Being a punk in Belarus probably never was easy. Following the massive protests of 2020, brutally suppressed with violence, the members of the band PRORVA decided to leave their home in response to the overall situation and conditions in the country. Since then, they have been building their existence and musical identity in Warsaw.
PRORVA embodies dark, melancholic Cold Oi! punk, drawing inspiration from the French scene. Their music combines chilling aggression with a deep sense of sorrow. But as they say themselves, sadness and strength are not mutually exclusive—they are two sides of the same coin. Their message is clear: „Shit happens, but get up and move on.“
Read the interview with guitarist Bondar and drummer Yauhen about what it’s like to live in exile “in the shadow of empires,” the differences between Western and Eastern punk infrastructure, what DIY means to them, and whether there is any hope at all in a region that has been struggling between crises for years. It is an honest testimony about community, identity, the eternal struggle to be yourself, and whether they see light at the end of the tunnel called Prorva (Abyss).
Could you describe how Prorva was born? Where and how did you all meet?
Bondar: Hey! It’s Bondar here, guitarist of the band, and Yauhen, our drummer. We have known each other for quite some time and once met in Warsaw. I suggested playing something together, that time I wanted to play hardcore and Yauhen offered something more like Syndrome 81 or High Vis. I’ve always liked the French oi!/punk scene, had been following it for a long time, so I agreed to try something in that style. Soon Roma joined us on vocals, we had already tried to start a hardcore band with him in Warsaw, but it didn’t go further than a few rehearsals back then. A couple of months later, Artsiom joined on bass and Vlad on second guitar. And we started working on songs for our first EP.
Yauhen: We met in Warsaw some time after moving there. I really missed all the activity we used to have in Belarus: concerts, the scene, and all that. Covid, protests, no new routine, and the wish to start something fresh in a new place — all that led to creating Prorva. The choice of style was easy for me, I’ve always loved mid-tempo punk, but we wanted to add a touch of modern hopelessness.
You hail from Belarus – what was your relationship with the scene there at the time?
Bondar: We were all active in the scene. I got into the DIY scene as a teenager, around 15–16 years old. I helped organize a DIY punk football league, bus trips to festivals in Ukraine and Russia, and a punk quiz in Minsk. In 2019 I started playing guitar in a hardcore band called Tidal Force, but it went on hold after I moved to Poland in 2021.
Roma was a vocalist in the Moscow band Brud. Vlad played in a melodic hardcore band Force Events!, and a few others too.
Yauhen: Our connection with the scene was very direct, we organized punk/oi! shows, skinhead reggae parties together with “2/4 Minsk Sound System”, and of course played in bands. I played in a couple of bands (Teenage Warning, Radio Ray), and I met Bondar at football games and punk quizzes.
The other guys were also active in the scene.
What was it like growing up with punk or Oi! in an environment where things are quite different from Western Europe?
Bondar: Yeah, it was really cool! Most of us in the 2000s and early 2010s didn’t really know what things were like in Western Europe. It was fun, honest, and full of adventures with boneheads and cops. For me, the DIY approach and antifascism were always important. In Minsk, there was a great scene that was quite different from the Russian or Ukrainian ones. Of cause, there were skinhead, punk, crust, and hooligan groups, but in general, everyone knew each other and had some kind of connection.
When did you first feel that punk was more than just music for you?
Bondar: That’s a great question, and it’s something I think about sometimes too. I can give two examples from my own experience. When I finished university, I really thought I should spend less time on the scene and focus more on building a career, self-development, and so on. I lived like that for about half a year and then thought – fuck that! I realized I was losing so many emotions, genuine connections with people and adventures. So I came back to the scene 100%, and hopefully forever.
The second example is connected with emigration. My wife and I discussed a lot of different options of where to move, but for me the number one question was always: is there a punk scene there? If not, then I’m not moving there.
Who or what got you into punk? Was it a specific band, a record, or more the atmosphere of the time?
Bondar: As a teenager, I was into alternative metal (in Belarus we called it “mazafaka”), and later some friends shared music with me of local and foreign bands and I started going to DIY shows.
My favorite bands at that time were local ones like Devil Shoots Devil, Fuck It All, Appleshout, and American ones like H2O and Gorilla Biscuits.
