from the liner notes: "
A Night of Caviar and Karma. Moscow, 1997. The opening reception for an important photography exhibition. Moscow's A-list of gangsters, diplomats, models, filmmakers and nouveau-beatniks are in attendance. Into the eclectic crowd wade Artyom Yakushenko and Yuri Matveyev, two pleasantly disheveled, unassuming musicians from the sticks -
the sticks. Siberia. They are there to provide a little backround music in exchange for vodka shots. Yakushenko picks up his violin, Matveyev his guitar. They begin.
It is to be a defining moment. Conversations evaporate and drinks pause in midair as the music captivates the room. Guests from every walk of life are mesmerized by a sound that weaves elements of rock, folk, classical, bluegrass and jazz - scented with Russian seasoning. Among the partygoers is an American meteorite dealer in town to exchange meteorites with Moscow's Academy of Sciences. Following the set, he nudges through admirers to meet the duo. Phone numbers and well-wishes are exchanged. The musicians return to Siberia. The dealer returns to New York, where he also works in the otherworldly business of the music industry.
Matveyev and Yakushenko hail from Irkutsk, an outpost of pastel-colored, 18th century buildings a couple hours north of Mongolia near Lake Baikal - the deepest lake in the world. It's a place where history also runs deep, and youth reigns: under the Czars, outcasts were shipped to Irkutsk: today, the average age in this fabled land of exile is under 32.
Artyom Yakushenko fell in love with the violin - rather, its carrying case - as a young child. At six, he's walking around with an empty case because it made him feel important. When he finally gets his hands on an actual violin, he can't let go.
As a youngster, Yuri Matveyev won the top prize at the Russian National Competition of Folk Dancing - but his dream was to play the guitar. Unable to afford one, at age nine, he attempts to make his own. Matveyev's uncle, pained by his young nephew's repeated failures, finally gives Matveyev his own prized instrument.
In the early 90's, Matveyev and Yakushenko meet at the Irkutsk Academy. They experiment mixing musical idioms until arriving at an exotic blend that defies categorization. They win "Best Original Artist" laurels at a major festival which is not music to the ears of the Academy: Yakushenko is suspended for failing to adhere to classical repertoire.
Encouraged, however, by the public's response to their music - as well as their enjoyment in creating it, they tour throughout Siberia, and build a following. Later, crossing six time zones to try their luck in Moscow, they astound audiences at a few clubs - and at the fateful photo gallery opening reception that is to transform their lives...."
in my own words: For most of my adulthood, I've been a huge fan of Michael Brecker, the American jazz sax-man, who passed away at 57 just two months ago. When I spotted a sticker on the Two Siberians CD mentioning Michael's presence on a few cuts, and his own praise for their talent, and the very Russianness of their chosen name, I picked up the disc and couldn't put it down - it was the last one on the shelf at our Best Buy. It's high energy, folky and decidedly European in flavor, with very competent artists like Brecker, Don Byron, Richard Bona, Mino Cinelu, Steve Barrios, Matt Garrison, Nina Hennessy and George Whitty to back the pair. To add balance to the energy, a few hauntingly beautiful ballads are offered. The flamenco-esque
Natasha, Havanaand the stringed wizardry of
Cagey Bee (say it aloud) add spice to the menu. I love this music, and finally, a CD my wife and I BOTH enjoy. Decide for yourself, though, by checking out a few cuts at:
http://www.twosiberians.com/http://www.amazon.com/Out-Nowhere-Two-Siberians/dp/B0007D4MKE/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-8186446-0987049?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1174259602&sr=1-1Enjoy, Vaughn
