Music - The Times Of Central Asia

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TCA Interviews

Kazakh Violinist Dinara Bazarbayeva-Sakhaman on Sound, Identity, and the Demands of the Stage

Dinara Bazarbayeva-Sakhaman, a soloist at the Zhambyl Kazakh State Philharmonic, spends much of her time moving between countries and concert halls, performing with international orchestras and collaborating with musicians from different traditions. Behind these appearances lies not only a demanding touring schedule, but also rigorous discipline: long hours of rehearsal, complete dedication on stage, and a constant search for the right sound. Speaking to The Times of Central Asia, she reflects on the Kazakh violin school, the nature of talent, and the enduring pull of her instrument. TCA: Dinara, your career has taken you to many countries. What has that experience been like? Dinara: Not the entire world, of course, but I’ve visited many countries thanks to my profession. The only time I traveled without my violin was when I went to Thailand, and throughout the trip, I felt as if something was missing. It was unusual, waking up on the plane and thinking, “Where is my violin?” TCA: Do you usually travel with an orchestra? Dinara: It varies, but more often I travel alone. There are projects where orchestras are assembled from musicians from different countries. For example, the renowned violinist and now conductor Marat Bisengaliev does this in India. For the Symphony Orchestra of India, he invites musicians from around the world. I have been collaborating with this orchestra for quite some time; it is an excellent ensemble. Working in such groups, sharing cultures, performing for diverse audiences, and collaborating with musicians from different parts of the world is one of the most fascinating aspects of our profession. TCA: Are there any distinctive features of the Indian violin school? Dinara: I performed in Mumbai, where there are several schools. One was founded by Marat Bisengaliev at the National Centre for the Performing Arts, and another by Mehli Mehta. In Bisengaliev’s school, classical violin is taught based on our educational system while incorporating elements of Indian tradition. What surprised me most was the number of self-taught violinists. TCA: And how do they play? Dinara: Surprisingly well. Their path is very different, yet the results are impressive. In our system, if you don’t start learning the violin at the age of five or six, seven at the latest, it is believed that you will not catch up and will likely remain an amateur. However, I know someone who began playing at 33 and now performs in a professional orchestra, knowing first violin parts almost by heart. He has a beautiful tone and excellent intonation. For me, this is a unique case. TCA: At what age did you start playing? Dinara: At five. That means I’ve spent 36 years with the violin and cannot remember life without it. I often joke that it is my lifelong implant—an inseparable part of me, with only its size changing as I grew. TCA: How would you describe the Kazakh violin school? Dinara: The foundation of our school lies in the Russian-Soviet tradition. During World War II, many teachers were evacuated to Kazakhstan and remained...

Chocolate

How a Family-Run Mini-Factory in Almaty Ships Chocolate to Belgium and Switzerland

Nurlan and Zhaniya Orynbayev are Kazakhstani chocolatiers known for creating distinctive desserts inspired by national traditions. Their creations include sweet yurts, chocolate mountain landscapes, a chocolate version of the Kazakhstan Hotel filled with zhent (a traditional dessert made from roasted millet, butter, and honey), chocolate with kurt, and other culinary experiments. Nurlan is also a musician and a member of the Kazakhstani hip-hop group Dayinball. In an interview with The Times of Central Asia, the couple spoke about how the chocolate version of one of Almaty’s main landmarks was created, what sweets Kazakh consumers prefer, how to choose high-quality kurt, and how the global cocoa bean shortage has affected their business. TCA: Nurlan, you are sometimes called the “Kazakh Willy Wonka.” It seems you were among the first chocolatiers in Kazakhstan. How do you feel about that? Nurlan: In fact, my wife Zhaniya was the one who started our chocolate business. She was the first to learn confectionery techniques and how to work with chocolate, and then she taught me. I simply began posting videos of the process on social media, and they became popular. Now the brand is often associated with me, but the real mastermind behind the project is Zhaniya. She develops all the ideas and recipes. Our coffee shops, our confectionery line, the brand image, and at least 60% of our products are thanks to her. TCA: So is Zhaniya the driving force behind your chocolate mini-factory? Nurlan: You could say that. She has a deep understanding not only of confectionery but of gastronomy in general. She can taste a dish and almost break it down into its components, what has been added and which ingredients work well together. I did not have that kind of intuition. I had never worked with food or desserts before. But gradually I became more involved and began to understand the process better. TCA: Zhaniya, you are said to have come up with the chocolate shaped like the Kazakhstan Hotel. Tell us about it. Zhaniya: Yes, that was my idea. It is a chocolate structure weighing about 130 grams, made in the shape of the famous hotel. We produce it in both milk and dark chocolate. We experimented with fillings for a long time, but eventually settled on zhent, a traditional Kazakh dessert made from roasted and ground millet with butter and sugar. Customers really like it. TCA: You used to make this dessert only for Nauryz, but now you produce it year-round? Zhaniya: Yes, and it happened almost by accident. Once, a restaurant critic connected with the World’s Best Restaurants ranking visited us. We treated her to various chocolates, but she liked the chocolate with zhent the most. She wanted to buy more, but we had run out. We did not want to disappoint her, so we urgently decided to make a new batch and began searching for good talkan, one of the ingredients in zhent. We found it and quickly prepared everything. The process was quite chaotic. Our daughter...

