Ukrainian Field Notes XXX

In the liner notes to your latest album, Falling Sky, you say that with this album you achieved inner freedom. Could you expand on this topic and tell us how you managed to achieve this?

I had a relationship, which lasted 3 years, and contributed to the beginning of my creativity completely in terms of support, inspiration and in the sense of developing without knowing the limits. It was love – a whole life and dreams that ended and collapsed, and with it, my inner world.

As soon as it was over, I was lost and couldn’t understand what was wrong with me – but it was an emotional bomb that had to be endured. For this, music helped me to tell about the sequence of my inner experiences. As soon as I finished the album, I was free and the love for myself came back.

Where are you now, have you been displaced by the war, and how do you think your life will have changed after February 24, 2022?

As I live in Odesa, I will stay here. Life has changed to shades of white and black, the military needs help every day. Donate and repost! This is important for victory.

Are there any Ukrainian releases from the last few years that you think can help to understand current events?

Many new things have appeared – both new artists and musicians, and artists and new labels. I cannot give an exact answer. Every city and every community has something unique, valuable and special for everyone.

What do you think the West still gets wrong about Ukraine, if at all?

As for corruption, there is a lot.

Who should I interview next and what should I ask him about?

Sekta.Music – culture. war politics
BE_CA_DI – music scene. artists label

FERBUARY 14, 2024 – HUDSON VALLEY

Maria Sonevytsky

Thanks for inviting me. I’m currently a professor of Anthropology and Music at Bard College in the Hudson Valley of New York. I’ve written two books about Ukrainian music, a bunch of articles, made some musical recordings and a museum exhibition as well. I’m also a person of Ukrainian heritage: both of my parents arrived in North America as children from Displaced Persons camps in Europe after WWII. So my upbringing in the post-war Ukrainian diaspora meant that I learned to speak Ukrainian before English, learned Ukrainian history as distinct from but entangled with Russian history, read Shevchenko before Pushkin, etc. Once we reconnected with our family in Ukraine, and I started traveling to Ukraine in the 1990s (first as a child, and then independently as a teenager and adult), I grew fascinated in the overlaps and contrasts between my diaspora upbringing and the lived realities of people in Ukraine. Eventually that led me to study Ukrainian culture during my doctoral studies, and steered me towards topics that were not directly related to my family’s story.

My father was an amateur but quite accomplished classical musician, and so I grew up immersed in classical music culture. I finished a degree at the Manhattan School of Music in piano performance and then played a lot of experimental chamber music in addition to more standard classical repertoire. But after college I also picked up the accordion, and it really—without exaggeration–changed my life. The accordion exposed me to all kinds of folk musics that I’d never really played before, and allowed me to play music that aligned more closely with the music I listened and partied to as a 20-year old in NYC. So that also fed into my scholarly research, which has usually hovered in the blur between folk and popular music, though recently I’ve been reading and writing a little more about classical music again.

Has the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea changed the way you think about music and sound in general?

Not in a profound way, but it has affirmed my belief that music is not merely decoration for life, not just indulgence; it can be central to the substance of life, of how we connect and affiliate, of how we relax and express our rage, of how and when we spend our money, of how we think about our histories as individuals and communities, of how we shore up morale and build solidarity, and of how we understand the world. If we think back to the viral moments that defined the first weeks after the Russian full-scale invasion, we might remember how many of those were musical moments – from the “Oi u luzi” gestures of international solidarity, to the videos of musicians playing in bomb shelters, to the concerts that raised money for Ukrainian efforts. I don’t want to overstate the role of music in a time of emergency, of course, but the notion that musical culture is just fluff that distracts us from the real matter of life is plainly wrong. It’s deeply bound up with the quote-unquote real stuff of life.

You have written a book on the Ukrainian punk band Vopli Vidopliassova. Their work was only mentioned a few times over the course of the 270+ interviews I did with Ukrainian artists. Do you think younger generations are aware of their musical legacy?

