Tag: Karaganda

SHAM ROCK TO SOME: YULIA SEMINA LIVE AT HARRAT’S PUB KARAGANDA KAZAKHSTAN.

I went to an Irish pub to watch an acoustic performer: what was I thinking of?

On this slushy and already inky end of November I amble up Nurken Abdirov Ulitsa. This is sort of Karaganda’s Oxford Street and I pass the coloured lights of pizza houses, Georgian and Korean restaurants and various shopfronts on the way to my destination.

`Are you here for the kvis?` a young lady asks me as I enter. After a double take I tell here that I am here early for the Yulia Semina concert and fumble around for my ticket. However, she just directs me to the bar.

Harrat’s Irish Pub in Karaganda offers a wide range of corporate beers but, as it is my first time here, I decide on the on the Harrat’s own house beer. At 2,000 tenge this is of average price and turns out to be a so-so lager-beer. I make a mental note to graduate to Starapromen next time.

I sense a lived-in feel to this pub even though it only threw its doors open last April. No doubt this impression is given with studious care. There are many joke memes, film posters, beer mats and so on arranged about the place and mostly in the English language, as well as the regulation paper currencies from around the world pinned on the wall behind the bar.

Global outreach.

`Immerse yourself in the unforgettable atmosphere of a real Irish pub` promises the Harrat’s Irish Pub website of their own venues. This pub, spacious, pristine and somehow solid has more of a feel of the sort of establishment that sprung up in the cities of Britain in the early Nineties. Nevertheless `Irish-pub` has now become such a familiar collocation – like `Italian restaurant` say – that it seems a bit churlish to questions its meaning.

Harrat’s Irish Pubs – the largest Irish Pub chain in the world -are very far from being British. Igor Kokourov first set one up in Irkutsk, Russia, of all places in 2009. Now its venues have spread out to the rest of Russia (there are several in Moscow), Kazakhstan (there was also one in Almaty, which I avoided when I was there), Kyrgystan, Hungary, Belarus, Cyprus, and even America – but none in Ireland, of course.

Kokourov chose the `Irish` theme because it suggested something `classical`. He aimed to project an ethos of `cosy chaos` and to reach out to ` 20 to 40-year-olds who like quality music, quality products, are cheerful, not aggressive, understand jokes and don’t wear Adidas`. (Cia. Ru, February 26th 2020) No gopniks, then.

We create happiness`. [nnKassir.ru]

Perhaps it was such a demographic which was immersed in the slick quiz which had pop music related questions projected onto the TV screens dotted around the place.

As I sit at the bar killing time this pub quiz crowd is replaced bit by bit by slightly older and more sober groups of people, all pushing forty or older. Numbering about a hundred, these are my fellow spectators and amongst them I see no children, nor college kids.

Not the target market.

Confession time: I am only here because an advert for it appeared on my social media feed, nothing else was happening and I needed some copy.

The fact is that unplugged music, solo acoustic in particular, leaves me cold. When it comes to rock and pop, I really relish in the orchestral mash up of mingled and treated and amplified strings, drums and keyboards. Without that, the sound is altogether too spartan and sequestered for me. So, I had no high expectations as to what about to transpire..

Local heroes.

Yulia Semina consists of the lead vocalist and songwriter of the Kazakh band Anomaliya.  Formed in Astana 21-years-ago this pop-rock four piece have two albums to their name and numerous singles. Quite early in their career they built up a fanbase in their own country, so much so that the entertainment store corporation Meloman became their sponsors. Appearances at Russian festivals followed and punters came to know them there too. By 2006 they even found themselves touring with the legendary Noiche Snapeiri (the Night Snipers).

ANOMALIYA back in their heyday {Genius.com]

Like Gorod 312 before them, and many a band for that matter, they have since relocated to the big apple of Moscow.

Their output could be placed in the same broad pigeonhole as Zemfira, albeit without the spiky brilliance of that Russian artist.

Pleasant host.

Semina finally arrives at around 7:30. She looks fresh-faced and relaxed, is about the same age bracket as her audience and donned in the new nondescript global casual style. She sits cross legged on a stool on the floor level stage before us.

She begins with a remark about having found the streets of Karaganda to be pretty as she strolled around them earlier then starts.

There are fast paced robust rocky numbers and some more reflective downbeat ones. Without doubt she has a fine voice: penetrating, clear and with quite a range. Yet to me it’s all strum-strum-strum – warble in a high register strum-strum-strum – warble on a low register and repeat.

I have to say that the prejudices that I took with me about acoustic solo sets remain not just intact but are reinforced. I find myself weaving my way through the onlookers back to the comfort of the bar.

There is some variety when a technical hitch stops the show. A rather nervous guy in a regulation pony tail arrives onstage to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow and then it all begins again.

The food scoffing, inebriated crowd are getting what they came for however and join in some of the songs. Her set lasts about an hour twenty minutes, which is a long time to play solo without so much as a bottle of Borjomi water at hand so respect to her for that. I just wait for the conclusion, when the crowd will chant `Spasiba! Spasiba! `

This comes after a significant sign off from Semina when she plays a – fittingly Irish – cover of a famous Cranberries song. The song is `Zombies`, known for its antiwar content with its mention of `with their guns and their bombs`. I also realise then that the vocal style here, that moody sincerity, is very much the one that Semina seems to be aiming at, but not fully reaching.

