#aiyptama

[oneweekoneband]

Ninety One, “Aiyptama” (Айыптама), live at the Gakku Melodies (Gakku Әуендері) concert, 2016

When I first started putting together this OWOB, this entry began with an apology: that the studio version of “Aiyptama” doesn’t start until 1:36 in, and everything before then--the foreboding synths, ZaQ’s death-metal-adjacent growls, Alem singing as if constipated--is atypical. That Ninety One’s body of work was more conventional than this presentation of “Aiyptama” made it seem. And then the apology turned out to be unnecessary… but we’ll get to all that in due time. Let’s linger here first.

Because I’ve seen this video approximately forty thousand times, and it took me a bit to figure out why. Not because of that intro, as intriguing as it is. Not because of the choreography, or for that matter the moment at 3:55 where everyone save Ace takes a break from dancing. Not because of how they do seem to enjoy being on stage, despite getting even less sleep than usual in the run-up to the concert. Not even because of Bespectacled!Ace or Bala’s smirk-enhanced body rolls. No, what makes this video so damn compelling is the audience.

Look: we don’t do this if it’s not fun. By “this” I mean develop encyclopedic knowledge of strangers quasi-randomly thrown together to sing and dance for our collective entertainment. If you retain nothing else this week, remember that collective. Following Ninety One is indeed fun: hijinks and in-jokes and thirty-minute-long videos of the members earnestly discussing their own lyrics and all the questionable fashion choices and yogurt-drink comparisons you could want from a boy band. But the fun is very much in and of a place. Which means that part of becoming an Eaglez is learning to care about Kazakhstan, in all its complexities, more than you ever thought necessary.

Here: case in point. I’ve been lucky enough to have a passport with multiple stamps inside. I’m lucky, too, to have access to a lot of writing about what’s going on in the world. And for all that supposed wordliness, this video is probably the largest gathering of Kazakhstanis I’ve ever laid eyes on, news broadcasts included. But in this setting they’re not GDP contributors; they’re individuals, and I can send them love--the awesome girl in the Breton-striped shirt sitting between her skeptical dad and a pink-haired sister or cousin; and the girl in the cropped blue shirt dancing in her seat in the balcony; and the woman next to her, managing to hold her phone remarkably steady; and the lady calmly reserving judgment under her turquoise headscarf; and both the blonde woman sporting a well-executed Carolina-blue manicure and the Queen of Side-eye sitting two seats to her left; and the group that might be expatriate English teachers; and the soldier in his dress blues; and the beautiful little girl with a flower crown atop her braids.

It’s a limited love, I’ll grant you. It’s an ignorant love. I don’t know what those folks’ day-to-day lives are, or how they got their seats, or where they might rather have been. It is sentimental, as best describes a love that takes great joy in itself but doesn’t lead much of anywhere. But it’s not nothing. It’s a step, even if only one step where many is necessary, towards greater respect and understanding. It’s a damn sight better than the vacuum Sacha Baron Cohen took advantage of.

And it’s because of Ninety One.

Later this week I’m going to argue that the alchemy between performer and audience, cause and effect, is more unpredictable than a focus on the performer would suggest. Artists can try to change their world, and fail. They can be afraid of changing their world and change it anyway. Having said that: I do think this is one of Ninety One’s collective goals, this potential introduction of Kazakhstan to the world--a particular, urban, open Kazakhstan, aware of its history but still curious about the future. They’re looking maybe to conquer the world but really to meet it, learn from it, love it, return its love, all while remaining Kazakhstani.

So let’s get to know these guys a little better, shall we?

introductory post / all Ninety One posts

[oneweekoneband]

Ninety One, “Aiyptama” (Айытама), from Aiyptama, 2015

(Warning for lens flares early on; by 0:30 you should be okay.)

If you already saw the live performance, the video for “Aiyptama” doesn’t tell you a whole lot more about the group; but I’m presenting it anyway, for the fine line it walks between “boy band making a professional debut on an increasingly crowded global stage” and “series of decisions made quickly and under budget.” It’s not unprofessional, at all--the viewer is clearly in the hands of people who take their work seriously--but more than a little surprising, for those of us used to slicker productions from richer countries. Why is AZ stuck in an underground tunnel, with no one and nothing to interact with (save one martyred traffic cone), for the entirety of his rap? How does Alem, who had logged a few hours on television and years’ worth of performance training, appear so majestically awkward? What’s with the random hurling of stuffed animals into the air? And how in all the possible holy names of God did the stylists manage to make ZaQ ugly?

One of the best articles on management I’ve ever read is Clive Thompson’s “Learn to Let Go: How Success Killed Duke Nukem.” If you know any project managers, you should send them a copy with “FEEL LOVED, FOR YOU ARE VALUABLE AND THE WORK YOU DO IS VALUABLE” scrawled across the top. Because Thompson details, quite smoothly and skillfully, how a lack of budgetary constraints, rather than help 3D Realms create a terrific game in Duke Nukem Forever, instead ended up dooming project and company alike:

Other game developers envied the freedom that Broussard and Miller had, at least at first. Developers and their publishers, indeed, are often at war. It’s like many suits-versus-creatives relationships: Developers want to make their product superb, and the publishers just want it on the shelves as soon as possible. If the game starts getting delayed, it’s the publisher that cracks the whip. Broussard and Miller were free to thumb their noses at this entire system….Yet the truth is, Broussard’s financial freedom had cut him off from all discipline. He could delay making the tough calls, seemingly forever. “One day, Broussard came in and said, ‘We could go another five years without shipping a game'” because 3D Realms still had so much money in the bank, an employee told me. “He seemed really happy about that. The other people just groaned.”