Another big influence for me was the song “Oi Polloi – Bash the Fash.” After hearing it, I really started paying attention to antifascism.
Do you still have contact with the Belarusian scene or friends who remained back home?
Bondar: It feels like at least half of the scene, maybe even more, has left Belarus. That really hit local bands and shows hard. Yes, I still keep in touch with some people, but it’s still kind of a “long-distance relationship.” We do have contact with a local distro that sells our merch in Minsk, though. Overall, these are tough times, there’s a lot of pressure on anything independent coming from the state.
Yauhen: I still stay in touch with friends of mine, not everyone has left, and the scene is still alive. People keep doing things despite everything: organizing shows, releasing merch. It’s definitely not the easiest thing to do, but who said it would be easy?
What, in your opinion, distinguishes Belarusian and Polish (or Eastern European in general) punk from the Western strain?
Bondar: I can say a few words about the Belarusian scene. First of all, it’s quite young, cos the first punk bands appeared only in the early 90s, while in Western Europe there have already been several generations of punks.
Second, it’s about infrastructure. In Europe there are way more labels, booking agencies, venues, available instruments and connections. No visa barriers, free travel – all that helps a lot. In Belarus, it’s much worse developed.
And third – Belarus lives from one crisis to another. The standard of living is much lower, so at some point people just give up on their hobbies. Many leave the country and that’s why there’s no real continuity between generations.
Yauhen: There’s a big difference even between the Polish and Belarusian punk scenes, not to mention Western Europe. It’s all about traditions, when the scene started to form, its level, and the number and quality of bands. In Belarus, every new wave of emigration takes people away, bands break up and each new generation has to start from scratch again.
What was it like leaving home – was it more of an escape or a natural progression?
Bondar: For my family, it was mainly about the lack of any real future. We couldn’t plan anything — we just lived day by day. That’s why we decided to move to Poland. Unfortunately, now I can’t even visit my homeland anymore.
Yauhen: After the protests ended, it became clear that everything was over and a period of repression had started: arrests, people losing jobs, pressure on activists and life in a kind of vacuum. So there wasn’t much choice: either stay in Belarus and adapt or leave and try to build a new life. I left legally, it wasn’t an escape, even though I was listed in the “Riots” database (a list of protest participants). At that time, people who left the country weren’t really touched.
How does one live knowing they might never return?
Bondar: I still hope that one day I’ll be able to go back.
Yauhen: If things stay the same, I don’t really have a desire to return. I also don’t see much hope for a quick or peaceful solution. The hardest part is that we can’t even visit Belarus for a short time to see family and friends. Sometimes that really hits hard and makes you angry.
Do you feel at home in Poland, or are you still „on the road“?
Bondar: For now, this feels like a new home. But you know, once you’ve packed your things and moved once, doing it again doesn’t seem that scary. So I wouldn’t rule out moving somewhere else in the future.
Yauhen: Hundreds of thousands of Belarusians and Ukrainians have found their new home in Poland, you can really feel that, especially in Warsaw. On the streets or at shows you often meet familiar faces, so it feels kind of like home. It makes moving easier because you’re not alone. But at the same time, it’s hard to really adapt and become part of Polish society if you mostly hang out with other migrants, you end up living in a kind of bubble.
Still, you meet new people, collect new memories, find new places and that’s how the feeling of “home” starts to form.
Among Belarusians, there’s a saying: “Poland has everything except my grandpa’s house.” It’ll probably take many more years before I feel truly at home here, but the feeling of a second home is definitely there.
What does your daily life look like now?
Bondar: Seven months ago, my son was born – our first child. Right now, all my weekdays look pretty much the same: in the morning I take care of the baby, then I work, then I take care of him again. If I still have some energy left after we put him to sleep, I play guitar a bit. On weekends, I help my wife more with the baby and also try to play guitar at least a little. Between all that, I’m also trying to learn French, cos I have relatives living there.
How much does your personal experience with exile influence your lyrics and music?
