SASHA ILYUKEVICH AND THE HIGHLY SKILLED MIGRANTS

After doing very well back home, Belarussian punk-folk proponent Sasha Ilyukevich (far right) upped sticks to London – a seriously brave move. He’s now formed a band, and is having a crack at our famously fickle scene, with gigs happening left, right, centre and left again. And he’s well worth checking out: verging from minstrel rock to a sedated silly old man-style anarchy, Sasha’s music charms the ears with rustic samples, sweet violins, perky guitar plucks and a permanent easiness. Listening to incomprehensible Russian lyrics is at first odd and later rather nice – you invert personal scenarios and characters, and make the songs tell your own story. - SOME OF IT WAS TRUE, UNITED KINGDOM

WHEN Sasha Ilyukevich fled his Russian-satellite-like Belarus homeland for London on the UK’s Highly Skilled Migrant programme, he had no trouble thinking up a name for a band he was starting.

The group would be called Sasha Ilyukevich and the Highly Skilled Migrants. Tumbles off the tongue so easily, doesn’t it?

Ilyukevich (above with drummer Phil Brunner) told Loving Dalston: “I used to work for the State Academy of Science in Belarus, in the Institute of Geology, researching the vertical and horizontal migration of radioactive elements in soil-vegetation system in the areas affected by the Chernobyl [nuclear] disaster.

“However, I ended up playing rock ’n’ roll.”

The young Belarusian left the fiefdom of Alexander Lukashenko in 2004 and made his musical debut at north London’s Luminaire, enlisting the other Highly Skilled Migrants soon after. They are not migrants, skilled or otherwise, but British; Hackney-resident at that.

They have nevertheless felt the baleful effect of Belarus’s KGB. In 2010 it banned from radio an album, Ha Numa, that they had recorded in London. The men in ill-fitting suits deemed its political content “controversial”.

Ilyukevich says: “Our rousing and poetic music is very much inspired by its Belarusian origins, the wild landscapes, the folk tales and legends of forests, creatures and monsters, and their drinking songs.”

But there’s nothing like a love for one’s country and clumsy pressure from a Stalinist regime to spark inspiration. Hence the band is playing this weekend, as part of a campaign entitled Free Belarus Now.

Ilyukevich adds: “As musicians we can use our music and lyrics to express how we feel about the last dictatorship in Europe.”

“Folk ’n’ roll” is what he calls his songs, all of them written by him and in Russian. Something like Eugene Hütz, that other exile from the Soviet empire, and his Gogol Bordello, then? “Uhm, no,” says the gentle Ilyukevich, audibly gulping over the phone, “not like them.” OK, let’s say “Russ ’n’ roll”. - LOVING DALSTON, UNITED KINGDOM

Woo. This was a tough request. An anonymous reader asked us to hunt down the song used in this new Heineken ad airing during the UEFA Champions League soccer games. The commercial itself is over two minutes long (I think that qualifies it as a short film) and shows a man racing against the clock to make it to the final game in Wembley Stadium. His journey from Brazil is filled with interesting characters.

After a few emails all around the world, including Amsterdam and London, I was able to track down some info. The song is a traditional Russian song called “Kalinka” originally composed by Ivan Larionov and arranged by Ben Tarrant-Brown. I emailed Tarrant-Brown to see if he could give me an actual band name. He got back to me with this:

“I wrote, played and recorded all of the parts based around the traditional song. So my role is producer/arranger I suppose, even though I performed most of it too. The vocals were done by the wonderful Sasha Ilyukevich.”

So basically Ben Tarrant-Brown is a super musician. Kudos, sir. It sounds great.

For the sake of covering all my bases I Googled Sasha Ilyukevich too. The dude fronts a band called The Highly Skilled Migrants. How cool is that? The band is British, but Ilyukevich himself is Belarusian. He creates a unique brand of “Belarusian Rock ‘N’ Roll” according to his website’s bio. It’s not the gypsy punk of Gogol Bordello, but it’s pretty close.

