This piece originally ran in Stereogum’s The Black Market on November 2021.
It’s a rare off-day for Jinjer during their 41-date North American tour in support of their new album Wallflowers, but I’m not giving bassist Eugene Abdukhanov a day off from the one question someone is always, and perhaps only, asked after their video goes viral: Did he have a sense of the magnitude of what he filmed that day? “It was another day in the office,” he says over the phone. “We had fun. We just came out and played this song. And we released it on the internet. That’s it. The next morning, we woke up and saw that something was going on with that video. Nobody expected it to be that big.”1
The video in question is “JINJER – Pisces (Live Session) | Napalm Records,” uploaded to the Napalm Records YouTube account on March 17, 2017. True to Abdukhanov’s recollection, its still-unchanged description seems blissfully unaware of what’s about to transpire. “I believe we had this idea to record a new version of ‘Pisces’ when we first rehearsed the song with Vlad Ulasevich as a new drummer,” it reads, additionally noting how Ulasevich’s jazzy playing changes the feel of the King Of Everything album cut. Below that unattributed quote is a long list of 2017 live dates, now frozen in time.
You get the feeling that “Pisces (Live Session)” was a treat for fans and a heads up that Jinjer were, as they always seem to be when there’s not a quarantine in effect, out on the road. No biggie. Instead, the Oleg Rooz-directed video that captured the Ukrainian quartet in Kyiv’s Istok Studio got big. Real big. Big to the point where I don’t think the word “big” does it justice anymore. At the time I’m writing this, it has over 57 million views.
Even if none of those views belong to you, you’ve likely seen snippets because “Pisces (Live Session)” is now an enduring classic of the YouTube reaction genre. In other words, it’s an inexhaustible content mine, bursting with the raw materials for other people to make videos. And, oh, have they made videos. “Jinjer Pisces reaction” turns up 6,270 videos in a Google video search. What each is chasing probably differs per creator, ranging from honest interest to an attempt at gaming YouTube’s capricious algorithm.2 But, I’d bet that more than a few are simply aiming to achieve a miniature version of what Jinjer accomplished: tapping their own vein of virality.
Beth Roars, a vocal coach and musical director, is one such creator who parlayed a “Pisces (Live Session)” reaction video into their own million-plus viewed video. “I had no idea it would be so big!” Roars writes in an email, answering the one question someone is always, and perhaps only, asked after their video goes viral. “At that point, I was just experimenting and having fun — the video quality was terrible. I was both very excited by this video but also really overwhelmed. I suddenly realized I should try and make these videos good. That if I got it wrong, a lot of people would see but also that excited that I had the opportunity to reach a lot of people.”
What makes Roars’ reaction different than the type I covered back in 2018 is that it offers expert analysis. She has a knack for clearly capturing, codifying, and clarifying what the viewer is hearing. Of course, “Vocal Coach reacts to JINJER – Pisces (Live Session) | Napalm Records” features that now-familiar wide-eyed surprise when Jinjer singer Tatiana Shmayluk transitions into her false chord growl, but Roars follows that up with a discussion on the technique behind that growl that relies on her years of training.
Although Roars goes deeper into the mechanics of screaming and growling in future videos, part of that “make these videos good” mandate that led to her interviewing Shmayluk on her Roarcast, her admiration for Shmayluk’s versatility in this early reaction is key. This isn’t the expected “lol metal is crazy” reaction metalheads have come to expect from outsiders. Instead, Roars displays exuberance and acceptance from the start. Metalheads noticed, filling the comment section with kudos for finally feeling seen. “I’ve watched a few ‘vocal coach reacts to jinjer’ videos,” comments user aaron newman, “but I love your reaction…you see it for the talent it is..thank you for having an open mind.”
While metalheads appreciate the open-mindedness, I’ve become increasingly interested in the effect enthusiastic expert reactions might have on non-metal audiences. Does receiving instant, technical analysis alleviate an average non-metal listener’s nausea towards unfamiliar extreme elements?3 If so, that puts Jinjer, a band I never listened to much before this, in a very interesting position, doesn’t it? That is to say, if Jinjer are a frequent reaction topic and expert reactors like Beth Roars ably demystify the screams, heavy riffs, shifting time signatures, blasts, etc., does that make Jinjer one of modern metal’s most important gateway bands?
