Andrey Kiritchenko - MARIA

A Closer Listen

MARIA is a gem of an album, celebratory in theme and sound.  Had it been released at any other time, it might only have been received as such, but in the current climate it also bears an invisible weight. Andrey Kiritchenko‘s tribute to Ukrainian artist Maria Prymachenko is loving and lovely, a worthy companion to the paintings that inspire each of its titles.  But there’s also a war going on, now in its third year.  As Midnight Oil once sang, “How can we dance when our earth is turning?”

A better question may be, “What is the alternative?” Prymachenko’s art, which has been featured in all 30 installments of Gianmarco Del Re’s Ukrainian Field Notes series, is one of Ukraine’s most vibrant artistic statements, a reminder of what is good and true and beautiful and most of all, worth fighting for.  (One of the unseen pleasures of this release is the ability to match tracks with featured images.). Debris bleaches material of color; Prymachenko’s hues leap from the canvas and screen, while Kiritchenko’s tracks burst with renewed color and vigor of their own.  If we abandon dancing, and laughter, and smiles, is there anything left?

The cover is a wonderful homage, a blend of “AI generative output with touches by a Ukrainian designer, Danil Bashenko, and a Touched Music in-house designer.”  The best way to listen is to find the original images (which are easy to Google) and play the tracks alongside them: a cornucopia of sight and sound.

“A King Fish Has Caught a Hoopoe and Is Full of Joy” launches the set in ebullient fashion.  Poppy, synthy and eminently danceable, the track builds on layer upon layer of programming to produce a pleasing electronic lattice.  While there are no dark tracks, there are dark references, first apparent in “Black Beast” and “May That Nuclear War Be Cursed!”, two related images from Prymachenko that feature lovable monsters but may in fact foreshadow an apocalypse.  It is easy to read such symbolic references into “Monkey Riding a Four-Headed Beast;” Ukraine’s borders have seldom been secure, enemies biding their time until an opening appears.  Responding to such imagery, Kiritchenko mutes the brightness mid-album, allowing room for reflection.

An imaginative, dream-laced patina returns on “Corncob House in Outer Space;” complimentary percussion and synth trace a journey to the not-so-unfamiliar stars.  Kiritchenko is clearly having fun, the very existence of these tracks a translated synaesthesia.  Close one’s eyes and one can see the orange and slate blue of “Fairy Bird-Peacock,” flowers and tendrils intertwined.

The album celebrates the artist’s “faith in the power of love, goodness, and all the beautiful things surrounding us,” but was partially prompted by the russian bombing of the Ivankov Historical and Local History Museum and the subsequent loss of some of the artist’s original works.  (Others, for now, were heroically saved.). The brass intimations of “May That Nuclear War Be Cursed!” seem particularly suited to this tragedy.  In the battle of the mind, which shall win: vitality or lethargy? Color or bleaching?  Bitterness or hope?  MARIA reminds listeners not only of the artist, but of the ongoing struggle; the artist herself endured many hardships, yet continued to create gorgeous, enduring work, a message deeper than any individual painting.

The choice to end the album with “Wild Bull and Raven Are Friends” seems telling; Kiritchenko wishes to leave listeners with more hope than despair, even if the vision of a peaceable kingdom seems out of reach.  Art proposes that whatever one can imagine must be possible somewhere; MARIA underlines this belief, and in so doing, becomes more than just an album, but a statement of encouragement to all who continue to fight the good fight.  (Richard Allen)