This version of “Kalinka” is not available for download yet, but Tarrant-Brown says they plan on releasing it soon, and promises to send me a link when they do. And when I know, you’ll know. Until then, check out Sasha Ilyukevich on iTunes (see link above), and just put this commercial on repeat until the song is actually released. - WHAT SONG IS IN THAT COMMERCIAL, UNITED STATES

Woo. This was a tough request. An anonymous reader asked us to hunt down the song used in this new Heineken ad airing during the UEFA Champions League soccer games. The commercial itself is over two minutes long (I think that qualifies it as a short film) and shows a man racing against the clock to make it to the final game in Wembley Stadium. His journey from Brazil is filled with interesting characters.

After a few emails all around the world, including Amsterdam and London, I was able to track down some info. The song is a traditional Russian song called “Kalinka” originally composed by Ivan Larionov and arranged by Ben Tarrant-Brown. I emailed Tarrant-Brown to see if he could give me an actual band name. He got back to me with this:

“I wrote, played and recorded all of the parts based around the traditional song. So my role is producer/arranger I suppose, even though I performed most of it too. The vocals were done by the wonderful Sasha Ilyukevich.”

So basically Ben Tarrant-Brown is a super musician. Kudos, sir. It sounds great.

For the sake of covering all my bases I Googled Sasha Ilyukevich too. The dude fronts a band called The Highly Skilled Migrants. How cool is that? The band is British, but Ilyukevich himself is Belarusian. He creates a unique brand of “Belarusian Rock ‘N’ Roll” according to his website’s bio. It’s not the gypsy punk of Gogol Bordello, but it’s pretty close.

This version of “Kalinka” is not available for download yet, but Tarrant-Brown says they plan on releasing it soon, and promises to send me a link when they do. And when I know, you’ll know. Until then, check out Sasha Ilyukevich on iTunes (see link above), and just put this commercial on repeat until the song is actually released. - WHAT SONG IS IN THAT COMMERCIAL, UNITED STATES

The title of the article might sound strange at first, especially if you’re not really into music. “The Highly Skilled Migrants” is a British band, the singer of which, is a London-based guitar player, poet Sasha Ilyukevich.

Ilyukevich is originally from Belarus, which he believes, continues to struggle from repression, even though it is not a part of Soviet Union anymore.

Sasha sings in Russian, his lyrics play on images from Eastern Slavic Folklore and Russian Literature. The songs are originally composed, they are provocative, bizarre at times, yet intelligent and romantic.

Residing in London, Ilyukevich and his band’s music stands against the repressions and comdemns them. This is one of those rare power pop bands who transcend their inspirations to create powerful and original music of their own, dubbed ‘Belarusian Rock ’n’ Roll’.

The Rob Dumas directed documentary on the band’s trip to Russia and Belarus for gigs, has probably one of the most fitting titles ever – “The Nonsense Express”.

The film follows the band (Sasha, Ned – bassist, Phil – drummer, Marianne – flute player) on their journey from London to Moscow, and then to Belarus.

While the band is excited to perform in front of the audience they desperately seek, it is obvious that not all music fans would appreciate the rebellious songs.

The documentary follows “The Highly Skilled Migrants” on their path to performing in Moscow’s clubs, and at the beginning it seems like things do not go as planned. After all, the band is not the first one trying to get its big break.

While the film suggests there is a political undertone with the way Belarus is currently being ruled, the documentary does not concentrate on that, for all the right reasons. Besides, it would have been too much to fit into a 37-minute documentary.

“The Highly Skilled Migrants” are interesting to watch. They all look like hippies, however all behave differently. Sasha is excited to “give it all he’s got” and is determined to achieve success. The rest of the band study both Moscow and Belarus with interest, yet sometimes you can see “despair”, “sadness” and “we should’ve stayed in London” written all over their faces.