Bondar: I write most of the music (though our bassist, Artsiom, also brings a lot of ideas!). I wouldn’t say that moving abroad changed our sound or style, we could’ve played the same kind of music in Belarus or anywhere else. Most of the lyrics are written by our vocalist Roma, and Yauhen writes some too. I think for them, the experience of emigration had some influence, maybe not a huge one, but it’s there. I might have a few lyrics on the next album too, but I can say for sure – emigration didn’t affect them at all.
Yauhen: I wouldn’t see our move as something dramatic, cos everyone had their own reasons. For me, it was just a natural step in life. We also don’t want to build the band’s identity around “exile” or “emigration.” We’re not victims, it’s just how life turned out. In my lyrics, I try to describe my personal view of the world and my own experiences as honestly as I can.
Do you feel that you find understanding in Poland for what you’ve been through?
Bondar: I think, in general, yes. Many people understand why Belarusians had to leave. They know there are political repressions in our country. They might not know all the details, but they get the idea.
Yauhen: People don’t often ask me about what we’ve been through. Most Poles or people from the EU live in a different information bubble, for them, another crisis outside the EU isn’t something that catches much attention. For those who lived through it, it could mean prison, exile, or personal trauma, but for outsiders, it’s just another episode in a long chain of conflicts around the world. For a short time, we had some attention and support, but a few weeks or months later, you’re on your own again. Still, we don’t look for pity or special understanding, that’s not what we need.
How has your identity transformed – do you still feel Belarusian, European, stateless punks?
Bondar: Of course, I see myself as a punk, or just someone from the subculture, that goes beyond national borders, in my opinion. But at the same time, I definitely feel Belarusian. I speak my native language (which is quite rare, since most Belarusians speak Russian), I read Belarusian books, and I keep in touch with other Belarusians here in Poland.
Yauhen: Oh, that’s a tricky one. Part of my family are ethnic Poles from western Belarus, my great-grandfather was a Polish soldier and survived a Soviet camp. I remember that story and I respect it. But I’m also Belarusian, who was raised in that culture, shaped by it. Still, nationality doesn’t define your values. A big part of who I am is punk rock – that’s a core part of my identity.
Same with our band – what are we? A Polish punk band from Belarus, or a Belarusian punk band from Poland? The line is blurry. But one thing’s for sure – we feel like part of the Polish punk scene now.
What moments are the hardest – loneliness, bureaucracy, the language barrier, the memories?
Bondar: I think it’s different for everyone. Some people struggle more with documents, some miss home or feel lonely. For me, the whole move went more or less smoothly. My wife and I supported each other a lot, and we already had a few friends in Warsaw when we arrived, later even more of our friends moved here. We can also get visas for our families in Belarus, so our parents can visit us.
Yauhen: A bit of everything, I’d say. Language and bureaucracy aren’t too bad, but our guitarist still has some legalization issues – we’ve got our fingers crossed for a positive outcome! Sometimes memories hit hard, you remember how things used to be, compare it to now and those pre-COVID times start to look almost unreal, like a quiet little world that’s gone.
And conversely – what has Poland or this new beginning given you?
Bondar: The first thing is definitely the feeling of freedom – something I probably never truly felt in Belarus. There’s no fear of the cops here and you can actually see that the law, while not perfect, still works much better than back home. Traveling around the EU is also way easier now and social life here is more open and diverse. I think for Prorva there are way more opportunities in Poland than we’d have in Belarus. It’s easier to go on tour to Czechia or Germany, and there are a lot more cool bands coming to Poland than ever came to Belarus.
Yauhen: You know, it’s still weird for me that the president and government can actually change, haha. Traveling became much easier and there’s no constant feeling that the state exists just to mess with you. Polish society is more flexible, people have different opinions and there’s some real self-organization, maybe not perfect, but moving in the right direction. Moving here made me realize the world is much bigger and more varied than I thought and it gave me more opportunities than I expected. Sounds simple, but it’s true.
How do your songs come together – starting with a lyric, a riff, or a mood/atmosphere?
Bondar: It really depends, we don’t have one set formula for how we make songs. Sometimes someone brings a full track and we just adjust the parts for each member and add the lyrics. Sometimes someone comes to rehearsal with a riff or an idea and we develop it together until it becomes a full song, then lyrics are added. Other times, we already have a finished text and the vocalist sings it and we write the music around that vocal line. “Turma” was the first song we ever started playing, Roma brought the lyrics and I wrote the whole music based on his vocal part. “Smuga” for example, grew from a riff by Artsiom, we worked on it together at rehearsals, then he finished all the instrumental parts and we only made a few small arrangement tweaks. So it was the teamwork, but Artsiom did most of the work on that one.
