The Legend Of VV Band

“IN THE MID-NINETIES, I THOUGHT ALL THINGS UKRAINIAN WOULD BE ALL THE RAGE — BUT I MUST HAVE MISUNDERSTOOD THE PUBLIC MOOD”

“Oleh, did it take long to teach the French musicians to perform you Vesna [Spring] song in Ukrainian?”

“The French Cultural Center offered VV to perform with their group Bikini Machine as part of the French Spring in Ukraine Festival. We had two hours to rehearse before the concert. I knew they would perform precisely the way they had rehearsed. The French are very organized, they respect national culture and, at the same time, are open to other, especially Slavic cultures. They enjoyed performing Vesna.”

“They say the French are so frivolous.”

“The French are a nation made up of professionals. They might be frivolous in romantic affairs, but it’s a generalized image. Also, the French know how to work on their image — I mean their perfumers, cosmetics, prРt-З-porter clothes — and they know how to make money using all this.”

“Then why have you returned? Do you still appear in concerts in France?”

“Try to picture what happened back in 1988. During a festival in Moscow French impresarios offered us to give concerts in Paris. We laughed at the idea, but two years later ended up performing in Paris. We left Ukraine in the early 1990s, with its electricity blackouts even in Khreshchatyk, and its public transport and fuel shortages. And we saw Paris in all its night splendor, brightly lit and with a throbbing cultural life. I leafed through a concert catalog. Brazilian, Argentinean, Italian music... There was a great deal of public interest in VV as a band from the Soviet Union. We appeared in concerts and on radio and television programs; we were offered to record albums, attended meetings with fans and champagne parties. [The West] was then flirting with Gorbachev, the first Soviet leader trying to show a human face. Then the Berlin Wall collapsed. All this had romantic appeal. But with the collapse of the USSR the warming in the West-East relationship ended. From then on, everyone arriving from any post-Soviet countries would be regarded as a potential criminal, a member of the post-Soviet Mafia. We never released that album (although it was practically ready), but our group had it recorded at our own cost. Then everything had changed... At the time, I thought that everything Ukrainian would be all the rage, but I must have misunderstood the public mood. The reason I’m saying this is that we don’t seem to focus on politics in our songs, but culture is always closely related to politics. Anyway, VV has never performed in France since then. To perform there, one must be a fixture in French radio and television programs and stage concerts. We didn’t know their Bikini Machine, as the band represents a new wave there.”

“We believe that the Ukrainian language is becoming more and more popular in Ukraine’s music industry and especially with the younger audience. Do you think that this trend is a sign of the times?”

“Some start singing in Ukrainian, others switch to Russian. Without false modesty, VV is playing its role in the Ukrainization of our music industry. We stubbornly sing in Ukrainian even when performing in Moscow, and we remain popular. Others try to follow in our footsteps. But there is the problem of professionalism. Preparing numbers, using Ukrainian, requires skill, especially when doing numbers like Chervona Ruta [Magic Red Rue] or other club hits that have been performed hundreds of times. Ukrainian culture has nothing to do with this restaurant subculture. Therefore, we must constantly bear in mind the sound, rhythm, and how to communicate with the bearers of that culture.”

“Ukrainian culture seems to have always emerged on a modest scope, despite its high historical level. Perhaps it should be presented in a more expensive setting, so it could attract larger and more appreciative audiences?”

“One of the latter-day Ukrainian bards, who performs ancient chansons, folk songs, and his own compositions, told me once about a folk fest in Latvia that he attended. During the closing ceremony, the nation’s president appeared onstage, clad in an authentic folk costume, and sang a folk song dating from the sixteenth, maybe seventeenth century.

“Hungary, for example, was in the same plight as Ukraine, except that it has no outlet to the sea, no coal, gold, or diamond deposits. But consider the Hungarians’ respectful attitude toward national culture. Their theater is developing. Hungary is hosting a variety of folk fests and Europe’s biggest rock festival (we’ll soon take part in it). They are doing a great job cultivating their heritage. Many foreign tourists want to visit Hungary specifically to attend such cultural events, while the Hungarians cash in on this. Meanwhile, Ukrainians are well aware of how indifferent the ruling bureaucracy is to our culture.”

“Of course, we are still getting over the post-Soviet shock and the attendant lethargy. Is it possible to increase the pace of recovery, so we can live long enough to witness signs of a new and better life?”

