LIANA HRYTSA AND LEON VOVNYAR: SHÉLEST Isn’t About Words — It’s About Feelings

SHÉLEST is a Ukrainian rock band that formed through an interesting symbiosis: Liana, who spent a long time searching for herself in music and eventually found her path after several performances in collaboration with Leonid — and Leonid himself, who knew since the age of 15 that he wanted to create his own songs, and dreamed of forming a rock band with a female vocalist during his student years.

Recently, they became the winners of the Ukrainian competition held in London, Chervona Ruta, and are now actively working on their debut album — the first in a series of “elemental” albums, each one inspired by natural phenomena such as fire, air, and earth.

Liana Hrytsa and Leon Vovnyar shared with Drive Music Media the beginning of their journey, their experience at Chervona Ruta, and the deeper meanings behind their new song «Chomu?» (Why?).

Interviewer: Before you formed the actual band, before you started performing… before you began dating — what came before all that? What was the beginning of your journey into music? Why did you decide to choose this path?

Leon: By the time I turned fifteen, my dad gave me a guitar. That’s when it all started — this idea began to form: Why should I only play covers? At first I thought I’d maybe learn some popular songs or classic melodies… but then I realized — those are someone else’s songs. So I asked myself, Why not create something of my own?

I had this neighbor who was about a year and a half older than me. He was into extreme vocals—really into it—and he also played a bit of drums. Then there was our friend, who would just sit on his phone all the time and show up to rehearsals half-present. One day he said, “Okay, let me try something too.”

We were renting this garage space, and that’s a story on its own. We were in a military town, and this big garage co-op was attached to it. One day we were just hanging out in the courtyard, and some guy from the military rode by on his bike, heading to the store. He heard us playing guitar and stopped. He said they had a garage and invited us to join them.

The other two guys bailed, but I showed up alone. And when I walked into that garage, I was stunned — there were drums, speakers, a full kilowatt sound system. And they just looked at me and said, “Go get your guitar.”

So we started playing some military-themed songs — like The Cranberries, that kind of vibe. Around that time, I had just started my first year of college. By profession, I’m actually a cook —that’s another side of me, another part of my soul.

And then about six months in, they told me we’d be playing a gig for Air Force Day — as a real band. I ended up stepping in for the guitarist, and that’s when it hit me: I need to create something of my own.

That’s when it all really began. I was 16, and I started getting into this nighttime state — writing my own songs late at night. I knew like four chords. The military guys we were around kept saying, “Don’t play everything in 4/4 — add an intro, do a bridge, make some transitions.”

And that’s how it all started.

We had our own five songs that we’d just play in a loop. But they were ours. That was our reason to meet, to create.

And I remember, it was a kind of depressive time. Like, recently someone said on TV, “You’re the lost generation”— we’re the kids of the ‘90s.

Interviewer: That’s not true. The future rests on us. We’re the ones balancing between two eras.

Liana: Exactly.

Leon: So we named our first band Your Broken Dreams. We started writing lyrics straight from our personal feelings — 15, 16 years old. First heartbreaks, that teenage phase. We felt like we were already grown — mentally older than our years.

And that’s how it all began. It just… kept going from there.

Liana: My first vocal lessons were when I was 16. There was a teacher from Truskavets — I came to her for singing lessons. She listened to me and said, “Alright, I have a competition in a week. You’re going.” I said okay. And I ended up winning first place. She, as my teacher, won the Grand Prix, and I got first place.

She believed in me so much — and honestly, that was a key moment. Now, looking back, I realize how much of a push that gave me. It was the first time I truly felt someone believed in me. In my family, up until I was 16, it was more like, “Well, you sing, that’s nice,” but no one ever said I was talented. It was always like, “Go study something else.”

Then at 17, I moved to Poland — and that’s when things got really interesting. First of all, I had to support myself from the age of 17.

I was given just 500 zloty and told, “Alright, Liana, do what you want.” I was basically thrown into the deep end — and I had chosen it myself, sure — but I was still underage, trying to figure out how to earn money on my own.

I used to hand out flyers starting at 6 in the morning. That part had nothing to do with music, but still — it wasn’t until I turned 25 that I really understood the path I wanted to take. I still had to study, but I’d already had those defining moments — like that music competition — that stayed with me.

There, in Poland, I also had a teacher who took me to competitions. I traveled around the country to different music events. Eventually, I moved to a bigger city — before that, I was living in Toruń.

I’d say my adult, conscious life started when I was 19, in Poznań, when we moved there for the third year of Hebrew studies. That’s where I started attending vocal meetups. It was then that I realized I was drawn to this — people believed in me, and my voice was something worth being heard.

After that, I started going to different auditions. At first, small ones — and then came The Voice of Poland. But the contract they offered was awful for an artist. It tied you down for years, and you couldn’t collaborate or do anything outside of it. It felt like a prison. You had to report every move you made.