Who among you writes the lyrics, and what process is behind it?
Yauhen: I wrote some of the lyrics on both releases, but like Bondar said, there’s no fixed process. I don’t have a perfect formula for writing lyrics, sometimes it just comes from a need to express certain thoughts, like with the track “Mury“, which reflects on the first year of emigration for me and the people around me. Or “U Cieni Impieryj”, that one was born out of a desire to talk about our region’s fate and what it means to have an asshole imperial neighbor.
Bondar: Most of the lyrics were written by our vocalist Roma. Vlad also wrote the lyrics for “Dryhva” and one of the new tracks for the upcoming album.
When I listen to your material, I sense sadness but also strength – is this intentional?
Bondar: From the very beginning we wanted the music to sound sad and the vocals to be aggressive. If you noticed that, then I guess we did it right.
Yauhen: Yeah, that was the plan! In our music, sadness and strength don’t contradict each other. We don’t want our songs to sound like self-pity or paralysis. It’s more like saying “yeah, shit happens, but get up and move on”. That’s our version of “sadness with balls”, so the listener doesn’t feel alone but finds support and strength to keep going.
Do you work with a specific sonic vision? Do you aim for a raw and abrasive sound, or is it deliberately cold, even detached?
Bondar: We often discuss the overall sound of the band. Usually we try to find a balance between “too heavy” and “too light”, because someone in the band wants to add a fat riff and someone else wants more melody, like with picking parts. So we look for a compromise.
We found the sound of the cold lead guitar pretty quickly, and it didn’t change much through the first two EPs. We also talked about how the bass should sound – with chorus, in a post-punk way or more rough and heavy. But our bassist Artyom said right away he wanted the bass to sound strong, so that part was decided pretty fast too.
How important is the aesthetic (covers, photos, visual style) to you?
Bondar: For me, artwork is important. I think it should be a creative piece and look high-quality. Usually I argue with Yauhen about how the final version should look because we like different things. It takes a lot of time and effort, but in my opinion, the covers of our EPs turned out great, I really like them.
Yauhen: The visuals are definitely important, we want to create the right atmosphere for each release. Maybe we spend too much time on it, but in our band everyone wants to make a contribution and express their ideas. For me, the best design was the one I made in just a few days for our first concert – I completely got into the mood, the idea came naturally, and we accepted the design without any changes.
The atmosphere of your music reminds me of the current wave of mostly French but also other bands who draw heavy inspiration from post-punk – sometimes called „cold wave“ or „cold oi!“ – is this a natural evolution, or a conscious decision?
Bondar: It was more a conscious decision. Our main reference is the French scene. In terms of sound and vibe, we were clearly inspired by Syndrome 81, Collision, Prisonnier du temps, Rancoeur, Bromure. By the way, in Belarus and Russia this style was often called Post-Oi!, which was never really used in Western Europe. But I think Rancoeur helped to secure the name Cold Oi! for this sound, so let it be that way. For us it’s still melancholic punk rock with aggressive vocals.
What bands or genres most influenced you while creating Prorva?
Yauhen: It’s no secret that our main influence is the modern French scene and other bands from different countries playing in a similar style – from a lighter sound (Litovsk, Chain Cult, Condor, I Walk the Line) to more skinhead and raw (Rancoeur, Criminal Damage, Gurs) or even hardcore (Coupe Gorge). I think this kind of music is having a kind of renaissance now. Of course other members would name different bands, but this general direction and style united all of us.
Who brings the musical ideas, and how do you work together?
Bondar: Most of the work on the tracks is done either by me or our bassist Artsiom. I’m usually more active with the final arrangements, but everyone in the band shares their ideas and suggestions. Then we try to finish everything together and not argue too much. Vlad, our rhythm guitarist, also brought a few riffs to rehearsals that we developed together and from that came songs like “ Žyć nasupor” and “U Cieni Imperyj”.
