One of the trends that’s been worth tracking over the past seven or eight years of music has been the complete breakdown of genre convention. The walls that separated one genre from another, or indeed, one splinter genre from another splinter genre, are being torn down on an accelerated curve by an increasingly large collection of artists who were raised in the digital musicscape and have had occasion to sample the flavors of a myriad of different styles. Sure, there are plenty of artists out there who want to live in one world, and do so with great accomplishment and fanfare. Nevertheless, the horizon is teeming with a wave of musicians who will use any sound, bend any instrument, to find the right tone, the right feeling, the right mix.
Stepping to the front of the stage is Kiberspassk, a Siberian musical epiphany that uses witchcraft, folk arts and no small amount of black magic to at one time be industrial, metal, folk, chant and punk.
The statement of all those ingredients seems awfully definite, so let’s clarify a little – all of these are in the abstract. Kiberspassk is at once each of them, and also none of them. And then just when you think you’ve nailed down the ingredients of their new record “Smorodina,” you hear the pure rock-and-roll guitar solo of the title track, and you’re back to square one.
Leading this death’s head parade are Natasha and Anatoly Pakhalenko (yes, the same as from the folk band Nytt Land,) who have built upon their mysterious debut “See Bear” to weave an even more eclectic tale, one with greater depth and emotion and bucking of convention.
For starters, Natasha, among her other talents, is capable of traditional Mongolian throat singing, like metal fans have only come to know recently with Tengger Cavalry and The Hu. Her normal singing voice is ethereal but raw and real, full of conviction and spirit, weighted down with the pressures of trying to rationalize a challenging world around her. The added dimension of her throat singing turns Kiberspassk into something else – something more challenging, less intuitive, more otherworldly.
Challenging may be the key word to the entire experience of “Smorodina.” The album thrives on both being off-balance and keeping the listener in that same state. That makes it no less rewarding for those with the patience, but it should serve as a warning to those who think they can dive right in – the album has a lot to digest and can be acerbic; the musical variety and twists and turns do little to minimize that.
For those willing to let the album unfold for them, regardless of the track listing, they should begin with the single “Daleko.” It is the album’s most accessible piece, but also it’s most accomplished. The slow build through the strains of a folk song-like beginning evokes visions of sitting around a campfire and listening to the chant of nature in the frozen wastes of the north. That it then builds into something complex, haunting and beautiful is to the band’s credit. The sheer amount of layering built into the song creates a wall of warm but fragile sound, concurrently bright but pained.
For the more adventurous, the industrial instrumental “Vii” is a must listen. Imagine if you will that the opening of Pink Floyd’s “Time” (you know the one, with all the clocks,) was laid over a beat and pounded into a rhythm. The song runs five and a half minutes, and never really ventures far from that source, but it never feels old or gimmicky.
Everything else on the record falls somewhere in between those two goal posts, though that makes “Smorodina” sound rigidly confined when it is anything but. If “Daleko” and “Vii” are two opposing points of west and east, imagine that there is no boundary to how far north or south one could go in between those opposing points.
And the album goes in all those directions. From the near-screaming and vitriolic protest song “Ne Otdam (I Won’t Give You My Son,)” to the excellent punk-rock infused folk beat of “Morozko,” every cut on the album tries a new path and veers off on vectors that seem impossible.
Now listen, it doesn’t all work. It’s not worth singling out songs that falter, because those with different tastes might be attracted (or unattracted) to different aspects of the proceedings, but it’s hard to imagine that everything “Smorodina” lays out on the buffet table is going to be everyone’s first choice.
It seems plausible though, that everyone will find four or five cuts that really speak to them, and that’s both a credit to the inclusive genre-bending that was spoken of at the top, and also the talent of the band to seamlessly weave in so many elements that on face shouldn’t work together.
Regardless, those who are looking for something different and are not afraid to color outside the margins should spend some time with Kiberspassk’s new statement. And spin it more than once – there’s a lot to process, but it’s worth the extra effort.
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