“Cynocephaly”: Ukrainian Dubstep and IDM Go to the Dogs

“Cynocephaly” is a new electronic compilation from the western Ukrainian town of Ternopil. Founded in the 16th century, Ternopil has seen more than its fair share of unexpected and unjustified violence; over the centuries it has been invaded by Tatars, Turks, Austrians, Germans, and Russians, to name but five attacking forces. Communities that suffer this much destruction – for no apparent reason – will no doubt foster a rather peculiar view of how the world operates. The myth of cynocephaly, to which this new EP is dedicated by Ternopil’s Pincet Records, is suitably bizarre.

Cynocephaly is the “condition” of having a dog’s head, rather than that of a human. It can be traced back to various gods in the Egyptian canon, together with reports from travelogues of the same culture, maintaining that dog-headed people had been seen in India. This powerful image of the lowly “outsider” would endure for centuries and certainly played an important role in the Eastern Christian tradition. Here the same canine motif was sometimes used to evoke the bestial, lamentable experience of a man prior to baptism. In particular the notion of cynocephaly is associated with St Christopher, not only because of his “regrettable” lifestyle prior to entering the church, but also due to his large frame and “brutish” physique.

Ukrainian manuscripts of the 14th century – above – show these dog-like figures clearly; now Pincet Records have revived the same metaphor from their domestic archives for the following reason. (The text appears in Ukrainian and English; here we modify and polish the latter): “Many different views existed on the subject of cynocephaly. People in this condition were described both as blood-thirsty monsters – and as gods, too. They were worshiped by some people, but used by others to frighten little children. These inconsistent descriptions show the degree of fear among the populace and the public’s unwillingness to accept new or unfamiliar phenomena.”

By this point in the proceedings we will not be surprised to learn that Pincet apply the same canine state to the careers of their contributing musicians. “These experimental composers exist like a cynocephalus. Their music is frightening; their potential audience also remains unsure [of how to respond] and has, as a result, yet to cohere [in any stable, long-term way]… The music of this compilation will both scare and soothe its listeners. It will take them on a mystical journey…”

Six artists are on display here. The first, according to the running order, is Reixtra, billed as “a young and talented musical enthusiast from the Crimea.” When, in the name of objectivity. we go in search of how this man frames his own work (posted here as the first audio file), we discover the following. A magical morphing is evident in his self-depiction, underscored by his preference for the contorted image above, rather than any PR photos of himself: “Reixtra is somebody who is in several places simultaneously. Nobody knows where he’ll appear from; his exits are equally mysterious… He is not wealthy enough to afford studio-level equipment. As a result, he uses a low-grade PC to make melodies that sound like they’re coming from some 1960s’ radio station – and got mixed up with some old-school beats. He experiments with any electronic pulses that bear a melancholy tone. Attentive listeners will be carried back to olden days… to something good, long-forgotten, and not yet fully realized.”

Something wicked this way comes. On a Ukrainian bus.

Turning to the next artist in the lineup, IAEA Headquarters, we learn nothing. Contextualized – with maximum brevity – as an “IDM project from Zaporozhia” in southern Ukraine, the gentleman in question is unwilling to say any more. His MySpace page simply contains a series of images, such as the one above, showing an individual so hard at work, his turntables are aglow. No more textual support is forthcoming.

It takes Musician #3, Kiev’s Heinali to keep the informational flow going. Thankfully the facts from this young composer, seen below in a horizontal position, are used to fashion a somewhat soothing and restful aesthetic after the ominous opening words from Reixtra. By his own admission, Heinali is aiming for “a very fresh, soft sound.” Not a dog in sight.

Just dog-tired from all the effort at the mixing desk.

Heinali has been experimenting since 2003 – quite literally. As someone with no musical education whatsoever, all of his achievements and web-releases have come as a result of long-term tinkering or trying various sonic avenues. “Experimenting [over the years] and attempting to find his trademark sound, he has produced a wide variety of tracks. Heinali has [by this point] worked in almost every known genre and style – all the way from noise and ambient, to jazz and ‘guitar-industrial’ … In late 2007 he started playing live and mixing hip-hop, acid-jazz beats, and old jazz, with soul vocals or dark D&B bass lines. This so-called ‘post-hop’ concept of his was developed over the years in minimal, dubstep or leftfield realms.”