The beer has not worked and I make my way out into the night to be ready for the first day of winter tomorrow. Nobody has asked to see my ticket.

Lead image: ticketon.kz

BACK FOR MORE.

A tribute band revists a collection of Russian rock standards to big audiences in Kazakhstan.

Russian rock, as a national genre, seems less current than it once was. Most devotees of this part of the world-rock quilt refer back to the last four decades for evidence of its greatness.

In the Russia of now many of the big names, if they haven’t decamped to Georgia or Central Asia, are keeping their heads down and just retreading old glories.

As far as recognizable brands go, the twin poles of contemporary Russian rock consist of, in one corner, the mock-dissolute rock-and-rolliness of the girls of Kis-Kis (known for chanting `Fuck the war!` at their live gigs) and, in the other corner, the Z-friendly corporate pomp rock of Shamen. The beauties and the Beast. Take your pick….

The Silver Age of Russian rock now gets packaged as a commodity. It was so for this tribute band performing a medley of Russian rock oldies in Karaganda in Kazakhstan, as the promotional blurb for the show makes clear:

`This is a unique opportunity to immerse yourself in the atmosphere` it says of `songs that have become symbols of an entire era`.

The band responsible – Jazi Orchestra – hardly seem to cast a shadow in the Anglophone interweb. All I can tell you of this six-piece is that they seem to be ethnic Kazakhs for the most part and are known for offering retrospective covers of Western and Russian rock. For this they appear to be as famous as you can be, short of having household name status.

Illustrious location.

Shalkyma Hall, Karaganda.

On a sunny but already nippy early September I weaved my way to Shalkyma Concert Hall in central Karaganda. Named after a symphonic poem by Almas Serkebaev, this concert hall, better known for hosting operas, represents a sample of late Constructivist architecture. Throughout the building’s 85 years existence it has been the `Oktyabr` cinema and, during the Second World War, a military depot. In more recent days the interior of the place has been renovated by a local architect called Sergey Soshnikov. In particular, the installation of flexible gypsum boards on the ceiling has given rise to a much-vaunted reputation for good acoustics in the building.

Plaque on the wall of Shalkyma Hall dedicated to Bulat Syzdykov, the legendary Kazakh guitarist.

However, it is a seated venue and this was a rock concert. Being recumbent reduced the audience to passive spectators and the lighting banished the nocturnal quality needed for such events and the lack of a bar made the necessary abandon of a rock gig out of reach.

Mellow gathering.

The hall, with its capacityof about 200 people, was soon filled. The punters were Slavic in the main. There were few, if any, blue-haired boot wearing engineering students and many expanding waistlines and receding hairlines and some had their children in tow.

Full house.

The band looked a decade or more younger than their fans. The mop-haired lead guitarist, Sultan Muratov, resembled a refugee from a Nineties slacker band and the deadlocked bassist one from a grunge band. The keyboardist was a studious looking Raikhat Muratali and providing the rhythm section (as well as trumpet at one point) was Kaset Nurpeisova.

The two warblers consisted of Alan Salpagaron, with an acoustic guitar on hand, and Roza Nurpeisova (the wife of the drummer, we were told). A statuesque Kazakh in leather trousers, it was she who provided much of the visual focus of this gig – for this ticket holder, at least.

Roza Nurpeisova.

Also eye-catching was the projected backdrop behind the band, courtesy of an `artistic director`. Sometimes this was all psychedelic mindscapes and at others we got clips from films and TV shows which the songs had some connection to.

Alan Salpagarov – before a projected backdrop.

Exhibition.

Over the next hour and a half, the personable half-a-dozen would lead us through a roll call of fourteen or so iconic Russian rock numbers. So well established were these that I recognized most of them even if I couldn’t put a name to them all.

Included were B-2 (`Varvara`), Kino (`Peremen`), Zveri, Total, Gorod 312 (`Ostanus`), Time Machine, Alyans, tATu (`Not Gonna Get Us`), Slot, Korol ii Shut, Spleen, Yulia Sachayeva and…whew!…beyond caring.

Something that I had not foreseen was the heartfelt delivery on the part of the band. Between the pogoing of the bassist, the excursions into spontaneity of the drummer and the smiles of the singers one might almost have thought that they were doing this for fun.

The medley was rounded off with a sort of lottery. With predictable sentimentalism, little ones were cajoled into coming on stage to read out from some random lists and from this a winner was decided. Someone on a balcony seat won a holiday in Turkey!

Memory lane trip.

In the row in front of me, a husband and wife sat with their ten-year-old son perched between them. Throughout the performance they both fixed him with questioning gazes. Would he appreciate this part of their youth that was being unscrolled before him? The event was a foray into the lost youths of the audience.

However, at no time did I feel bored by this gig. It was pleasant pure and simple. On the way out I saw queues of people waiting to come in. The same concert was due to be repeated in half an hour. A hard-working band – that’s Jazi Orchestra.