VV front man speaks about “Ukrainian baroque”

Oleh SKRYPKA, VV’s leader, is The Day’s frequent guest. He implements many interesting projects. This time we met to discuss his recent DJ performance at the ethno disco at the Venice Biennale, the Kraina Mrii festival, which will take place on June 25-26, and the legendary rock band’s 25th anniversary.

Skrypka is known as a charismatic musician, an interesting experimenter, and a fashion initiator. The Day discovered that he is also a theoretician. Just in this interview he suggests three original, almost scientific theories: on the origin of world music, Ukrainian baroque genre and… You ought to read it yourselves.

“We receive invitations to give concerts in Russia, Europe, the whole world map, besides Africa, Australia and… eastern Ukraine. This region has been closed to VV since 2004.”

How do you explain this?

“I think there is a kind of anti-Ukrainian program, but I know nothing about its origins and nature. We intend to hold concerts in eastern Ukraine within the framework of the tour dedicated to the VV’s 25th anniversary — if we find Russian partners to organize these concerts for us.”

Does the Ukrainian band VV have to force its way to Ukrainian cities with the help of Russian partners?

“We can’t do it any other way. The tour started spontaneously. We have accomplished one part of it. Now the negotiations are underway to continue it this autumn. On the whole, most of our concerts today are private, they mostly take place in Russia. This is our main market, as according to my estimates there are as many Ukrainians living in Russia as in Ukraine, 40 million at the least. Besides, there are Russians who listen to us.

“We also went on tour to Germany. Of all the Ukrainian cities we have only visited Odesa. By the way, Odesa is a city that listens to VV. Odesites are active concert-goers on the whole. They are far more active than, for example, the residents of Kyiv or Lviv. The issue of whether our band is Ukrainian or not is not of major importance.”

In your opinion, does the perception of Ukrainian music in Russia depend on the political context?

“It does. And the mechanism of this relation coincides with the simplest laws of show business. Information is the most important thing, and it does not matter, whether it is positive or negative. Most of our Russian concerts took place in Yushchenko’s time, when the word ‘Ukraine’ was regularly mentioned by Russian newspapers, TV, and radio. As soon as a new gas war broke out, we had a lot of concerts there.”

The level of modern Russian music is considered to be quite low. Why do Russians take interest in your creative work?

“I think there are two components. First, Russians subconsciously feel that their culture (at least the musical one) originates from ours. For their variety and rock tunes, which they call purely Russian, in fact takes root in Cossack songs. Chaif, Gazmanov, Bulanova represent steppe Cossack melodies typical of eastern Ukraine. Secondly, for cultured Russians Ukraine still remains a hope for salvation and democratic changes. Surely, in different population layers the attitude toward Ukrainians varies from hatred to love, but this way or another, Russians take a much greater interest in Ukraine than Ukrainians do in Russia. They have an inner dependence on us, which is frequently subconscious. That is why they attend the concerts of Ukrainian performers — they receive some kind of emotional material there.”

The 25-year history of VV is the entire history of the independent Ukraine plus the perestroika period. This has been a very fruitful time for you: you created a band, worked in France, won success, experimented, created Kraina Mrii, Rock-Sich, worked as a DJ, created a jazz cabaret… And in this period Ukrainian music has been disappearing from the radio and TV, and all things Ukrainian have been hollowed out from the information and cultural space. VV’s 25 years and Ukraine’s 25 years – how did you personally feel that these two histories intertwine? How did VV survive through this period of great transformations?

“VV was born when the Soviet Union was collapsing, immediately after the Chornobyl disaster. On the whole I think that the explosion in the Chornobyl Nuclear Plant was the first spark of this collapse, in a symbolical sense.”

Aleksandr Mindadze, who shot a movie about the Chornobyl disaster On Saturday, is of the same opinion.