To Eugene Abdukhanov’s credit, I don’t think he’s overly concerned about whether Jinjer are or aren’t “important.” I ask him what has changed since Jinjer broke out. He answers, “Nothing. We’re just the same four people, three guys and the girl from a neighborhood in a very, very small town in Ukraine, just like we were 10 years ago. Nothing has changed.” I press him that, surely, the resulting popularity changed something. “I don’t really feel that popularity that much,” he says. “Honestly. Yeah, I only feel it when I go on stage in a venue and see 1,000 people in front of me. This is the criteria, let’s say, and this is what I enjoy, playing live for people.”
Jinjer, when they have the opportunity, play live a lot. Bandsintown, the tour notification site, lists 364 Jinjer shows between 2017 and 2019, and I have to assume that’s a low estimate. “Recently, people from the industry have asked, ‘Why do you play live so much?'” Abdukhanov says with a laugh. “‘What’s the reason behind that?’ And I say, ‘Because I just love to be on tour. I love to go on stage and play.'”
This mindset, of playing to play and not for the popularity, an MO that’s way more Fugazi than I expected, adheres to a general punk rock ethos that powers Jinjer’s creative decisions.4 If you, like me, are still burdened by archaic, gatekeeper-y ideas that to be popular, one needs to make concessions, recognizing Jinjer’s punkness helps shed that baggage.
For example, when I asked Abdukhanov why he felt that Jinjer caught on, especially with a segment of their audience that never seemed receptive to heavier metal elements before, he steered his answer in an introspective, philosophical direction. “It’s a very hard question because I’m on the other side,” he says. “I am a writer, an artist; I create the art. And how people perceive that art, whether people like or dislike it, is unknown territory to me. And it’s better to be like that. Because, if I go to the other side and start, you know, digging deep into why some things go well or not well, I’ll be a consumer. I’ll start adjusting and looking for opportunities to make my art more applicable to people. That is why I don’t even try to think about how people perceive it.”
Wallflowers is definitely an album made by a band unconcerned about how you’ll perceive it. The lyrics explore introversion, authenticity, and artistic integrity, among other topics. The musicianship and songwriting find ways to push the limits of catchy song structures with legitimately heavy juds and sneaky prog parts, the kind of future metal components that have earned the band plaudits from peers ranging from Devin Townsend to Lamb Of God to Sepultura. In total, the quartet’s fourth album could’ve only come from Jinjer. Admittedly, while objectively impressive, Wallflowers is ultimately not my thing. (I disclosed to the band in an email that I first heard about Jinjer through Malignancy, the legendary brutal death metal band from Yonkers, New York, and the last metal band I listened to from Ukraine was Fleshgore. I am who I am.) But I respect the heck out of it for following its singular voice to singular ends.
Take “Disclosure!,” Wallflowers‘s fourth single. What starts out as a poppier riff ’em up complete with a party-starting vocal hit “wooo!” soon turns into a rhythmically engaging rager reminiscent of Miss Machine-era Dillinger Escape Plan. Abdukhanov and Ulasevich really put in extra work here as Jinjer’s rhythm section secret weapon. (Check out how Ulasevich takes a moment when the song is still spunky to foreshadow the chaos with a really neat flurry of fills. It’s such a cool detail. I’ve replayed that part a lot.) Ah, but right when I expect the poppier riff to return, going total earworm, guitarist Roman Ibramkhalilov instead slathers on more meanness.5 That’s when this once-airy track turns into a menacing, metallic pummeling. Shmayluk matches and magnifies the intensity, letting loose with an impressive growl. The song builds and builds, becoming more unhinged. And then, just like that, it’s over. When I rewind to the start, I’m still struck by the unlikeliness of the twist even though I’ve now internalized the song’s flow. How the heck did we go from this to that? That Jinjer make it sound natural in the moment is a testament to their abilities.
