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"It's my way of understanding the unique way I was brought up," he said. Like Bryn, he's a first-generation immigrant and has long studied and taught dance and anthropology from the region. "To me, there is no hyphen between Ukrainian and American," said drummer Stefan Iwaskewycz.
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Look for them on the free stages at the Minnesota State Fair, too - a prime example of how UVB's members hope to also teach Ukrainian culture and emphasize the country's independent identity to Minnesotans. Katherine Ukrainian Orthodox Church in Arden Hills. They hope attendees will similarly take money out of their pockets to help Ukrainian relief efforts - typically funneled through the Stand With Ukraine fund set up by the Ukrainian Center ( ), or through St. In most cases, the band members are donating their performance fees.
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Other upcoming events include a May 6 Musicians for Ukraine benefit concert at the Dakota with Orkestar Bez Ime and SlovCzech a Band-Aid for Ukraine festival May 8 at the Minnesota Music Café with UVB's rock 'n' roll pals Curtiss A, the Hypstrz, Jiggs Lee and Trailer Trash a June 2 concert with klezmer music star Jake Shulman-Ment at the Cedar Cultural Center, plus summer gigs at breweries and assorted festivals to be announced. On Wednesday, the all-acoustic sextet returns to its usual stomping grounds - a quite literal term in this case - the Schooner Tavern in south Minneapolis, where the group performed every other month or so before the COVID pandemic.

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Last weekend's benefit at the Ukrainian Center was the first in a series of spring fundraisers the band is leading to raise money and spirits. Since then, the UVB has hit the ground running. It felt like we were coming out of the heavy fog of war and saw a way forward." "There were just so many inexplicable feelings about us finally being together playing music. "We realized we need to be ambassadors," said bassist John (Ivas) Bryn, who recalled members crying after that performance. Initially viewed as a low-key but well-paying gig that could raise money for Ukrainian relief, it taught the band members they could serve a more important role than purveyors of "fun polka music." Things changed a month ago when the band was invited to perform at a senior living complex in a wealthy part of Minneapolis. And just the emotions of it all have been overwhelming." "It was very challenging to know what to do.

"We've been trying to do everything we can to help them out, financially or in other ways," she said. Singer Viktoriya Kantor struggled to keep in touch with her brother, who has been working in front-line aid efforts around her hometown of Sumy, not far from the Russian border. "My parents have been told to take shelter about three times a day," said Khrystych, who is from Bila Tserkva, a city south of Kyiv known for a Jewish massacre by Nazis in World War II. Its members had much bigger concerns to deal with - especially those with family members caught up in the war. "It didn't seem like a time I should be picking up my instrument and playing fun polka music." Family and friends of mine were living in danger," said accordionist/co-vocalist Oleksij Khrystych, who emigrated from Ukraine as a student in 2001. For one thing, UVB is a "zabava" (party/celebration) band, and the members thought it inappropriate to carry on as such. The group did not perform for about a month. Like those tentative patrons at last weekend's Aid for Ukraine fundraiser, the band hesitated at first when Russian troops invaded Ukraine on Feb. "It's important to hear songs in our own language right now, to promote our people and our culture through music," said Korchak, who emigrated from Ukraine eight years ago. Holding his 1-year-old daughter while his wife, Katja, joined the large dance circle that followed, Kostya Korchak, 28, said the Ukrainian Village Band "is doing very important work. Soon, one tableful of people rose to their feet, then another.īy the end, everyone who knew the lyrics was standing and singing along. Then came "Oy U Luzi Chervona Kaylna." A hundred-year-old song about a unit of Ukrainian riflemen during World War I, it quickly got folks clapping along to its marching beat. Like a wedding where everyone doubts the couple are meant to be together, the audience at the Ukrainian Community Center in northeast Minneapolis looked hesitant.įolks watched and smiled politely as the Ukrainian Village Band breezed through a half-hour of traditional songs meant to get people up and dancing.