Has your creative process changed since your first EP? Do you feel like you’ve found your „own language“ yet?
Bondar: Like I said, we don’t really have one single formula. Some songs are written and developed at home and then shared with everyone and some are created together during rehearsals. Right now we’re working on material for our first album. Most of the polishing and finishing will probably happen during rehearsals because having a small child takes a lot of time and it’s harder to focus on writing music at home than before.
What does the name Prorva mean to you?
Bondar: I was actually against this name, haha. But all my suggestions were rejected by the guys and I agreed on Prorva. I don’t think there was any deep or sacred meaning behind it, we just wanted something that sounded good and not overused. By the way, the name was suggested by Roma, our vocalist.
Yauhen: There were dozens of options, but among the ones that sounded good and had some meaning, Prorva stood out. It didn’t happen right away, only after some time we realized that this name really fit us. Literally, it means “bottomless pit” or “abyss without end”, and it carries a certain sense of despair and hopelessness, which matches our mood. A couple of months ago I was thinking about it and tried to explore this theme in a new lyric:
“падаць у бездань ілюзій, у пошуках мар
чапляцца за край, што знікае ў цені
цягне ў цемру, у Прорву, дзе мгла
ў абдымках пустэчы згубіцца ў глыбіні”
which translates as
“falling into the abyss of illusions, in search of dreams
grabbing the edge fading in the shadows
pulled into the darkness, into the Prorva, where fog
embraces the void and disappears in the depth”
The motif of darkness, shadow, and decay appears in your lyrics – where does this come from?
Bondar: I don’t know, maybe from the darkest corners of our vocalist Roma’s soul? Each of us has our own problems and experiences – some struggle with work and money, some with loneliness and mental issues, some with addiction. Add six months of grey skies above your head, political chaos and war in our region – that’s more than enough ground for dark lyrics and heavy music.
You write heavily about despair and anxiety – do you also see any hope within that?
Bondar: As our bassist Artsiom once said when we discussed this, we really want to see the light at the end of the tunnel. We want to talk about struggles and what people go through, but rather through a feeling of anger, not fear.
Could you elaborate on what the tracks from the EP U cieni impieryj (In the Shadow of Empires) are about?
Yauhen:
“U cieni impieryj” – when I wrote the lyrics, I was thinking about the reality we’re forced to live with, either in despair or with hope. Empires eventually collapse and give a chance to exist beyond their influence, but until then, the threat of aggression or hidden control always hangs over us. It’s hard to say when this will end, or if it ever will.
“Smuha” (lyrics by Roma) is a reflection on the past that’s gone and became something distant. You’re not even sure anymore if it really happened, it feels unreal.
“Dryhva” (lyrics by Vlad) – it’s about the feeling of wandering through a city that isn’t quite home, but not foreign either. It pulls you in like a swamp, and you don’t even mind. It’s about searching for yourself, about the questions you ask but can’t answer. “Pills can numb the pain, but what will save you from yourself?”
„Living in the shadow of empires“ – what does that phrase mean to you? Is it a metaphor for politics, or more a personal feeling?
Yauhen: Unfortunately this is just the reality of the region and the world in general. It is not only about the post-Soviet space. Almost the whole world lives in between centers of power and the fate of countries is decided by signatures on paper. Empires change names but the essence is the same: some dictate, others have to obey or fight for their identity. Living in the shadow of an empire is a constant struggle to be yourself.
When you play these songs live, is it a form of catharsis for you, or more a reminder of the pain?
Bondar: For me this is more like catharsis. I love performing, I love the stage, I love when people get wild under the stage, later I really enjoy talking with the audience after the concert. For me in forming bands live shows were always the first priority
Yauhen: For me live concerts are one of the most important parts of making music, pure joy to give and get energy
Does your perception of these lyrics change over time?
Yauhen: Maybe over time the way we see lyrics changes. Context changes and we change ourselves. But I want to write songs that are always relevant, that show the hidden parts of life. We try to keep the meaning honest and alive, like a snapshot of the time we lived in and what we felt.
Bondar: I think it is still too early to ask this question. Our first EP came out 1.5 years ago. Not much time has passed to rethink things. I hope in 10 years we come to your interview, then this question will be more relevant
How do you view the current situation in Eastern Europe – Belarus, Ukraine, Russia?
