|sistra|: Three New Songs for “People Capable of Melancholy”

The far-eastern town of Khabarovsk, a mere bicycle ride from the Chinese border, is home to the quartet Sistra (whose name is often written as |sistra|). More specifically, we’re dealing with four young men by the names of Artem Gnesin (vocals), Roman Lopatkov (bass), Roman Murashtov (drums & percussion), and Arsenii Sysoletin (guitars). They have just released a three-track EP from several locations online, one of which might well be here. Called “Love Is a Verve,”  with the artwork shown above, it comes on the heels of the previous – even briefer – release entitled “Japonica” that was also made available to anybody with a web connection and a flexible digit.

And then, for those of us inspired by an even more extreme archival zeal, the third (and earliest) of all these local products went by the name of “Na sladkoe” (“For Desert/For Afters”) early in 2009. That, too, can be hunted down with a little time and effort. By way of a clue, the artwork is shown below.

These diminutive milestones help to map the band’s progress over the last six years – when they first formed as a coherent outfit in their hometown. One reason for the paucity of these publications during the 2,000+ days of the ensemble’s existence has been that Sistra tried – first and foremost – to establish their reputation as a respected live band in the Far East of Russia’s endless territory. Only then did they feel that it made philosophical or fiscal sense to commit anything to hard media. After all, as they recently declared, “we’ve used the last couple of years to experiment [even further] with our style. We’ve endeavored to find a unique sound. [As we slowly came to discover that uniqueness,] that’s also the time when we put out the first of our three releases – at the start of ‘09; it consisted of six really varied tracks. Two months later we published the English-language single ‘Japonica‘ [below] – and it got some pretty good feedback from our viewers! Now [in November '09] there’s our new EP, made of three songs. As musicians we’re all still playing around with our aesthetic. This time we’ve dabbled with some synthesized elements.”

The search continues, far and wide, high and low.

This endlessly empirical approach to music-making is already impressive, in terms of its bold engagement of time and space: long-term effort and very long tours. Already documented are those years on the wide and unforgiving roads of Russia’s Asian lands. To this travelogue – and with no sense of early haste – we can add the three 2009 releases, differing in length, language, and even instrumental line-up. The degrees of physical outlay and adventure here alone deserve prolonged applause. Even the band’s list of members has fluctuated – and then reformed – over this period. No wonder, given the work ethic on display!

The streets of Pacific Russia must be littered with the emaciated frames of exhausted musicians. Given a blanket and a warm meal, they will tell mythical yarns of unspeakable toil amid the ranks of those who once played in Sistra.

Given this benchmark of labor, wavering rosters, and brief, almost impromptu releases, it makes sense for us to turn to a recent interview with the band. This should give us an impression of any underlying rationale behind prior efforts – and a chance to predict the group’s future trajectory with a little more accuracy. When asked, for example, what exactly might be influencing or inspiring Sistra at the present moment, Arsenii Sysoletin has said: “You know what? We’re influenced by absolutely everything around us!” (Hm… that doesn’t help very much.) “Personally I consider that music reflects the heart and soul of an individual. I really don’t have any concrete sense of how a melody might come to me in the process of composing songs. The only thing I can say with any confidence is that it comes ‘from within.’”

And that it conjures a knowing smile of gentle satisfaction.

Each of the band members then gives a variation on the same answer. Murashtov adds: “Inspiration really is something very personal indeed. In order to write music, you need to experience some kind of maximal internal state. And it’s not always positive, either!” In terms of what might instigate that negative, though “useful” state for a songwriter, he makes a few choice comments about the opposite sex that we’d rather not repeat here. Gnesin thankfully interrupts him with a more diplomatic answer, stating that he “looks for inspiration in all kinds of new acquaintances, friendships – and even among interesting individuals in movies.”

It’s left to Roman Lopatkov to bring some sense of order to the proceedings. He whittles down the multiplicity of all these friendships, acquaintances, and filmic narratives to relations within the band. The world they share, therefore, is – in essence – the quotidian life they cohabit. Grand, sweeping statements have their origins in the most modest of surroundings. “We influence one another,” he says. “Our musical sound is some kind of symbiosis that arises from all of our feelings. Those feelings and emotions are, in turn, united in a single wave. And as for inspiration, personally I am inspired by any good day that comes on the heels of a bad one!”

Considerable gratitude for the smallest of blessings.

If the core of Sistra’s inspiration, therefore, lies not in the grandiose, even bombastic dimensions of which Sysoletin first speaks, but instead in the equally “big” significance of the band members for each other on a day-to-day basis, how does that relate to the additional, extended context of a sympathetic audience? How, asks a journalist, does the vital significance of mutual love and respect among these four men go about the business of finding – and pleasing – a suitable, kindred audience? What kind of people would make the best listeners for a Sistra recording?

After a little thought, Murashtov is the first to respond. “First and foremost, these need to be people who are capable of being sad. If a person is sad, then you can say with confidence that s/he knows how to think, too. I’ve always been suspicious of people who never stop smiling…” Gnesin chips with the suggestion that the same doleful people are likely to be creative types. They’re unlikely to be obsessively goal-driven and, he hopes, also include “the kind of girls who like boys with guitars ”

Melancholy, introspection, and romance are three themes coming to the fore – with varying degrees of seriousness! “Rock ‘n’ roll” in Pacific Russia is taking on a very specific hue. Leather jackets, pyrotechnics, and TVs launched from hotel windows all appear to be in short supply. Instead Lopatkov hopes that the songs on this new EP conjure the kind of sensation that he imagines is undergone by any blind person, capable of experiencing a lot more simply by listening carefully and closing his/her eyes.

When Lopatkov tries this test himself, he admits to being – “quite simply – happy.”

In short, then, over the course of a few minutes, we’ve traveled from some awkwardly grand suggestions about the modus operandi of music to Lopatkov’s disarmingly simple thesis that joy requires no more than a few moments of introspection with a wistful song. These consoling melodies, by implication  – through friendship or romance – allow for a superior, most desirable escape from ostensible/visible reality.  What’s so bad about life in Khabarovsk, though? One would think that all was relatively well, since the city is fairly healthy from an industrial point of view – and even enjoys a good influx of Asian tourists nowadays, much to the benefit of local trade.

Nonetheless, 11 members of the Russian armed forces died tragically this week when their plane crashed into waters near Khabarovsk; the picture below ships of the Russian navy looking for the ‘black box’ flight recorder. As often happens, the accident was attributed to the low-grade quality of much Soviet hardware. As yet, the economic and social promise of places like Khabarovsk still has to deal with the weight of the (recent) past. Under-funded, rarely-maintained aspects of Russia’s infrastructure reveal themselves in the most unexpected ways. The “ability to be sad” or a “capability for melancholy” is therefore an essential coping mechanism.

Disaster, structural decay, and institutional dishonesty can – often – appear from nowhere.

Whatever terrible spectacles daily life throws up in the Pacific East, an ability to close one’s eyes and muster an affective counterweight – at least for a little while – is, perhaps, often the only means to mental strength. After all, when the very machinery designed to defend a nation cannot even stay airborne, an extremely robust coping mechanism is required. Sistra’s songs of melancholy, full-blown sadness, and mutual interdependence form a basic blueprint for that same affective system. In the band’s hometown where 11 families have suddenly been thrown from normality into tragedy this week, people who walk around smiling all the time must seem very suspect indeed.

Happiness, therefore, is saved for rare occasions among trusted friends.

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