Reviews by kuvien

Recorded in her friend's apartment two years before her mysterious drowning death at the age of 24, this album is a collection of short, raw, acoustic tracks full of some of the most inscrutable poetry ever run through translation software. Musically, this is lo-fi and personal; lyrically, it's full of sharp, unsettling images.

The epic tale of Ilya Muromets, a Middle Ages folk hero of Kievan Rus' who was granted super-human strength in order to liberate his people, defend them from invaders, and destroy local monsters lurking in forests. Beautiful, mysterious choral vocals sing this narrative in a polyphonic motif, but the traditional is mixed with the modern, fiddles playing right alongside synthesizers, thus seeking Slavic-hero relevance for a contemporary audience.

Nianio takes lead vocals, accompanied by her almost toy-sounding piano, in just the kind of weird, lo-fi album you'd expect from her... especially when she's teamed up with three likeminded weirdos. A recording so confident in its vision it defies genre classification. Of course this was released only on cassette. This kind of music is only ever released on cassette, and the world is richer for it. And just to make this gem a little more random, this cassette is divided into four esoteric movements: Venus with a long neck; New nursery rhymes; Rhododendrons; Argolis.

This first of two excellent collaborations between Aleksey Hvostenko and Auktyon, and I realize I like what Aleksey brings to Auktyon, not vice versa. What I mean is, I like the direction Aleksey's music goes in, and you can hear his freak folk effect on Auktyon's normal rock sound.

This is an absolute gem of Russian avant-folk. It's like Tom Waits drunk on vodka at a birthday party. Such a fun, creative, wonderful album. Bring the horns, the flutes, the acoustic jazz, and the spoken word!

I was already familiar with some of Fedorov’s works, such as his 2003 opus *Лиловый день* and his 2005-2006 collaborations with Vladimir Volkov. But this collaboration is new for me, and what the hell is going on here? Who is Kruzenshtern? The other member of this duo is Igor Krutogolov, no one named Kruzenshtern. Anyway, this recording is classic Fedorov: gritty, weird, off-balanced, delicate, swaggering, passionate. Apparently the lyrics are the texts of a poet named Dmitry Ozersky.

Subdued, delicate, and beautiful, yet surprisingly robust with light conversation. A faerie voice and sparse piano. With some lovely moments of unsettling static.

Culturally I know nothing except what I've read about the content of this kind of music. Musically, I love what I hear. So let me see if I got this right: Oberiu scribbling was an early Soviet-era form of poetry that eschewed the past and tradition and instead embraced, in typical avant-garde modernism, destruction in the absurd name of progress. Then Volkov and Fedorov many years later took some of that poetry as inspiration and reinterpreted it through the rough and tumble lens of experimental rock and gritty folk. This album isn't my first Леонид Фёдоров & Владимир Волков collaboration, and it probably won't be my last. So far, I've loved everything I've heard them cook up. Fedorov sings, and Volkov, like usual, plays everything and the kitchen sink. Sometimes there's structure and things are kept together, and sometimes the music tapestry is allowed to unravel.

I don't understand Russian, so I'm safe from being annoyed by the lyrics. Apparently the lyrics are annoying. A lot of the vocals are spat and growled spoken-word, and the music moves like a mountain-runner with a broken leg but he's so drunk he cannot feel his pain. Up and down, up and down. Musical themes running at variance in such wonderful contrast. Frightening and beautiful string work.

The lyrics are the radical poetry of Alexander Vvedensky; the gruff vocals the growled and whispered utterances of Leonid Federov, reluctant rock star; the fiery, avant-garde music partially by double bassist Vladimir Volkov; featuring the genius of the illimitable Vladimir Martynov; performed by the Opus Posth ensemble, who worked under Martynov's composition and direction before. These names are starting to make sense to me the more I listen to Russian music. It's a slow but rewarding process. This album is one of those documents where the experimental and unorthodox are used to evoke the potential of musical tradition. I recommend wearing opaque glasses while listening to this, and if you have any incense handy, light it.

You think, all right, so this is what the album is going to sound like, get comfortable, and then things completely change on you. In a good way. This album has so many left turns it's hard to guess what's coming next, and that's what makes it all so intriguing. The music takes you along for a guitar-strumming ride, and then suddenly BAM! here's some musique concrète. Listen closely...you'll hear Eminem rapping in the background, underneath the rusty violins.

From what I've gathered in my quick reading, this album is more like a collection of rarities and reworked/unreleased tracks that were recorded during the sessions of two other albums in the 90s. I'm not going to dive to deeply into the criticism of this album--whether it needed to be made, whether it's just for the collectors--since I don't have a dog in that race. I've heard some of Fedorov's other solo stuff as well as his crazy collaborations with people like, say,. Also, I've read this cardboard box CD release comes with a24-page booklet. I'd love to get my hands on that. Maybe it's a guidebook explaining the mysteries of the driving double bass or the screeching viola or how the fuck these guys turn a tuba into a kickass rock instrument.

A collection of lo-fi delicate folk arias composed on wind and leaf, on wood and bone.

Holy harmonium played by a mermaid. An old-world pagan feel, lush and inviting.

The band standing in a circle slapping an idiot back and forth among them, each side forcing him to alternate between trumpet and trombone, both played with confident silliness. That's not percussion you hear; that's tripping and stumbling... at least until the band gets a grip on things and finds its groove. Then it's time to hit the highway. Oh, that idiot? He joined the band a few songs back, and everyone is better off.

Damn this Soviet groove is fiiine. Four medium-length tracks, each number with its own character, but all of them displaying the chops these guys have. A lot of sax soloing, too, which can get downright raunchy! Truly, a labyrinth of jazz compositions, quite complex and unexpected in its evolutions, from the dirt of bass-funk to the chaotic sparring of the horns.

A lonely, expressive voice accompanied only by a single guitar, singing Matveeva's pastoral poetry with such elegant passion. A true bard whose music transcends language, though if you check lyrics, you'll find she sings a range of elemental themes, and from rain to dark night, from icicles to palm branches. The seasons play a large role in her poetry, too, alluding not only to the general condition of mankind but also expressing poetic parallels to her own feelings.

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This is the album just before Kuryokhin's masterpiece, Воробьиная оратория (Sparrow Oratorium), and you can hear among the experimentation on this album the seeds of the next album, even containing parts of the finished tracks to be finished later. Track 2, "Аль-Кадбар буги", has a stronger electronic feel than the other stuff on Sparrow, mixed with some weird jungle vibe, making it a good highlight.

Child-faerie vocals prevalent here that became the standard in certain kinds of pop music a decade later, tractors in synthpop Russian beauty diva arias, buzzing flies amid the music, reminding me that fecundity springs from rot, screeches and hoots interlude in a crazy Russian “Bird Is the Word” rendition. What a strange post-mortem release!

One of the most charming and inspiring albums in my collection, this masterpiece starts with an operatic bang. The first time I heard this I just sat back, stunned that such beautiful Russian music like this existed. This is one of those albums that helped open my ears to music outside my listening experience and habits. It treads the narrow ground between experimental and accessibility with the skill of a mountain goat.