The Ukrainians – Hairy Dog, Derby – 13th January 2024

What better way to shake off the post- Xmas torpor than with an hour or so of frenzied dance music from between the Carpathians and Crimea? And who would have thought, 33 years after their inception, that this offshoot of post-punk veterans, The Wedding Present, would not only still be going, but also, not a little thrust into the spotlight, courtesy events in the land of leader, Pete Solowka’s, forbears. Which, clearly, gets some requisite traction during the gig.

But first up, the Hairy Dog, one of the more evocative sounding venues this country has to offer. A longstanding music pub, it has been serving the citizens of Derby a regular diet of metal and mayhem for just over a decade, if these days a little more reliant on tribute acts to fill their stage. Tucked around the back of what seemed to be an industrial area, I guess that explains its longevity, with few neighbours to complain about the noise. A glitzy exterior opens into a large and utilitarian bar space. Outside there is the, by now, de rigeur, street food outlet, selling, obviously, hot dogs. (Sorry, reader, I didn’t.) Through into the back and there is a large hall, with a stage set at the far back. Capacity, I would guess, up to about 400, walls and ceiling black, and another bar, this time minus the cask ales, but a stamp on the wrist allows access in and out to the better stocked main bar. Tonight that capacity was not challenged, with maybe about 70 souls, possibly a few more. Too small? Tell that to the audience, or even the band, and you’d never know, such was the octane of the revs.

First on, and a complete contrast, came Mariia Petrovska, toting what looked like a stringed occasional table, tucked under her arm. This was, my bad, the bandura, Ukraine’s national instrument, a sort of autoharp/zither/lute hybrid, with a neck of strings adjoining a further spread of stretched steel. Ms. Petrovska’s was electric, no less, and she soon showed herself to be quite the expert, pulling and plucking flurries of notes out of her instrument, the sound not, at the higher registers, unakin to kora. She sang some mainly proudly Ukrainian folk songs, patriotic ones at that, with a clear and pure voice, perhaps a little like a younger Márta Sebasteyén. Warming to the appreciative audience, she visibly relaxed and, after also including a spirited rendition of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, which fitted well the bandura’s expansive tonal range, she was almost astonished to be brought back for an encore. Ahead her performance we had learnt an earlier audience had been the troops at the front line, back in the homeland she had left, in 2022, as a refugee.

A short gap saw the band preparing their own stage and instrumention, and frontman Len Liggins, or ‘the legendary Len Liggins’, to give him his full name, chatting and flogging merch from the table. With him having to be summonsed from the stage, with a flourish of strumming, it was all systems go. This was a deliberately retrospective set, the small tour entitled Dance To Your Roots, a whistlestop tour through the best of their repertoire, with a solid mix of traditional fare, healthy dollops of their own material and a few well-chosen covers, played in their own inimitable way.

Now, it may well be that not all are as familiar as I with their inimitable way, and some maybe beginning to cringe, imagining winsomely earnest folk music from serious unsmiling purists. Make no mistake, this is no stolid National Geographic recreation, even if accordion, fiddle and mandolin share stage space with the rest of the band. The core instrumentation, not that you ever lose sight or ear of the others, are the guitar, bass and drums. Electric guitar and electric bass, played loud, fast and free, the drums pounding like a landslip. And, traditionally derived or otherwise, this is not folk-rock, this is loud and assertive punk, well, post-punk, which just happens to incorporate traditional instrumentation. And stentorian voices; none of your high pitched squawling, these are men with men’s voices. (That point is the one that has, arguably, put off most casual listeners, I understand, we not used to that style of singing, but, believe me, once hooked, hooked forever!)

Highlights came many and often, right from the start, the first song sounding a typical instrumental belter, before, if I got this right, it was explained that they, yes, the Ukrainians, had opened by playing a Romanian tune, written by a German! Solowka started on an electrified hollow body sixstring, which gave an an incandescent feel to his flourishes, each note distinct in his thrashing, with some neat little runs between times. Liggins, who takes the lead vocals, plays also a natty electric violin, takes centre stage, with Paul Weatherhead,on mandolins, and Steve Tymruk, accordion to the other side. Weatherhead and Solowka each in Ukrainian shirts, the former, with his hat, shades and flowing mane, looked every bit the sort of Eastern European maf TV shows seems freuently to offer, while Tymruk looked a more avuncular presence. Bassist, James Howe, stick thin and dressed in black, prowls the hinterland of the stage, his plectrum blurring, and for all I know, melting, so swiftly was he striking the strings, with Stephen Woods, at the back, pounding and pumelling his kit within an inch of its life.

After some songs derived from the Ukrainian folk tradition, Cherez Richku, Cherez Hai gave athe first full glow of familiarity, the mix of percussive acceleration and choral vocals from the Cossack choir of Liggins, Solowka nd Weatherhead, beginning to ignite the feet of the punters present. Obviously, the war got mention, with the wry reality of how it has slipped the front pages as a newer war breaks out elsewhere; this was the time to mention the charity disc, Together For Ukraine, a tribute disc, if you will, to the band, and available on the merch table, with cover versions of their material emanating from a bevy of worldwide artists and in many styles. From the UK that includes the Wedding Present, who must hold responsibility for the band’s existence and ex-Advert, T.V.Smith, with all monies accrued going wholly to Ukrainian refugee causes.

Vorony, a personal favourite, the title track from the 1993 album that first drew me in, snarfed up from Solihull record Library, back when libraries were often the source for new and exciting music, came roughly midway, and is another of those songs that start slow and gradually get faster. Tonight it was if all the brakes had failed, the version careering ever forward into a cacophony of climactic near catastrophe, staying, Lord knows how, just about, only just, on the tracks. Absolutely wonderful. One of the songs from the tribute album followed, De Ye Moya Myla, albeit their version, rather than the psychedelic piano ballad version by fellow Leeds band, Pablo’s Paintings. “So, from one cover to another,” said Solowka, and it was one of their masterpieces of reconstruction, Koroleva Ne Pomerla. No? Ukrainian not up to speed? It translates as The Queen Is Dead, and, yes, that one. Liggins transcends the miserablisms of Morrissey’s original vocal, stretching all the phrases into a lugubrious intensity, as the band plough deep channels into the melody. Worth the entry alone, it could be the track that most explains the point of the band.

A few more songs and it was their debut single, from 19991 that next got an airing, Oi Divchino, still sounding contemporary and vibrant, contemporary, that is, if seen through my distorted lens. Sensing the end of the show looming, and with other de-anglicanised or de-americanised covers noticeable by their absence tonight, Liggins touted we needed some anarchy, launching into Anarkhiya. (Anarkhiya? Heck, even you can work that one out! Where? In the U.K., of course!) Never have the Pistols sounded so Slavic and it, as ever, had the crowd hanging on to the rafters, or possibly the more restrained middle-aged equivalent. A couple more and that was it, band off and, staunch traditionalists, band then back on, for a rousing finale. A cracking night out, with a band still on fire and taking no prisoners. A much better venue, too, than the Birmingham cellar I caught them last, and one to which I can see me returning.

Here’s one they didn’t play…..

The Ukrainians online: Website / Facebook / X (previously Twitter)

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