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Sep 01, 2014 By Laura Studarus Tesla Boy

Seated at an outdoor bar in Moscow, only a stone’s throw away from the church where Pussy Riot famously performed their punk prayer, Tesla Boy frontman Anton Sevidov certainly looks the part of a burgeoning Russian electro pop star. But Sevidov animatedly leans forward as he speaks, admitting that all his musical influences came from further west than the Soviet block where he grew up.

“My grandfather was a very famous football coach,” Sevidov explains, taking a long sip from his vodka and soda. “Every time his team played in Europe, he brought a lot of vinyls. That’s how we could listen to new music from the west. That was the beginning of my musical education. People could not find any records. It was the Cold War.”

From his parents’ jazz collection (he describes his childhood has full of Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, and Herbie Hancock), Sevidov graduated to artists that would eventually inform some of the more experimental elements of Tesla Boy. David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” in particular left an impression on him — even if the single’s mind-expanding properties came about accidentally.

“I remember that there were some problems with that tape,” Sevidov says, chuckling at the memory. “It had a very special effect when the high frequencies were pulled down. When I heard it a few years later, it sounded different. I was upset. With that filtering it was more interesting.”

Sevidov’s initial forays into music (which included jazz, funk, and—as a teenager—a stop on a Russian television talent show similar to The Voice) were successful at convincing him that this was meant to be his life’s work. But it wasn’t until meeting Tesla Boy bandmates Leo Zatagin, Mike Studnitsyn, and Stan Astakhov, that his wheelhouse became clear. The music of their recently released sophomore album The Universe is Made of Darkness, (a title that he jokingly claims refers to KGB agents) is a string of glittery synths and thudding drum machines—all tied together with a distinct 1980s attitude and Sevidov’s falsetto coos.

It seems like a far cry from his sax-drenched formative years. But Sevidov emphatically insists that the gap between jazz and club music isn’t as big as one might think. (His answer involves an impressively detailed history on the connections between R&B and early rock — the bottom line being that all genres were meant to get people out and dancing.) But even more important than genre, is the simple fact that with the support of his pals-turned-band, he’s just feeling the whole club-tinged electro pop thing.

“It’s a big value to play with other musicians onstage,” he says. “It’s like playing tennis. You’re passing to your partner and he passes to you. It’s like circles of energy, which are more powerful than playing alone.”

At this he pauses. Although incredibly animated, for the first time during the conversation, Sevidov’s English momentarily falters as he tries to express just how much the act of making music has come to mean to him over the years.

“It’s really strange for me,” he says, pausing to collect his thoughts. “Since I was young, I did something that I really, really love. Step by step, I could see the things getting better. It’s cool that we can go to the United States for concerts… I just had the feeling that I had to do my work and had to do something for what I love.”

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