At the same time, I realized those conditions weren’t right for me, so I applied to another competition — and ended up reaching the semifinals.

Back then, I wasn’t even sure if I loved music that much. But now? Now I live and breathe it.

Leon: Music has always been important to me, and I knew clearly that I wanted to be in it. I used to listen to Rammstein without really understanding what they were singing about. I’d look up translations here and there, but I didn’t fully get it. Still, I’d read all of Wikipedia about them — how the band lineup changed, their history... I was completely immersed in music. And all of that pushed me to want to write my own story.

Liana: For me, songs were written — but I didn’t know who to trust. And then I met Leon. That’s when a kind of dissonance appeared. People were writing songs for me, but I wasn’t living through them. There was nothing there. I was a performer, a product. Even though I was showing parts of myself and some songs were based on my experiences…

Interviewer: But there’s something about "The Voice of Poland" talent show system — is it really worth it? Or does it just end up breaking artists?

Liana: You have to be ready to lose. You might not make it to the final. But even reaching the semifinals — that’s already a journey. I didn’t make it to the final, but I made it all the way from the first selection to the semifinal. From filming a simple video in some park to being at the casting — doing it all by myself — and realizing, “They chose me for the semifinal.” That alone meant I was talented.

And in that moment, you begin to truly value your gift. It’s a difficult path, because you never know if you’ll make it to the end. But I learned to live in the process. I learned to be grateful that the universe was giving me chances to show who I am.

At one point, I was invited to perform at a concert in Poland, and that show left a mark on me. The venue was one of the biggest, where major Polish stars perform — and I had the chance to share the stage with them. It was already during the war.

When you step onto a huge stage like that, your breath catches — but you embrace that experience, standing there with a full orchestra.

And after that, I wasn’t ready to go back to smaller stages. That sound, that feeling — it no longer fit me. And then came the voices saying, “There are so many like you. You’re nothing special.”

Right after the talent show, I met Leon — he came to me for vocal lessons...

Leon: I came to Liana’s vocal lessons with my songs — some old, some new. I just played them for her, and she said we should work on them. That’s when something clicked. My foundation met her experience — and then her experience met my edits.

This collaboration lasted from winter all the way through to summer. And that’s how our student–teacher story ended.

Then one day, we ended up at a pub, and someone suggested, “Why don’t you two do something Slavic? A Slavic festival.”

Liana: In the end, I agreed. It was a cover festival. By then, we had taken a break after the lessons — he was in his own relationship, I was in mine. But we played that concert together… and we realized this wasn’t the end.

Our next show was in April. At the beginning of the full-scale war, we were doing a lot of volunteer work through music.

Before Leon, I used to perform with backing tracks. But after playing with him live, I realized — I only wanted to play with guitar from then on. That’s when I knew: this is the direction I want to take.

For me, it’s all about live music.

Then we brought in another guitarist, and as we kept growing, I applied to a talent show. And Leon saw it firsthand — the moment when they told me, “There are so many like you.”

Interviewer: And what happened next?

Leon: Basically, at that time, I was no one to Liana — not even a friend, and I had no right to interfere in the situation. But that was the moment I showed her my first real feelings.

And when I realized she was still listening to him, I slammed the door.

But a week later, we decided to keep going anyway.

Liana: One day, he came to me after work with his guitar... and after that, for the first time, I started writing songs on my own.

And for the first time, I actually wanted to share them with the world.

And then — he shows up again, with his chords...

Leon: One time at a restaurant, someone asked us, “Hey, can you play that song you two wrote together?” We agreed.

And when we played it, we realized it was so alive, so close to people’s hearts. There’s no one who hasn’t experienced a breakup. That’s our story.

Liana: It really connected with people. And that’s when we started writing our own songs. In 2023, we said thanks and goodbye to covers. I’d throw together some lyrics, go to him, he’d play chords, and I’d feel everything in my body… That’s how “Oy Oy Oy” was born.

And when we played, he’d say, “I really love your voice.” But he was in a relationship, and I’m not the type to push. My melody line would be in my head, and he’d bring it to life on the guitar.

Leon: The band playing after us lent us their drums. Liana wasn’t happy with the mic and said she wouldn’t sing until they brought a decent one.

Two guitars, no bass line... it sounded flat, but it was alive. We showed that this was the birth of a band — like a newborn coming into the world.

Next time we played at the same place, and Liana was already on bass. Our first concert was unforgettable — we actually did it. We showed ourselves as honestly as possible.

We realized, if it’s great — great. If it’s not — well, next time it’ll be better.

Interviewer: Why “SHELEST”?

Leon: At first, it was Double L — Liana and Leon. Then we invited Roman — and that made us a trio. Then I thought “A Trio” sounded cool, but when I checked Spotify, there was already a band with that name.