In the end however, the band manages to land quite an interesting gig, which will not be spoiled here. And yet, while the “Nonsense Express” did not seem to be like a very successful move gigs wise, it did give the band some food for thoughts, and new experiences.

The film creatively combines HD footage and animated hand-drawn ink illustrations. Shot in June of 2012, “The Nonsense Express” has been hitting numerous film festivals in the U.S. and UK, with “The Highly Skilled Migrants” performing a gig, after each screening. - BZ FILM, UNITED STATES

The Nonsense Express, a short documentary by filmmaker Rob Dumas, follows London band The Highly Skilled Migrants as they embark on a self-booked tour of Russia and Belarus. And it’s DIY insanity and piss poor luck for the band from the very jump, as the initial flight out of London results in a severely damaged bass, followed by the first gig being a rousing show for… no one. At almost every turn, the band runs into another misfortune (and no audience). Even the tour’s only redemptive show winds up being extremely bittersweet when all is said and done.

While the documentary paints an unfortunate picture that is not all that unique to DIY touring bands, what it doesn’t show is a band that turns on itself. Sure, bassist Ned questions singer/guitarist Sasha’s show-booking skills and preparedness quite a bit, but at no point does it devolve into a shouting match or fisticuffs, as could very well happen with different personalities in a similar situation. At worst, the band handles the tour with a “keep moving forward” attitude, even when it shows that the lackluster crowds (or non-crowds) are deadening their spirits.

The Nonsense Express employs a fun mix of animation, musical performance and fly-on-the-wall documentary fare. It doesn’t languish with talking heads or give an exhaustive history of the band, or why we should find them important (or anything like that). It sets up the basics, and lets the tour speak for itself. The result is a life experience captured for all its pluses and minuses, an example of the hard road that can exist for touring bands.

While fans of the band will no doubt find this film that much more indispensable, I had no problem enjoying the film despite my lack of knowledge of the band or their music. I think, as a document of DIY touring, it is as potentially educational to other bands as it is entertaining. It also sheds some light on a few upsetting situations in Belarus, giving the film a bit more political and humanitarian value beyond just “band on tour” footage. All around, a solid moment-in-time, fly-on-the-wall “Belarusian rock”-umentary. - FILM THREAT, UNITED STATES

The Nonsense Express, a short documentary by filmmaker Rob Dumas, follows London band The Highly Skilled Migrants as they embark on a self-booked tour of Russia and Belarus. And it’s DIY insanity and piss poor luck for the band from the very jump, as the initial flight out of London results in a severely damaged bass, followed by the first gig being a rousing show for… no one. At almost every turn, the band runs into another misfortune (and no audience). Even the tour’s only redemptive show winds up being extremely bittersweet when all is said and done.

While the documentary paints an unfortunate picture that is not all that unique to DIY touring bands, what it doesn’t show is a band that turns on itself. Sure, bassist Ned questions singer/guitarist Sasha’s show-booking skills and preparedness quite a bit, but at no point does it devolve into a shouting match or fisticuffs, as could very well happen with different personalities in a similar situation. At worst, the band handles the tour with a “keep moving forward” attitude, even when it shows that the lackluster crowds (or non-crowds) are deadening their spirits.

The Nonsense Express employs a fun mix of animation, musical performance and fly-on-the-wall documentary fare. It doesn’t languish with talking heads or give an exhaustive history of the band, or why we should find them important (or anything like that). It sets up the basics, and lets the tour speak for itself. The result is a life experience captured for all its pluses and minuses, an example of the hard road that can exist for touring bands.