“On the whole the emergence of rock music in the Soviet Union can be compared with the appearance of mammals after mastodons and dinosaurs. Rock music is a totally different ‘species,’ a different culture. Some five years before the USSR’s collapse rock-n-roll enjoyed vast popularity. It was very easy to organize concerts at the time. You made an A2 format poster, wrote there in gouache ‘VV. Rock concert. 8 p.m.,’ and a thousand people would come. We became popular overnight, in a flash.

“Besides, there was a program of the city committee of the Komsomol, which envisaged the organization of several state-run festivals. I don’t know what its final aim was, to launder money or assist in ruining the Soviet Union, but the festivals had a very high level. And then the Union collapsed, rock found itself in ashes, and monsters emerged instead of it, the clones of Laskovy Mai band. We went to France, like migrating birds.”

It’s strange that free music disappeared after the totalitarian regime collapsed. Why?

“I think it was because of a lack of funding. Besides, rock embodies the need for changes. People went to concerts specifically for this aim. But after all, like after any revolution, people were disappointed, and started to use the chewing gum, the ‘GMO,’ plastic, which, to someone’s great pleasure, turned out to be very profitable. It looks expensive, it costs little.

“On the whole, an entire theory can be developed on how the cultural demands of societies change in revolutionary times. When people hope for good changes, they begin to use a cultural product of higher quality, — rock-n-roll in the 1960s-1970s, jazz in the early 20th century, or classical music in the early 19th. All in all, changes do take place, but after this, like after a crazy night, you feel emptiness and a hangover, which we try to soothe with the help of second-rate produce, like plastic.”

Is Ukraine still experiencing a hangover?

“Yes. You must remember that during the Orange Revolution (which in my opinion was an echo of the Soviet Union’s collapse), the people’s interest for rock music and culture grew. And then, like in a spiral, a disappointment and ‘chewing gum’ returned.

“But we are just a small paper boat, which is thrown by the waves to one side or another. We are sailing in some direction, and the current period seems the most comfortable to me personally. I know the course, the speed, we have an authority, importance, and many friends, with The Day among them; society has become more mature. Do you remember that in 2004-05 the need for building a cultural society was a topic of regular debate? We organized discussions and roundtable, and then we gave up and said that it was impossible. In fact we have achieved this, but we still don’t understand that Ukraine does have a cultural society.”

What is an indication of this?

“Above all, I can feel it owing to people in my surroundings. When I organize events and concerts, I always know that they will be in demand. I rarely give interviews, but I know that if The Day invites me for an interview, the material will be interesting, relevant, and strong. This is also a part of a cultural society. I don’t need to spend much money for the promotion of Kraina Mrii — I simply have to announce when it will take place, and people will come to the festival. Hopefully, the cultural nucleus of Ukrainian society will soon get cemented and become a serious system spread over the entire society.”

Your reasoning is quite optimistic. Meanwhile, many people are now saying that we are coming back to the USSR.

“Recently, when I was giving a concert in Chernihiv, I spoke with local journalists. One of them told me, apparently expecting that I would confirm his words, that I must feel nostalgic about the USSR. Some people sincerely believe that the Soviet Union was cool. The ironic thing about this is that there are many people among them who have never lived in the USSR, which does not prevent them from being influenced by certain myths. Incidentally, these myths may be authored by the same structure that blocks our concerts in eastern Ukraine.

“The French have the notion of branche and pas branche. This can be translated as being progressive [and hip – Ed.], and a jerk. So, everything connected with the fashion for the Soviet Union is a jerk business. It does not mean that there was nothing good at that time (there was developed rock music, interesting conversations and opinions, and unique intellectual phenomena), but the thing is about the system, and we all know its quality, though some try to spruce it up. That is why the entire fashion for the Soviet Union is a misunderstanding. Incidentally, I told that Chernihiv journalist that I am an absolute anti-Soviet man and I will remain so till the end of my life. For me the Soviet Union means lines for peas and mayonnaise, the hymn of the Soviet Union, which I would sing during morning meetings. They say our school is in moral ruins now. And I remember that in our ‘Soviet school’ eight-graders smoked hash and then beat up the school head. In a sense that was a crime, but they decided to hush up everything, because how could we imagine that Soviet schoolchildren were criminals?”