One day I came home from work thinking about what to name the band. The memories of the mountains came to me — I’m from Ivano-Frankivsk, and we used to take a guitar on hiking trips. I loved how the wind would sway everything. shelest — which means “rustle” or “whisper” in Ukrainian.

I came up with the name without much thought, but I knew people would ask why later. It reminded me of my teenage years — you never want to choose something bad because, well, whatever you name it, you’ll get criticized.

I felt that transition, that wind. Now, in my mature years, I see shelest as a guide of feelings. In the sound of that wind, there’s the connection between voice and instrument. It’s something that can carry human emotions over a distance without words. SHELEST isn’t about words — it’s about feelings. That understanding matured over time.

Interviewer: What was the preparation process like for Chervona Ruta?

Liana: I’m dependent on him. I need the instrument. I’m the band manager, he’s the family manager — so we don’t always have time.

Leon: I have to be extremely careful at work — if I cut a finger on my left hand, that means two weeks without playing.

We get up early and prepare. There were a lot of fights — almost breakups. The backstage stuff — it’s important to show. We learned to show each other our weaknesses. That it’s okay to fall apart when you’re tired… those are nervous breakdowns.

Then comes the talk. That’s what holds us and saves us.

Leon: It’s okay not to bottle it up, but your partner has to understand that it’s important to express those emotions.

Liana: Music brought us back. Our shared creativity brought us back to life.

Leon: They say the best sex is after a fight. We say — go out and perform.

Interviewer: Which song is your favorite to perform, and which one feels the most personal or meaningful to you?

Leon: The album we’re working on is like an audio film. You listen to the album, and you hear an intro that flows into a story — all accompanied by poetry. The narrative moves from the powerful impact of war and the heroine waiting for it, to the main character letting go of the bad, releasing toxicity.

The last song really hits me — it’s in both Polish and Ukrainian. It’s called “Fifteen.” For me, it’s about a mature woman walking barefoot in the mountains, loudly declaring that she will no longer live in fear. I’d play that song at every concert. The winds tear away rusty old fears.

Liana: The track “Disappointed” — it’s right in the middle of the album. Disappointment in people — how do you say that concisely? I’m writing a song about it. Lots of people ask me to record it, but right now it only exists as a live version.

We’re working on the first song of the album called “Why.” I want it to finally see the light of day. But that doesn’t mean the whole album is dark. It covers different periods of life… including the lively track “Oy Oy Oy.” Where do you find inspiration? People often ask… It comes from life. From our lives.

Interviewer: Tell us about the Chervona Ruta festival.

Liana: Chervona Ruta is a festival that took place in London for the first time. And it wasn’t just for Ukrainians — that’s what I was told. We want to step into the British and international scene. And you could feel it, especially when British people came. Chervona Ruta was a great step in that direction. I’m heading to Lviv this September. I had a dream to perform on my birthday — and my birthday’s in September. And I’m not going there as Liana. I’m going as SHELEST.

Leon: We picked three songs for Chervona Ruta.

Liana: We performed Chomu (Why), P’yatnadtsyatka (ed. Fifteen), and Freedom. CHOMU is the first track on the debut album, Fifteen is the final one, and Freedom — it’ll either make it into the album or be released as a single. And before the festival, we completely reworked it. Changed the sound entirely.

Interviewer: How was «CHOMU» written?

Liana: The first lines were, «Nu skazhy, skazhy chomu, ty tsvitesh lysh navesni…» — “Tell me, tell me why you only bloom in spring.” I don’t know where it came from — it felt like it came from the cosmos. I didn’t overthink it, I just wrote. There was sadness in it. It was war. I was writing from this place where a woman fears that her man might not come back. That feeling… When everything around is blooming, the woman is blooming too. «Ta skazhu, skazhu chomu — bo pishov ty na viynu, i ne svityt’ bil’she sontse tam…» — “Then I’ll tell you why — because you went to war, and the sun doesn’t shine there anymore…” That’s the key moment. It was a universal emotional response to the war.

Even before the full-scale invasion, I had written a poem about war. And then, when it all started — it was like I already felt it coming. I had no idea where it came from.

It was all intuitive. And that’s the best kind of writing — not forced, not artificial. Not something made with ChatGPT — you know? (laughs) I mean, sure, sometimes you can ask it about grammar, especially in English, but that’s it.

Interviewer: When can we expect the album?

Leon: We’re not setting any deadlines. A lot of artists finish their album and then say they’re working on one. We’d rather just make it first — and then talk about it.

Interviewer: What’s one word each of you would use to describe the music you create?

Liana: Dreamy.

Leon: Vast. Because this music is for everyone. For all.

Questions and writing the interview Asya Radko

Pictures were provided by SHÉLEST