While fans of the band will no doubt find this film that much more indispensable, I had no problem enjoying the film despite my lack of knowledge of the band or their music. I think, as a document of DIY touring, it is as potentially educational to other bands as it is entertaining. It also sheds some light on a few upsetting situations in Belarus, giving the film a bit more political and humanitarian value beyond just “band on tour” footage. All around, a solid moment-in-time, fly-on-the-wall “Belarusian rock”-umentary. - FILM THREAT, UNITED STATES

On the face of it, Rob Dumas’s debut documentary, The Nonsense Express, tackles a familiar subject: a band struggles for recognition on an ambitious tour; its members heave equipment and hangovers across indifferent cities; they play to non-existent dive-bar crowds; cancellations lead to huffy, inter-band stand-offs; bouts of de rigueur alcoholic revelry are had.

But lugging along on a tour of the homeland on the public transport systems of eastern Europe with the London-based Belarusian Sasha Ilyukevich and his band, the Highly Skilled Migrants, is a lot of fun. A feeling of intimacy is evoked by the director’s warm-hearted voice-over – Dumas was, after all, along for the ride – as the band suffers one amusing let-down after another.

Then, after all that, something quite unexpected and beautiful occurs.

The cornerstone of the film is the gently vexatious relationship between Sasha and his bassist, Ned. Sasha, the unquenchable romantic optimist, has self-organised the tour at long distance. Nothing can go wrong: the word is out, the people there will understand his Cyrillic lyrics. Ned – witty, aware, with lank, rock-band hair – wants to believe that this could be big or, at least, legendary.

But mild paranoia kicks in when Ned’s double bass is destroyed en route to Russia. Despite Sasha’s assurances, the gigs turn out to be deserted. Ned’s early attempts at worrying his comrades to success give way to ever more mordant asides to camera and an endearingly crazed resignation.

Things go so badly that this could all have fallen easily into a clichéd pit of meaningless rancour or, one suspects, have been a preamble to a cheesy breakthrough. But as the band’s imagined path to success leads to one dead end after another, there is a sense of release and serenity, the letting go of unanswered prayers.

A pivotal scene finds the Highly Skilled Migrants brought low by disappointment, having too hastily cancelled an appearance at a music festival near Moscow – and later watching in silent horror a TV broadcast of the thousands of intense fans they could have been performing for.

Shaken, Sasha takes the band to visit his mother in Belarus. As ever making the most of any situation, he arranges one last gig in his home town with a guaranteed turnout. The audience is captive – the venue is a psychiatric institution.

This could have been played as a final ironic laugh at ill-fated plans, a last humiliation after all the disappointment. But instead – though sad in retrospect – the episode is a delicate, moving contemplation on what it is to have forms of freedom and enjoyment decided by others. The “us” of a band in a self-obsessed industry turns into the “we” of solidarity with others.

Any documentary is to an extent at the mercy of events and relies on the actions and intentions of its protagonists. Sasha’s last, apparently desperate move conceals a generosity to others that later the Belarusian government routinely oppresses. But the film-maker also has to take advantage of whatever situation arises and Dumas has shown he is one to watch, both now and in the future.

The Nonsense Express is currently screening at festivals and in pop-up events. - BOARD OF FUN, UNITED KINGDOM

In the former Soviet Republic of Belarus, where Alexander Lukashenko has been in power since 1994, change is needed but the voices of dissent against Europe’s last dictator are few. Rob Dumas’s debut documentary, The Nonsense Express, portrays Sasha Ilyukevich as Belarus’s answer to Bob Dylan, although the 32-year-old “folk’n’roll” songwriter now lives in London and rejects the label of protest singer. After writing a string of politically charged songs, however, he found his music banned from radio play in his home country.

“One song [“Son of the Motherland”] was a fable where I compare myself with a street dog, just barking with nobody understanding me,” he explains. “At the end, I say, ‘Well, maybe it’s good to be a milk cow so I can get looked after and milked and be part of that society, where you obey everything they say.’ I then start barking and mooing and it’s a contradiction – I’m questioning myself. Some KGB agents heard the song and forced it off the air. After that, they banned the rest of my songs.”

As a response, he wrote “Kolya”, his most overtly political song to date, performed with his band, the Highly Skilled Migrants. It’s about President Lukashenko’s son, Nikolai, nicknamed Kolya, who, at the age of nine, is already considered the nation’s leader-in-waiting.

