Gnoomes: a band on the run, from Russia with love
15,000km to the east of Moscow lies the Perm Region of Russia. This vast expanse of frosted greenery, split by the Kama River, is the birthplace of Gnoomes. It is where Sasha, the husband half of the married duo that now make up the band, would drag a chainsaw out over frozen waterways to cut a temporary swimming pool to plunge into the icy depths as a favoured pastime. It is also somewhere that somehow felt viscerally present half the world away at a gig above a pub in Newcastle as the dreamy kosmische blend of the band blared out in a swell of transcendence.
“Inseparable,” Masha tells me after the show regarding their 15-year relationship on and off the stage. That tightness is evidently tectonic, but they are inseparable from a lot of other things, too. It is impossible to talk about their music or constant tour without the inextricable links of the hardship that it is expedited from or the many heroes who help to support them in contrast.
“We can’t separate music from our connections,” they say. “We know we have beautiful people all around the world who will support us like Walter,” they add, pointing to the promoter perched on the end of the bench, quietly enjoying an IPA who has offered the pair his spare bed plenty of times over the years.
Walter might seem like a peripheral figure to feature heavily in the plot line of the band, but his wholesome act of kindness cannot be understated. It is gestures like his that keep bands like Gnoomes alive—this time, in a sickening literal sense. And bands like Gnoomes keep grassroots venues like The Cumberland Arms alive. In turn, these sacred spaces create vital community connections and offer a platform for cutting-edge culture and a great big ‘fuck you’ to the malaise of the daily grind or gruelling despair of global events. All of these factors form a vital counterpoint to the topic that preceded Walter’s mention in our conversation.
“We can live in Russia now, but it is not safe. I could get a military summon at any point,” Sasha emotively explains. “I would be shaking if I went home.” While they might be horrified by current events, Perm is still ‘home’ in the spiritual sense for the band. Sasha and Masha live in Slovenia now, but “family values” will always be part of their partnership. These values are presently strained with friends, family and home, inaccessible. This difficulty broods and reverberates in their music: a sound full of countless genre influences but even more human sentiments.
A thin strand of frustration with the way things are in the world can be felt in the sustained stabbing chord strums. “But even away from home, we are not free,” they say, evidencing this musical touchstone. “Certain festivals don’t want to book us just because of where we are born, even though we stand firmly against its policies.” But that is just one minor note in the welter of their wailing techno-inclined sound. Beyond that, it is full of hope, longing, love and the simple notion that a modulating synth, a screaming guitar echo chamber, can deliver dreamy euphoria to a drunken crowd.
Fun, having fun, despite everything, is firmly a part of Gnoomes’ ethos, hence the round of Baby Guinness shots that were presently being brought to the table at this point of our increasingly slurred post-gig conversation.
“Think of our music as a slow punchline in stand-up comedy,” Sasha says, “you wait a while, and then there is a kick to your balls.” This seems true right down to the sentiment that the best comedy is a cackle of defiance that sprays spittle into the face of our anxieties and offers a wheeze of hope in the laugh’s afterglow. On the stage, Gnoomes seem to relish in this, and find a home in the process. In reality, that home that they summon is very far away, but thankfully, the reality is forgone for an hour or so each night as they make their way around on an unending tour, meeting the Walters of this world and delivering joy.
“Finally, we are able to say what we think,” they conclude. “Because in Russia, it is effectively illegal to express yourself.” The expression they exude seems as vital as anything around today. It is original and invigorating, strangely conjuring the mystic notion of Perm and all that entails as much as it does influences like Neu!, Wooden Shjips or the sentiment of “two together” out on the road.