Needless to say, this is some pretty advanced songwriting. The thing is, Jinjer don’t have to do that. They don’t have to keep waking up and choosing “uncompromising.” Metal’s history is rife with musicians who lay down their swords, sanding down their sharp edges to increase their following and reach the promised land of maybe earning a middle-class living. And Jinjer, already a known entity, are in a better position than most to “grow their brand” or whatever SEO-optimized currently phrase stands in for the capitalistic commandment of forever-growth.
But, let’s be real, that was never in the cards. “Man, we could easily write one, two, three albums of radio songs,” Abdukhanov tells me. “And what will it bring us? Bigger venues? I already do not see the last person in the crowd. What’s the reason when we already have good production? We are fine in terms of popularity. I am okay. I am not craving mainstream popularity, making millions. This is not what I’m looking for. And none of us in the band are looking for that.”
What Jinjer are looking for is doing right by Jinjer. Abdukhanov is in this to make music he likes. Otherwise, why bother? “There is no point,” he says. “There is no point in writing such music, especially if you don’t enjoy it. We don’t enjoy such music. We write what we enjoy. And indeed, we have Wallflowers. In a couple of years, we’ll have something else. And this will be exactly what we want to do. Not what somebody else wants us to do.”
That said, the other thing is…”Disclosure!” is popular. It’s well on its way to being another million-viewed video, already racking up more engagement than everything we’ve covered in the column this year combined without being too sonically dissimilar. Jinjer have cracked a code and are capably onboarding people to metal. That seems important! But does any of this feel important to the band right now?
“I know that many people get to the whole realm of heavy music and extreme music through us,” Abdukhanov says. “We see it every day at the meet-and-greets: we have 10, 20 people saying that this is their first metal concert ever. And it’s cool to bring people into metal. But, you know, understanding our own importance or enjoying it is not a priority in this band.”
I ask Beth Roars why she thinks Jinjer has this ability to bridge the gap and bring people who weren’t that interested in hearing growls and juds into the realm of heavy music. Turns out, as a fellow convert, she has first-hand insight. “First of all, Tatiana’s clean vocals are fantastic and can appeal to anyone,” she writes. “Because you always get a certain amount of these amazing clean vocals, if you aren’t used to hearing distortions you can ease yourself into them without being overwhelmed. For me, metal has been a genre that has grown on me. The more I learn and understand the subtleties, the more delight I get from brutal sounds. I also think it is wicked to see a woman breaking gender stereotypes. We often think of women cathartically crying but to be honest, sometimes we just want to scream. I now love listening to Jinjer when I want that cathartic energy, whether it’s to help me get through a hard workout at the gym or emotional pain, and, because it is coming from a woman, her voice feels more connected to my own emotional expression.”
Roars and Jinjer are connected in another way, I’d say, that being that both have eschewed cookie-cutter formulas and still achieved relevancy within their respective fields. “To be honest, I first started the channel as some friends of mine said they thought I’d be good at it,” Roars remembers. “I wanted to make an educational singing channel but wasn’t sure how to package it. I didn’t want it to be boring. I didn’t want to come across as clickbaity or trashy. However, once I had done a couple of videos, I realized it was a really great way to get across educational content in a fun way. Reaction videos have a broad access point, allowing anyone from any skill level to enjoy and learn.” She has continued this commitment to offering educational content in entertaining contexts with her new channel, Roar!, where she is thrown into situations outside of her comfort zone. In one video that’s of particular interest to metalheads, she forges steel.
So, what has made Roars so comfortable exploring music outside of her comfort zone? “I just like music and have always liked a wide variety of it,” she explains. “I remember being a teenager and someone making fun of me for some music I liked and I thought ‘hang on, we are just listening to molecules vibrating, who’s to say that sound is better than another.’ I realized that there wasn’t a better or worse genre of music, but different types of music connect emotionally with different people for lots of different reasons — culture, life experiences, your ability to hear different frequencies. Since then, I’ve always listened to music from that perspective and I very much believe that if an artist is able to work as a musician, they must be doing something right even if it doesn’t connect to me. My job as a reactor and vocal coach is to work out what that ‘right’ is.”