“This boy goes everywhere with his father, to all the important meetings and military parades,” says Ilyukevich. “He’s visited the Pope, he’s met Hugo Chávez and once the former Russian president Dmitry Medvedev gave him a gun made of gold, because he collects guns.”

In 2011, a journalist was detained by the Belarusian KGB for being in possession of a banner that read: ‘Where is Kolya’s mum?’ The identity and whereabouts of the boy’s mother is unclear, though she is believed to be the president’s former doctor. “It’s really strange and quite disturbing,” Ilyukevich adds.

Last dance
There’s a disturbing quality, too, to his song and accompanying video. Over a chugging electric rhythm guitar, Kolya’s name is angrily repeated, while animated images show faceless citizens, storm clouds, animals and soldiers. By moving from subtle criticism to outright expressions of dissent, Ilyukevich and his band have received what most emerging acts crave – media attention. Not all of it, however, has been welcome.

“I had an interview on the BBC about [the song],” he says. “It was a Monday and I remember we had about 680 views on Youtube. The next day, we got over 20,000 hits and it was all over the news in Ukraine and in Belarus. The same day, someone tried to hack into my Facebook, Twitter and Youtube accounts and I got quite a few insulting emails and comments. As a musician, you want to be heard but when this kind of song is heard and it’s all over the news, I don’t know if I should go to Belarus for the next few months.”

It's not the first time Ilyukevich has got on the wrong side of the state-controlled Belarusian media. The Nonsense Express follows the band on their tour of Russia and Belarus in 2010. The hard luck tale of poorly attended gigs and broken instruments reaches its climax with the group travelling to Minsk and finally securing a big audience reaction – only it comes in the form of patients of the city’s mental health hospital.

“A friend of mine worked there and invited us to play,” he explains. “They have very basic conditions; they don’t even have mattresses to sleep on – just wooden beds. But when we came, the people were so happy and welcoming, dancing and interacting with us. It was an amazing experience.”

Unfortunately, not everyone saw it that way. A journalist who witnessed the concert wrote a stinging appraisal, which criticised the group's decision to interact with the patients. Soon afterwards, Ilyukevich's friend was sacked from her job and the studio where the gig had taken place was forced to close down. “These people are left out and the studio was where they would do painting, make dolls and try out different crafts,” laments Ilyukevich. “But they just closed it down. Our gig was the last event there.” - NEW STATESMAN, UNITED KINGDOM

The Belarusian answer to Bob Dylan is alive and living in Hackney. Sasha Ilyukevich, 32, first came to the UK in 2001, working as a strawberry picker for six months and returning to settle here permanently in 2004.

His band, The Highly Skilled Migrants, can often be found playing or hanging out in folk venue The Dentist on Chatsworth Road. Whilst London has always had its fair share of Dylan sound-alikes, it would be fair to wager that Sasha is the only one singing in Belarusian, with the politically-charged nature of his songs making him a controversial figure back home, where Alexander Lukashenko, ‘Europe’s last dictator’, has been in power since 1994.

He explains: “Some DJs on the radio chose two of my songs to play. One was a fable where I compare myself with a street dog, just barking with nobody understanding me. At the end I say, ‘well, maybe it’s good to be a milk cow so I can get looked after and milked and be part of that society where you obey everything they say.’ I then start barking and mooing and it’s a contradiction – I’m questioning myself. But some KGB agents heard the song and forced it off the air. After that they banned the rest of my songs even though they are not political at all.”

As a response, Sasha wrote the band’s latest single, Kolya, their most overtly political song to date, about President Lukashenko’s seven-year-old son of the same name.

“This boy goes everywhere with his father, to all the important meetings and military parades,” Sasha says. “He’s visited the Pope, met Hugo Chavez and once the former Russian president Dmitry Medvedev gave him a gun made from gold because he collects guns. There’s a picture online of it with all these military generals saluting him – it’s really strange and quite disturbing.”

