How Grrizli Madams Whirled the Universe Around and Blazed a Trail to the Core of a Heart That Hasn’t Rotted Yet (2012)

Arhiv Arhiv Last updated 11 June 2026

Photos: Aleš Podbrežnik

Location: Ljubljana / Gala hala (Metelkova) / Slovenia
Concert date: April 12, 2012
Attendance: 150
Ticket price: €0.00

Domorodni četrtki have long been the time when miracles go off every so often at Ljubljana’s Metelkova, smack in the middle of the week, no matter the alignment of the stars, the wait for paychecks to land in plundered bank accounts, or the weather. Last week’s gig was one of those – an all-Slovenian underground phenomenon that doesn’t show up on our stages all that often, which doesn’t mean it isn’t running at full subversive power. Grrizli Madams are, quite unjustly, one of the lesser-known and well-guarded open secrets of the Slovenian underground world of fine alternative. Truth be told – plenty of people until recently didn’t even know we have a really good, hard-hitting, potent stoner scene, let alone that ideas are being born in garages and basements with such a serious pair of balls that their studio releases can compete with names from the world scene. But still, like I said – sweet miracles know how to pleasantly surprise us every once in a while.

The trip to the very heart of Ljubljana’s alternative paradise, Metelkova, was a total no-brainer this time – I was bursting with curiosity about how the excellent studio adventure called SNTNTN sounds live. I’m not sure the definition of Grrizli Madams as a Posavje trio with a stoner helmsman still holds, because I set off for Gala Hala with a flash of insight that geographic hair-splitting is completely pointless this time. For the last few weeks I just can’t shake the feeling of waves and tremors of happiness in my otherwise pretty pessimistic soul lately, and this time the wave of endorphins was set off by a chain reaction of non-formulaic sweets that three youngsters cooked up in a truly global, worldwide way and, best of all, without needless fuss, long speeches or screaming neon announcements. SNTNTN is born! Time for a loud celebration, dancing and group meditation in clouds of smoke, intoxicating group meditation, live stage experiments and a test of whether beer in cans really is more drinkable than the stuff in bottles – and entry to this gala dance of surprises was still free, so no needless excuses.

Around nine o’clock the interior of Ljubljana’s slightly renovated epicenter of alternative started filling up. The sounds of the band’s own pick of music drifted from the speakers – alongside alternative excesses, among which I could swear Melvins and Fantomas sneaked in, and I was even longing for some Mastodon somewhere in there, without luck (it may of course have been a figment of my imagination, tangled up in the fine texture of mumbling and feverish anticipation for the big premiere of this fine trio) – and the positive stage fright kept building both on stage and below it. Crowds of loyal alternative fans and friends of the band poured into the hall and took up the front battle lines, and in the muffled half-light of the discreet stage lighting, life on stage slowly awoke too. Bassist Miha Vodušek was checking the last settings on his bass amp in front of a flag that could easily have been the banner of a war tribe, guitarist Matej Hočevar was making sure the strings on his Gibson were in tune, and the last indispensable member of the rhythmic trio had taken his seat behind the drums – drummer Gašper Prus. The opening chords of Vrtinec from the EP released two years ago rolled out of the speakers, and from there the boys slide into the first blow on the live side of the concert bell. Utelešešnje follows, in which the soul gets blown into a thick haze of rhythmic simplicity. The guitar in the hands of short-haired, punkish guitarist Matej crackles, and over a speeding rhythm of simple, expected but oh-so-sweet chords it intertwines with the fat, synchronized and above all decisive tempo of the hard-hitting rhythm duo of bassist Miha and pounding drummer Gašper. Grrizli bites down hard and without holding back, and the sweat streaming down their foreheads says this gig will be anything but a leisurely stroll in the park, because these youngsters take their business damn seriously. A ballistic missile of hard, solid, organic directness gets kneaded into the first intravenous dose of wordless communication between three minds who don’t care about small mistakes and corrections, only about fully feeling the pure essence of the moment. The heart chakra is happily and fully open.