The trickier part is figuring out what kind of videos are right. It’s here, too, that Roars experiences commonality with Jinjer. “It’s really easy to get caught in that hole of trying to follow what subscribers want. And, of course, I do keep a spreadsheet of what people ask for. At first, I followed this completely, but I gave it up. Now I mix it up, reacting to requests and things that I find interesting. I like to find things that I wouldn’t ordinarily listen to, something that gives me a new perspective. Music has a wonderful way of helping you feel what another person feels. It can be a time capsule and help you understand the feeling of an era or culture. I love it because when I react to perhaps a Mexican shepherd’s song, I get a little insight into what it feels like to be a shepherd in Mexico. I would never have that insight otherwise. I feel limited to stay within a genre box, and once you have reacted to one thing within a genre, it’s easy to get stuck in that.”
Getting stuck is something that Eugene Abdukhanov has considered regarding the apparent longevity of “Pisces (Live Session).” To this day, new reactions to the four-year-old video continue to roll in, the gone-viral’s equivalence to eternalism. The video that breaks you is never far from the top of searches no matter how far you’ve evolved past that video.
“New bands might have to keep this in mind,” Abdukhanov says, “because no matter what you release, it should always be top-notch now, it should always be great quality. Because, after 10 years, people will still be judging you by it.” And yet, Abdukhanov recognizes that you can only do so much. “Once something is on the internet, you have no control over it.”
That duality, of controlling the quality of your work while conceding that what others do with your work is outside of your control, is a touchstone of my conversation with Abdukhanov. He’s a good hang because we’re both prone to flights of ontology. So we often circle back to this question of why Jinjer? People might be into Jinjer because they have a message. Or because they’re real. Or because they’re unique. But, it also might just be good fortune. In keeping with his character, Abdukhanov can’t rule that out. “One of the factors is luck. You need to be lucky just to be in the right place at the right time.”
But, the point is, you can’t rely solely on luck. And I’m not sure that luck alone allowed the paths of Jinjer and Beth Roars to briefly cross. The ideals that drive their work seem to steer them towards the same destination. For instance, I ask Roars how important it is to her to maintain a commitment to educational content, knowing full well that the work required doesn’t always result in a breakout video. “It totally drives me,” she answers. “I want to make content that helps, whether by helping someone gain a skill or just by cheering a person up. If they come away feeling they have learned or have a new perspective, that is the best to me.”
There’s something heartening about knowing that Eugene Abdukhanov and Beth Roars made it without really compromising who they are or want to be. That in spaces stuffed with artifice that seem to reward only those taking the path of least resistance, it’s possible to do your own thing and still make it work.
In that light, there’s something else that Abdukhanov and I keep revisiting in regards to “JINJER – Pisces (Live Session),” a reason why it might’ve caught on. “We never tried to pretend to be someone else,” he says. “That was not our thing. We never had time or money to make it the right way, by having props and making it theatrical.” This stripped-down video allowed Jinjer to just be Jinjer. That felt real. Even if people unfamiliar with extreme metal were reacting in disbelief to Shmayluk’s vocals and spreading it around so they could savor the contact high of others’ reactions, once that high wore off, they were left with Jinjer. It wasn’t a stunt. No, it was pure Jinjer, authentic Jinjer, real Jinjer. And that resonated and continues to resonate. In turn, that has opened some people up to finally accept metal on its terms, that most metal isn’t a goof or a shtick or trying to be shocking for shocking’s sake, that the incongruity wasn’t on metal’s side but their own. It’s like what Abdukhanov says about the composition of “Pisces (Live Session):” “There is nothing hidden. It’s all on the surface.”
I remember this being a phoner that I had to route through Zoom in order to capture good audio, which is a trick for journalists who don’t have their recording equipment with them. The only problem is the Zoom prompt of “NOW RECORDING” is, uh, very disarming when heard over the phone.
I couldn’t reach anyone from YouTube for this story, but they’ve swore in other interviews that an algorithm doesn’t exist. Sure.
As always, I’m referencing Ribbonfarm’s “Welcome to the Future Nauseous.”
Most of the people who reached out after this piece were surprised by Jinjer’s decidedly DIY minset.
Slather, a word I use too often.