You are able to create a precedent. Many people say that the fashion for ethno in music and clothes is largely your personal merit and that of your initiatives. You know what influence you have on Ukrainian society, and you know that people look up to you and follow you. What do you think, how can this part of society be broadened?

“There are innovators and idea exploiters. I am an innovator. I can invent something, but I’m not able to powerfully exploit my ideas in the future. A different character with different qualities is needed for this. If I come up with an interesting idea, I implement it, after this the colors start to fade, and routine begins. I’m a creative person, I’m connected first of all with the world of ideas, but I’m not good with the material world. On the other hand, nowadays we are going through a period of pragmatism and disappointment. But I regularly come up with new ideas, which wait for their time to come — when Ukrainian society is mature enough for them.

“I don’t feel jealous when other people take up my ideas. The only bad thing is that nowadays the level is being lowered.”

What ideas do you have for Kraina Mrii, which will take place for the eighth year in succession? We take off our hats to you, as few events are as long-lasting and stable.

“It is indeed much easier to found an event than to keep it in shape. Stability means a different kind of energy, it is maturity.

“Besides the traditional stages, the alley of masters, book tents... this year I invited, for the first time, designers who work with ethno-fashion. In fact the fashion movement in Ukraine is quite strong; to some extent it is connected with the natural taste that is typical of Ukrainians. It is too early to speak about the format of this fashion component, but I can say that the designers whom I have offered cooperation have eagerly agreed.”

Please tell a couple of words about the music component of the festival. At what events will you be personally present?

“I am going to perform with the Zabava jazz band. This will be ethnic jazz. This year there won’t be many Ukrainian performers on the big stage. We invited musicians from Canada and the US, owing to our Russian partners, who provided the funding, which we lack. We can only afford to bring Moscow performers here. We firmly intend to present Turkish ethno-rock. We are also inviting Finnish performers. We are negotiating with the French Culture Center on a visit of French performers. So the geography will be interesting.”

Like respected European festivals, you introduced an admission fee last year. Were there as many people as previously? Are Ukrainian people ready to pay for your product?

“There was about 20 percent less audience, around 6,000 visitors a day. And the capital’s Spivoche Field has a capacity of 8,000-9,000. However, there is an interesting issue. Nowadays Spivoche is surrounded by a metal fence and last year we simply used ribbons (like those to mark a car accident). And though there were huge lines near the ticket office, there were few who dared to cross the ribbon.

“Apparently, there will always be unhappy people, those who don’t want to pay a hryvnia, 20 or 50 hryvnias for admission to a festival. I’m a hippie with a history, so I dream that everything could be free of charge, but we are living in a capitalist world. Therefore people should be taught to pay, especially for Ukrainian products. Besides, the performances free of charge have led to the destruction of the scheme of ticket concerts. People think the following way: why would I buy tickets for a VV concert, if in six or twelve months they will come to the City’s Day or a political action? But this freebie, even if it refers to Vopli Vidopliasova, can be of low quality. It is most likely that the organizers will gather all kinds of performers, rent a cheaper hall with low-quality sound and lighting.”

Can musicians be independent in our sociopolitical situation?

“I am a radical; I don’t recognize Ukraine’s independence. There is no independence whatsoever, because we have no independent cultural space. Surrogacy reigns instead. The processes we have discussed are apparent: the use of the Ukrainian language decreases, there is less of our music on radio and television.

“However, life is a paradoxical thing. Other trends take shape at the same time. There is popular and elitist music. According to Krishna worshippers, we are living in the period of Kali Yuga, i.e., in time of spiritual degeneration. Clearly, spiritually deprived music, pop music prevails. But there is room for spiritual music: there is funding, corresponding labels, radio, and the audience. Thus the world is balanced.

