Earlier this year, we covered the first iteration of kyïvite‘s broadcast, which has since inspired two more broadcasts and attracted the attention of the staalplaat label. The Amsterdam imprint has just released all three podcasts as a standalone album, including a physical release on CD. We’re honored to be able to call more attention to this crucial project from radio host Kvitoslava, as the Кияночка series transcends time and borders, focusing on Ukraine’s rich history and heritage with a modern bent that often feels like musique concrète.
The past is always speaking to the present; but is the present always listening? More importantly, does the present in one land honor and vow to preserve the past of another? All too often, the answer is no. As our earlier article covered what is now the middle triptych, featuring the Transcarpathian Folk Choir, we jump back in with Episode 2 (broadcast 12/02/26), featuring archival recordings from Filaret Kolessa’s folk expedition.
The titles are provocative: “ballad of a soldier,” “ballad of a widow,” “ballad of the cossack’s death” ~ the entire war in microcosm. Everywhere there is death. Everywhere there is despair. There is no holiness here, despite the choirs: only horror and devastation. An entire generation is already bereft. In the album’s opening song, the singer already sounds broken, a feeling amplified by the abraded nature of the recording. In the foreground, a militaristic, plodding beat: off to a war that nobody wins. The static that begins at 3:34 sounds like stamping feet. The singer and song each end abruptly, giving way to the widow’s forlorn cry. The twist is that as the track progresses, regaining its electronic lilt, the voice begins to sound more resolute, in the same way as the Ukrainian people have grown more resolute: a testament of unimaginable resilience.
The third and shortest podcast, broadcast 20/03/26, is a month old, while its core sounds emerge from the prior century. “test cylinder” begins as a transmission from the past, ancestral voices emerging fthrough clay and dirt and mortar, begging not to be forgotten. Toward the end of the piece, the static shelters signals that are having a difficult time breaking through, stamped on like old porcelain. Still they continue to rise, joined to the musical voices of the current year, extending a hand to pull them through. “dudochka (pipe) dance” uses the static as a percussive instrument, a brilliant repurposing. “there, behind our hut” recalls an even more distant, fainter era, ending the set on an unsettling notion: once all copies of vital art are destroyed, can they ever be recreated? And if not, isn’t this the greatest crime of all: to rob a people of its heritage?
broadcast is a reminder of what has already been lost, what remains only in fragments, and what faces annihilation: a loving tribute and a fierce indictment. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 