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The first two syllables of "Tinavie" can be explained immediately: they constitute the Christian name of frontwoman, Tina, shown above. Lacking a surname, she makes up for an absent family with a handful of gifted colleagues, including three "Dmitriis": Zil'pert (guitar), Losev (keyboards), and Frolov (drums/percussion). Last, but not least, we encounter Oleg Mariakhin on saxophone. Together, they have a wealth of experience behind them, all the way from folk-rock staples such as Mel'nitsa ("Windmill") to dancefloor electronica in the shape of Netslov or folk/world music (with Safety Magic and Inna Zhelannaia).
Working together, this quintet has just published a debut album, available for free download, called "Augenblick." This is the German word for "moment," or "instant," though the musicians see its meaning in more specific, etymologically fussy terms. "Augenblick means 'the wink of an eye'; it's also the first fully-fledged studio work of the band. This album includes eleven of the band's earliest songs, most of which were written by Tina before the group existed as such. They were all adopted by Tinavie and carefully reworked for live performance. In order to preserve the warm, inviting air of a Tinavie concert on the CD, most of these songs were committed to tape in one take - and therefore in the shortest time possible. Almost in the blink of an eye!"
A broader, more objective context was offered in a recent interview with Dmitrii Zil'pert. He quickly underscored the importance of unedited, spur-of-the-moment performance for Tinavie. "As a rule, we only come together to rehearse - either on the eve of a concert or in order to write new material. In fact, the entire history of the band is nothing more than a series of unplanned acts! Over the first five Tinavie gigs, we performed as a duo, trio, and quartet... before we eventually ended up as a fivesome. All of us play simultaneously in other bands, too. It can be hard getting everybody together in Moscow. Whenever, therefore, we do meet up, we try and play with maximum calm and commitment!"
If mere rehearsals are so tricky, the journalist wonders whether the band ever finds the time to tour. "We never manage to tour! When you take our timetables, multiply them by the speed of Moscow life, and then add our sense of professional responsibility or creative ambitions, you end up with a new type of extreme sport!"
We never manage to tour! When you take our timetables, multiply them by the speed of Moscow life, and then add our sense of professional responsibility or creative ambitions, you end up with a new type of extreme sport!
A shared need among these musicians to fashion something akin to stable existence means that everybody tries to fill their timetables perhaps two months in advance. All of these professional hassles bring us back, once more, to brief, infrequent periods of activity: "despite all the varied, complex obligations among the members of Tinavie, whenever we manage to reach a shared, artistic understanding, then it's possible to really get things done - both quickly and without hold-ups."
A stern gaze helps to keep things moving, too.
One wonders, in that case, what might hold these varied musicians together, given that they've come together from "ethno traditions, from rock, ska, jazz, funk, soul, ambient, classical music, folk, electronica, dub, and trance..."? "It's precisely this degree of difference that's our advantage. All of the experience we've garnered in other outfits is channeled into our music and its arrangements. We're all fairly open-minded people, so we try to take as much from one another as possible when it comes to musical approaches, tricks, and tastes. Needless to say, though, that can sometimes result in some crazy suggestions... the kind of things that'll never be easy to realize!"
Since the argumentation here is already focused upon a few, often-stressed beliefs, Zil'pert hones in - once again - on the album's title and offers a more detailed framing of its significance. "The idea of that title arose from Tina and her love for the works of [Argentine writer, Julio] Cortazar. The concept came into being a long time before we decided to record the CD. The basic notion here is that songs emerge in the 'wink of an eye,' as does inspiration. People also come together in the same manner - and start creating together, too. Our band may be a year old now, but we need only to cast a glance over our shoulder in order to see that those twelve months have been nothing more than an 'Augenblick.'"
"Whenever the band as a whole comes together, in order to discuss these kind of things, we can see how the notion of 'Augenblick' has become a full-blown concept for us. Beside the fact that most of the CD was recorded in a single take, there's the artwork, too. When our wonderful artist drew that super hummingbird for us as the CD's central image, then the musical and visual sides of the project all came together."
That observation is not developed further by Zil'pert, but it clearly bears closer examination. A brightly-colored, three-dimensional hummingbird hovers in front of a black, flat floral design. A vivid image, in other words, floats in front of dark inanimacy; life faces its absence - just for a second. Hummingbirds need to move endlessly between flowers; since they have the highest metabolism of any living organism(!), they can, in fact, die in a matter of hours if not within reach of nectar. The encounter of bird and bloom we see above, therefore, is a snapshot of a vital Augenblick, yet not of a decisive one. The bird, one hopes, will move on to healthier realms, if - indeed - they exist.
The picture as a whole speaks to the possible consequences of a single moment: it may be nothing more than a fleeting disappointment, and yet - on the other hand - it may symbolize the first, minor harbinger of death, especially for a hummingbird. In these surroundings of endless, repeated risk, creativity - be it artistic or amorous - needs indeed to be swift, for the very same reason. Long-term planning is an impossibility, and each brief disappointment may mark the ascendancy of misfortune once and for all.
Rather than isolate these fleeting moments in some operatic fashion - as if they come rarely and with fair warning! - the band members instead bury their music amid the mundane, minor clatter of the outside world. From time to time, everyday noises nudge their way into the recording: "You'll hear the sound of a kettle, several chit-chats on various abstract themes, some Dictaphone recordings made in a Riga cathedral - and a ten-minute composition that dissolves into pure noise. The main thing, however, is that the CD includes Tina's lovely voice and her really pretty songs."
You'll hear the sound of a kettle, several chit-chats on various abstract themes, some Dictaphone recordings made in a Riga cathedral - and a ten-minute composition that dissolves into pure noise. The main thing, however, is that the CD includes Tina's lovely voice and her really pretty songs.
Indeed, throughout these eleven songs, her vocals resonate with a lyrical strength that endures despite the hubbub of ambient intrusions. Though many of the songs are tinged with melancholy, a restrained note of self-respect sounds forth; boiling kettles and busy cathedrals do not crowd out small-scale, self-assured individuality. There's a dignity to these compositions that begs for a wider audience. Merely days ago we spoke out in loud praise of the new Galia Chikiss album, Medlenno ("Slowly"); Tinavie's "Augenblick" deserves as much attention.
Together these two paeans to the rare moments of a fleeting, hopefully arrested romanticism are superb examples of the kind of top-notch Russian songwriting that can be found - with a little effort. Will Moscow's media make that effort, though? Of course not. Millions of dollars will be spent on Eurovision, no doubt, in search of some homogenized, pan-continental aesthetic, which may itself turn out to be little more than a pale copy of US primetime R&B. No wonder everybody looks glum.
If Russia and her neighbors hope to foster anything resembling a smart, dignified tradition of local relevance, they need to cultivate bands like Tinavie. These eleven, lovingly-crafted tales of momentary insight have a special resonance in a land where long-term plans, as we hear, are rare indeed. "Augenblick" is the kind of CD that, paradoxically, is good enough to summon a dual sensation of both hope and despair: the former, a positive feeling, results from the album's sudden appearance and free distribution, whereas as the latter is born of suspicions that nobody will notice.
Time, perhaps, for radio stations to reassess their concepts of fore- and background in contemporary songwriting. The bright lights can so easily obscure what's really important.
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