A Closer Listen
What could be more appealing than the sight of two space dogs on an album cover? Belka & Strelka are perhaps the lesser-known space dogs, because they lived; their unfortunate predecessor Laika died a horrible death. Sputnik 5 also held space mice, space rats and space flies, a small menagerie that circled the earth on August 19, 1960 and returned safely.
The duo Brueder Selke (also known as CEEYS) empathizes with the dogs’ story of “division and separation.” Belka and Strelka were strays stolen from the streets and trained for their debut, in full knowledge that they might be sent to their deaths. The dogs were portrayed as heroic, although they were not volunteers; fortunately, they endured, becoming heroes of pop culture and stars of lunch boxes. Brueder and Selke, residents of the former East Germany, are keenly familiar with the “necessary sacrifices” imposed upon a populace.
This being said, Belka & Strelka is a whole lot of fun, a celebration of Those Who Survived. The tone is primarily electronic, a shift from the piano and cello of former productions, although the cello is still a driving force. The album was recorded live at Jazzclub Tonne in Dresden with an appreciative audience. The electronic palette is fitting, as the space race is often associated with synth tones and popcorn sounds, such as those that emerge toward the end of “Stray Around the Cosmos,” a nice pun that leads off the set. When the cello is plucked rather than bowed at the beginning of “Soyuz,” one realizes that the duo is deep into the experimental technique, using every source at their disposal to provide a score to an unprecedented journey. As the volume recedes, one feels a sense of weightlessness that must have seemed terrifying to those on board, despite their training. Switching to the bow, Sebastian offers the crew a happy serenade.
“Vor den Toren der Sternenstadt” (“At the Gates of the Star City”) captures the opposing ends of the emotional spectrum. Sebastian’s low end cello emphasizes the pathos of the project; Daniel’s keys mirror the wonder of the twinkling stars. As the synthesized tones seep back into the (almost) title track, one remembers the unbridled hope of the era: less the frisson of competition than the way in which the space dogs captured the public imagination, which would eventually result in missions such as Apollo and Voyager. The synth was new at the time (invented only five years earlier), and while the Fender Rhodes Mark II didn’t arrive until 1979, its presence here still seems pleasingly retro, evocative of a more innocent era.
The penultimate “Berge & Taeler” is a fascinating title, roughly translated “peaks & valleys,” but associated with German phrase goldene berge versprechen, “to promise the moon (and stars). This pensive piece seems to reflect the periods of hope in which populaces dream of better conditions, dreaming of the moon and stars even though they know the promise is unrealistic. And yet, for a short time, the entire world seemed to believe, captivated by a story of two strays who became space dogs and retuned with an experience that was solely their own. (Richard Allen)
Mon Nov 20 00:01:03 GMT 2023