Title: Бақсы Сарыны
Genre: Hardcore/Screamo(?)
Country: Kazakhstan
Release date: 2024
Track List:
- Бәдік
- 40 (и один) чильтан
- Терпение
- Воля
- Бақсы сарыны
- Жуан сөз
- Пикет
- Толағай
Continuing with the "weird punk" theme, here's a very unusual album from a country which I've visited around a month ago - Kazakhstan. Apart from Ermen Anti's projects, the Kazakh punk scene isn't big and/or well-known, so this band with a quite edgy name was an unexpected discovery to me. The album sounds quite different from pretty much anything tagged "hardcore/screamo" I've heard so far, and I think even the "folk rock" tag wouldn't be too unwarranted. The most distinguishing feature are the vocals ranging from spoken word/melodeclamation (in Kazakh with some bits of Russian) to screaming, and if you wonder what the lyrics are about, the release notes might give some explanation:
"Historically, in the face of catastrophe and danger, humans revert to their initial, primordial attitudes, sometimes not hesitating to find support in the realm of myth. Here, the cultural pattern that prevails at that moment becomes crucial. Will you reject humanity, surrender to instinct, and, tightly bound by the fight-or-flight mentality, forget about ethics, universal human values, and your own principles?
Glancing intently into the scorched steppe within, we call upon the goddess Umai, begging her to draw from the pitch darkness of primordial matter worthy reasons for continuing our journey.
The ancient Turkic peoples believed that strong gusts of wind were a manifestation of evil spirits and diseases. And then, somewhere in the distance, we can barely hear the faint chanting of a baksi (shaman). Repeating a spell (bәdіk), he mutters over the carcass of a gravely ill animal, which, in reality, turns out to be our society, reproducing indifference, short-sightedness, lack of empathy, and other components of the "banality of evil."
Emerging from the depths of the sea, forty spirits (chiltany) hold a kurultai, wishing to assist the shaman and ease the plight of the unfortunate animal. Gathering his strength, the shaman greedily gulps in air and fills the steppe with his singing (baqsy saryny).
You find yourself on sweat-drenched sheets. The trembling has subsided, the fever has receded, the uncontrollable curses have ceased to flow from your lips. Apashka wipes your forehead with wet, cold gauze, gently rubbing in some remedy, and ingratiatingly whispers the legend of Tolagai, familiar to you from childhood, extolling duty and sacrifice. It seems like you've come full circle and are back to the very beginning, gradually forgetting the circumstances of that night, your visions, worries and nightmares"
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