Acos CoolKAs & Chokko: From Distant Remixes… to a Resurrection

Acos CoolKAs and Chokko are two projects from very different ends of the Russian-speaking music world. Nonetheless, they have interesting commonalities in how they understand the notion of “time” – and therefore history. The former outfit is from Omsk, in Southern Siberia (above), and the latter originates in Grodno, Belarus (below). One or two Russian/Belarusian outfits from Grodno have caught our eye before. It seems that the city leaves a certain imprint on its residents in that it occupies territory surrounded by Russia, Germany, Poland, and Lithuania.

Somehow an art form such as (re)mixing seems natural in a peripheral, liminal location, especially because the history of Grodno documents several occasions on which the city was grabbed by one of those four neighbors, only to see another one of them do the same a few years later! History’s “mixing and matching” never stopped.

Omsk has also seen its fair share of historical ups and downs; founded as a fortress town in the 18th century to defend Russia’s borders against steppe-dwelling horsemen from Central Asia, it would later become the final gathering-place for Czarist troops during the Civil War. Once the edge, therefore, of imperial lands, it subsequently became the very last stronghold or “center” of the same civilization.

After the triumph of the Soviets, Omsk saw serious material investment from socialist coffers, and therefore became a major industrial center. Much of that industry was connected to the Soviet army, and – once 1991 rolled around – the decimation of the military by new economic planning meant that Omsk was brought to its knees – again – by high unemployment. Although the region has incredible natural resources that should make it a place of stable growth, the population of Omsk has actually been falling in recent years.

Both this city and Grodno have been denied any long-term sense of geographical, political, or financial stability.  The changes and social “remixes” keep coming.

The theme of chance and social mutability leads us back to our two musical projects.  Acos CoolKAs is/are a  duo, known on most days as Konstantin Atomas and Vasiliy Basalaev. In their PR materials, the twosome note that their hometown is indeed a long way from the political center of Russia, in fact approximately 1,700 miles. Although linked to Moscow by the Trans-Siberian Railway, the distances here – and the sense of romantic, perhaps, isolation – are extreme.

In lands that unavoidably evoke themes of loneliness and separation, our two DJs were brought together as friends thanks to their shared musical tastes, namely a passion for Space, Zodiac, and Kraftwerk. The first two of these retro-bands helped to constitute the “space disco” movement of the late 1970s. Space originated in France and their (admittedly cheesy,) “cosmic” instrumentals became wildly popular across the Soviet Union. In the early 80s, in fact, the Frenchmen played to well over half a million adoring fans in Russia and Ukraine.

This meant that the Soviets wanted their own version of Space… and so they created a copy, in the form of Zodiac. Kraftwerk, oddly enough, are, of course, the most famous example of an even more machinic style, playing on the “attraction” of science to an extreme degree. No sooner had the appeal of space disco fizzled out (and the Soviet Union started showing its weaknesses under Gorbachev) than other French ensembles appeared, such as Daft Punk, revamping the aesthetic of Space and Zodiac. In New York, a similar treatment of the past came from Metro Area.

The difference was in their stance; an ironic attitude emerged towards the charm of science, technology, and the cosmos. The music of the 80s had been serious – and a logical object of desire for Soviet citizens. Space, for example, brought new romanticism to a sad and sorry field of Russian endeavor, doing so with elements of the fantastic that allowed people to ignore the earthbound drudgery of society during Brezhnev’s term in office. Daft Punk went back to that same grand soundtrack, but treated it both with considerable affection and disrespect – simultaneously. Themes of cosmonauts and distant stars were downgraded to cartoon images and “spacey” chemical experiences, rather than any serious, patriotic celebration of intergalactic explorers.

The music of enterprise became the music of escape.

All of that sounds like a lot of fun on Western dancefloors, but for residents of a flagging military city in Russia, these soundtracks of space travel have a beautiful melancholy. Acos CoolKAs, in fact, admit that “they found something very mysterious and magical in this type of [French] music. The pair soon realized that something had been missing in their everyday lives… It was something they could, however, find in this amazingly emotional music. These were tunes of an enigmatic and spiritual profundity.”

Close your eyes, don your headphones, and look skyward.

Some of the promo-images used by Atamas and Basalaev show these connections to outer space with great clarity, no more so than in their loving poses next to a major monument dedicated to Iurii Gagarin (above). In light of these retro-yearnings, they again speak of a cosmic romanticism that never quite came to fruition.

And, as a result, if the town of Omsk shows no sign of reinstating social confidence any time soon, adventure and potential are found through introspection, rather than through faith in national progress. “In order to find the Cosmos, you have to look inside yourself first. The miracle [of self-discovery] has a place in everybody’s day-to-day existence. It’s essential that we see and recognize this potential, in order that the smallest of things can grow and radiate with happiness….”

Mix after remix, set after set, Acos CoolKAs attempt to establish a private euphoria that was so badly mismanaged on a public scale.

That happiness comes from an ability to re-express, reshape, and therefore re-experience sensations of the past. This is the music of resurrection, which brings us briefly to the sounds of Chokko (above, right). Based, as mentioned, in Belarus, he has just released a new series of minimal techno remixes. Six tracks over 36 minutes, with a little help from local DJs such as Darwin & Prix: this is a very elegant release, reworking a central theme six times over with a light and respectful touch. This development of difference from within a core structure comes us to with the title of “The Anastascia EP.” That slightly peculiar spelling aside, Western listeners will no doubt be reminded of one particular Anastasia: the daughter of Nicholas II who was murdered with her parents after the Revolution.

Or maybe not. As most of the world knows, rumors of her escape or “resurrection” endured for decades, each time with differing details and “facts.” Many people in may places claimed to be the missing princess; her biography was remade over and over. A related ability – at least on a personal scale – to remake the potential of a squandered past has a place close to the hearts of two young men in Siberia. In Belarus, there are overtones of an even greater romance at work, also the product of a life cut short.

Elements of remixing and resurrection start to inhabit the same place.

The fate of Omsk was radically altered when Czarist troops – fighting for Anastasia’s father – were driven from the city, never to return. It would seem, perhaps, that one girl’s name still carries a yearning for an even grander reversal. The people of Omsk, no doubt, would be grateful. Expect Belarusian “remixes,” both musical and historically magical, to become fashionable on the dancefloors of Siberia very soon.

Judging by the dramatic image below, Chokko already has a well-defined sense of the face-off between a grim past and a possibly better future. It’s a fight to the death.

Or maybe not…

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