What does this have to do with Ninety One? Nothing, except that I thought of it upon seeing Boss Yerbolat tell AZ, “You have one chance to break that glass.”

One of the throughlines of this week will be watching Ninety One try to figure out how to compete on the global and local stages simultaneously. They very much want an international audience; that’s why they all have stage names, they told the Kazakhstani version of the Tonight Show. (We’ll get more into the importance of translation to international fandom-building later in the week, but for now: here’s a version of the “Aiyptama” video with official, burned-in English subtitles, provided explicitly as a gift to Kazakh-ignorant Eaglez.) But they’ve also made it clear that their primary focus is on Kazakhstan. As such it doesn’t make sense for them to expand their budget out of all proportion to their market. Boss Yerbolat has to make use of the members’ ability to be reassuring / vulnerable / disdainful / flirty / confrontational / goofy; it’s cheaper than the alternatives. The result is familiar enough for a Western pop audience to enjoy and askew enough to be intriguing.

Not so askew as to be self-defeating, though. ZaQ hasn’t had to wear bangs since.

introductory post / all Ninety One posts

[placegrenette]

All of Ninety One’s songs at the 2017 Eurasian Music Awards in one place.

From the official YT channel of Muzzone. I suspect the between-song banter is in Russian rather than Kazakh, given that only Alem and ZaQ speak at length; I’d love to read a translation of what they said.

In order performed:

“Kalay Karaisyn?”

“Kaytadan”

“Aiyptama”

“Mooz”

“Su Asty”

And now, the inessential commentary:

Sometimes I genuinely don’t know if they’re singing live or not; sometimes (as in some of their appearances on Kazakhstani TV) they’re clearly not. Here all doubt is dispelled in the first verse of “Kalay Karaisyn?,” in which Alem can’t get his microphone to work and Bala sounds like he hasn’t warmed up enough.

Relatedly, it ain’t a proper Ninety One live unless Ace has tried to jump up and down and sing at the same time for a couple bars, then given up and concentrated on the singing.

In case you haven’t noticed I am slightly obsessed in general with stage moments that haven’t been choreographed and planned down to the tenth of a second beforehand, including right as “Kaytadan” starts: ZaQ does the intro, Bala and AZ get ready for the choreography, but Ace has some last-minute directions (about the stage layout?) and Alem’s the only one who hears him.

Alem even lower than usual on “Kaytadan,” bless.

In general it seems to me that of vocal line, Alem deviates from the official recorded line (he goes low again on the second verse of “Aiyptama”) the most, Ace does it the least, Bala’s in the middle. I think because Alem’s parts are all over the place (hello, “Bayau” falsetto) and sometimes he’s just not going to hit it that well, so he adjusts; whereas Ace has a smaller range but works within that range more consistently.

And Bala’s just having an off night, vocally.

For those of y’all who read my long defense of the processing applied to AZ’s part in the bridge of “Kaytadan”: no processing here (and no Alem backing him up, interestingly, either); he just quasi-sings, quasi-raps it.

First chorus of “Aiyptama” and now ZaQ’s the one smirking at the camera with his tongue barely still in his mouth? Did Bala teach him that? Good Lord, we’re all doomed.

Bala blows the camera a kiss. DOOOOOOOOOMED

Fortunately Ace is spending 60% of his time onstage just dancing randomly behind the rappers...

...and indulges in some finger-guns, but at least he’s not as interested in seducing the audience as Bala and ZaQ are.

Once again the stylists (a group which may, or may not, include AZ) are doing ZaQ no favors -- I don’t know anyone who would look better with red-violet eyeliner beneath their eyes -- but he’s projecting enough confidence and comfort in his own skin that it doesn’t matter.

Was ZaQ’s wristband made from leftover material from Ace’s headband? (Or vice versa?)

I have already said my piece and then some about “Mooz,” but will only note that in this case you can see a camera right in AZ’s and Bala’s faces, so the hey-listen-to-the-audience moment looks more exaggerated for effect. Still, though.

I haven’t mentioned AZ much in these notes but he spends the whole performance, in addition to his own parts, backing the others (ZaQ especially) up and throwing in little interjections here and there. But he finally gets the camera to himself at the beginning of the beginning of “Su Asty,” and his shoulder-rolling followed by a clear suppressed laugh at hearing “Ninety One’s here!” is adorable.

DEATH METAL GROWL!

ZaQ’s hoodie says Ortan terek. Google Translate doesn’t have a clue.

As he’s done before, Bala copes with the demands of his “Su Asty” verse by letting the backing track handle much of it, though he gets lower than I was expecting.

“Su Asty” gets an encore repeat of the first section featuring SPECIAL BONUS ACE RAPPING.

Your reward for making it all the way through my commentary: a different Muzzone video, posted today, that is mostly about the opening of a restaurant with elaborate desserts but ZaQ has pink hair in it and that is obviously important news.

[breathingkpopforever]

Айыптама - Ninety One #aйыптамa #aiyptama #ninetyone #kazakh #russian

[your-little-dinosaur]