“I rub shoulders with sponsors. Some of them are aware [of their identity]. Of course, they are too busy doing business and know little about culture, so they support all kinds of children’s and karaoke contests, pay for the release of first CDs. At best, they cooperate with Ukrainian pop stars — allegedly because their lines of business are meant to support pop, not folk culture. I think that we must help professionals, as they are often on the breadline. Meanwhile, by supporting amateurs they often cultivate low standards. But there are Ukrainians who have achieved the European and international level. Consider for example the Drevo Ensemble and Roman Hrynkiv, who has even performed with Peter Gabriel and Enver Izmaylov.”

COLD WAR WITH RUSSIA: MANIFEST IN ANECDOTES

“Oleh, how was your VV band promoted in Moscow?”

“First, as a post-Soviet band we were no strangers there. At the time, they felt nostalgic about the Ukrainians as “brothers” that had been estranged from Russia, but they regarded this as a temporary phenomenon. This nostalgic attitude has changed. Second, we had brought competitive material from France. At the time, alternative music had no future in Ukraine and Russia for want of funds; no one could come out with a quality product — and they still can’t. And so we signed a contract very quickly. At present, VV has a hard time competing with the Russian and Ukrainian performers; they are paid bigger money for their performances; large sums are channeled into their albums, videos, radio and television appearances. We pay nothing for getting on the air; it’s our principled stand, meaning that if and when we get on the air it is because we try to offer good music.”

“You have mentioned a change in that nostalgic attitude toward Ukraine.”

“I have been following Russian media coverage of events in Ukraine. I can see that they are creating a hostile Ukrainian image. It took several years to transform our collective image as a kind-hearted simpleton into that of vicious double-dealers stopping at nothing to achieve their dark objectives, robbing Russia of gas and shooting down foreign planes. I remember walking down a park alley in Moscow, listening to my portable radio playing first Kirkorov and then casually informing about women in the south of Italy being forbidden to wear short skirts, and about Russians being assaulted in Lviv for speaking in Russian... There is a cold war between Russia and Ukraine, which can be felt at the level of anecdotes and jokes.

“I think that Moscow is in the wrong feng shui environs, unlike New York, London, even St. Petersburg.”

“What about Verka Serdiuchka’s soaring ratings in Russia?”

“Stand-up comedians appear especially popular in Russia these days. It’s strange. One of them, by the name of Yevdokimov, became governor of Altai. There is an overall intellectual decline. Their songs have lyrics that are no longer relevant. A similar process is underway in Ukraine, except that it’s not as pronounced. There can be a negative attitude toward Ukrainians, regarding them as stupid and primitive. Serdiuchka has that simplified Ukrainian element.”

“What about Sofiya Rotaru? She is still singing to packed audiences, even stadiums in Russia.”

“That’s the phenomenon of Rotaru. She is experiencing a renascence; she has provided a quality product, she has produced expensive videos and created an attractive image of a mature woman, something neither Alla Pugachiova nor Larissa Dolina has been able to accomplish — both are suffering a creative depression.”

“CONSCIOUSNESS IS THE PROBLEM, NOT PIRACY”

“Oleh, you have an experience fighting for your copyright in Russia. What’s the situation like in Ukraine?”

“We recently won a lawsuit against Gala Records. They had failed to perform the contract and had for many years refused to pay us for the sales of our albums. I wouldn’t even try to list the albums sold in that way or the amounts due us and never paid. We know that Gala Records sold a great many disks with our Dances and Spring. While the lawsuit dragged on for couple of years, the recording company kept earning very good money using our copyright. Our rock group could have used that money to stage concerts and produce clips. The court ruling was in our favor, but we were paid a pittance. However, the very fact of our victory in court shows that it’s worth fighting for one’s rights.

“I think that consciousness, rather than copyright infringements or piracy, is the problem in Ukraine. As it is, the ice is cut by in-power and showbiz structures behind the performers. Money has become more important than creative talent. We often see performers on our home screens that may not be good vocalists and musicians, but are invariably into another line of business, so they can invest in themselves.”

“In the West, performers earn from the sales of their albums and give concerts as a kind of presentation. Do you think you could be well off with the kind of money you should have received as proceeds from your CD sales?”

“Gala Records has two offices and company limos. Their staff is paid well, so they can go on holidays abroad. Our VV remains their leading band. I think that the company has earned a lot of money at our expense.