TCA Interviews

TCA Interview: Musician Merey Otan on the Reinvention of Kazakh Musical Instruments

Until recently, Kazakh national instruments were largely associated with school concerts, folk ensembles, and official ceremonies. The dombra (a long-necked, two-stringed plucked instrument), kobyz (a bowed string instrument with two horsehair strings), and sybyzgy (a wooden end-blown flute traditionally made from apricot wood) seemed to occupy a separate cultural space: symbolically important, yet detached from everyday life. “Before, the dombra was for me only part of school concerts,” recalls Sanzhar Uvashev, 24, a sales specialist from Almaty. “It was brought out on holidays, people dressed in national costumes, played a couple of obligatory songs, and that was it. I never thought this instrument could sound different, or be part of contemporary music.” Today, that distance is steadily narrowing. The sound of the dombra is increasingly featured in contemporary original music, electronic compositions, film scores, and social media. Young musicians are not abandoning tradition, but they are no longer treating it as something frozen in time. To understand how this rethinking is taking place, and why tradition need not remain 'untouched', The Times of Central Asia spoke with Merey Otan, a researcher and musician who works with Kazakh instruments in a modern cultural context. ТCA: Merey, how did your study of national instruments begin? Was it a deliberate decision? MO: It started during my master’s studies, when I was writing a thesis on contemporary music in Kazakhstan. As part of that research, I interviewed the ethno-rock band Aldaspan and kobyz player Almat Saizhan. I was especially interested in how the dombra and kobyz were being transformed and modernized and eventually devoted a whole chapter of my work to this topic. So yes, it was a conscious choice. TCA: People often argue that tradition should be preserved in its original form. What’s your take on that? MO: I’ve heard that view often, especially from traditional musicians. Some believe, for example, that an electronic dombra desecrates the instrument. Given the sacred meaning of the dombra and kobyz, I understand that stance. In sociology, these people are sometimes called purists. But I disagree. The world is changing, and some traditions from the nomadic era have lost their relevance or even become barriers. I believe traditions can, and sometimes should, evolve. If modifying an instrument helps engage younger generations, why not? TCA: Where do you personally draw the line between respect for heritage and experimentation? MO: I see nothing wrong with experimentation. On the contrary, bands like Steppe Sons show deep respect for heritage. Their members have formal musical education and a strong grounding in tradition. However, it's important to consider the concept of cultural appropriation from postcolonial theory. This occurs when privileged groups use the culture of marginalized communities for personal gain. In music, this might look like a Western artist profiting from Kazakh instruments without acknowledging Kazakh musicians. That, in my view, is disrespectful. TCA: Is there still criticism about the “incorrect” use of traditional instruments? MO: Yes, certainly. When Aldaspan introduced the electronic dombra, public figures like Bekbolat Tleukhan were highly critical....

