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What distinguishes the artists under consideration here, prior to any textual or sonic aspects of their output, is a shared, concerted effort to hide away. Most of these performers would rather give no indication of their address or physical appearance - and yet we discover a vague, simultaneous desire to at least advertise these EPs, independent of authorial squeamishness.
Any resulting sounds, according to that logic, will be more important than the people who make them. A tension between this conscious retreat from social view and equally well-considered promotion (towards a civic gaze) underlies the generic tags employed by our first artist, Sobaca. He - or maybe she - catalogs their fractured output as "light-core." The music shows a discernible effort... directed towards a lightness of touch (i.e., the perceived lack of effort). In other words, the compositions try not to try. In that opening contradiction we can already sense a wary attitude towards one's surroundings, an overlap of both forward and backwards movement.
Experimental, psy-, chaos, light-core, idm, lo-fi, etc...
"Sobaca" is a slightly altered transcription of the Russian word for "dog." In the same canine spirit, this instrumentalist tags his small catalog on another social network as "dog dances." The lowly, if not demonic associations of this animal in Western lore are largely transferable to Slavic culture, so the reference points gathered thus far are not flattering.
Neither, come to that, is the semantic field of Sobaca's two instrumental albums, "Sound of Wood" and "Muca" (i.e., "Fly"). Inanimacy and insects both come to the fore: together they reflect a high level of self-deprecation, if not self-loathing.
Not only does this musician avoid all pretense towards self-assertion, he also - as noted - erases geographic markers from his publications. Here's one example of that behavior: perhaps because one of his favorite movies is Martin McDonagh's "In Bruges" (2008), Sobaca then extends those Benelux references with some bogus claims that he completed his military service in a(n imaginary) Dutch "Regiment of Majors."
Only by gathering data on Sobaca's friends - and their addresses - does it seem likely to us that Sobaca himself lives in Russia's south, specifically in Krasnodar. Beyond that basic claim or assumption, little is clear. Our faceless artist, posing elsewhere behind another pseudonym ("Filipp Prav") jokes on one forum that "Everything going around us is experimental." This soon becomes the semi-serious suggestion that we're all the subject of alien medical attention. We can hardly expect promotional chutzpah from an author of glitchy, nervous instrumentals who holds - perhaps - that his entire existence is fashioned at the whim of some "UFO [hovering] above us"...
Everything going around us is experimental
This nervousness about the outside world takes a slightly darker turn with the discography of Parabear, who are from Moscow. Drawing upon further metaphors of an unsettling, unstable environment, these musicians have declared some of their most recent output to be taken "from a bog of experimental sound." That homeless soundscape is then developed further - along the same lines as Sobaca. The profile fields of a Russian social network are used to declare that Parabear's military service was conducted in "Krishna's Institute of the Subconscious." Wherever that may be...
Parabear: "EdPo" (2011)
As we mentioned on the last visit to Parabear, our initial investigations into the ensemble's background produced nothing more than some very old posts left at LiveJournal from 2008 and before. They have not been updated. Considerable silence, therefore, endures between some infrequent and pithy observations.
A bog of experimental sound
One early explanation for that lack of textual output was that pirates had stolen recordings from Parabear's laptops - and then sold them in a Moscow marketplace, where the discs had allegedly been advertised as bootlegs from 30 years before. Quite why somebody would choose to backdate the recordings - or consider them profitable! - remained a mystery. Nonetheless, Parabear now describe for us the legendary racket of which they were once capable: "At that time [in our early career] we were shaking the walls of local community centers with pitch-black basslines and screeching voices..."
As we soon discover, these utterances are designed to mirror some demonic threats beyond the edge of town, in poorly-lit locales where architecture gives way to "bogs of experimental sound." Many of the images taken from Parabear's web resources are made from lo-fi VHS stills and then given some disturbing titles. Wandering far from home is evidently not a good idea... as the heroes and heroines of video nasties know well. The kind of trusting faces we see below - out in the wild - are few and far between.