“We must constantly appear in concerts to invest in our clips and albums, because the disks sold cannot cover these costs. We have to operate in this mode all the time.”

“This has been going on for more than a decade — is there any possibility to improve the situation?”

“The situation will change eventually. We noticeably lag behind the West. In 1988, when we toured Poland for the first time, we saw that the Poles were experiencing the kind of process we now have in Ukraine.

“However, it’s safe to assume that the Ukrainian showbiz is becoming professional; there are many people professionally making money here. Our pop performers are showing progress, even if having to evolve in conditions leaving much to be desired compared to Russia; we don’t often appear in radio and television programs, and we are not supported by the state... Ukraine has a satellite dependence on Europe in general and Russia in particular in terms of the mass media. Still, our pop singers manage, borrowing money from friends or wealthy philanthropists, recording albums, and making videos that match Russian ones in every way.”

FAREWELL TO UNDERGROUND?

“Do you think that we have new interesting performers appearing on the creative horizon?”

“There are many interesting bands. We are a musically cultured nation, but getting on the air without anyone’s influence and financial backing is impossible. A musician stands a chance of making a name for himself only when aided by a professional producer. Our VV group has a manager, an administrator, a press secretary, and producer Oleh Skrypka. We play very specific music, but if we had a pop producer, the group would turn into a purely pop band, so we would have to appear in commercials selling detergents, and we would have to pay for our photos on covers of glossy magazines; we would perform with a soundtrack during concerts organized by political parties.”

“By the way, have you taken part in any political events?”

“Yes, but only because of some misunderstandings. For example, we were told that we would perform in Dnipropetrovsk to commemorate the city’s anniversary, and that the concert would be free, organized by a local newspaper. But we appeared onstage only to discover that it was financed by a political oligarch. What could we do? Walk out?”

“What do you think of the Borscht Project? Is it a copy of VV, in any way?”

“Sasha Pipa is taking part in that project, the way Zhenia or yours truly do in solo concerts. We don’t have a star-making factory, do we? We aren’t bound by rigid contract clauses, so we’re trying to do our best. Shurik can take up music, sell oil, and work at a circus, all at the same time. I think he is interested in rock, while VV has transformed from an underground group into one more on the public side, having parted ways with the rock trend. The Ukrainian public is not totally prepared for rock music and concerts. Shurik is nostalgic about underground club gatherings. I can play rock, gorgeous jazz, folk, so I must have contributed a bit of theatricality to the group, and I may have done something to crowd out rock music.

“The Borsch Project will need time to build their own history. For the time being, they are mentioned in the context of VV.”

“You seem to be especially keen on folk and ethnic trends. It seems you have cultivated them for a long time. A producer said that Oleh Skrypka onstage lets loose all kinds of devils and evil spirits, all of them being of Ukrainian origin.”

“There is the Gogol trend. I like it. I was born to a Ukrainian family in Tajikistan. I visited my grandfather in a village, in Poltava oblast. I composed my first Ukrainian songs as childhood memories. I began to play the button accordion at a music school. I visited my granddad, and he had the instrument provided almost instantly; I was taught to play several notes of the song Ty zh mene pidmanula [Cheat me you did] and than I played at a village party. I had made many friends, we would cook kulish [thick gruel of corn flour, the recipe varying in different regions of Ukraine — Ed.] together, go on mushroom- picking hunts, and herd the village cows.”

“Do you know how the people in your parental village respond to Oleh Skrypka’s music?”

“I know how the populace of Voronki, a village five kilometers from my native one, respond. When composing the song Buly na seli [Visiting a village], I actually wrote Buly u Voronkakh [Visiting Voronki], as Hiltsi, the name of my village, didn’t fit into the rhythmic pattern. There was an obsolete and enigmatic jeep on regular Hiltsi-Voronki runs. It sounded so romantic! I’ve never visited the place. As it was, Voronki’s village choir was invited to perform on television and guess what they sang. A folk arrangement of my Buly u Voronkakh, to the accompaniment of a button accordion. The chairman of the village council invited me to his silver wedding this summer. I promised I would do my best to attend. I also plan en expedition with my folklorist friends to that part of Ukraine. We have been to Myrhorod, but what material we cold gather was not enough for a CD.

