Consider the appealingly shambolic recordings by Moscow's Vorevokuk. Only after some effort - in the total absence of any self-promotion - does it become clear, or at least logical, that these recordings belong to a certain Evgenii Kukoverov, who has simply inverted his surname in order to create an on-stage moniker. A few friends on Live Journal have tagged these wantonly amateurish composition as "melodic, domestic ditties about fantasy and nature." They're small sounds made in the shadow of bigger metamorphoses.
Stuck between actuality and the stars, these twee texts and tunes refuse to adopt anything resembling self-importance or insolence. They proudly assert their smallness or insignificance, even. In fact, one of Vorevokuk's other DIY recordings, made with friend Il'ia Borodin, is titled "This Could Have Been an Album." A step back from self-assertion is itself made confidently. One's gaze is actively lowered.