Volga

They sound like bees trapped in a drainpipe and their songs, allegedly ancient, seem modern. Charlie Gillett thinks their strange brew of Portishead and Philip Glass is a winner

There are no guitars on this record. You have a feeling that these Moscow-based musicians probably did once listen to guitars, and quite liked them. It's just that, unlike so many in Britain and America, they
grew out of them.
What the musicians of Volga do play, according to the credits on the sleeve, are electronics. Electronics?
Have components of amplifiers now become musical instruments in their own right? Something like that,
it seems. Sure enough, the noises at the start of each track are unlike anything we've heard before. But
they do sound electronic. More to the point, they sound electrifying.
From the moment I first heard the strange sound of Volga, I've been intrigued and fascinated. The
circumstances in which I heard them were themselves bizarre. In July, I was one of 10 international
jurors at the Sayan Ring Festival of Russian Folk Music in southern Siberia. From 6-11pm on each of
three evenings, we sat at a trestle table in the middle of a football field on the edge of a holiday camp
with a brief to choose the best three out of a total of 35 acts.
When the jury retired to a room in the stands to choose our winners, we were tantalized by the sound of
a band that was entertaining the crowd after the competition had finished. In through an open window floated the eerie voice of a woman who sounded like a long-lost Russian cousin of Annie Lennox; beseeching, yearning, accompanied by inexplicable sounds. By the time we had made our decisions, the band had left the stage. But I did find out their name - Volga - and blagged an album from one of their number.
There's always a danger that with such a build-up, the album might turn out to be a disappointment. But it delivers all the promise of that first introduction, and three months later my fascination is
undiminished.
I can't decide which is more arresting - the noises made by those electronic engineers, or the voice of Anjela Manukjan. She sings high on some songs, low on others, and soars like an opera soprano on
'Psalm'. It says on the back that these are pagan songs of ancient Russia, but Anjela makes them sound as if she wrote them.
Each time I listen I hone in on a new favourite, and today it's 'Verejushka', which might have been the one that made me think of Annie Lennox, back in that football field. Behind Anjela, it sounds like one of the boys is dropping ping-pong balls onto a rubber floor, another plays what might be door chimes and a
third weaves a bass line that keeps the song moving forward, feeling its way in the dark. If you could
trap a bee, put it in a hollow tube and then amplify the noises it makes as it travels to the other end, you might get something like the buzzing, sawing sound that enlivens the second song, 'On the Hill'.
Making a guess at Volga's possible antecedents and inspirations, I imagine they might cite 'I Feel Love'
by Donna Summer, 'O Superman' by Laurie Anderson, 'Only You' by Yazoo, Dummy by Portishead and
some of the hypnotic, cyclical compositions of Philip Glass and Terry Riley. But the album is less a
distillation of those records than a giant leap on from all of them.
There are a couple of songs with enough of a regular beat to make them feel like potential contenders for open-minded dancers, but I've got to admit that the record has not appealed to everybody who has
heard it. I happened to have it with me while visiting a friend whose Soho office was next to that of the
manager of a young British singer-songwriter, being touted as the next Nick Drake. When he asked me
what I liked at the moment, I played a minute or so of a couple of songs from this album. To his credit,
he kept most of his discomfort hidden, but couldn't quite suppress a twitch of distaste. I hastily took the album off, not wanting to taint it with anybody's disapproval. On the other hand, radio listeners have
rushed to the net in search of their own copy, and with success too - it is sold by a website (www.nbresearchdigest.com/distribution.html) that enables you to deposit your euros with Paypal, so your money's safe.
This has been a year for more good records than any I can remember, but several of them have been
reflective, almost nostalgic albums, and I have a feeling that Volga's Three Fields is going to be one that
defines 2004 as the year in which we landed with both feet in the 21st century - The Observer, October 17, 2004

Throughout Russia’s turbulent history the Volga has always flowed, its 2000 navigable miles an
artery of commerce and culture, of peoples and their passions. The group Volga create a music with a similar sense of eternal flow and temporal omnipresence, gracefully melding timeless and ancient folk motifs with the fleeting immediacy of Ambient experiment. This effect is
created by framing the vocals of Anjela Manukjan, who adopts Russian folk styles, with electroacoustic washes that stretch out behind the music like vast fertile floodplains.
Opener “Red Roze” sketches out the Volga blueprint. Treated sonic artefacts from stringed instruments scuttle an trickle into white noise tributaries while the implacable soaring vocal, endlessly doubled and redoubled, pushes on in its smooth but deep running legato course.
“Snow Balls” is faster paced, with an electropop pulse of blips and squeakes and a sample from cult Pebbles garage rockers The Calico Wall’s “Flight Reaction”, an indicative yardstick for Volga’s eclecticism. Such fare has led confirmed fan Charlie Gillett to compare Volga with the early and more imaginative Eurythmics singles, and the comparison has the merit of being both insightful and informative.
In almost all instances the instrumental backings are distinctive, quirky and interesting enough to be compelling in their own right. Very ocassionally, gentler passages flounder in insipid
meanders akin to budget ‘moods’ albums of the type producers wishing to give the vocals a cliched faux dignity might favor. However, these moments are rare and it would be churlish to let them hinder one’s pleasure of following Volga as they flow home to the sea. - Wire, November 2004