First of all, thank you for doing so many fantastic interviews. Second, no I don’t think many younger Ukrainians know of VV’s musical legacy in the late Soviet period. I think it’s likely that younger generations of Ukrainians only encountered them in their post-Soviet manifestations (there have been many), and—reserving aesthetic judgement—the Vopli Vidopliassova of the “wild capitalism” era was not the same as the VV of the late Soviet period, as most of the original band members would agree. VV of the late 1980s was hemmed in by the constraints of Soviet life, to be sure, but they were also speaking to the specific absurdities of the Soviet 1980s, which was part of what made those songs / lyrics / videos so damn appealing. I found that their punk affect, just irreverence to everything, and the subversive sarcasm and humor that’s integral to their earliest recordings, plus the Ukrainian twist they added through lyrics and gestures, to be truly original. My hope in writing that book was to shine a light on this fascinating moment when the so-called “Kyiv Underground” was in full swing. And I really hope that it fills in one of the many little-known chapters in Ukrainian musical history, at least for people who are younger, and who can read in English.

When asked by Natalia Korniienko in Chytomo, “How long will it take the world to stop seeing Ukraine – historically, politically, culturally and mentally – through the lens of russia?”, the Ukrainian writer and artist Anatoly Dnistrovy answered that, “The problem here is that Ukraine has never presented itself on foreign markets. And russia, on the other hand, put great efforts into it: they’ve been tirelessly retailing their messages all over the world and feeding their narratives to the European [sic] society for centuries.”

Did you see a shift in the international public’s perception and understating of Ukraine over the course of the past two years?



I think Dnistrovy has a valid point. There’s a book that just came out in January 2024 titled How Russian Literature Became Great. And the author’s thesis is not that Russian literature is or isn’t objectively “great,” but rather that the Russian “classical tradition” became formed as a canon explicitly to contribute to Russian nation-building, and then that project became exported throughout the world, contributing to the entrenched ideas we have about the “mysterious Russian soul” and so on. While the author isn’t making the case that Russian literary “greatness” is exceptional compared to other nation-building projects that tried to market their culture as a coherent and exceptional tradition, the fact of Russia as an empire, the sheer scale of the PR machine behind it, has obviously overshadowed places like Ukraine, where the greatest hero of modern literature — Shevchenko — was not the owner of serfs, but was himself born into serfdom and had to have his freedom bought for him.

This has clear applications to music too, and I’ve written about it a bit. Why does the whole world sing about the singular
greatness of Tchaikovsky, but not one outside of Ukraine seems to have heard about his contemporary, Mykola Lysenko?(In their lifetimes, the two admired each other as composers.) So basically, yes, Russia has been proactively marketing itself, competing for inclusion on the terms of “greatness” set by colonial Western European powers, for centuries. This was happening while Ukraine was divided between empires and subject to waves of cultural (linguistic, musical, theatrical, filmic) repression at the hands of Kremlin powers. The terrain was never equal, and it’s disheartening when Ukrainian artworks that managed to break out still get categorized only as “Russian.”

All that said, popular music has been an important arena in the post-Soviet decades for Ukraine to present itself on the
international stage. Right now, we’re also finally seeing some recognition of Ukrainian composers, both living and dead, just as people around the world are finally getting acquainted with Ukrainian literature. But this is happening for the worst reason, which is the existential threat that Ukrainians face today due to Russian aggression.

In Wild Music you write that “The Wildness of DakhaBrakha’s ethno-chaos also attempts to rehabilitate the fractured past of Ukrainian history as a way to move beyond its post-Soviet ‘memory wars.’” Could elaborate on this? 



Sure! In that chapter of the book, I’m writing about how DakhaBrakha use various “soundmarks” – musical or sonic gestures that are associated with a specific place, or history, or tradition – the way that landmarks designate specific territories. I make the rather simple point that they often stitch together diverse soundmarks in their compositions. So you might have a soundmark from the west of Ukraine arranged in next to a soundmark from a central, southern, or eastern region. It’s a compositional method to establish a whole out of parts, which is what every project of collective identity is.

Given how contested the history of Ukraine is, I think this is a powerful method of showing how the fractures of the past can be incorporated and even overcome. Every modern nation-state is an invention, but we invest meaning in nation-states, enough that people are sometimes willing to put their lives on the line for them. Part of the project of national survival is to allow diverse populations coexist harmoniously, and I hear them doing that through their music in explicit and more subtle ways.

Many of the Ukrainian artists I have spoken to are critical of sharovarshchyna and bayraktar-core. What is your feeling of its actual impact within Ukraine society?

Sharovarshchyna — like kitsch of any kind—is in the eye, or ear, of the beholder. People sometime use it just to name music they don’t like aesthetically, which is a normal feature of any lively cultural sphere. We always mark distinctions in taste. When I was doing the interviews for the VV book, I was delighted to hear original band members describe how they would take inspiration from what they considered to be the worst Soviet state-sanctioned pop music, estrada, and use it as inspiration for their songs.

Kitsch can work in mysterious ways, and I have my own relationship to it, but in general, I think it’s always interesting when generations go back and re-evaluate the music that was denigrated as kitsch in its own time. I wonder if that will happen, or is already happening again, in the Ukrainian case.

Bayraktar-core, as you call it, is perhaps an expected response to the Russian full-scale invasion. It’s not music that I seek out, but I understand its purpose to boost morale during very difficult times, and I believe it’s probably serving some group of people who want or need this particular kind of morale boost. Who am I to judge?

It also needs to be said that the majority of Ukrainian artists I interviewed are young electronic artists. Few of them, for instance, showed any interest in the Eurovision Song Contest, which you have analysed in particular in relation to Ruslana’s win. After Kalush Orchestra’s “Stefania”, how does one negotiate between drawing attention to Ukraine while avoiding repeating damaging stereotypes of exoticism?

This is really the main subject of my first book, Wild Music. I was really fascinated how, in 2004, Ruslana repackaged Hutsul culture—Carpathian Mountain highlander culture—in pop form by doubling down on the most common stereotypes of Hutsul exoticism. That this was done under the guise of presenting Ukraine as “European” was a contradiction that I wanted to explore. And of course, such self-exoticizing representational strategies continue at Eurovision, not only by Ukrainian artists, but by many participants in the Eurovision Song Contest. “Stefania” by Kalush Orchestra was also drawing upon Hutsul sounds and images to some degree, though the display and conception is quite different from Ruslana’s “Wild Dances.” In other years, we’ve seen Ukrainian Eurovision participants draw on many regional folk traditions—from the Chornobyl Zone to Crimea—and these artists have often ranked higher than those who offer a more generic straight-up pop song, so I think it’s safe to conclude that Eurovision audiences are often appealed to by the incorporation of folk gestures in the music. Is it possible to incorporate these without slipping into damaging stereotypes? I think it is, but that line is blurry, and changing, and 100% subject to interpretation.

I wouldn’t really expect Ukrainian electronic artists to pay a lot of attention to the massive pop-kitsch spectacle that is the
Eurovision Song Contest because it’s a world away from the kinds of scenes that electronic musicians typically inhabit, and both worlds are valid and rich and diverse and politically engaged in different ways. As a researcher, I find the Eurovision Song Contest to be a fascinating site where geopolitics meets pop, and so therefore worthy of study. Even the recent history of Russian and Ukrainian conflicts at Eurovision is fascinating – like the controversy over Jamala’s “1944” song, which the Russian delegation tried to disqualify in 2016, alleging that it was “political” and therefore in violation of Eurovision Song Contest rules.

Eurovision artists win access to platforms and support that have historically been difficult for Ukrainian pop musicians to access otherwise, so it’s also a vital launching pad for musicians who then become prominent advocates or representatives for the image of Ukraine to a certain segment of an international public. Again, I want to be careful not to overstate the impact of Eurovision!

But I also think we should not ignore it. Whether we like it or not, a lot of people learned about Ukrainian pop music for the first time through Ruslana’s “Wild Dances.” I’m following the contest this year again, and eager to see how Alyona Alyona and Jerry Heil perform with their song “Teresa & Maria.”

Has the role of music in Ukraine shifted from one of entertainment to encompass the expression of identity, communication, and emotional and physical survival?


I think it’s always been capable of both – going back to pre-Soviet history.

Are there any Ukrainian releases from the past year and a half that you feel can help make sense of current events?