Bondar: The situation is complicated and bad. The war in Ukraine set the whole region back by decades, with hundreds of thousands killed, cities and infrastructure destroyed, and massive emigration. The region is going through a wave of reflection on the collapse of the USSR, struggles between the old Soviet approach of coercion and democratic, humanistic ideas. In Belarus, during the protests, people were resisting these same ideas. I really hope things end with some kind of step toward liberalization in politics and social life. But if you look at the history of our region over the centuries, there is not much to expect positively. Life goes from one disaster to the next
Do you perceive Prorva as a political band?
Yauhen: I don’t think so. I try to reflect on my own experiences and feelings, to think about what happens in people’s lives and in the region, but in our lyrics there is no desire to convince or force people to see things our way. Politics is always blind faith in one “right” viewpoint, but the world is not just black and white. We try to look at things more broadly. Loud slogans or political statements don’t matter to us, they change too often.
What does the word „resistance“ mean to you?
Yauhen: It’s about wanting to have your own identity and principles, not to change depending on circumstances, not to make deals with your conscience.
How do your experiences from the protests in Belarus translate into your music?
Bondar: In my view it doesn’t matter. For me the protests started in the mid-2000s, 2020 was just the peak. My vision of what the country should be like in 2020 hasn’t changed. The state just showed again that it will do anything to keep power. All our tracks could have been created the same way and would have been relevant in 2010 or 2019 as well.
Does punk still have the power to change anything today, or is it now more of a personal escape?
Bondar: I think so. Punk continues to teach a critical approach, explains why you should stand against discrimination, encourages defending people’s freedoms, spreads vegetarianism, gives people in the subculture a chance to develop useful self-organization skills and creative self-expression. Being part of the punk rock community is what influenced my life the most. And if someone joins the punk scene today, they can learn and gain the same things I did.
How has the Polish scene received you?
Yauhen: This could be written separately, as a post to thank the people who helped organize our shows and welcomed us warmly. This includes the Warsaw and Polish scene in general, people we met at concerts and festivals, in both big and small cities. It is really important for us to receive such support and care from completely new people.
Bondar: I want to mention the people who helped us the most at the start: the Warsaw booking “Bloody Cucumber,” “Warsaw Punks” with Bartek, and the “DIY Koło” label. Greetings to all of them and big thanks for the support!
What are your experiences playing shows in the Czech Republic or elsewhere?
Yauhen: Outside Poland we’ve played only once – in Brno, Czech Republic. The reception was warm and we had a good time with local people. We plan to do a mini tour in nearby countries and of course we hope to play in our homeland someday.
Bondar: I’d add that we went to play at an event that was organized in support of the Belarusian anarchists, in particular Igor Alinevich. I read his book “I’m Going to Magadan” and I think every Belarusian should read it. I also know some people personally who are mentioned in the book. Brno is a wonderful city, it was a pleasure to play there, and we would gladly come back and visit other Czech cities!
What are your plans going forward – new recordings, concerts, collaborations? And where would you like to take Prorva in the coming years?
Bondar: Right now our main focus is working on the album. Feels like we’re about halfway there. I think the album will vibe together like our first EPs. There will be some tracks with more riff influence, some more melodic and colder tracks. But we also want to bring something new in our compositions, sound, and lyrics.
Yauhen: Work on the new release is going full speed. I want to focus on that, but also play more shows, because for me live concerts always give me the energy to keep going.
And a final question: Is there anything you’d like to share that I haven’t asked about? Now is your moment, let’s hear it…
Bondar: Finally, I want to thank you for the great, well-thought-out questions. It was really interesting to reflect on the topics you suggested. Thanks to all the readers and participants of the independent punk/oi!/hardcore scene. And remember, true participation in the scene starts when you bring something to it. Play music, organize shows and labels, make zines, take photos and videos at concerts. All of this will make the scene stronger and give you a lot of new connections, opportunities, and adventures!
Diskografie :
Recha EP (DIY KOŁO Records, 2024)
U cieni impieryj EP (DIY, 2025)
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/prorva.punk/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/prorva.punx
Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@prorva_punk
