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Zaporozhe is a powerhouse of Ukrainian industry - and has been for a very long time. During WWII, for example, the German army displayed swift and concerted efforts to seize local factories; advancements were made towards the region within months of the war's onset. As a result, surrounding targets were consistently attacked with awful force - and would, after their eventual surrender, remain under grim enemy occupation for more than two years. It was not until late in 1944 that Soviet troops were able to declare the region totally "liberated." To this day, smokestacks and pylons are visible everywhere, as overt and productive symbols of Zaporozhe's continuing value.
That striking landscape, shown below, endured with an unwavering commitment to heavy industry, specifically as steel and car production, although chemical research has also been a local staple. The resulting levels of supply and demand together would instigate an unflagging need for almost fantastic levels of electricity: consequently Zaporozhe has, over the years, found itself home to both Soviet hydroelectric and nuclear stations. By the end of the 1980s, though, environmental problems became very significant. Development had a downside.
Although this unwise struggle against Mother Nature may have abated somewhat, another loss since the 1990s has been the perceived connection of this labor to anything romantic. The lofty goals of socialist rhetoric are now replaced by shoptalk. Industrial production is seen more in terms of profit than national benefit or shared sacrifice... and those same profits, should they transpire, are unlikely to trickle down to the workforce. Idealism is replaced by cynicism.
It's exactly this fading of romance, oddly enough, that can inspire some local die-hard dreamers to push even harder against actuality... in the name of rare fantasy. Here, on the smoky streets of Zaporozhe we therefore find the duo known as Pusk Raketi, which in translation means "Rocket Launch." The ensemble seems to alter the spelling of its name from time to time, but the modest, hopeful instrumentals continue - frequently dedicated to the promise of outer space.
Whenever words are involved, they typically appear as brief samples taken from Soviet talk radio or equally dreamy monologs of the '90s: they advocate the wonders of hypnosis and other "cosmic" magic that was supposed to transpire after materialism's ungainly demise.
All in all, these are small, though wildly optimistic expressions of hope from a troubled locale. One of the duo's pages on a Russian social network contains a tiny phrase, isolated with no special or additional comment: "Sometimes I feel I've got to get away..." And nearby, this time in Russian, sit two related snippets: "I was born in the night. It's raining here. Please tell your friends about this music...if you want to." Levels of social agency are close to zero.
I was born in the night. It's raining here
These miniature observations - and even smaller instrumentals - sound close to the point of capitulation. The same pressures of actuality, perhaps, lead to the kind of deeply-entrenched irony we hear from Moscow's Celebrine. Also a duo, this new project has connections - through its male half ("Alien Delon") - to U.R.A.N., who have long turned the majesty of intergalactic travel into semi-serious adventure. Science in U.R.A.N's catalog is always treated as science fiction, in several senses.
Celebrine (Moscow, with Alien Delon)
Quoting the Moscow conceptualist painter Pavel Pepperstein, Celebrine like to define their songs as follows: "This outfit's music embodies the depths of passion - and some wavering forms of reality. They flicker like a flame above reverie's architecture. They flicker like waves upon a river of wonders... They flow across islands of selflessness, in places where one's spirit comes alive. They reside in a tiny house - right in the middle of a black hole...." Understatement has left the building.
Escaping one form of pathos - the stately rhetoric of space travel - we fall immediately into the ironic use of another bold, if not unbelievable register. Unconvincing declarations from a podium here become playful on the same operatic scale... because an industrial, "real-world" potential never came to fruition. The failure of stately rant merely leaves all of its promises in the hands of fantasy. Social assurances are not realized - and, as a result, they will always be the subject of appealing, yet unlikely meditation.