Probably too many to list. Since I tend to gravitate towards things I study in folk and popular genres, I’ll list a few in that space.

Jamala’s QIRIM, is a really fascinating musical intervention on behalf of Crimean Tatar people and their claims to the territory of Crimea. That album is currently in the running for the Shevchenko National Prize in Ukraine, which suggests something about its wide circulation and its political interpretation. Jerry Heil and Alyona Alyona’s EP “Dai Boh” featured guests from various countries in Eastern Europe and reimagines various folk materials. (They just won the Eurovision nominating context for this year.)

I find Onuka’s music and the recent song “Peremoha” to be very in line with these conversations about making music to boost morale. Her husband, Eugene Filatov, has been doing an interesting project on various Ukrainian cities, combining field recordings with studio techniques titled “How Chernihiv Sounds,” or “How Odesa Sounds,” etc. As someone who is an ethnographer, I suppose this field recording approach is close to my heart. And I’ve enjoyed learning about Gasoline Radio and some of the music featured there, including some of the people you’ve featured on here before, like Heinali.

What would you say the West still gets wrong about Ukraine?

A lot. I think there’s a persistent habit of thinking of Ukrainians in very binary ways, like either 1) not “real”/non-existent (this is very prominent in Putin’s rhetoric, of course, but it also has found audiences in the West and in the Global South), 2) or nationalistic/fascistic and threating. Or 1) as superhuman fighters for the values we in the West supposedly so cherish (but consistently fail to live up to!) or 2) alienated and ready to surrender to Russian domination. And so on. Such simplistic categories basically don’t apply to most of the Ukrainians I know and have known in many different regions of the country, and I do worry about the ways in which the West doesn’t allow Ukrainians full and complex humanity.

And finally, a provocative question, has Ukraine overcome its inferiority complex?

I don’t really know how to answer this one! The condition of postcolonial inferiority complex is something that people like Frantz Fanon and Albert Memmi wrote about extensively, but we see in many post-war decolonizing societies that these inferiority complexes can end up overcompensating, tipping into extreme forms: of ethnonationalism, xenophobia, or primordial nationalism. I just hope that the brutal effects of this Russian war don’t breed these extremes in the Ukrainian public. When I was working on the VV book, it was fascinating to hear some people from the Kyiv Underground scene reflecting on their attitudes in the 1980s as those of colonized subjects, people who believed that to speak Ukrainian, for example, was embarrassing. So I wrote about it there as a process of confronting a kind of postcolonial inferiority complex. And notably, those interviews were done before the full-scale invasion in 2022.

I do see a reappraisal of the legacy of Russian imperialism, Russocentric cultural policies, and anti-Ukrainian repressions
happening today, and that has had far-reaching effects in Ukrainian music culture. More pride in local musics, more investment in learning the history of diverse regional traditions, more musicians choosing to sing in Ukrainian or to speak to Ukrainian audiences. That’s all to the good, in my opinion, and I hope it flourishes.

 

 

FEBRUARY 14, 2024 – VINNYTSIA

Saturated Color

My name is Volodymyr, my moniker is Saturated Color. I live in Vinnytsia, Ukraine.

I have been playing music since I was 15 years old. The journey started from my school days. I became good friends with two boys I was in the same class with who listened to electronic music. One of them made a simple beat, I was surprised and interested. Also, I wanted to be as “cool” as them, as they made it seem so effortless and playful to make music. As a consequence, I began to dive into the world of creating electronic music myself. It’s been an amazing path to follow. I started to discover releases on bitport, to analyze them, and to study and understand styles, genres, discussing them together with friends, every Monday, systematically. After that, we began to review the results.

I released my first track in 2014 and began to delve further into the world of music. I started with an EDM music festival. Later, my tastes and needs began to transform. I was introduced to records by Rick Wade, Delano Smith, etc. After that, I gradually began to discover the underground scene. From house to ambient, breakbeat and absorbed everything I saw and heard.

That’s how I got to where I am now.

How did you become a DJ?

My career as a DJ began thanks to an acquaintance who suggested that I play in a bar in my hometown. We had just met and became friends later. It’s an amazing story.

