BLOGS

As a court considers a law suit against rock critic Artemy Troitsky, it’s worth taking a look at how the beat of rebellion is pulsing through Russia’s music scene.

On the face of it, little could be more anodyne than the chart pap that dominates the airwaves. An interchangeable assortment of perky disco blondes tends to alternate with banshee-wailing balladeers and a few young men trying to emulate Dima Bilan complete the unprepossessing mix.

And a large chunk of the underground is preoccupied with experimenting on the fringes of jazz or folk, creating intellectually challenging music which exists far from any political sphere.

Meanwhile the potential for shock rock from the likes of Vladimir Kipelov is rather undermined when he turns up as a celebrity hockey pundit in a national sports magazine: far from biting the heads off bats, he’s more concerned with conquering Canada’s ice stars.

So far there’s nothing that would require Komsomolskaya Pravda to pose an update of the immortal question the British media of the sixties asked: “Would you allow your daughter to marry a Rolling Stone?”

By contrast, it seems to be Cliff Richard as far as the ear can hear – albeit with more sexually provocative videos.

Even the actively scandal-seeking Shnur, of foul-mouthed Leningrad infamy, focuses more on rude words than political activism, despite a public spat with rapper Noize MC last year.

And yet the past year or two has seen a steady resurgence of the body politic in Russia’s music venues.

DDT’s Yury Shevchuk has led the trend, at least in terms of column inches, by challenging Putin face to face at a charity tea party then organising a protest rally against the destruction of Khimki forest (pictured above).

But he is merely the most visible of a small group of acts of all political persuasions.

These include the likes of Petersburg post-punks PTVP, whose frontman Lyokha Nikonov interrupts gigs to recite splenetic verse attacking Russia’s “Stalinist democracy” as it “prostitutes” the country.

Noize MC himself has seen the inside of a prison cell after cops in Volgograd took exception to some of his lyrics. He also won fame with a track in response to the Lukoil road smash on Leninsky Prospekt, lambasting the country’s VIP traffic culture with “Chariot $666”.

Still with echoes of hip-hop, Kostroma’s Komba Bakkh say their music is “orthodox hip-hop”, and offer a social commentary of their own with a strongly patriotic flavour.

The likes of Barto have also attracted attention lately, with songs about burning police cars prompting members of the band to face questions under anti-extremist legislation.

Meanwhile, out on the right wing, the unlikely sound of pagan metal – a combination of thunderous death metal with folk motifs and lyrics hymning the glory of ancient Slavic culture – attracts a mix of rock geeks and skinheads.

Bands such as Arkona have reported police raids at their gigs over claims of extremism, and venues such as Moscow’s Relaks, which regularly staged performances, have changed management in recent months.

While the bland will inevitably play on, there is more to Russian rock than mass-produced chart fodder or politically correct dad rock – just not on state-controlled media.