Yenlik

Kazakhstan’s Yenlik Brings Her Sound to COLORS

Kazakhstani singer and songwriter Yenlik has made history by becoming the first artist from Kazakhstan to be featured on the international music platform COLORSxSTUDIOS. Founded in Berlin in 2016, COLORSxSTUDIOS, commonly known as COLORS, has grown from a small creative experiment into one of YouTube’s most influential music platforms. Recognized for its minimalist visual style, each performance is filmed against a single-color backdrop without set design or special effects, placing the focus squarely on the music, the voice, and the artist. The channel now counts more than 8.2 million subscribers and over 3.5 billion views, cementing its status as a global tastemaker in contemporary music. Over the years, COLORS has showcased a wide range of talent, from emerging artists to international stars such as Billie Eilish, Drake, Doja Cat, and Joji. The platform describes its mission as an effort to “connect people, countries, and cultures on a creative and emotional level,” framing its global, genre-spanning approach as a form of cultural exchange as much as a musical one. Yenlik’s Voice: Rooted in Culture, Reaching Beyond Borders Yenlik, born Enlik Kurarbek, is one of the most prominent figures in Kazakhstan’s emerging musical wave. Her sound blends alternative pop with modern R&B influences, creating a style that feels both personal and closely tied to her cultural identity. The Kazakh language plays a central role in her work, not as a folkloric reference but as a contemporary form of expression. Her music reflects a broader shift in which Kazakh is increasingly present in global pop contexts without being confined to traditional or ethnic frameworks. Yenlik’s authorial sound, shaped by contemporary production and subtle national influences, is paired with an emotionally restrained vocal delivery that has become her signature. Observers suggest it was this originality that drew the attention of the COLORS curators. Known for prioritizing authenticity over commercial success, the platform seeks artists with strong individuality and a distinctive voice, qualities that align closely with Yenlik’s creative vision. From Rejection to Recognition For Yenlik, the invitation from COLORS marked a long-awaited milestone. She had previously applied to the project without receiving a response, making the eventual outreach from the platform all the more meaningful. “When the invitation came, I was overjoyed and burst into tears,” she recalled. “This project always felt so distant. Two years ago, we submitted an application with no response. And now, COLORS reached out to us first.” The performance was filmed outside Kazakhstan and completed within a few hours. Yenlik was struck by the production’s simplicity, defined by an absence of elaborate sets and large crews, and by the quiet intimacy that has become a hallmark of COLORS. The team fostered a welcoming atmosphere, and she was even able to choose the episode’s background color, which she described as symbolizing “true gentle strength,” a visual reflection of the emotional tone of her performance. Rising Digital Momentum Yenlik’s digital presence has continued to grow steadily, with her music gaining traction among younger audiences on social media. Her songs often circulate...

TCA Interviews

“Music Is Born in Pain”: Kazakh Composer Robert Ziganshin on Inspiration, Integrity, and Creative Freedom

Robert Ziganshin is one of Kazakhstan’s most in-demand film composers. A graduate of the Lyon Conservatory in France, where he studied classical guitar and earned master’s degrees in both music for the visual arts and musicology, he returned home to rapidly establish himself in the country's film and television industry. Ziganshin’s credits include music for popular TV series and films such as Alisher Utev’s crime drama 5:32 (IMDB), the box office hit Kazakh Business in Brazil, and Malika, a feature film by Russian director Natalya Uvarova about a family of Ingush migrants. In an interview with The Times of Central Asia, Ziganshin spoke about the influence of the French school, the ethics of film composition, and why writing music “that simply comments on the action” can mean sacrificing artistic integrity. TCA: Robert, you graduated from KIMEP in Kazakhstan. How did you end up in France? Ziganshin: I’ve been passionate about music since early childhood. Even when I was playing with building blocks, I was always humming something, as if adding a soundtrack to my own stories. I didn’t get into music school, and it wasn’t until I was fifteen that I started taking private guitar lessons. There were times I practiced six hours a day. There was no higher education in classical guitar in Kazakhstan at the time, so I enrolled at KIMEP. After graduating, I applied to two conservatories in France and was accepted to the one in Lyon. TCA: Why France? Ziganshin: I spoke fluent French. My father had sent me to language school, and I took part in competitions. Later, a professor from Lyon gave a master class in Almaty, and I helped translate for him. He assessed my level and encouraged me to apply to his course. TCA: Was tuition really that affordable? Ziganshin: For foreign students, it was about €900 per year, including health insurance. Compared to the UK, it was a bargain. I spent four years there and earned a bachelor’s degree. TCA: How did you shift into composing for film? Ziganshin: I met students from the program Musique appliquée aux arts visuels, music created for film, theater, performance, and media art. I wanted to try it. The entrance exam was creative: we had to score scenes and compose music for a three-minute video in a week. I got in on my second try, only twelve of us were accepted. It was a two-year program, starting with orchestration and sound engineering, then moving into practical work on student film projects. TCA: What was the subject of your master’s thesis? Ziganshin: When should a composer start work on a film? Personally, I prefer being involved from the script stage. After finishing that degree, I also enrolled in a master’s in musicology. In 2021, I returned to Kazakhstan. I struggled to find paid work in music and almost joined my father’s printing business. I even started hand-making notebooks, neat and beautiful ones. But soon, small offers started coming in, and I returned to composing full-time, initially...