'Brother - you know that I will help you' (Venger Collective)
Here we turn to the considerable expertise - and modest stories! - of Venger Collective. The band has just released a new single through Konura, "Brother." That simple noun, just like the cosmic promise of years gone by, was used endlessly as a metaphor for widespread fraternity. Which also never happened. Instead of risky overstatement, our Moscow jazz musicians take "brother" in the American, urban sense of small-scale support...come what may. "Brother: together we can make it right." Whatever the social goal under discussion may be, it has to be reconsidered from scratch. And then fixed.
Talk of aid, assistance, and consolation overshadows any grand promises of individual agency.
Venger Collective (Moscow)
In the same vein - since the first of September - the band's lineup has altered a tad, in expectation of new challenges as the concert season begins. Before us we now find the following artists: Iulia Tereshchenko (vocals), Evgenii Rinkevich (bass), Aleksei Iushkevich (guitar), Andrei Shmelev (drums), Dani Yard (saxophone), and Tigran Khachatrian (keyboards). Together they continue to celebrate some of their primary influences: Jamiroquai, Incognito, Stevie Wonder, Brand New Heavies,Earth Wind & Fire, "etc."
As band members said in a summertime interview with Russian TV: "What we play is something that occurs after you've mixed jazz, funk, disco... and club music, too! Sure, it's dance music, but it always has some kind of relation to jazz, also..." The allure of variegation and interaction continues to play a big role. Once more, combination is appealing (and doable): brash, unqualified claims regarding the future are not. What results is a simple, yet ultimately charming raison d'etre that colors most of the ensemble's PR materials. To Russia's booking agencies, from coast to coast, they declare: "We guarantee the perfect festive mood - and always make the best sound!" Consolation in the face of actuality.
...something that occurs after you've mixed jazz, funk, disco - and club music, too!
As we mentioned before, these fraternal and festive metaphors of the present have often been supported by familial turns of phrase. The band previously informed us that: "Venger Collective aren't just a group of performers: they're a family, too. They not only believe in music; they all live their lives because of that music. Everybody here is joined by a shared passion." Russia's Union of Composers, offering a word of confirmation, positions both these ideas and aesthetic directly within the jazz-funk canon of the 1970s. "Venger Collective play material that's gentle, tender, and yet energetic. Their songs are filled with warmth and happiness." All of which, apparently, made more sense in an artistic or musical context of forty years ago.
Whatever the worries about our present day, there persists a modest, inclusive spirit here that can hopefully overcome some of the more divisive aspects of recent Russian society. Whereas Pusk Raketi are weighed down by industrial torpor, our jazz performers contend with the heartless stratification of Moscow life. The musicians have spoken about their wish to use dancefloors as a microcosm of some better, kinder civic realm. "V.C. are understood equally well by Russia's Golden Youth [i.e., the children of Moscow's elite], representatives of the nation's business interests, and even bohemian, creative types. They all appreciate V.C. just as much as real jazz connoisseurs." One harmony might nurture another.
And, slowly, this social spirit moves beyond the front door - and out into neighboring spaces. Recent interest in the band has grown: all the way from TV- or web-extravaganzas (such as Imperiia muzyki or Novaia volna on the beaches of Latvia) to serious jazz festivals (like Usad'ba dzhaz in Moscow's suburbs). Both Novaia volna and Eurovision continue to attract V.C.'s attention as possible venues of professional development. All of these functions and festivals, in fact, are positioned in between Russia's media space and the TV or radio networks of neighboring lands; they either take place just beyond Russia's borders or, conversely, they take place at home - and attract guests from nearby nations.
All three of these musical projects - Pusk Raketi, Celebrine, and the excellent Venger Collective - harbor a desire that their onstage romance will foster some kind of social equivalent. The pressures working against those daydreams vary from the heavy, outdated industry of Zaporozhe to the elitism of moneyed Moscow. Nonetheless, as the uncomplicated lyrics of the new Venger Collective single imply, the most unassuming gesture of charity and/or support is also the most important. All that's required is a single voice - and a sympathetic listener - as the start of something modest and manageable.
Iulia Tereshchenko
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