By Paul Beesley
What is there to do in a city under siege? Kharkiv, is under siege – there are air alerts, bombs, missiles (a couple came down as I write), checkpoints and a curfew. There are no sports fixtures, the museums and galleries are shut and there are no ballets, theatre performances or concerts. What can you find to keep you out of the bar or the café?
The answer to this is in “Underground Culture.” This is not entirely a figure of speech.
Concerts and plays, gigs and stand-up comedy exist but they have literally gone underground.
On an evening in Autumn, I walked down the steps of a city-center bar and bought a ticket to a brick-vaulted cellar, 20 feet by 40. I was attending a piano recital by two international laureate pianists, Ihor Sedyuk and Oleh Kopilyuk – both sharing the one keyboard (Oleh, on the low end, Ihor on the upper register.) The classical works ranged from Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze,” to Elgar’s “Pomp and Circumstance Number 1.” Modern works included a Ragtime arrangement by Ruslan Kashirtsev, a young clarinetist.
Speaking to the three, they told me that the pianists used to tour abroad together and have continued to do so since the war ( swearing faithfully to come back!) They are both professors at Kharkiv National Ukraine Academy, and are continuing teaching and bringing on new talent. Despite the danger, they do not intend to leave. One piece they played was in memory of a professor, V. Ptushkin, who was killed in a rocket strike in the early days of the war.
All three musicians (including Ruslan,) believe that music reinforces humanity, raises the spirits despite the war. Playing in a cellar has the same value as in a concert hall. As Ihor said,
“When cannons speak, Art is not silent.”
The following week, I attended another concert in the cellar – this time with Ruslan on Clarinet and Ihor Shaniorsky, a Kharkiv Symphony violinist, making up a fourth. It included presentations for members of the city’s social services staff and was preceded by two minutes' silence.
My next concert was also in a cellar – a purposely, fitted one in a supper club. The performer was Misha Krupin, a well-known hip-hop performer, guitarist and (up to the age of 15,) a classical violinist – he knew Ihor Shaniorsky. He is a local man (resembling a young Elvis Costello,) with a distinctive, innovative style mixing latino and reggae with saxophone and electric guitar.
There was a break for a charity auction, which included a battle flag of the 225th Brigade, which fetched 7,500 Gryvnas.
He used to play to big halls, but tonight, the audience was about 300. Small venues are all he can get because of the need for shelter.
Oh, sorry, did I not make myself clear? The reason they perform in cellars, is because of the very real likelihood of the Russians deliberately targeting any sizeable, cultural event.
Like the pianists, he wants to stay on. He has raised money buy some 20 vehicles (partly by selling off some of his guitar collection,) and is unhappy about certain allegations that he selfish. His attitude to performing is much the same as the classical musicians but he phrased it more simply.
Music gives people a chance to “breath out for a few hours.”
My next event was in the same supper club with a five piece jazz band. What the late Alan Plater, would have termed “Hot Jazz.” Led by Husband and wife Vitali Losev (keyboard,) and Anna Loseva (vocals,) with bass, sax and drums. Plenty of vocal “oomph!” with both keyboard and sax solos. There was also a rendition of Louis Armstrong’s “What A Wondeful World.)
The band knew each other from before the war (Anna, is from Zaporizhia, and studied jazz from an early age before moving to Kharkiv, to complete her musical studies.
The early days of the war were hard. On-line gigs and weddings were the order of the day. There were also benefit concerts to entertain troops. The band spent time mutually supporting each other.
“Every moment is a gift from God,” as Anna, said.
Prospects are not good, although they had another date booked at the same club. I asked what they would do after the war.
“Get out of Ukraine!” quipped Rodenko, the bass player.
Anna, wanted her own recording studio. The others just wanted to “celebrate life.”
My last offering is a theatre performance. This was above ground, in an actual theatre (rather than, like some productions, in a fast-food joint.) It was “underground,” in the sense that it was not officially licensed and the location was sent, at 2 hours notice, by email.
The play, “Mina Mazailo,” was a 1929 play by Mykola Kulish, about a luckless Ukrainian, who, in order to improve his prospects, changes his name to a Russian one: the contemporary implications of which, I need not spell out. The play is in the “Expressionist,” style – very stylized, with much gesturing, declaiming and people running in and out of doors. This last aspect makes it difficult to stage except in a real theatre. The cast were giving it their all and although nominally a comedy, it was not a rollicking laugh.
Olha, a member of the management, told me that their company “Nafta,” spent the early part of the war giving performances to children sheltering in the Metro (those platform halls are very big.) Most of their performances are relevant to the war – ranging from “I am OK,” about the Bucha Massacre, to a play for children, about a giraffe in Kharkiv Zoo. Many people, she admitted, want light comedy but the company feel a responsibility to portray the important themes of the war and it’s consequences. Their next production will be about children in Kherson, during the Russian Occupation.
To conclude, there is culture and entertainment in Kharkiv but you have to search. There are posters in bars and coffee shops, and a Kharkiv events ticketing site giving listings. People still want to go out and enjoy live performances and performers still want to perform but fear drives people into corners and down into cellars when once they enjoyed wide, airy concert halls.
Performers I spoke to are determined to stay on, to support the people by their art and to endure until finally, they can practice their art without fear.