“Or take my song Horila sosna, palala [That pine caught fire and blazed]. It has an interesting history. In France, I acted in Philippe de Coufle’s performance as an actor, musician, and dancer. In a scene I had to climb a mountain and play a bugle, whereupon I was accompanied by the orchestra (live), with girls dancing round me and singing. I helped the Parisian singers learn the lyrics of the tender waltz Horila sosna. I transliterated the lines and told them about Ukraine. They sang it with a beautiful French accent, softening the letter l just like people do in Poltava oblast. The song was arranged when I started recording the album. Until recently, folklorists would listen to the CD and believe that the song was performed by Ukrainian singers. A drummer friend of mine told me recently that Horila sosna is still performed at wedding parties in Brittany, and that it has come to be regarded as almost another French folk song.”

“I WANT TO STAGE A SONG FEST THIS SUMMER KYIV’S SPIVOCHE POLE”

“Dou remember exactly how your Dances came to be?”

“I worked for the Kvant research amalgamation in Kyiv. Once, walking down Chervonoarmiyska St. during lunchtime, I found myself listening to the clicking of my heels. There was a definite rhythm and then the lyrics came to me. It was probably the only song I wrote without a musical instrument. I could have never imagined its future popularity. But the first time it was performed, the audience went ecstatic. The next day VV played the Dances as chart breaker. At times we would leave it out of a concert program, but after the concert we would be confronted by outraged people in the audience, telling us something like you people play great, but you ought to be ashamed of yourselves; why didn’t you play Dances? Now we can’t stage a concert without performing Dances and Spring. We use the Japanese Noh Theater phenomenon, trying every time to perform our numbers in a new way, breathing differently and being charged with new emotions.

“By the way, neither the Spring nor Birthday received such spontaneously positive response from the audiences; not until we’d made the clips, for people couldn’t understand them. At present, a clip is mostly what makes a song really popular.”

“How are you going to use your magnetic influence on the audience?”

“I am now especially aware of the great potential of Ukrainian folk music. These songs are invaluable, rich, and well preserved. But you must attract public attention to them, for at present only a narrow circle of performers and experts are involved with them. Folk fests are held in Pyrohiv and in the Carpathian Mountains, but they are barred access to the Ukrainian public at large, television, and official events. Therefore, I want to stage a song fest this summer, at Kyiv’s Spivoche Pole.”

“Exploring this cultural stratum requires not only a high musical cultural level, but also a special degree of inner freedom, which manifests itself when a person is struggling to reach a goal of his own, acting with an absolute perception. Apart from you, who do you think could raise it to a summit where other people could feel greater freedom, following in your footsteps?”

“There are a number of professional performers. We regularly hold vechornytsi [a traditional Ukrainian village evening gathering of youth for singing songs, dancing, courtship, without consuming alcoholic drinks, now practically extinct — Ed.] and on one such occasion we witnessed the appearance of the Karpaty group, consisting of musicians from various bands. The audience was ecstatic.

“Anyone can attend our vechornytsi, the only requirement being that one must be clad in traditional Ukrainian attire. We want to see how our people are prepared to treat their national heritage. It’s good to see people sporting the good old vyshyvanka hand-embroidered shirts and striy apparels. Before Easter [this year], we invited Easter egg painters. Previously, we’d held dance master classes teaching folk dances. This May we’ll hold vechornytsi on a hill not far from Andriyivsky uzviz, this being the historical site for such gatherings.

“We also organized a Ukrainian parlor music soiree kept in the baroque style, and we plan a CD with Ukrainian romances.”

“The VV audience is young. Do you think they will appreciate these projects?”

“Yes, they will. We have ample reason to think so. Ukrainian folk fests will become popular in this country eventually, the way such events are across the world. Our festival will last two or three days and we’ll stage large-scale and spectacular vechornytsi.”

“We have always had everything in abundance, so at times we easily forget about whole trends and cultural genres. Perhaps it is time to concentrate on something rather than scatter our efforts, on something most important. Who else but we can separate the husk from the grain?”

“Back in the 1970s and 1980s one could hear Ukrainian versions of hits of The Beatles, Deep Purple, and Adriano Celentano. At the time, I performed the Eagles’ Hotel California at a dorm, but previously I’d never include it in a concert program. I think it’s time we made a collection of that urban subculture, because it is so original and interesting.

“Conceptually, the California video is what I call a city romance. I added another couplet, because the three original ones had become forgotten with time. For the first time I was a co-author of the script, with Oleh Lebedev and co-director Mykhailo Shelipov.”