Andy Nechaevsky
Andy Nechaevsky is a composer, multi-instrumentalist, arrtist and luthier from Lviv, Ukraine. His music transcends boundaries between avant-folk, impressionism, and ambient jazz.
Known for building his own kalimbas, Nechaevsky creates a sound world that resonates with listeners who seek music that is both innovative and deeply human. His compositions are marked by hypnotic textures, delicate structured improvisation, and a deep emotional resonance. Critics have described his work as "prayer-like yet claustrophobic," reflecting the duality of hope and uncertainty in contemporary life. Each piece is a sonic exploration of place, memory, and atmosphere, often inspired by the nocturnal rhythms of his hometown. While his journey began with the kalimba, his recent work has expanded into a rich, multi-layered palette featuring tank drums, tubular bells, flutes, and prepared cello.
His newest release is Secret Life of Button Boxes: Red Box, an immersion in deeply rooted themes of displacement and resilience. After losing his home in annexed Crimea, Nechaevsky’s music became a medium for processing "the crossroads of history."
Drawing inspiration from the concepts of Anusim Marranos and Mozarabs, Andy’s work explores the state of the "perpetual outsider" who preserves a hidden inner identity while navigating a changing world. In his own words, his music is an attempt to "grow a garden where the elephants of history have trampled the earth."
“This album is about my first home, the way I remember it - the place where I learned to say my first clever things, walk without falling, and swallow grated carrots if I had to.
“It was all scuffed and well-worn, stuffed tight with little apartments full of old, scuffed people. From the window, they looked no bigger than a pinky finger, but unlike a finger, they kept walking, kept not falling, kept saying clever things… Their doors were decorated with long lists of names and doorbell buttons - you can’t have a door without a button. But I couldn’t read the names yet, and I couldn't reach them either - they were just there.
“It was a time of old things and long days, when you poured colored water into the TV screen to see better, and draped a perfumed handkerchief over the radio’s warm tubes so the music would smell nice. I’m not making this up. Nobody would believe me if I were.
“My greatest joy - a treasure chest I was only allowed to open every once in a while - was a big box of buttons. It had countless sliding drawers where, besides buttons and thread, you’d find unsorted beads, old keys, incomprehensible metal junk, and even a silent vacuum tube from my Granny’s old radio. An entire infinite universe, which I was actively exploring at the time… Our house was inside that box, too. All day long it rang with telephones, thumped with doors, and played fragrant radio music on crackly radios. It spun old records and tortured pianos. And in the evening, when they rocked me to sleep, somebody behind the wall would inevitably flush a toilet and shyly sing in a silly, sheepish voice, as if to say: good night, sweet dreams, you strange child.
“That’s just how it was.
“This album is about the moon and the stars, the birds outside the window, the window itself, and the rumbling cars at night. It’s about every pebble on the street, the whole street, the mysterious houses beyond the garden, and the rest of the things from my Granny's button box. Sorted roughly by purpose. By color. Or by key.”
