"Without Oxygen" (Bez kisloroda) comes to us from St Petersburg's Galya Chikiss. A craftswoman of delicate, ambient textures, she categorizes these works with a nod in the direction of louder styles, such as "dream pop" and "shoegaze." The same compositions are then accompanied by a few sentences to darken the mood further still: "These are ominous, romantic songs about true love. They tell of people disappearing in the woods, a werewolf-groom, and devilry in the Far North. Expect stories of drowning – and revenge. All in all, these songs offer an excellent trip - with a bad premonition..." The further we look, the more an aura of gothic romanticism prevails; it's immediately drawn upon in Chikiss' fin de siecle artwork, suggesting the debt of Russian Symbolism to various decadent traditions, sometimes from the sinister side of folklore. Chikiss asked, not long after "Bez kisloroda," whether help was available for making a video in the same dour spirit. These are the tools she needs to visualize her songs: "We're looking for a black dog - the kind that's suitable for a low-budget horror film. Ask any black dogs you know whether they'd like to be in a movie. We also need somebody who knows how to shoot good-looking horror flicks... and is ready to help out." We're moving once again into the realm of gothic narratives here, full of homeless spirits, heavy with the burden of divine punishment. That isolation, however, becomes a marker of uniqueness. Sadness - ultimately - is something special. It remains (tragically!) preferable to the dumb contentment of normality. And so Chikiss is unlikely to shed the weight of forlornness or gloom in the near future.