Photo credit: Vadym Kulikov
Not long into their Thursday night performance at Alverno College's Pitman Theatre, DakhaBrakha's Marko Halanevych noted that he and his female cohort on stage hail from "free Ukraine." In their case, that's a musical distinction as well as a political and geographic one.
Halanevych would later explain in halting, heartily accented English that his group's music is an experimental mixture of their land's native music and other genres. It's a fitting description of a sound free of stylistic boundaries that remains tuneful, compelling and oftentimes demanding of its listeners for its sheer percussive power.
Also apt is DakhaBrakha's name, in their native language translating to "give/take." The four vocalist/instrumentalists explored melodies, drones and beats in interplay perhaps more commonly associated with jazz than their self-described "ethno-chaos." The tension and cooperation they weave between their use of multiple drums and accordions, wind chimes, electric keyboard, a cello both bowed and plucked and what looked like a longer-necked ukulele makes for a tightly constructed, orderly sort of sonic mess, climaxing and receding in intensity within the course of most every one of their generally lengthy, often suite-like compositions.
But perhaps more than jazz, DakhaBrakha's musicality parallels funk, as most every instrument at one time or another is used to rhythmic effect. Whether the group would pass muster with diehard Bar-Kays or Meters fans to be in the same fold, theirs is an often heavily danceable artistry. Contrasting with that sort of jollity were those moments of hushed, nearly hymnodic serenity reminiscent to some degree of the more contemplative works of Carla Bley and Pauline Oliveros—it's likely a fair guess, though, that neither of those ladies has ever hit a stage wearing the kinds of tall, black, furry Ukranian hats sported by DakhaBrakha's distaff members, toppers so towering they could give the guards at London Tower pause.
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If that sort of sartorial conceit stems from the act's roots in underground theater, so might their mixture of vocal approaches. All four DakhaBrakhans engaged in song, varying in take from straight crooning to what could be an Eastern European variant of yodeling, a feline sort of scatting, even inchoate grunting. Most of that which was sung in actual words sounded to be the quartet's native tongue, though on rare occasions Halanevych would bring English into the mix with the kind of plea for "peace, love, no war" with which he concluded their set before he held up his nation's blue and gold flag.
Some critics have compared DakhaBrakha to bands within U.S. indie rock possessing similar sonic roots, including Gogol Bordello and DeVotchKa. Those citations may be instructive as points of introduction, but DakhaBrakha clearly come from another aesthetic realm. Any time they can bring it back to Milwaukee, there should be at least as many who filled the Pitman game for that experience.