Heaven knows what an audience would make of this dizzying changes, one after the other. Despite his claims to be seeking a fresh and soft sound, Heinali appears more comfortable with the same rapid morphing that led Pincet to admit the musicians on this EP have yet to enjoy a stable audience. That’s probably because the moment the public believes (erroneously!) that they’ve got a handle on the artist in question, he has already “shape-shifted” and adopted a different form altogether.

The skies over Ternopil grow dark as a result.

We cannot shake the unnerving theme of metamorphosis, it seems. And indeed, as we move through the running order, that same cautionary note from Pincet about non-existent audiences begs the question, perhaps, of counter-productive enterprise. Why force one’s musical output through these changes if the longer they continue, the less people are able to keep up? A rather somber, if not masochistic streak comes to the fore, it would seem. The music may benefit from stylistically whimsical flip-flopping, but one’s social resonance lessens.

Isolation – therefore – increases, pushing us once again into the realm of peripheral figures or outsiders – who gave birth to the myth of cynocephaly in the first place. And yet the pace of transfiguration does not slow, be it aural or physical.

The audiovisual project from Dnepropetrovsk called Submatukana nudges us further in this general direction, since the EP’s last two instrumentals are discernibly darker. Submatukana call themselves an “excellently explosive” outfit, as if the ex- or implosion itself becomes an actively sought and “excellent” goal.  When their debut release appeared online not that long ago, it was tagged with the phrase “Sound is Our Structure, Movement Our Main Component.” Mapping those incendiary movements, a review noted: “This is not music you can easily dance too; in fact it’s not always structured as promised on the cover, either.”

Everybody’s out to push the music to its limits – by leaving the audience behind and frustrating their expectations.

Which leaves us with the closing contributor, Killall. Even Pincet cannot manage any information here: “He decided to remain incognito.” A search online reveals – with some effort – no more than one small picture of our musician. Instead there is a much larger photograph – shown here. It throw’s Killall’s moniker into a strange and radical light. His stage name is no longer an expression of some outward-looking, subversive violence. It’s not anti-social so much as self-destructive. Our champions of peripheral, outlying cynocephaly have now gone one step further. Knowing that their musical experiments are losing a local audience and therefore – by extension – jeopardizing a means of performing, making a living, or even acquiring instruments, they still push onwards. The law of diminishing returns is now envisaged in terms of a state from which nobody “returns.”

Reixtra is already complaining that decent musical tools are beyond his budget. Shopping can be difficult.

The fatalistic phrase written above on Killall’s earlier and bloodied release says: “Life without You.” Whether that pronoun refers to a loved one or a slowly shrinking audience, it matters little. The masochistic trajectory continues…

…into the dog pound and further still, seemingly because potential can only truly/wholly be realized at the point where it stops – and these musicians want to realize all they can, come what may. This increasingly dramatic idea runs through all the artists represented on this EP, perhaps no more so than with Electrostatic Death. Not only are they based in Ternopil, but have run their musical operations since 2004 in the same town, whilst channeling much of their work into the numerous publications listed at their MySpace page. Perhaps they offer a little sense of law and (natural) order?

Seemingly not. They define their modus operandi as follows: “The group constantly changes and develops its sound. It ranges from idm remixes of modern pop idols to experiments with guitars. Then, on top of that, we have psy-dub and ambient compositions, plus combinations of weird rhythms with acoustic instruments.” Disorder and unpredictable metamorphoses are gradually running the show. Electrostatic Death’s second website appears to have already succumbed to these changes. It has been spammed to death by endless ads for Viagra that run on and on, endlessly in a repeated stream beneath the musicians’ home-page information. A drug designed to increase an individual’s potency has done the opposite – and killed a domain of creative potential.

A frightening metamorphosis indeed.

One deserving of suitable lighting.

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