“What about the post-Soviet space? In my opinion, the variety mutated in the 1970s, there used to be good products in supermarkets and then GMOs were added to many of them. Variety was destroyed in such a way. It turned to complete ‘GMO.’ And in the early 2000s Russian rock music was also spoiled with ‘GMOs.’ Since that time there has been no difference between them and rock music.

“Interestingly, nothing of this kind has ever happened to our rock music, so far. The Ukrainian-language variety is not able to develop, because we lack our own cultural space. It still remains in the underground.

“But we have a market of foreign ‘GMOs,’ Russian and American. That is why our performers immediately start using Russian. And Russian-language rock music is not so popular with Ukrainians. The Ukrainian-language rock is more popular. This is a strange phenomenon. Russians envy us: no rotation, stages, or clubs — but Ukrainian rock exists.”

Please comment on the following “GMO” phenomenon. On the First National Channel I saw the following scene: in Kharkiv, Khvyliovy’s city, Berezolia was established in the city’s center along with the George Band, and Potap and a half-naked Nastia Kamenskykh were singing Chervona ruta. It was a chimera. How could it take over our information space? How can we overcome it?

“The only way out is to consolidate around the elite, to create some counterbalance to the lack of taste.

“People call me a pioneer, a flagman, and an ice-breaker, thus implying that I would go save the world. I can’t be responsible for everyone. This is an unbearable burden. I can orient and unite people who want to communicate with each other. And, actually, I am doing this. Incidentally, many Ukrainians consume Ukrainian products. For example, when I give my friends invitations to my jazz cabaret, they refuse, saying that they will buy tickets in order to invest in Ukrainian music. Even if somebody listens to the tracks of Mandry and Tartak, downloaded from the Internet, they still invest into our performers, though on a higher level.

“Ukrainians should understand that everything depends on them. When the number of such people reaches a critical mass, changes will be inevitable.”

Does not it seem to you that the young population that has not lived in Soviet time is different? They grow up listening to VV.

“A touching incident once happened in St. Petersburg. It was like a meeting of pioneers with veterans. After the performance Russian rockers approached me and said, ‘We grew up listening to your music. There is pop music everywhere, and the creative work of VV is our only guideline. We have even created a band, it will perform Ukrainian songs. And we are going to Ukraine to live.’”

This is an example of cultural expansion. Your album Zhorzhyna (Dahlia) is based on the Lviv composer Bohdan Veselovsky’s works. How did you come up with this idea?

“I was thinking about performing jazz, to create an image of a charmeur, sing in Joe Dassin’s manner. Once an old good acquaintance of mine Oleksandr Lysokobylka came to me and said that he had an interesting project. It was Bohdan Veselovsky’s works. The material was recorded. I immediately saw how strong it was. I had never heard about this composer before, or the existence of Ukrainian jazz in general. Three months later I went to Lviv to a concert. An unknown man approached me, he said that he was an artist and gave me a CD. It carried pieces of Ukrainian music of the 1930s-1940s, with several songs by this composer. At the time I was working on this project I read that in the early 20th century in Galicia and Bukovyna foxtrot and tango performed by orchestras were immensely popular. And there was a very strong competition between them. Austrian, Polish, Jewish, and Ukrainian bands were competing. Ours were the most masterful. They even went on tours to Berlin and Vienna. At the time Veselovsky was very popular, which means expensive. Interestingly, the show business of that time worked in the following way: announcements were made in the music stores that Veselovsky’s song would premiere soon. Scores were sold. People stood in lines to get them. Everyone wanted to be the first to buy them and sing the new song to their beloved ones. People were able to read music scores then. And when the scores were sold out, they were hung on the window, so that poor residents of Ternopil and Chernivtsi could copy them out.”

Where has this culture disappeared?

“This is a city culture. And the city did not survive through the Soviet times. On the other hand, radio and television have killed this culture.”

