ŁŚ: I'll start by quoting a bit from Wikipedia: "Poet of transformations, Slavic bard," "classic of Russian and world literature," that's about Mickiewicz and Pushkin. Those are quite big shoes to step into, aren't they? Did you choose so ambitiously on purpose?
Sasha Pushkin: No, no, Mickiewicz is Jegor's real surname! And Pushkin is just a nickname.
ŁŚ: So it's a complete coincidence? Incredible. But at the same time, Flower and Pines' lyrics are heavily based on plot, on stories, practically like literary works. Do you feel any connection to the Romantic literature? Because I see some connections.
JM: Yes, yes. I write our lyrics. Of course, it has nothing to do with my surname being Mickiewicz, but I've simply always liked literature and poetry. There might be something to do with Romanticism, but I can't say I draw any specific inspiration from this or that literary genre.
ŁŚ: I even see something Romanticism-related in the band's name: Flower and Pines. The symbolism of nature, that sort of thing. Where did your name come from?
SP: We wanted it to be like the title of a painting in a museum.
JM: To present the title of a painting without any details of the work itself. So that the listener could figure out the details themselves. I also think there were some inspirations from black metal symbolism. Pine trees, conifers. They remind me of...
SP: A Norwegian forest. Darkthrone! (laughter)
ŁS: I have another reference to the historical figures of Mickiewicz and Pushkin: they were also known for their anti-tsarist stance. Mickiewicz, of course, but so was Pushkin, at least at the beginning.
JM: Exactly, but later not so much. But it won't be like that with us, don't be afraid! (laughter)
ŁŚ: But I wanted to ask, do you see yourselves as, let's say, rebels against the modern-day tsars?
SP: Against the entire world in a sense. Against all evil, while supporting all that is good. It might sound silly, but that's how I would put it. It's not about a specific "tsar," but about things in the world we disagree with.
JM: I rather see it this way: you can't see any specific worldview in our music. What do we think about any specific politician, for example. When you listen to our music, it's like watching a historical film and you can choose which side you're on. You can choose whether you're for this particular thing or against it.
SP: Or maybe is it about you?
JM: Exactly.
ŁS: But we can't escape the fact that you're from Belarus. And that it's some kind of a commentary on the situation there.
JM: Yes, yes, of course.
JM: More likely, simply as a reaction to all of this. We wrote Hnieŭ, which means "anger" in English, when things were at their most intense. We recorded what we felt then. It's not an anthem, not a hymn. It's not like we're saying: "Hey! We're going to the barricades!" I think that, to some extent, it's like a panikhida (a funeral service in Eastern Rite Christian Churches - ŁŚ), like a requiem. We're saying that we know what it was like there and how deeply we feel about it.
ŁŚ: Do you have any signs that you're being listened to in Belarus? That you're being noticed?
JM: Yes, we know that we're being listened to in Belarus, but... In reality, there are very few people left in Belarus who could listen to us. Who could be our audience. Many of them already live somewhere in Europe.
SP: In fact, we haven't lived in Belarus for a long time; we left before the worst happened. So maybe we simply don't exactly know what's going on there. Although there are still some people who listen to us there.
Anton Betson: I can also add that there are Belarusian media outlets online that write about us. About the existence of this band and its music, but not in a political context.
JM: Especially since the release of our last album.
ŁŚ: Right, this year you released the album Unconditional Love, which includes my favorite song of the year, Dogs. The entire album, as you describe it, presents a dystopian picture. Each track is poignant, showing a sense of helplessness in the face of oppressive power, but I feel it most strongly in Dogs. This song describes the attitude of an individual hounded by the regime, by the society in which they live. You describe it, but you don't comment on whether such an attitude is wrong or maybe understandable.
SP: I think all comments must come not from the creator, but from the listeners, because every person has their own story, so the message will never be the same for everyone.
JM: You know, with Dogs, the song itself is about how there's no side to choose. It's about how, when you live under a regime, you're both a policeman and a victim. Everything changes: today you're looking for someone who disagrees with the regime, and tomorrow they come after you.
SP: It's normal that we all have something bad and something good inside us. Today you do good things, tomorrow you do bad things. That's human nature.
ŁŚ: When I listen to Unconditional Love, I wonder if you see it as a warning about a situation that might arise, or more as a commentary on what's actually happening?
JM: Both. We're from a country that, in our lifetimes, has always been the way it is now; sometimes it was just a little better, sometimes a little worse. But now it's the hardest, it's like in those dystopian books. And what's happening in Poland doesn't look particularly good either, right? Of course, it's in no way comparable to what's happening in our country, but the intentions themselves are a bit terrifying.
ŁŚ: So do you think that it's possible that the situation in Poland will actually get close to what's happening in Belarus?
JM: We're not saying it will, we just know that these things happen very quickly.
SP: In an instant, you can find yourself in a completely different place than you were yesterday.
JM: That's why it's terrifying. So it's both a warning and a reflection on what we already know.
SP: It's always like that. When World War II ended, everyone kept repeating all this advice about remembering, because as long as you remember, you won't do the same shit again. But when you finally forget, suddenly: good morning! (laughter)
ŁŚ: This whole album is quite terrifying. Was that the intention?
JM: I think so. But it wasn't as if I said, "Sasha, come on, let's do something terrifying!" It was just that during the making of the album, it turned out that this was the only way we could do it.
SP: I think it was some kind of unformulated feeling somewhere inside us, we just saw that we had to choose these options, create these sounds. But we didn't agree to do it this way. It just happened that way.
ŁŚ: The album title is... It's ironic, right?
SP: No.
JM: To some extent, yes.
SP: Well, actually to some extent, but I would say irony is the last thing on my mind when I think about it.
