Celebration culture in Russia: The last free, carefree summer?

The past few months have felt like a great depression, say Russian musicians. Today, however, Muscovites are dancing and partying again. Almost as if everything was the same as always. Or not?

It’s a warm Saturday evening in Moscow. The band “Hadn Dadn” will perform in the Mutabor club. More than a hundred young Muscovites came. Varja, the front singer, sings in the glaring stage lights. A red heart glitters on her cheek. Her band has recently been pursuing a mission at her concerts, says Varja: “We light the way for people. Give them light and love.” Varya is one of the musicians who wants to stay in Russia as long as possible. She estimates that around a third of the scene is now abroad.

At the beginning of March, she too flew out of the country to clear her head. At the time, she says, there was a feeling “as if everyone was in great danger.” Flight tickets became more expensive by the second, flight routes changed. And then there were rumors that people had been interrogated and detained by Russian officials when they crossed the border.

Then, abroad, Varya felt useless. Until she went back to Russia. At the concerts, people could comfort each other, says the singer. It feels like the listeners need their concerts and their band needs the listeners: “We are all dependent on each other.”

Sawwa can’t find the words anymore

Sawwa is one of those who left after the war started. He publishes under the stage name Synecdoche Montauk. His Spotify profile says he gets to the bottom of the “Russian soul” with poetic song lyrics. But since the end of February he hasn’t been able to find words, only writes notes. “It’s like therapy,” says Sawwa. And maybe some things just can’t be put into words.

Sawwa runs the audio production company Monoleak together with his partner Alina. Some of their employees are still in Moscow. Your customers too. In the first few months after the war began, everything felt like a major depression, he says. Nobody would have known for whom and why one should still work.

After about three months, the first projects would have surfaced again. Simply because people can’t stand in one place for long, says Sawwa. Today, his company Monoleak would have about as many orders as before “the events,” as Sawwa calls the war. But is everything in the Moscow music scene as if it were nothing?

desire for life

In Moscow, the 37-year-old Andrei runs the “Powerhouse”. It is a place that could also exist in London or Berlin: an unrenovated building with a concert stage, bar, restaurant and recording studio. Many independent musicians took their first steps here. Savva and Varya have also performed here several times.

In summer, says Andrei, everything in Moscow is always different, easier. “It’s a longing for life,” says the entrepreneur – and you can’t blame the people here. But maybe, Andrei thinks, people will spend this summer as if it were the last free, carefree summer of their lives.

Punishment for DDT singer Shevchuk

Andrej doesn’t know whether the “Powerhouse” will survive the fall. The procurement costs of food and technology are increasing. Many musicians are abroad and the censorship could become even stricter, the 37-year-old fears.

Rock legend Yuriy Shevchuk, singer of the Russian band “DDT”, was recently in court. The reason: the singer had criticized the war at one of his concerts. The crime was treated as a misdemeanor. His fine: 50,000 rubles.

“If only there were such penalties,” laughs Andrej from “Powerhouse” – then of course you can say anything you want. But the problem is yes: one gets a fine of 50,000 rubles as a penalty, the other 15 years. It is never clear where in between you end up.

Art as orientation

This is one of the reasons why the resistance in Russia is very quiet, if at all; invisible to outsiders. The lyrics of the band “Hadn Dadn”, says their singer Varja, can therefore only be understood by those who are supposed to understand them. “I don’t know if art can educate,” says Varja, but she is convinced that it should always exist. As an orientation, so that people remain human. Even or especially in times like these.

Varja and her band have long been working on a new album. They had the feeling that everything had to happen very quickly now. Because nobody knows what tomorrow will bring.

Until then, just do what you’ve always done: work, work, and keep working. They already have a title for their new album. It means: Fatal.