The crowd starts to sway, and after the echoes of static it’s time to introduce the firstborn. Azul Intruso sounds even more violent live than on the record, and the loosened, slightly out-of-tune guitars don’t get in the way of a perfect lock-on to the mists of the Nebula. Miha and Matej step up to the microphones and scream out their guttural rage for the first time. The lyrics don’t get any clearer to me, but I still comfort myself that words are of secondary importance. A slightly broken, arrhythmic stampede makes it clear that the beauty of Grrizli Madams lies in furrowed, brutal playfulness. The riffs line up as if they’d been bet on, and Gašper, with energetic and uncompromising hits on the skins in a metal-meets-jazz way, steals the spotlight, so that eyes keep wandering off on their own to the right side of the stage. Grrizli Madams are three individuals carrying out a simultaneous exercise in complete musical egalitarianism, which is why the drums are lined up in the same row as the bass and guitar. This perfect sonic democracy sounds chaotic at moments, but in the best possible sense, since the soulful glue between all the parts is stronger than the toughest concrete. Bridget sails off into calmer, less distorted waters. Flanger on the guitar, jazzy drums and nearly bossa nova tapping on the drums calm the passions, and among the red lights of Ljubljana’s Metelkova a tangle weaves itself like an alabaster of dark secretions of heart’s blood and sensuality, thanks to which the applause and enthusiasm among the proverbially dead Ljubljana crowd keep growing. I only miss the voice of Spanish-fiery Luka, and the story would be complete. Khakhua Kumu comes next, played a bit faster than on the record, but the dance countdown doesn’t suffer one bit, while a little more nervous suspense is brought in by a hard-sounding gem of slightly less glossy shine, though by no means pointless rhythmizing, in the track Žnarowc.

So as not to fire off all the ammo of the newer date in one go, the Grrizlis steer onto the elliptical orbit of the record V Vrtincu vsemogočnega miru. Ton Ton Macoute Sux is one of the more sensual, bloodthirsty tracks from the debut. The dualism of fragile acoustics and thunderous megalomania of the most authentic garage extract gives the Posavje, pardon – Koseze – Posavje trio its charm, and I fell in love with that eruptive experience of a murderous stoner-metal combo live in one go. I only feel a slight disappointment that Motionless Euphoria, in its flamenco-dreamy guise as we know it from the record, doesn’t sound quite as gallant and Andalusian-gorgeous live, but the thundering buildup of Prehodne kuhne is anything but boring or stuttering. I love this buildup of drums and bass and the playful weaving in of thin, breath-infused guitar distortions! After the collapse of the soup cube, or the track Collapse Of Soup Cube, it seems there’s nothing left to add. Collapse is the perfect vignette of the feelings Grrizli Madams are able to weave into their steel loom of musical expression, a miniature of their whole universe that deserves a standing ovation and applause. The trio is tight, and in a peculiarly dissected, perfect way lets you know that their path climbs to new heights with each passing day, and where the final destination lies would be foolish, pointless and wasteful to ponder. This is also confirmed by the solid and lovely encore of the new-old combination. After the alternative treat Vitognev The Furious, which in its own special way of jazzy dissonance sets out to tickle the last smoothed-over areas of still-unirritated nerve endings. All that’s missing is an outro that would make it easier to tell the end from the beginning, but that’s not even necessary, since the final dot on the i in the mosaic of this concert disconnect is put there by the carcass of the 2010 debut’s would-have-been hit. Darko closes the gig, and after the taped outro of the already-heard Žnarowc, all that’s left is time for goodbyes and a less destructive ending to the evening. Sweated through to the bone, the Grrizlis wring the last atoms of energy out of their souls and hearts and reap a wave of praise and a roaring applause, and the invisible curtains can close this wonderful evening somewhere around midnight, as one of those moments we’ll still be remembering.

I know, I can only speak for myself, but the fact is that few can match the ten-ton power of the untamable Grrizli. There’s no room for pedantic engravings and flirting with glitz. Grrizli Madams are (like the similarly named hero of that show from our childhood) rebels with a cause. There’s no room for labeling and calls to conformity. That’s exactly why I can’t resist falling for the gloomy beauty of both records, and I believe I’d happily listen to them even more often live. But no pressure and no overblown expectations, please. Just as perfume in small bottles can be even more precious than if it were poured into barrels by the hectoliter, too much fabricating can let poison and the seed of decay creep into the unspoiled heart of a bear truly dear to me, so all I wish for the boys is that they follow their own inner tempo, leave the metronomes of an always-ravenous audience and always irritatingly curious media aside, and keep the center of gravity of their mental world unblemished and firm. Vrtinec and SNTNTN are, I believe, only the beginning of a beautiful musical epic that has only just started being written, and every masterpiece needs practice, patience and time. And Grrizli Madams, thank God, know how to measure it out in their own way, the way that suits them. May there be no room for half-measures and instant meals in the future either.

Setlist

1. Vrtinec (taped intro)
2. Utelešenje
3. Azul Intruso
4. Chapinero Alto
5. Bridget
6. Khakhua Kumu
8. Žnarowc
9. Ton Ton Macoute Sux
10. Motionless Euphoria
11. Transitional Kitchen
12. Collapse of Soup Cube
—encore—
13. Vitognev the Furious
14. Darko
15. Žnarowc (taped outro)