Cultural Heritage

From the Highlands to the Steppes: The Long Journey of the Bagpipe

On 28 July 2025, as the skirl of bagpipes echoed across the windswept greens of President Trump’s Turnberry golf resort, two world leaders met under the Scottish flag. U.K. Prime Minister Keir Starmer and U.S. President Donald Trump gathered for “wide-ranging talks” on trade and global conflicts — yet it was the sound of a Scottish pipe band that first captured attention. For President Trump, whose mother was born in the Outer Hebrides, the music carried a personal resonance. The bagpipe, long a symbol of Scotland’s spirit, continues to speak across generations and continents — from clan gatherings and state ceremonies to moments of diplomacy. Its sound is unmistakably Scottish: bold, mournful, and proud. Yet across the ancient world, far beyond the Highlands, other peoples once drew the same haunting tones from leather and reed — among them the nomads of what is now Kazakhstan. Echoes from the East Centuries before the first Highland marches, nomadic Turkic peoples were playing an instrument remarkably similar in design — the zhelbuaz. Crafted from goat or sheepskin and fitted with two or more reed pipes, it produced the same soulful harmony that defines the modern bagpipe. When filled with air and played from horseback or during ceremonies, it created a sound that was at once haunting and powerful, much like the music that still moves crowds today. As the people of the Central Asian steppes were largely nomadic for most of their history, there is scant hard evidence. However, early scholars described the zhelbuaz (or mes-syrnai) as an ancient wind instrument made from a single piece of animal skin or stomach. Al-Farabi wrote of a “wineskin flute” among the Turkic tribes, and the Chinese traveler Wen Sun, visiting the Orkhon region in the 7th century, reportedly recorded a Turk playing a "leather instrument with two pipes, whose sound deepens the sadness of the mourners.” The Journey Westward Over centuries, the idea of the air-filled reed instrument migrated westward — first through trade and migration, and then through cultural contact. Variants appeared in Eastern Europe: the duda in Poland, the tulum in Azerbaijan, and the musette in France. Linguists note that modern terms such as duu (meaning “song” in Mongolian) and düdük (meaning “whistle” in Turkish) suggest a shared onomatopoetic pattern for wind instruments and vocal sound across Eurasia, hinting at, though not proving, a linguistic thread connecting these distant traditions. But it was in Scotland that the instrument found its fullest voice. There, in the hands of Highland clans, it became more than music — it became identity. The Great Highland Bagpipe emerged as a call to arms, a hymn of remembrance, and a symbol of a people’s endurance. Its power lies not just in its sound, but in what it represents: honor, courage, and belonging. [caption id="attachment_38114" align="aligncenter" width="960"] Image: Ykhlas Museum of Folk Musical Instruments[/caption] The Zhelbuaz Remembered In Kazakhstan, the zhelbuaz gradually disappeared from everyday life, its haunting voice surviving only in oral memory and museum collections. Today, musician Abzal...