Auf ihrer neuen Scheibe verbreitet das russische Trio Volga erneut eine feine Mixtur aus elektronischer
(Nicht-)Tanzmusik mit hypnotischer Stimme. Wie schon Volga (1999) ist die neue Scheibe auf dem superben
Exotika-Label erschienen. Anjela Manukjans Stimme kommt aus den Weiten der Steppe = Unterbewusstsein, befreit mit tantrischen Beschwörungsformeln die Sehnsucht nach unendlicher Weite in der beengenden Mitte des Clubs und macht den DJ endgltig zum neuzeitlichen Schamanen. Die Electronica-Sounds, die Alexei Borisov (F.R.U.I.T.S.) und Roman Lebedev verbreiten, sind tanzbar, haben House-Einschlag, sind ab und an reduziert in Instrumentierung und Tempo. Tracks wie Vdovushra/ Widow bzw.
Molodushka/Bride sind Klangperlen, die sich in ihrer versponnenen Gebrochenheit auf Wave ausgehen.
Volga haben einiges ihrer Düsterheit abgelegt, sind zuglicher, aber nicht leichter. Bottoms Up ist eine Platte, die aufgrund ihrer inneren Schönheit, Ausgereiftheit und Trickyness praktisch überall verstanden wird und bei der der Name Programm ist: Bottoms Up and your mind will follow. Volga gehört gehört. - 12-05-2003 | skug, Austria

Centred on vocalist Angela Menukian and electronics wizard Roman Lebedev (who also plays
the guitar), this Moscow-based quartet is one of Russia’s most established electronica/folklore
bands. Manukian revives Russian texts that go as far back as the 1100s and Volga catapults
them into the 21st century, thanks to their post-industrial electronic beats. In late 2007, they
brought out their sixth album Pomol.

Pomol

This is one album that will constantly challenge listeners to define it. Transported by Angela Menukian’s otherworldly vocals, it bounces from the deeply experimental mélanges of “Tausen” and “Svaha” to the haunting, at times archaic, folklore of “Sufi” and the opener “Reapers”. Menukian has gathered Russian texts she found in remote villages that range from the 12th to the 18th centuries. The symbolic nature of Volga’s work is hidden in the album title which derives from the verb “to ground down grains” and its colloquial meaning “to chatter, to
talk”. For the quartet, pomol is a symbol of the hard grind of peasant life down the ages.
The unlikely mixture of techno with over a dozen ethno-linguistic traditions is startling and effective. Trekking well beyond Russia’s Volga region, Menukian has recorded sounds that include Altai throat singing and poetry from Smolensk, Tver, the Caucasus mountains and Ryazan. Her linguistic journey is mixed in with ritualistic pagan psychedelia to disturbing effect. The electronic trance programmes are violent and abrasive, enhanced by the complexity of Menukian’s vocal exercises. These come to a climax in the middle of the album with the
songs “Tausen” (Autumn) and “Volga Mother”.
Interestingly, the group adds traditional instruments like the Tibetan cup, a Russian equivalent of the Jew’s harp called the vargan and the zvukosuk string instrument (all played by Uri Balashov). They invade the post-industrial electronics and wrench the listener away from any illusion that this is a pure dance album. In songs like “Kubaha”, the swirling, hypnotic
use of these three instruments give these Slav tunes an emotional impact that one rarely trips over in electronic music.
The intelligent inter-weaving of all these contrasting melodies, rhythms and sounds make
these 13 songs a rollercoaster ride that one reviewer compared to “Peruvian songs of Icaros,
performed by folk healers at ceremonies in order to expand participants’ consciousness.” Yet
the intensely ornate vocal dexterity of Menukian creates a harmonious coexistence between worlds that are centuries apart. This is what many are hailing as the cutting edge of a new Russian sound that draws from the breathtaking variety and range of this vast land. One can only hope that Volga opens up its world further by, for example, translating the lyrics that are so finely interpreted.

February 20th 2008 Daniel Brown - Daniel Brown, Mondomix