It was back in 2017. I arrived by train from another city, and thought, “Wow, underground is playing here.” I also managed to meet the established, resident DJs who played there.

That’s how, slowly, I started to play more often, to create more dance tracks, and I saw the meaning in this business.

Has the full-scale invasion changed the way you think about music, and sound in general, and has it had an impact on your playlist?

Yes, it was very difficult for me to make music in the early days  of the full-scale invasion. I was knocked out of music life for almost a year. I fell into a deep depression. I listened to more atmospheric music, reflected a lot, went through a personal crisis, and sometimes managed to process my experiences creatively.

Your album Phenomena came out in September 2022 on mystictrax. How much of it was written before the full-scale invasion and what can you tell us about its production process?

The entire album was created before the full-scale invasion. The tracks were made in different periods of time and under the influence of different styles of electro. One can hear the influence of Detroit, namely Aux 88, E.R.P., Plant43, the peculiarities of interpretation, the influence of the Kyiv scene and different air temperature and rainfall.

I formed the concept under the influence of inspiration from undergoing personal psychotherapy, as I was going through a difficult and deep identity crisis. Acquaintance with phenomena of various kinds, and how after the album I now accept myself as different.

The creation process was spontaneous and easy, it was 2018-2019, full of inspiration and productivity. The album cover is really about something metaphysical and modern.

What can you tell us about Hey You! Recordings and about the lighthearted and positive sound of your EP Complete Nonsense?

Hey, you! is about creativity of various kinds and categories. It is difficult to give a short answer but, basically, the project was formed by two of my friends, Cornrows and Karpman Huger. Initially, the guys wanted to shed a spotlight on the Vinnytsia scene, but later, their ambitions grew, and we abandoned the idea of ​​producing only Vinnytsia musicians.

After the release of my album, they invited me to work with them on the project and label. I agreed and invited another friend to join the team, Fin Force.

Complete Nonsense is an album about easy future days, in a native place, about streets, about coffee, about friends. This is exactly about life.

Do you experience burnout and what do you do to relax and unwind?

Yes, I am still dealing with depression. And besides me, it’s music, reflection and just silence.

Which book / film / album / song / traditional dish / podcast / blog / artwork / building / meme best captures Ukraine for you?

The city of Kyiv, it is very modern, alive, full of heritage that inspires, that conveys the mood of culture. For me, this is a city that speaks of freedom, will, and respect. I especially adore the “Golden Gate” metro station in Kyiv. It is amazingly beautiful there, and fascinating. A feature of culture that inspires authenticity.

 

FEBRUARY 16, 2024 – KYIV

Danylo Galyko – Blooms Corda

Hi there! I am Danylo, a poet, musician, artist, and frontman of the indie musical group Blooms Corda. Listening to music was my main pastime as a child. There weren’t many toys, the Internet hadn’t been invented then, and my parents were often gone at work, but I knew what to do because I was taught how to use a vinyl player and play records.
Since my dad had great taste in music, and I had nothing left but to sit in a chair and listen to music for hours, I believe this became the first spark for further creativity in this area.

Has the full-scale invasion changed the way you think about music, and sound in general, and has it had an impact on your playlist?

For the first three months after the start of the full-scale war, I could not listen to any music at all, although before that I listened to a lot of different things every day. I was in a stupor. Then gradually I began to listen to classical music, and then to all other music, the last in this chain was jazz. Although before that I liked it, the complexity and chaotic nature of this genre probably scared me off.

I’ve also noticed that sometimes while listening to music now I can hear the air alarm siren wailing, even though it’s not going off at the time. I think this is a very unpleasant feeling that will be with us for a long time.

What can you tell us about one of your most recent songs, “Пісня про війну” [Pisnya pro viynu – A song about war] and its lyrics?

