work out, though... I got very upset and almost disbanded my own outfit." Arsenii came to her aid and insisted they continue to develop a kind of anti-folk. After three jam sessions, the first song came into focus: "Monday" (Ponedel'nik), which is also the first number in this post.
It didn't really work out, though... I got very upset and almost disbanded my own outfit.
Visiting Chikiss over this initial period and seeing her busy, if not chaotic family life, Arsenii came up with the idea of "mortgage punk." The ideas thereof sound forth even in the opening chords. The very first song, set on the aforementioned Monday, begins with a male protagonist leaving his lover and heading back into the workplace. The crushing weight of daily routine leads then to one of the album's key puns, a play upon the term "middle class." The adjective used for that expression in Russian also means "average." A desired state of economic stability soon becomes a soulless limbo, destined to go on forever...
These and related allegories stand behind much of Padla Bear's discography, no more so than on the recent, self-deprecatingly titled "MUSOR" (i.e., "Trash"), spelled out for us below.
In the spirit of many Padla ditties, in fact, this album makes fun of that daily grind from the point of view of a penniless, aimless outsider. Although an ability to shun suits, ties, and sensible haircuts may be a cause for celebration, both Arsenii and Galia are perfectly aware that they do not have the relative blessings of a steady wage packet. Together, therefore, with the social satire of songs such as "Biznes" (song #2 of this post), we're also treated to a fair share of self-mockery.
There's not a single ounce of arrogance on this entire album, actually. Only humility, hope, and the occasional consolation of a kiss (which, it seems, was far from expected).
If, against the backdrop of all these hatchbacks and housing estates, there is a point at which we might define Sablia's positive response to actuality, the first occasion would arguably be in the song "Miniature Music" (Malen'kaia muzyka). In the audio file below we're told that we should "open our ears" in order to receive the joys of a style so small, it's best orchestrated in the equally teeny confines of a playroom. Beginning to the strumming of a profoundly cheap (and suitably miniature) guitar, the song stumbles along to an accompaniment of jangled beads, a toy shop xylophone, and what appears to be a school recorder.
These are the sounds of a disorderly, domestic idyll... and yes, there's another baby's voice, too. The children on this album deserve a creative credit, for sure.
A second ("non-satirical") moment of importance here is the song "Into the Emptiness" (V pustotu). More than any other track on this CD, it shows the influence of Ms. Chikiss. Her voice is mixed much further forwards, in fact she doubles on vocals with Morozov. The two of them approach the front of the stage and begin: "It's never too late to head off forever... to other dimensions." These ghostly vocals and lyrics of banal adventure sound like some po-faced parody of a David Tukhmanov song from the 1970s; this is a slightly warped reflection of Soviet prog-pop, constantly dreaming of other planets (since the nation next door was out of bounds).
It's never too late to head off forever... to other dimensions.
And indeed, as the track continues, Arsenii and Galia bid "Farewell!" to the Earth, but not in any way that suggests the bold, jolly escapes of Soviet sci-fi. "We'll never return to the big cities," they say. Things begin to sound troubling. The song, maintaining this spectral melancholy, eventually fades into a series of faux-sputnik signals. Two voices, the champions of miniature music, fade away forever - free of a mortgage but torn from the comforts of normality.
Beds made of pine needles beckon.
Despite the "New Year's" atmosphere above, then, this wonderful new release from Sablia is tinged with occasional melancholy. Given that the calm and comfort of family are so clearly celebrated, our musicians slowly come to the conclusion that for all the downside of mortgages, mid-sized cars, and other burdens, they at least help to keep the sounds of happy children... happy.
In fact, on this subject of bitter-sweet festivities, Russia's most famous celebration of the New Year, El'dar Riazanov's "Irony of Fate" begins in precisely the same style as Sablia's CD. The screenplay, which every Russian knows by heart, starts with the observation that although the New Year symbolizes love, joy, and stability, it is always marked with unhealthy amounts of unhealthy food... all of which brings us one step closer to death.
Especially if you run into a Christmas tree.
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