|
The Shanti club in Moscow remains one of the capital's most important venues, not only as a watering hole or dancefloor, but also as a small, discerning record label. We've written of Shanti on a few prior occasions, specifically for this reason. Some new releases warrant another visit.
Then, as now, the club claims that "Shanti has perhaps earned the right to consider itself not only Moscow's best techno venue, but also a leading exhibition space. Over and above the regular parties across several dancefloors, Shanti now plays host to all kinds of festivals, fashion displays, installations - and even children's parties."
The club's name comes from the Sanskrit term for peace or tranquility and - not surprisingly - that same emphasis is extended into a general chillout aesthetic. In the venue's early years, it worked actively to establish a suitably calm crowd - on a small scale. The dimensions of a stadium rave, for example, were hardly conducive to reduced levels of stress. And so the primary markers of Shanti's initial efforts were a "small dance area and comfortable sofas."
Maybe too comfortable.
A core of enthusiastic support soon developed. "A spirit of unity was uppermost, evident not only among club regulars, but also the performers." Certain days were given over to certain styles; as a result, the danger of an obsessive (and ultimately outmoded) dedication to any given format was avoided. Relaxation and eclecticism worked to mutual benefit. Put differently, a dual avoidance of grandeur and goal-driven enterprise remained vital.
Minimalism and multiplicity were the order of the day.
That early, small dancefloor has since been expanded and added to more complex architectural forms - specifically with the intention of mimicking a "labyrinthine" pattern. As the outside world becomes less attentive to individual desire, the need to hide away apparently increases. A club necessarily becomes a cave.
Shanti: the peace which passeth understanding
Likewise, the enduring significance of Indian motifs at Shanti points to increased levels of escapism. In fact to speakers of English, the term "shanti" may be most familiar from T.S. Eliot's poem "The Waste Land," where its is interpreted as a "peace which passeth understanding."
Outside the club, logic and corporate pragmatism of course prevail, so relaxation needs to involve a certain degree of willful illogicality - that which also "passeth understanding." Changing musical styles almost every day is a good start - and designing a venue as a labyrinth also helps. After all, in many premodern cultures, labyrinths were built to capture evil spirits and keep them well out of sight...
Among the newest recordings on display from Shanti is material from St Petersburg's Tripmastaz (aka Andrei Gaivoronskii, shown above). He has been working in Russia's clubs since the end of the 1990s and managed to establish meaningful contact with production outfits in both Europe and the US. His work, to a large degree, echoes the worldview of Shanti, in that variegation and escapism operate to similar ends. He describes his catalog as a "blend of house, techno, and some funk grooves. Add to that a dash of acid, electronica, and FX-tweaking."
...fantastically trippy, yet strong grooves
The end result is a "deep and sometimes dark mood, producing fantastically trippy, yet strong grooves."
The spirit of relaxation appears to be working very hard against an opposing pressure. A trippy ambience requires much "strength."
Escapism demands a lot of effort - yet finds widespread approval.
And in fact, Gaivoronskii currently has a text on his Facebook page in which the champions of "shanti" adopt an almost militant tone: "Since the days when house [music] was built we've been here./ To the frontiers of the music world we came./ Pushing back the boundaries, we've sought to make you dance;/ we are your servants, which we ever will remain./ We are the soldiers of the underground, protectors of the faith.../ We do not seek your adoration, your respect is all we seek..."
Despite the slightly clunky grammar, that long quote comes from a well-known Dj Q track, in other words from a '90s kingpin of the Scottish dancefloor. Although his career has long since grown quiet, DJ Q's stubborn opposition to a dull, determined status quo remains. He currently lists his religious affiliation as "The Church of Couldnaegiveaf**k." In the same breath he insists (without being asked) that "all politicians are crooks."
Growing cynicism increases the likelihood of headaches. An alternative is needed to rampant negativity.
Shanti not only showcases its musicians through vinyl releases. The club's page at Soundcloud is also active, in particular with new work from Alex Danilov and (Alexander) Lay-Far, shown above. Here the alternatives to strident rhetoric are immediately appealing. Lay-Far, for example, himself a resident of Moscow, maintains and extends the same eclectic outlook of Shanti. He declares an ever-growing willingness to operate within the - shifting! - confines of jazz, broken beats, fusion, dubstep, deep house, hi-hop, future funk, afrobeat, "and everything else in-beat-ween."
The wordplay in that final phrase refers us to a small, lovingly crafted blog that Lay-Far operates alone. The site's wide-ranging choice of styles eventually snowballs to such an extent that he becomes a champion of transition. In other words, Lay-Far's desire to constantly move away from fixed styles or grimly-defended statements becomes such that he's happiest with the motion between them.
Music in between jazz and hip-hop. In between techno and soul; funk and house...
The transition between styles - across their empty spaces - is held most dearly. Lay-Far's blog therefore informs us that it's "dedicated to music in between jazz and hip-hop. In between techno and soul; funk and house. Music with a heart and soul. Music with fantasy and energy."
The appeal of nothing in particular.
The energy and "strength" in Tripmastaz's rhetoric was designed to fight the status quo with a Glaswegian pugnaciousness; Lay-Far invests his effort in transitions and avoidance - in a constant movement away.
And that brings us to the work of Alex Danilov (below), celebrated on FFM late last year and then again, very recently, by Shanti on Soundcloud. During our last visit, Danilov defined his sound as "melancholy. It's full of rich grooves, deep bass-lines, and light, unobtrusive melodies." His vagueness is a useful form of escape from insistent, "useful" specificity.
...rich grooves, deep bass-lines, and light, unobtrusive melodies
And now, several months later, Danilov's presence online is marked not by any new texts, but a rare form of continuity. He continues to show an enthusiasm for themes of absence and escape. Earlier we noted his brief, yet telling statement that even "the stars feel like music [to me]..."
He adopts a fittingly glazed-over demeanor.
That appeal of being elsewhere continues to grow, most obviously in his penchant for owls. Large numbers of images are gathered online at Danilov's sites, just as they were when we first came across this musician's discography. The flock grows.
A solitary bird becomes the marker of a social artist. That alone seems good indication of how Mr. Danilov views his output and the role of Shanti. The club named itself after a state of peace and calm; one of its leading representatives finds a kindred notion in birds that shun company, spend much time alone, and are most active around dawn and dusk.
Owls operate during the times "in between." Whenever specificity and clarity are weakest. This only underscores the emphases seen thus far: the deliberately winding corridors of the club, a flip-flopping between genres, and the celebration of nature's starry "music," audible only in isolation or virtual silence - far from the city.
There resides, therefore, a benefit in the constant variegation and vagueness celebrated by Gaivoronskii, Lay-Far, and Danilov. They're both guarantors of change, surprise, an escape from rationality - and therefore relief from the status quo. Or, as one of Danilov's owls has it...
Comments
Login / Register