Profile avatar currently used by Parabear's admin
When considering these threats that reside beyond the front door, our musicians specifically have in mind the widespread social enterprise of "Satanists, alchemists... and 'simple lads' from the provinces - who might decide to torch a couple of houses." Before focusing upon their newest recordings, Parabear say they needed first to feel a palpable increase in two emotional states: pain and malice. These, we're informed, are the best prisms through which to view life in contemporary Russia.
Satanists, alchemists... and 'simple lads' from the provinces
Quoting from a well-known Latin saying, they then tell us there's no difference between a doctor and philosopher. Put differently, wisdom is health - and the members of Parabear see no real desire among their listeners to get well. Delusion - i.e., excessive optimism! - becomes synonymous with sickness. Yet still these musicians stand their ground, determined to cast the shroud of happy ignorance aside: "Evil does not sleep, dear listeners. Neither, therefore, do we..."
That catchphrase and related imagery of video nasties has now fed directly into the new Parabear EP, mysteriously titled "EdPo." Here we find - verbatim - the warning that evil does not rest, together with tracks like "Video Anti-VHS" and other compositions inspired by the crackling sounds of dry, forest moss. Visual imagery is blurred, and sonic reference points are tied to increasing disorientation in a darkening forest.
Common sense and confidence are fading fast.
Eponymous Chushi and Nipple Tapes album (2011)
Against this backdrop of growing senselessness we return to a young musician by the name of Chushi - and a hubbub of tape hiss, radio interference, and vinyl crackle. Slowly there appears a seemingly random selection of little-known '70s soul/R&B samples. Each is quickly spliced or looped a couple of times - before falling back once more into the kind of faltering sounds that recall a sickly tape recorder.
Chushi's newest material (from the town of Dmitrov) has emerged as quietly as ever. The main venue for his work remains a simple Tumblr account, stripped of all language, save the occasional nod or wink towards a download opportunity. This week's material has been composed together with yet another unnamed author, Nipple Tapes. Together they turn the cut-and-paste aesthetic of recent abstract hip-hop into an absurd enterprise. Samples come and go so fast (or so faintly) that it's impossible to imagine anybody actually dancing. Bits and pieces of some lost entity outnumber anything resembling the “grandeur” of poised and polished statement.
These audio fragments, now as before, are likened to the various strange and unexplained fossils Chushi uses for his artwork. Old sounds and nature’s brittle offcuts, so to speak, have much in common. The work of the beatmaker is likened to that of a paleontologist or archivist: sounds are gathered, all in the hope of establishing some coherent syntax.
Yayati: "Artefactum" (2011)
Nipple Tapes, just as Chushi, tends to produce a wide range of brief, distorted and lo-fi sounds. Titles are reduced to meaningless monosyllables ("hll," "mmr"), and the artwork typically consists of angular, illogical collages and/or montages. The entire process speaks of disjuncture.
Nipple Tapes' catalog is likewise tagged - with considerable abandon - as "Russian Federation"; some effort is required in order to even ascertain Irkutsk as a true, exact point of origin. The music, in other words, comes from nowhere in particular and has no evident author. It's raison d'etre is made more by absence, breakage, and silence than by overt statement. Hence the sound of muffled, crumpled tape - of noises and words that are rudely manhandled by external physical forces.
The primary effort here is invested in dislocation - in removing those sounds from anything resembling technical expertise. Technology is used as a medium not of progress, but of disavowal - in order to usher in something older, stranger, and riskier. The problem, however, is that all these artists develop their facelessness or "homeless" style through a certain anxiety: any confident statements, made to the outside world, would suggest a belief in one's ability to influence that same realm. Here they are lacking.
Consider, by way of closing example, the intriguing release shown above from newcomer Yayati. Although linked to the 716 label from Ufa (and beyond), we're given neither name nor address. The cover art, although sporting a classic motif of liberty, does so against a pitch-black backdrop. As a result of which, we're left with a mix of wonder and worry.
Another admin avatar employed by Parabear
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