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For those folks who live far beyond the Moscow Ring Road, there are several surnames tied to domestic dance music that immediately conjure thoughts of Moscow's glitz and glamor. Two of those, arguably, would be Mikhail Vengerov and Aleksandr Karpekin, whose efforts are currently chaneled into a joint project known as Grusha Music (i.e., "Pear Music"). Vengerov's name in particular has been associated with a wide range of mainstream artists, whose catalog sometimes needs to be nudged in the general direction of the dancefloor. As a consequence, these two DJs have been linked with the works of Alena Sviridova, Maksim, Zhanna Friske, Vera Brezhneva, Valeria, A-Studio, and other darlings of music television.
Both Vengerov and Karpekin plot the development of their careers from the late '90s - precisely the time when Russian pop music overlapped in bold, bright patterns with primetime TV. Domestic music was supremely visual, enjoying national rotation, and in confident competition with Western artists.
Universal, uplifting dance music - with endless amounts of irony
In fact, looking back on those years today, Mr. Vengerov speaks of a seemingly timeless need for "universal, uplifting dance music - with endless amounts of irony." That final noun is key: Grusha Music is a project that has come to fruition - no pun intended - after at least two waves of Moscow show business. These have been the upward swell of '90s modishness or glamor, aided by the now-defunct dance magazine "Ptiuch" - and the current downswing of the so-called krizis. Amid that drama, as we'll see, some experiences can be profitably preserved.
Passing fashions and shifting business environments lead neither of these two men to speak of assured or even long-term stasis. Stability is hard won and quickly lost. Irony and self-deprecation are useful forms of emotional insurance... just in case. And indeed, a recent anthem recorded by our performers in honor of the Ukrainian dance festival Kazantip includes the spoken lines: "This world [of our festival] won't be perfect, but so what? At least it'll be filled with... so much light and so much music."
One could even argue the recently-chosen pear logo, as a markedly domestic fruit, plays a similar game. Whilst drawing upon various standard metaphors of "plenitude," the notion of grusha also invests equal effort in an avoidance of trite, tropical razzmatazz. We're a long way from palm trees or pina coladas - and thankfully so. On this basis of proud, even patriotic enterprise, these two musicians (and promoters) have developed several Moscow clubs. The gardens at home - if tended well - can produce a harvest worth celebrating.
This world of Kazantip won't be perfect, but so what? At least it'll be filled with... so much light and so much music
On that note, it's useful to recall that a recent advertisement - calling for young Moscow DJs to work in these same establishments - listed "self-discipline" as the primary quality needed in order to survive on the dancefloor. An unpredictable business climate can only be managed by a steady hand. Likewise, the ideal age of those applicants was listed between 18 and 25; after that age, by implication, other more mundane responsibilities quickly come to the fore. Such as survival. Fun and games are curtailed with swift and predictable speed. Loud fanfares are therefore needed in order to shout down actuality.
As a result of that same logic - conversely! - any organization that can sustain an allure of glitz and glamor, beyond the onset of tedious, troublesome adulthood, will be precious indeed. Enter the staff of Grusha .
It's not uncommon to hear that Grusha's clubs conjure a series of well-established associations. The Moscow press will often assert that these venues are the preferred or presumed destination for the capital's "golden youth," or at least those members of the wealthy elite who are now pushing thirty. Likewise, the music heard at the same clubs borrows a great deal from the house traditions of the 1990s - before economic instability was a common topic of discussion. Good times and stable lives are celebrated - from a prior decade.
In order to show the wide appeal of these times and tunes, we might consider the faraway city of Ufa, where Mr. Vengerov recently gave an interview - more than 700 miles from Moscow. How did a major representative of the capital's nightlife speak of his well-to-do, dazzling lifestyle in a location that's more associated with engineering (and train disasters) than anything "entertaining"?
Not surprisingly, Vengerov was first asked how he liked Ufa (being such a stranger). He brought with him assurances that the differences between Moscow and this southern city were minimal. Hedonism knows no boundaries, especially during a downturn.
"I really like it here: there was good weather when I arrived....I've walked about town and visited the local radio station. It's all really cool - unexpectedly so! I'd already heard good things about Ufa from the guys in Moscow (the ones who travel here). In a word, everything's super. I've also been told that the girls here are really pretty... and now I'm convinced that's true!"
A question then came as to Grusha's ongoing search for new talent. Might young and "self-disciplined" folks from Ufa have a chance to reach Moscow...? Over and above the issue of skill, said Vengerov, "youth and charisma" were the most important criteria. Only people able to satisfy those demands would find their place in Grusha's "fashionable and progressive clubs." Progressiveness here becomes synonymous with wealth, comfort, and the sounds of a cherished decade.
So much light and so much music...
Calling then upon even older times, Vengerov attributed his reputation as the nation's "jolliest DJ" to family roots in Odessa. An entire century of cultural assumptions comes into play here. The shifting, ethnically diverse population of that Ukrainian port has long fostered good-natured stereotypes regarding residents' wit, street smarts, and a happy-go-lucky worldview. The Soviet Union's most famous big band leader, Leonid Utesov, was himself from the same city - and even maintained that jazz was a product of Odessa, not New Orleans. A penchant for improvisation and tall tales thus developed. For that reason, Vengerov says he knows personally all the famous satirists from his hometown, several of whom poked gentle fun at society from Soviet TV studios for decades.
A bond with prior decades thus goes back further than '90s house - thanks also to the use of Soviet audio culture in Vengerov's own catalog. As with DJ Gruv, Vengerov often spins remixes from sampled Soviet soundtracks, frequently from comic or satirical works. He admits that those feature films are treated with "irony, but then I may see a potential hit" within the same melodies, and work becomes serious indeed. A good mood requires a lot of effort.
On that same subject of keeping the past alive, he likes to quote MOR/lounge composer Igor' Krutoi, who famously remarked: "You know what... all music is written by other people. We simply give it a kind of disguise or new arrangement." Variations upon a precious theme predominate. And, extending this outlook, Mikhail Vengerov also likes to reference an equally well-known observation by Soviet pop artist, Yuri Loza. That singer, currently in his late 50s, openly admits that he wrote one great hit, several decades ago, and now uses it to make a living. Vengerov, conversely, hopes to ring changes upon several beloved themes, in order to defend them against the passage of time. They remain popular.
A concomitant demand for bright lights and an ironic attitude towards history's vicissitudes is also very likely to continue. Whatever the discordant sounds on the street, they need to be blocked out - with equal volume.
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