JM: First of all, that phrase appears at the end of the song Act of Historical Justice. It's about a lie, it's about 2+2 equaling 5, about us saying we're here to help you. This war is there to prevent more wars, this repression is there to make things better for you. This is love, but you don't understand it yet.
SP: That's just how it is in this world. And it's not ironic, it's more sad than ironic.
JM: Another thing is that this phrase doesn't apply only to this song. In all the songs on the album, there's something about love. It can be different. For example, in Jerusalem, the lyrical subject also feels some kind of love, love for this place for which blood is shed. That, too, is love.
SP: So this is an album about love?
JM: Yes, yes, about love that can be very different.
ŁŚ: Someone who picked up the album just by looking at the title probably wouldn't expect it to be like that inside. It's filled with pessimism (or perhaps realism, since you're commenting on reality), but do you see any reason for optimism beyond that? Is there a place for it in music?
SP: There's definitely a place for it, but maybe it's not the right time yet.
JM: I don't see a place for it in music. Even my mother often asks me that. Do you…
SP: When will you play about happy things? (laughter)
JM: That's exactly what she asked me a few weeks ago: are you and Sasha doing anything new, and will it be a bit more optimistic? To which I replied that I don't know. Because I see no reason to be optimistic; everything seems to be getting worse. I just feel utter pessimism.
SP: We'll see how it goes, because we're only in the middle of recording a new album! Maybe something will change! (laughter)
ŁŚ: So there's already a plan for the next album? Are you planning to release it next year?
JM: It would be great if it were next year, but things can happen, who knows.
ŁŚ: I'd like to return to optimism for a moment. Do you hope to go to Belarus for a concert someday?
JM: It might happen someday. All those people there won't live forever! They might think that way, but it's impossible. So I hope we'll go someday. The problem is, not only we can't go there for a concert. We can't go there at all. So when I think about Belarus, it's not primarily about wanting to play there. I just want to see this place again.
ŁŚ: You recently changed the band's lineup. Now you're playing as a foursome. Is it very different from your perspective? There's a video on YouTube titled "We have finally become a four piece band", as if you were really looking forward to it.
SP: I'd say maybe we weren't "waiting," but we're definitely happy. Our music just sounds a bit different when we're on stage as a duo than when we're playing as a foursome now. I think Jegor was more keen on changing that; I wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea back then, but now I like it.
JM: It's definitely harder, because when we were just two people, we had to communicate only with each other. And with four people, you have to manage things more. But yes, I really wanted it because I thought there were certain things that would simply sound better with more people. Now that we're playing as a foursome, you can hear more space in our sound.
AB: I went to concerts when Sasha and Yegor were playing as a duo and I thought to myself, "Wow, what will it sound like when there's real drums and bass?"
ŁŚ: You're playing a few shows with Spoiwo and Jo Quail next year. Spoiwo is an icon of Polish post-rock, and Jo Quail is associated with many artists in this genre; she played with God Is an Astronaut, for example. Do you feel any connection to this genre at all?
SP: It's definitely one of the genres we like, especially me. Back in Belarus, I played in two bands: Challenger Deep, which is more post-metal, and Marie Chante, which is more of a screamo band, but with post-rock elements.
JM: You could say Sasha really has post-rock roots. I hadn't listened to that genre before.
SP: I've unlocked it in you!
JM: I've been a Swans fan for a long time, but it might not be exactly seen as post-rock. I started discovering true post-rock bands for myself when we started Flower and Pines.
ŁS: I can understand that, I think post-rock conveys a lot of content and emotion using instruments, but you write lyrics, and it's them that are very emotional and poetic.
JM: I think there's a connection there, yes. I started listening to instrumental music quite late in life. I always wanted lyrics, someone singing.
ŁŚ: At this point, you're conveying messages and emotions through both words and music. Do you think it's possible to combine the two in one project?
JM: We have no problem combining this. In fact, when we started our band, I thought there wouldn't really be much vocals. In bands, I've always been more of a vocalist, but here I wanted to play guitar and do something more instrumental, so the vocals would be more of an addition, but it turned out a bit differently.
ŁŚ: Sure. I asked about this because the description of your music, I think on Spotify, says that you create minimalist music. I, for one, don't hear that at all.
JM: Oh, because it's about minimalism in composition.
SP: Exactly. If we were doing something more complicated, we'd achieve a different goal than we intended. A minimalist approach to composition allows listeners to experience a certain feeling throughout the composition, for example, several times. This allows us to finally grasp its meaning, I think.
JM: For example, if we don't change a chord throughout the entire piece, then...
SP: It's kind of the foundation. If we assume that one song is a story, then that one chord is the foundation upon which everything happens. And then maybe you add different scenes, different characters who do something, something happens, but that foundation doesn't change until the end.
JM: I think I'm not lying if I say that we also want our music to sound a bit trance-like, so that you can get carried away by that trance. That's why when we talk about minimalism, it's simply about composition, but in arrangements, it can be completely eclectic.
ŁŚ: Well, that wall of sound does appear from time to time! Lyrically, you also repeat the same motifs and phrases, for example in Dogs. It can also have a trance-like effect.
JM: When we were making Dogs, we didn't have that goal in mind at the beginning.
SP: I would say that when creating our songs, we first think about how their elements would work together to form a cohesive whole. Although we didn't agree on any specific goal, we still felt deep inside how we wanted our songs to sound.
JM: Plus, I've had this feeling since childhood that when I hear something cool, I want it to just repeat and repeat and repeat. I often feel sad that a cool moment only appeared once.
SP: All these little things maintain the atmosphere of this trance.
JM: So that our compositions can truly work.🦢