Twenty years of independence have passed and we still have to discover unknown names, phenomena and whole cultural layers. When Michelangelo Caravaggio’s picture was stolen from the Odesa Museum, everyone was surprised that we had it. Is there much still to be discovered?

“They should steal Repin’s works from Kharkiv’s museums, so that everyone could learn that he was a Ukrainian. I have my own theory: contemporary music — variety, dance, electronic — is based on disco rhythms, which means 120 to 150 bits a minute. So, according to my theory, this music takes root, among other things, from Ukrainian polka. Why is the combination of our ethno music with rock music or disco usually very successful and accepted extremely well in the world? Whenever you play Ukrainian disco, people enjoy it.”

At a press conference at the Cannes Film Festival the renowned Danish director Lars von Trier stated that he “understands Hitler” and called himself a Nazi. Fashion designer John Galliano lost his job for anti-Semitic statements. How important is it for celebrities to understand the significance of their words? How can the Ukrainian elite be forced to be responsible for what it says?

“For me the words ‘I’m a Nazi’ and ‘I’m a Stalinist’ are synonyms. But if you say that you’re a Nazi you will have big problems. But if you call yourself a Stalinist, they will think ‘what an eccentric person you are,’ which means that many myths have not been scattered in our society.

“As for Lars von Trier or John Galliano, their words could have been taken out of context. They said that they want to preserve in the globalized world the Danish cinema or Italian fashion. It is very simple to turn everything into a clownery. For example, when people fight for Ukrainian independence, cultural or territorial, they are called Banderites. Banderites are equaled to fascists. This is how myths are created.”

We have discussed spiritual and spiritually-deprived music. What kind of music do you consider spiritual?

“This is an inner guideline. You simply listen to the music and it is interesting for you. Everything is simple with music that is not interesting — you throw away the disc. I have recently looked through my CDs. Some of them carried spiritual songs, but I gave them away. It happens so that I receive recordings of a young singer. In spite of the varying performance, her singing is original, so I keep the CD. Sometimes I listen to jazz. More advanced jazz men could have considered Louis Armstrong a pop singer. In reality his music is very strong, it is not without a reason that it is still popular. However this is an absolutely subjective matter. Somebody thinks that Ella Fitzgerald is much more interesting than Armstrong. Rock musicians also say that someone is a rock musician, and another one is not. Sometimes personalities are overgrown with myths, then bronze monuments of musicians are created.”

In some ways VV has such bronze monuments in Ukraine. People listen to your music and love you. Have you become a cult band?

“Once we have played in a youth club in Krasnodar. There was an elderly man among the young people. He was not dancing. He was not clapping his hands. He was peeping into my mouth. I thought he took a good look of all my crowns (laughing). I felt numb. After the concert he came up to me with a pile of CDs: all official and pirate releases of VV, all sorts of collections, with incredible titles (Golden Collection of Russian Rock Music, Golden Collection of Russian Chanson). And he said, ‘I have waited for you for 15 years.’

“Once we were performing in Simferopol. There is a boy who lives there and paints cinema posters. He painted a huge poster for VV, about 10 meters high. I have a photo against its background. It’s a kind of India Film (laughing).”

Judging from your projects, you easily feel different epochs. What epoch, besides the present one, is the closest for you, or maybe the most interesting?

“For me, and Ukraine as well, the most interesting is baroque, because it is the groundwork of European culture. I think that our mentality and cultural space took shape in that time. Speaking about differences in mentality between us and the Russians, the reason is that they did not have any baroque period. For Ukrainians it is an epicenter. Hence our identity, internal and external: vyshyvankas, the kobzar, and romantic songs. Unless we understand this fundamental thing, we will never understand ourselves. And Russian culture was born in the 19th century, when the imitation of things supreme started to spread into art and folkways, in fact lowering its level. For me, as a musician and composer, baroque is extremely important, because most Ukrainian songs were created in that period.”