This song depicts the permanent states in which we (Ukrainians) are now. The lyrics play a big role in this song. It contains several meanings (basic and hidden). One of them is that even if sometimes you manage to feel the small joys of life for a moment, the realization that there is a war now, people are dying, sleeping cities are being shelled and it is not clear what will happen to you tomorrow weighs on you. Let me try to make a quick literal translation for you:

Sing-sing, my little bird
Let your song echo
Blooming summer mornings
But don’t forget that it’s a war
Rejoice, my heart
Every day, as you wake up
There is still so much beauty around
But don’t forget about the war
Travel, travel, my little one

On the train from Kyiv to Chelm
Discover places and new people
But translate them that there is hell here
Give, give your smile
It is so radiant
Forget everything that once was
But don’t forget that it’s a war
remember
remember
remember that it’s a wa (r)…
remember
remember
remember that you are ali (ve)…

Where are you now and have you been displaced by war at any point?

I am in Kyiv now. In the first weeks of the full-scale invasion, my beloved and I went to relative’s house 200 km from the city, but after a month we decided to return.

How do you feel about the inclusion of “war sounds” in recent releases by Ukrainian artists and are there any specific sounds you find triggering? Also, how do you feel about bayraktar-core music?

Once I was riding in a taxi, and the driver was listening to the radio, which was playing some modern Ukrainian music. And suddenly I heard the sound of an air raid siren. Even though I’ve been living in this for the second year, you never get used to this sound and it triggers you every time because you understand that now there could be another rocket attack, and you’re just going in a taxi. In a moment, I realized that this sound was in the song itself. As for music in the bayraktar-core genre… Well, it is mostly something done purposefully, without a soul and real emotions.

How do you see the indie folk music scene develop in Ukraine under present circumstances?

Currently, there is a surge of new artists and new music within the country and also the attention of listeners to local performers increased. It’s really amazing cause now is not the best time to be a musician in Ukraine and most artists, if they are not fighting yet, are at least working at other jobs to make ends meet. It seems to me that when Ukraine wins,
then there will be an incredible rise in music and not only in music.

What would you say the West still gets wrong about Ukraine, if anything?

I hope I’m stating the obvious thing, but I’ll repeat that Ukraine is not something new that emerged after the collapse of the USSR. Ukraine has a long thousand-year history. The officially accepted date of the foundation of Kyiv (the capital of Ukraine) is 482 AD. This is hundreds and hundreds of years before the existence of Russia.

I also have a fear (and I am not alone in this) that the world is beginning to forget about us. I understand that people are living their peaceful lives, and the media are beginning to get “tired” of the war, putting news from Ukraine not in the foreground. But the war is still going on, Russia is still actively trying to invade and seize our territories, people die and tragedies happen absolutely every day, this is what we wake up to and live with every day. And we would really like to be remembered and supported. If you delve deeply into this topic, it becomes obvious that now there is a struggle between good and evil, even if it does sound pathetic and metaphysical. And anyone can add at least a drop of their help and
participation in this struggle, at least in terms of information.

Do you experience burnout and what do you do to relax and unwind?

In my current conditions, I cannot burn out from my favorite business, because now we rarely go to concerts due to a dangerous situation, and creating and recording music in my free time from work, on the contrary, saves and helps mentally. Making music now makes me feel as alive as ever before. In addition, to somehow maintain my mental state, I try to meditate every day, sometimes I take a cold shower, I do sports, and sometimes I use less constructive ways, such as drinking with friends, but this socialization is also important now.

Who should I interview next and what should I ask them?

You can take a closer look to project Blue Lizard who films lives of Ukrainian indie scene.
Here’s their channel: https://www.youtube.com/@BlueLizard
Here’s the email: love.bluelizard@gmail.com

 

FEBRUARY 24, 2024 – BOLOGNA, ITALY

Ilona Babkina

I am a Ukrainian with a multicultural background, having spent a significant part of my life in Italy. My journey into the realm of cultural studies and music has been shaped by a deep-rooted passion for self-expression and a love for the arts.

From a young age, I immersed myself in the world of music, exploring contemporary dance as a means to articulate my identity through movement and sound. This early connection between my body and the language of music fueled my curiosity and led me to intertwine my academic pursuits with my cultural interests.

During my university years in Bologna, Italy, I delved into courses on social movements, popular culture, and nation-building in Eastern Europe. The university experience was punctuated by my involvement in techno raves and electronic music events, which became integral to my journey of self-discovery. The pulsating beats and immersive atmosphere of these gatherings provided a unique space for me to connect with my roots, explore diverse cultural expressions, and foster a sense of community.



