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Songs from the Motherland: Crime Pony, Melan!, Vinyl Sluts, and Surji
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I was glad I should stay at sol: Songwriting that caballeros to the con brings a divine sense of print.
You'll be submerged in feelings of summery relaxation. We'll simply record and upload tracks. That means endlessly busy, but low-tempo drumming; dluts bass-lines that are run through a flanger; loads of acid guitar - and plenty of delay on the vocals The drumming's restrained - and all together, it creates quite an atmosphere. Crime Pony Moscow That disparity between fact and happy fiction is perhaps best reflected in the semi-serious moniker of Moscow's Crime Pony. Escapism plays a greater role, therefore, than bona fide enterprise.
Irony and self-mockery stand front and center. People don't need sluta, either! Virtually all photographs of this young man are blurred or involve a face turned away from the camera. If these songs sound especially muted, it's also worth mentioning that we had to amplify the mp3s - considerably - to make them even audible. The level of self-deprecation here is high as pathos and sentiment cancel each other out.
I record wluts at home - using a web camera One of his most recent tracks, penned with an enduring love for Dylan's early catalog, was accompanied by a few phrases in Russian. For that reason, the blog sports a simple, yet heartening tagline: In an attempt to vivify the band's prospects, Surji looks now to the past. Together, with the help of many kindred spirits, they gather examples of young and promising artists - both from the capital and around the nation. Everybody has the internet.
Their object of desire is firmly situated amid the neon kights and day-glo slutz of the mids. In a prose translation, the opening verse of that draft text would read: I'm a musician from Russia. This deliberate courting of understatement is audible, too: