Gunesh - The Sun of the Turkmen Steppes

From the steppes to jazz-rock: the origins of Gunesh

In the heart of Central Asia, in a remote and dusty Soviet republic, one of the most astonishing bands in global jazz-rock was born. They were called Gunesh – “Sun” in Turkmen – and with their blend of mugam, prog, fusion, funk and spirituality they managed to set stages ablaze across half the world, without ever losing the soul of their homeland.

In December 1969, the celebrated singer Murad Sadykov – future People's Artist of the Turkmen Soviet Socialist Republic and deputy of the Supreme Soviet of that same republic – obtained official approval to form a VIA (vocal-instrumental ensemble) at Turkmenistan's state television and radio. Sadykov asked the well-known local jazz musician Oleg Kirillov to form and lead the new group. At the start of 1970, Sadykov chose the name “Gunesh” for the band. The first soloist was Sadykov himself, joined by second vocalist E. Annaev and a vocal trio made up of V. Mamedov (tenor), K. Mamedov (baritone) and I. Agakhanov (bass). The line-up reflected the typical standard of Soviet VIAs of the period, focusing on performing Turkmen folk songs and compositions by professional Turkmen and Soviet authors who were members of the Union of Composers.

Like every Soviet musical ensemble of the period, Gunesh too were subject to strict censorship controls: each group had to be supervised by a musical director appointed by the party, tasked with ensuring the ideological and stylistic conformity of its artistic output. Paradoxically, it was precisely this tie to the party that allowed Gunesh to obtain resources and instruments to play.

Rishad Shafi and the sound revolution

Things began to change when younger musicians, more open to experimentation, joined the ensemble. Among them Rishad Shafi immediately stood out, a drummer of prodigious talent and a charismatic personality, who joined the group during his military service. In the years that followed, Shafi – together with keyboardist Oleg Kirillov – recruited other musicians with similar musical interests (including saxophonist Stanislav Morozov), shaping a new identity for the band: a jazz-rock sound infused with the folk traditions of Central Asia.

Shafi's leadership gives the group a decisive new direction. Gunesh begin to develop a personal style, fusing jazz improvisation techniques with mugam, a modal musical tradition from the Azeri region built on intricate scales and flexible structures. The result is a hybrid musical language, in which polyrhythms, odd time signatures and complex arrangements intertwine with traditional melodies and timbres. At this point, Gunesh operate on two parallel tracks. On one hand, they move within the jazz-rock vein, influenced by Mahavishnu Orchestra, Weather Report and Chick Corea, with intricate rhythm sections, expansive improvisations and sophisticated arrangements. On the other, they retain a strong bond with their local roots, also introducing traditional instruments such as the dutar and the gyjak (string instruments typical of Central Asia). It's an unprecedented combination within Soviet space: neither fully "national" nor entirely "foreign".

If the first incarnation of Gunesh, tied to Sadykov, could still be assimilated into the party's official logic, with the arrival of the younger musicians – Shafi foremost among them – and the rise of a more revolutionary, Western-leaning music, discontent began to brew within the local cultural establishment. Yet it was precisely in this ambiguous climate that Gunesh started to make a name for themselves beyond Turkmenistan's borders. Their first professional recordings were made in the state radio studios and then distributed through inter-republic circuits, earning a certain degree of success among critics and industry insiders. Some of these tracks – including the suite "Yokhsenem" and the epic "Kerogly" – were already circulating from 1977 as singles released by Melodiya (the Soviet state label), revealing a surprising stylistic maturity.

In 1977–1978, the group took part in various anthologies and festivals, including "Pesnya v zhizn'" ("With a Song in Life"), a touring radio programme that served as a showcase for new musical talent across the USSR. During one of these events – possibly a festival in Moscow – the group was noticed by Roman Rtshiladze, keyboardist of Via-75 and a producer for Georgian radio. Impressed by their expressive power and distinctive style, Rtshiladze recommended them for selection at "Vesennie ritmy, Tbilisi-80!" ("Spring Rhythms, Tbilisi 1980"). The music authorities, however, opposed their candidacy: Gunesh were deemed too uncommercial, too hard to pigeonhole. Despite this, Rtshiladze managed to push the matter through and secured the green light for their participation.

Meanwhile, on the political front, the group's standing remained uncertain. Far from being part of the underground – which lacked both the means and the protection to operate – Gunesh moved along the margins of the official apparatus, shrewdly exploiting the gaps in the system. Their jazz-inflected sound allowed them to dodge accusations of "Western decadence", while the use of traditional instruments and references provided enough ideological cover to neutralise suspicion. Even so, tensions were not lacking: the band was repeatedly reprimanded for excessive improvisation in concert, and some performances were cancelled at the last minute.

The tension between centre and periphery – between Moscow and Ashgabat – was a constant: Gunesh were too innovative for the Turkmen nomenklatura and too peripheral to gain immediate recognition in the central circuits. But it was precisely in this interstitial space, between the constraints of socialist realism and the opportunities offered by ethnic exoticism, that the group found its natural habitat. Thanks to Rtshiladze's persistence, Gunesh finally gained access to the 1980 Tbilisi festival, an edition that would go down in history. Their performance caused a huge sensation and firmly established the group on the national scene: Rishad Shafi was awarded best drummer, Stanislav Morozov best saxophonist, and the band tied for second place with Alexander Sitkovetsky of Autograph. The certificate of merit was presented to Shafi personally by composer Yuri Saulsky.

Even before this triumph, Gunesh had already left their mark on record: in 1979, the group collaborated with Firyuza, another major Turkmen outfit inclined towards fusion with folk elements, on a shared LP released by Melodiya. The record features tracks from both bands and represents a key step in Gunesh's transition towards a fully autonomous identity.

Also towards the end of the Seventies, one curious episode stands out: Melodiya's release of a split EP with Abba – yes, the famous Swedish group. Side A featured "Super Trouper", while side B carried a track by Gunesh. A surreal pairing, yet emblematic of Soviet logic: Western hits, often distributed in partial form, were paired with ideologically acceptable local productions, in a propaganda balancing act aimed at offering homegrown "alternatives" to capitalist music.

A dazzling debut

In 1980, riding the wave of their triumph at the Tbilisi festival, Melodiya released their first official album, simply titled Gunesh. The timing was no coincidence, as the band was by now recognised as one of the most innovative names on the Soviet music scene. The opener, "Жиги-Жиги (Девушка)" ("Zhigi-Zhigi [Devushka]"), is emblematic: a track that blends popular dance rhythms with passages of pure improvisation, weaving together dutar and synth, flutes and electric guitar. The album unfolds as an ongoing dialogue between past and present, between ethnic instruments and modern harmonies, where traditional melodies are reinterpreted through a jazz lens without losing their identity.

Among the most striking moments are "Кара Кум" ("Kara Kum"), a sonic evocation of the great Turkmen desert, and "Марь" ("Mar'"), which combines electric riffs and odd metres with melodic lines of epic, folkloric breadth. In "Туркменистан" ("Turkmenistan"), the tribute to the homeland becomes explicit, taking the form of an emotionally charged ballad. Closing the record is "Реквием" ("Rekviem"), a sonic meditation inspired by Turkmen folk music and dedicated to the memory of musician Džemal Bjašimov. Although the press of the time paid it little attention, the album achieved solid distribution within Soviet circuits, helping to cement the band's prestige on a national level.

Some Western sources also report the presence, among the album's tracks, of a mysterious "Vietnamese singer": a detail never fully clarified, but plausible given that, in those very years, Gunesh toured Vietnam. In Ho Chi Minh City, Murad Sadykov was even granted honorary citizenship, a commemorative badge and the Order of Friendship – honours that attest to the international resonance the group had achieved.

Overall, Gunesh (1980) is a transitional work: the sound still carries a strong folk imprint, not yet fully absorbed into the fusion aesthetic that would dominate the band's later output.

Towards fusion: "Look At The Earth" and the Eighties

After releasing their first album, the group kept up an intense live schedule. The concert setting proved to be the ideal context for fully expressing the collective's flair, as they grew ever more skilled at engaging audiences.

In 1981, Gunesh achieved another major accolade, winning an award at the pan-Soviet pop music and song competition held in Yerevan, Armenia. It was an unmistakable sign that, even beyond the Central Asian circuits, the Turkmen ensemble was winning over broad swathes of listeners. Despite their growing fame, four years would pass before the group managed to release a new record. The reasons were mainly logistical and financial: it was only in 1984 that they secured funding for their second LP, which was again released by Melodiya under the title Взгляни на Землю (Vzgliani na Zemlyu, Look At The Earth).

The album marks a decisive turning point: the sound grows more sophisticated and layered, with the ensemble expanding to over twenty musicians. The horn section, led by Morozov's charismatic sax, takes on a central role, while Shafi's dazzling drumming confirms itself as among the most original on the Soviet scene: his style, as precise as it is visceral, has nothing to envy in his most celebrated international peers.

The tracklist comprises six lengthy pieces, each with a distinct identity: from the powerful jazz-prog groove of “Байконур” (“Baikonur”) to the cosmopolitan lyricism of “Бу Дерды” (“Bu Derdy”), through to the jazz-funk fire of “Восточный Экспресс” (“Vostochnyi Ekspress”, “Oriental Express”). “Ритмы Кавказа” (“Ritmy Kavkaza”, “Rhythms Of The Caucasus”) reworks regional motifs in a chamber-music spirit, while “Ветер с берегов Ганга” (“Veter s beregov Ganga”, “Wind From The Ganges”) explores ethereal, orientalist atmospheres. Closing the album is “Вьетнамские фрески” (“V'etnamskie Freski”, “Vietnamese Frescoes”), a piece that evokes meditative soundscapes and bears witness to a subtle but evocative connection with the band's shared musical experience with Vietnamese artists.

Gunesh embrace a refined synthesis of jazz-rock and prog: Turkmen influences play a more subdued role compared to the debut, opening the door to cross-contamination with other Asian cultures. Look At The Earth remains an ambitious work, representative of the band's growing maturity.

Also in 1984, Gunesh took part in the international Asia Dausy competition in Alma-Ata, before going on to perform at the jazz festivals of Donetsk (1987) and Ashkhabad (1989). In those same years they were also guests of honour at the Golden Orpheus festival in Bulgaria and at Zielona Góra in Poland. During this period the band undertook numerous international tours, travelling through Eastern Europe, Mongolia, Laos, Vietnam, China, Afghanistan, Turkey, Senegal, Mozambique, Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde. Their success was such that, within the Soviet sphere, they came to be seen as a kind of equivalent to Earth, Wind & Fire in the United States or Irakere in Cuba.

With the arrival of perestroika and the subsequent collapse of the Soviet regime, the band also lost their contract with Turkmen state television, which had been their only stable source of income. Gunesh then focused on live activity, without worrying too much about the lack of new releases: recording costs were prohibitive, especially for a band far removed from the main cultural centres. Against this backdrop, Stanislav Morozov took on the role of musical director liaising with the party, a sign of reduced censorship pressure.

A Slow Decline

With the start of the Nineties, Gunesh's activity slowed considerably, and the number of members dwindled accordingly. Their music no longer caught the interest of younger generations, but Rishad Shafi remained a point of reference. His appearance on the TV show “Our Old Capital”, directed by Andrei Konchalovsky for Moscow's 850th anniversary, felt natural: not only because Shafi was by then living in the capital, but also because Russian audiences still loved him and remembered Gunesh fondly. A particularly significant moment came with the band's reunion at the Zildjian (the well-known cymbal manufacturer) Days event in Moscow in 1997. Participants included saxophonist Stanislav Morozov (who had relocated to Germany), guitarist Mikhail Charyev, percussionist Khakberdy Allamuradov (who had previously worked with Peter Gabriel and Billy Cobham), Stepan Stepanyants on keyboards, Sergey Paramonov on bass, and Chariyar Djumayev, Magomet Karsanov and Ashir Suyunov on folk instruments.

In 1999 and 2000, Boheme Music released two compilations tracing the band's career: Rishad Shafi Presents Gunesh and 45° In The Shadow.

The first collects tracks from the 1980–1984 period, including many (though not all) of those from the two official albums, alongside several previously unreleased pieces. The sound quality, markedly superior to the original editions, makes it the ideal entry point for discovering the band's golden age.

45° In The Shadow gathers unreleased material from 1984–1990 and can effectively be considered the band's third album. Compared to earlier releases, the sound leans towards a more conventional, polished fusion, with a marked reduction of the ethnic elements that had made the band's early phase so distinctive. The material is well played but rarely surprising, with the exception of the title track, marked by dazzling drum work and an unusual scat vocal from Shafi, and a new version of “Вьетнамские фрески” (“V'etnamskie Freski”, “Vietnamese Frescoes”), rendered here in a more expansive, disorienting form. The overall impression is of an ensemble still technically in fine shape, but less inspired compositionally.

At this stage Shafi took full artistic control of the project, steering the music towards more elaborate, virtuosic structures. The ensemble shrank, particularly in the horn section, now almost entirely entrusted to Morozov's saxophone, while Shafi's drumming became the backbone of the sound. The album's title alludes both to the extreme temperatures of the Turkmen desert and to the standard alcohol content of vodka in Russia. By the late Nineties and early 2000s, Gunesh had been reduced to a duo of Shafi and Morozov, before becoming Shafi's solo project once the saxophonist, too, settled permanently in Germany.

The last shows under the Gunesh name date back to 2009, with Shafi as the sole standard-bearer. That same year, the drummer died suddenly during a celebrity football match.

Over the course of their long career, Gunesh changed line-up dozens of times: it's estimated that at least sixty-five musicians passed through the ensemble. The classic line-up of the golden years included: Rishad Shafi (drums and percussion), Oleg Kirillov (often credited as Korolev on Western releases) and Stepan Stepanyants (keyboards), Michail Loguntsov (guitar, sitar), Vladimir Belousov (bass), Gasan Mamedov (violin), Vagif Rizayev (saxophone), Stanislav Morozov (flute and alto sax), Yusif Aliyev (trombone), Alexander Stasyukevitch and Shamil Kurmanov (trumpets), Rakhmed Abdurakhmanov (guitar), Khajiriza Ezizov, Berdy-Murad Berdiyev and Ilyaz Redjepov (vocals), Shamamed Byashimov (dutar, synth, vocals). Across roughly forty years of recording history, only a handful of albums remain, but above all what endures is the legend of a group of visionary artists who, from the steppes of Turkmenistan, managed to push beyond the boundaries of traditional music, exploring the territories of fusion, folk and progressive rock with real originality. And more than anything, what remains is the figure of Rishad Shafi: a musician who turned the drum kit into a universal language, carrying Turkmenistan into the heart of the world's jazz-rock scene.

To mark this feature, we also conducted the following interview with the band's saxophonist and artistic director, Stanislav Morozov.

(Thanks to Federico Romagnoli for his help with the editing)

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