Mostklik: Building Minimal Techno Sets as a Dancefloor Philosophy

Late last year, in a general overview of a major Siberian netlabel, we said a few words about Moscow minimalist techno duo Mostklik. Now, it would seem, is the time to add a few more specific observations, since these two men  - Konstantin Ganzhela (above, left) and Maksim Zhdanov (right) – have clearly been busy. They now claim “support” in a wide range of cities: not only around Russia – in Izhevsk and Irkutsk – but further afield, too, in places such as Zagreb, Stockholm, and Berlin.

Quite exactly what they mean by the term “support” is a little vague. Whether it refers to actual gigs or occasional acts of charity, we do not know. If it implies nothing more than words of encouragement and general enthusiasm from afar, then Zhdanov and Ganzhela can most certainly include Los Angeles in their list.

As these influences and connections spin out across the map, Mostklik have penned a brief textual framework in Russian for their newer compositions. They claim to be authors of “slightly sad techno that’s infused with both industrial smog and a flirtatious eclecticism… This young and ambitious techno-duet work as sound producers in Moscow, busy with the creation of magical nocturnal soundscapes, full of a special kind of electro-atmosphere. It’s music that’s designed for careful, attentive listening… as if you were trying to discern the light of falling stars. It’s the soundtrack to a pronounced sense of solitude, tinged with melancholy yet warming to the soul, too. It’s just the ticket for the unsettled residents of a megapolis.”

Steel and concrete make it hard to muster a smile.

In more precise terms, this soothing soundscape is crafted – as mentioned – from the fundamental ingredients of minimal techno, “twisting and turning with its percussion.” Zhdanov and Ganzhela are not, however, averse to forays into bolder tech-house, to which they also add layers of syncopated, “lyrical clicks” and glitch.

It’s a delicate process of fingertip precision.

These endeavors began in some general form almost five years ago, but the real genesis of Mostklik is considered the summer of 2007.  This was the time when the project’s two founders started to compose together – both often and in earnest. Prior to this commitment, Maksim Zhdanov had worked his way through several years of experience in a school orchestra, during which time he had developed an early passion for Ireland’s Aphex Twin and Germany’s Monolake. Only subsequently would he work towards a more logical enthusiasm for the Wighnomy Brothers, Mathias Kaden, Onur Oezer, and Lutzenkirchen – all of whom inform the tracks that are built into this post.

Konstantin Ganzhela, on the other hand, was more of a loner when it came to things melodious – and developed most of his skills at home, tweaking and twiddling with a PC. He also began his early lists of influences with a fairly rough and ready sound, inspired by Western hardcore techno and breaks. In time, though, matters would become more complex as that same list was slowly populated with the likes of Coil, John Digweed, and Simon Posford.

Anglophile leanings were clear from the outset.

These tastes can now be tracked with even greater accuracy, as beyond their presence on MySpace and PromoDJ, Zhdanov and Ganzhela have just opened up private pages at Vkontakte. Ganzhela – somewhat strangely – uses this location to say… absolutely nothing, an act justifiable in the true (if not severe) spirit of minimalism. Zhdanov, however, is much more forthcoming, and employs the new venue in order to offer not only more detailed combinations of his musical passions, always listed in a telling fashion, but also to document his favorite films. In top position are Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” (1927), Nicolas Roeg’s “The Man Who Fell to Earth” (’76), and – from three years earlier – the classic Soviet comedy of Leonid Gaidai “Ivan Vasili’evich Changes Jobs.”

Placed side by side, they form a composite snapshot of the same outlook that fashions Mostklik’s dancefloor philosophy. “Metropolis” is certainly an interesting choice for somebody born towards the end of the Soviet Union, a morality tale about the likelihood of social disaster if logic and sympathy are kept forcefully apart. In their programmatic statement about Russia’s “unnerved” and emotionally frazzled compatriots quoted above, Mostklik make no bones about their desire to soothe similar (though smaller!) tensions undergone by modern residents of their own megapolis. The dancefloor becomes a placed of mixed, managed, and harmonized emotions, finely tuned in accordance with the shifting sentiments of the clientele.

It’s a gentle process of give and take.

Roeg’s elegant film, following the monochrome and stagy severity of Lang, is an equally grim assessment of societal pressure and desire; it places an emotionless figure in between (fiscal/industrial) logic and a deeply human yearning. Tragically, any opportunity for love in this push-and-pull of insistent drives is sidelined in favor of lust and other, equally self-destructive forms of want. Given that the main role is played with unswerving cool by David Bowie, though, an aura of the Thin White Duke prevails – at least visually – over any themes of disarray that are needed for Roeg’s finger-wagging to take effect.

Should, therefore, Zhdanov or his kindred spirits fall victim to the kind of troubles with drink, drugs, and greed that Bowie’s character undergoes, at least they can take some – decadent! – consolation from the assumption that demise itself is occasionally blessed with the beauty of a swan song…

Nonetheless, vodka is never a good start to the day.

If these ideas from ethically assertive directors start sounding pompous, they certainly did so when Roeg’s movie was released. Although it has now acquired the status of a cult classic, “The Man Who Fell to Earth” suffered something of a critical panning thirteen years ago and even now prompts the occasional giggle. Zhdanov knows so – and therefore “mixes” his first two films together with something radically different – as a counterbalance.

Gaidai’s film is surely one of the most physical comedies in the Soviet canon: nobody can stand up long enough to be serious. It’s based around a time machine that accidentally “displaces” two men (like Bowie’s figure) out of both time and place. They are thrown back to the courts of 16th-century Moscow, while Ivan the Terrible – head of those same regal venues – ends up amid the apartments and office blocks of Brezhnev’s capital city. The tragedy of social schisms is reduced to a slap, tickle, and occasional belly-laugh. Any sense of grand social drama in Zhdanov’s films is mitigated – in favor of a happy medium – by their combination.

As proof of these ideas being transferred to the dancefloor, let’s take a look at the verbal ways in which Mostklik now showcase their mixes for the Russian public. The newest set available for download at PromoDJ is tagged with a series of minimal terms, consisting mainly of nouns that represent various options or avenues for desire and/or future deeds. They begin with a hackneyed, pompous turn of phrase but gradually work their way towards more modest alternatives, ending with one of the most famous questions of Russian literature: “What’s To Be Done?” The answer comes in the removal of extreme statements or resultant “schisms” in favor of small-scale, manageable harmony.

“A Cry of the Soul/ Reminiscences/ Freedom/ Attention/ Women/ Trust/ Faith/ Respect/ Deceit/ Forgiveness/ “I’m Sick of This…”/ Isolation/ “What’s To Be Done?”/ “It’s Tough without Friends”/ “Love Forever Is Possible…”

The very process of combination is a guarantor of social success, the happy minimization of one influence – or oneself! – in a multitude. The more the merrier… though we already appear to have reached dangerous levels of bliss.

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