There’s a disturbing quality about the song and accompanying video too. Over a chugging electric guitar, Sasha shouts the name Kolya repeatedly with an icy sneer, the video showing animated images of faceless citizens, storm clouds, wild animals and military personnel. Through moving from subtle criticism to outright expressions of dissent, the band has received what most emerging acts crave – media attention. Not all of it, however, has been welcome.

“I had an interview on the BBC about [the song],” he says. “It was a Monday, and I remember we had about 680 views on YouTube. The next day we got over 20,000 hits and it was all over the news in Ukraine and in Belarus. The same day someone tried to hack into my Facebook, Twitter and YouTube accounts and I got quite a few insulting emails and comments. As a musician you want to be heard but when this kind of song is heard and it’s all over the news I don’t know if I should go to Belarus for the next few months.”

Like Dylan before him, Sasha rejects being called a protest singer. “It’s not like protesting,” he insists. “When you create, whether it’s songs or whatever, it always reflects back on the environment where you come from. And it’s not even being political, it’s just being honest about what’s happening there, how the dictatorship has transformed society and brainwashed the people.” - HACKNEY CITIZEN, UNITED KINGDOM

The Belarusian answer to Bob Dylan is alive and living in Hackney. Sasha Ilyukevich, 32, first came to the UK in 2001, working as a strawberry picker for six months and returning to settle here permanently in 2004.

His band, The Highly Skilled Migrants, can often be found playing or hanging out in folk venue The Dentist on Chatsworth Road. Whilst London has always had its fair share of Dylan sound-alikes, it would be fair to wager that Sasha is the only one singing in Belarusian, with the politically-charged nature of his songs making him a controversial figure back home, where Alexander Lukashenko, ‘Europe’s last dictator’, has been in power since 1994.

He explains: “Some DJs on the radio chose two of my songs to play. One was a fable where I compare myself with a street dog, just barking with nobody understanding me. At the end I say, ‘well, maybe it’s good to be a milk cow so I can get looked after and milked and be part of that society where you obey everything they say.’ I then start barking and mooing and it’s a contradiction – I’m questioning myself. But some KGB agents heard the song and forced it off the air. After that they banned the rest of my songs even though they are not political at all.”

As a response, Sasha wrote the band’s latest single, Kolya, their most overtly political song to date, about President Lukashenko’s seven-year-old son of the same name.

“This boy goes everywhere with his father, to all the important meetings and military parades,” Sasha says. “He’s visited the Pope, met Hugo Chavez and once the former Russian president Dmitry Medvedev gave him a gun made from gold because he collects guns. There’s a picture online of it with all these military generals saluting him – it’s really strange and quite disturbing.”

There’s a disturbing quality about the song and accompanying video too. Over a chugging electric guitar, Sasha shouts the name Kolya repeatedly with an icy sneer, the video showing animated images of faceless citizens, storm clouds, wild animals and military personnel. Through moving from subtle criticism to outright expressions of dissent, the band has received what most emerging acts crave – media attention. Not all of it, however, has been welcome.

“I had an interview on the BBC about [the song],” he says. “It was a Monday, and I remember we had about 680 views on YouTube. The next day we got over 20,000 hits and it was all over the news in Ukraine and in Belarus. The same day someone tried to hack into my Facebook, Twitter and YouTube accounts and I got quite a few insulting emails and comments. As a musician you want to be heard but when this kind of song is heard and it’s all over the news I don’t know if I should go to Belarus for the next few months.”

Like Dylan before him, Sasha rejects being called a protest singer. “It’s not like protesting,” he insists. “When you create, whether it’s songs or whatever, it always reflects back on the environment where you come from. And it’s not even being political, it’s just being honest about what’s happening there, how the dictatorship has transformed society and brainwashed the people.” - HACKNEY CITIZEN, UNITED KINGDOM