Has the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea changed the way you think about music and sound in general?

Yes, the russian invasion of Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea have indeed shifted my perspective on music and sound. In times of societal upheaval, music emerges as a powerful tool for communities and nations to articulate their experiences and voice their ideas. It becomes a means to create a new language that transcends space and time, encompassing the collective memory, traditions, traumatic experiences, as well as new dreams and hopes.

Music, in this context, takes on a political and revolutionary role, serving as a medium for social commentary and resistance. It becomes a channel through which a people can speak up and give voice to their sentiments, contributing to the broader discourse surrounding identity, resilience, and the pursuit of a better future.

You have written your masters degree on “Post-Soviet Ukrainian Identity: The Impact of Music on the Shaping of the National Identity.” What made you look at the role of music within Ukrainian identity in the first place?



The choice to investigate the role of music within Ukrainian identity for my master’s thesis on ‘Post-Soviet Ukrainian Identity: The Impact of Music on the Shaping of the National Identity’ was inspired by the significant historical event of Euromaidan. This pivotal moment prompted a critical examination of the injustices Ukrainian people have endured throughout history.

Through this exploration, a consistent theme emerged—the integral role of music as a tool for preserving Ukrainian identity through pivotal historical junctures encompassing the Soviet era, the period of independence, and beyond. Music served as an anthem during the Orange Revolution, actively involving numerous artists in the national discourse. Notably, during Euromaidan, there was a visible cultural shift—a collective pursuit of an avant-garde renaissance of the Ukrainian spirit, reflecting a forward-looking movement seeking to shape the nation’s future. This study aims to delve into the profound impact of music on the shaping of post-Soviet Ukrainian identity within this broader historical and cultural context.

In your thesis you draw on Andreas Umland’s “A War of Songs: Popular Music and Recent Russia-Ukraine Relations”, among others, a book that discusses “how political turmoil, particularly war, can create new conditions for creative cultural production.” How would you say culture and specifically music reacted to the full-scale invasion?



Reflecting on the full-scale invasion, music emerged as a potent tool for the defense of self-determination—not merely confined to physical borders but extending to the broader Ukrainian cultural identity. Music took on a heightened political role, actively engaging in the discourse and creating spaces for fundraising. It became a generational manifesto, reaching an international audience to communicate the significance of Ukraine, fostering a deeper understanding of its cultural identity and the ongoing struggle for survival. Despite the horrors of the aggression, this challenging period also catalyzed the development of creative tanks, generating ideas and artistic productions that emerge as a testament to resilience in the face of adversity.

When asked by Natalia Korniienko in Chytomo, “How long will it take the world to stop seeing Ukraine – historically, politically, culturally and mentally – through the lens of russia?”, the Ukrainian writer and artist Anatoly Dnistrovy answered that, “The problem here is that Ukraine has never presented itself on foreign markets. And russia, on the other hand, put great efforts into it: they’ve been tirelessly retailing their messages all over the world and feeding their narratives to the European society for centuries.” Did you see a shift in the international public’s perception and understating of Ukraine over the course of the past two years?

Yes, there has been a noticeable shift in the international public’s perception and understanding of Ukraine over the past two years. However, the historical and cultural ties with russia remain strong according western perception, posing a continued challenge. For an extended period, Ukraine existed in the shadow of Western narratives, often perceived as a mere extension of russia, a narrative perpetuated by russia’s dedicated efforts in global messaging over centuries. In recent times, there has been a positive development with the emergence of volumes in the literary market that delve into Ukrainian history, aiming to elucidate its cultural heritage and historical trajectory. These works contribute to emancipating Ukraine’s history from the imperialistic russian narrative, offering a version of the story that has been omitted for a long time. They narrate the intertwined experiences of the people in the post-Soviet space, detailing their endurance through the Soviet dictatorship and their efforts to preserve their roots, integrity, and culture. This is offering to the international audiences a nuanced understanding of the country’s unique cultural identity

The Russian full-scale invasion sparked an unprecedented flurry of fundraising releases both on a national and international stage. How do you explain this and why would you say have we not seen the same proliferation repeated in the case of Tigray or Palestine, for instance?


The surge in fundraising releases following the russian invasion in Ukraine can be attributed to the physical and collective capacity in Ukraine to organize and maintain spaces for such efforts. In contrast, the devastation in Palestine has obliterated infrastructure and hindered evacuation possibilities, limiting the potential for similar initiatives. Additionally, the political positions of the EU, coupled with international double standards and Western world hypocrisy, contribute to the disparity in attention and support. Notably, a recent statement from DJS AGAINST APARTHEID underscores a growing movement of DJs standing in solidarity with Palestine, emphasizing the dance music scene’s historical roots in love, liberation, and resistance, calling for a safer, fairer, and freer world for all.

Has the role of music in Ukraine shifted from one of entertainment to encompass the expression of identity, communication, and emotional and physical survival?


Yes, the role of music in Ukraine has evolved beyond mere entertainment to serve as a profound means of expressing identity, facilitating communication, and contributing to both emotional and physical survival. It has become a vital tool for navigating the complexities of societal challenges and resilience.

Are there any Ukrainian releases from the past year and a half that you feel can help make sense of current events?


Yes, the release I chose is Jerry Heil’s “кохайтеся чорнобриві.” While her music generally falls outside my usual genre preferences, this track and its accompanying video are exceptionally impactful. The fusion of folk sounds, drum and bass elements, and pop vibes, along with Zelensky’s speeches advocating for Ukrainian victory, creates a unique  auditory and visual experience. The video, showcasing vast Ukrainian landscapes and vintage films, adds depth to the themes of victory, identity, and tradition, all interwoven with experimental sounds.

How do you feel about the inclusion of “war sounds” in recent releases by Ukrainian artists and how do you feel about bayraktar-core?

I find the inclusion of “war sounds” in recent releases by Ukrainian artists to be intriguing. It serves as a unique way to create an audio archive that captures the historical experience and emotional struggle for survival, offering a visceral and evocative connection to the realities of the time. As for “bayraktar-core,” the fusion of music with the symbolic and political connotations of the Bayraktar drone adds an additional layer of complexity to the artistic expression, reflecting the intersection of art, technology, and contemporary geopolitical narratives.

What would you say the West still gets wrong about Ukraine?



The West often misconstrues the cultural ties between Ukraine and russia, overlooking the nuanced historical relations. Ukrainian nationalism is frequently misunderstood and misinterpreted through Eurocentric perspectives. Additionally, there is a tendency to oversimplify the relationship between Ukrainians and russians as mere fraternal ties, whereas the distinctiveness of Ukrainian history and its unique characteristics may not always be fully acknowledged. There is a need for a more open-minded approach in the West to delve into Ukrainian history and appreciate its complexities.

Which book / film / album / song / traditional dish / podcast / blog / artwork / building / meme best captures Ukraine for you?



The movie that best captures Ukraine for me is Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors by Parajanov. This cinematic masterpiece vividly presents the essence of Ukraine through its portrayal of folk music, landscapes, colors, pain, melancholy, and suffering. Similarly, the song “Vesna” by DakhaBrakha holds a magical power for me. It has the ability to transport a person to a primordial time, connecting them with the foundational essence of the Ukrainian spirit, even in eras we haven’t personally experienced. Both the movie and the song serve as profound representations of Ukraine’s cultural depth and timeless spirit.

Finally a provocative question, has Ukraine overcome its inferiority complex?



The notion of Ukraine overcoming an inferiority complex is subjective and dependent on the perspective of comparison. In the face of challenges, Ukraine has demonstrated the strength and courage of its people. Whether Ukraine harbors an inferiority complex could be influenced by external perceptions and treatment. If Ukraine is treated with respect, free from infantilization and marginalization, it is less likely to internalize feelings of inferiority. The narrative surrounding Ukraine’s perceived standing in relation to other nations plays a crucial role in shaping any potential complex.

Is there a particular track you’d like us to embed with your interview?

The track I chose from BandCamp for you to embed is “Moment of Beauty amidst Destruction” by Symonenko. All that I have mentioned until now is encapsulated in this mesmerizing composition.

 

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