Artist: Brencl Banda
Label: Celinka
Release: 2013
Length: 41:35
Rating: 4.2/5
By the time the second album from Brencl Banda, the lads from Bistrica ob Sotli, landed in my hands, I could say with a bit more confidence that when it comes to chewing over the original music of Slovenia’s preachers of ethno fusion, tango and free acoustic experimentation, there would be no total enigma this time. I’d seen the guys on stage at this year’s HISTeRIA festival, so there couldn’t be any big changes in approach, right? The recipe of loyalty to traditional patterns from the dusty records of our grandpas and grandmas does seep out of every pore of Vetrova svatba, but the men who invited us to Zemljin ples a few years back have this time breathed more serious, more autumnal undertones into their sound, instead of the lively vibes and merrymaking. It’s probably a phase of growing up and maturing, one that in no way dents the sweetness and nectar of quality, unfussy acoustic music. Instead of rehashing what we’ve already heard, they went for a quality upgrade, and beneath the surface of a seemingly identical band a fresher wind of creativity and a few slightly atypical moves started to blow. In the three years since, Brencli have shuffled the deck and shaken up the lineup a bit. Soft-handed violinist Polona Žalec now only grabs the mic, and her spot on violin goes to a new member, the talented Klemen Bračko. The rest of the musical nucleus stays the same, except that accordionist and vocalist Rok Šinkovec, guitarist Andrej Boštjančič Ruda and charismatic double bassist Matija Krivec have deliberately set out this time not just to entertain, but to lead the listeners, through the rush of love, concisely along. They probably won’t be dancing this time, but they’ll sure get nicely lost in a daydream over nine wonderfully connected songs.
Vetrova svatba as a whole sounds like something out of the sixties or early seventies. Instead of steep Slavic melos, the collective of fearless Brencli this time reached, alongside their pop-song leanings, for acoustic folk, tango, blues and gypsy rhythms, and the pluralism of musical influences radiates a desire for more complex musical seduction. After a resolute tango-tinged opening with Gustavson D, timed to some decisive guitar sounds and accordion, with a violin lurking somewhere in the background and melting into the sound of stretched-out bellows (which aren’t Alpine in the slightest this time, as the more Iberian undertones mark out the space for the narrative to come). Just reading the lines of Pismo shows the potential when it comes to storytelling in the lyrics. No world-weariness, no locking yourself into the narrow frame of a single story; Ruda has clearly chosen, in writing both lyrics and music, to open up several different registers of his soul. The love letter and its metaphors of passion, longing for closeness and kisses don’t sound saccharine, because in the otherwise heartbreaking context of violin, guitar and accordion, you can sense a touch of cynicism, sarcasm and humor in the Obsotelje dialect, and the restrained tempo clearly turns into a happier ending by the close. The guy, evidently, was successful at cooing his serenade, because it takes two to tango. And the more balladic-flavored Tango serves up a strategic female reply. Polona’s voice sounds as if it were seeping out of old dusty speakers, while the guitars and violin pizzicato caress the ears nicely. The rowdy stampede or burlesque spirit of the debut is nowhere to be found this time, and the sensual violin solo inserts are carefully measured so as not to overshoot that “just right” mark. This dramaturgically conceived string of songs then continues with the sit-down of Na vrtu. The compositional brilliants allow shades to trade places, and this time, with slightly more pompous tones of determined bellows-stretching, the outstanding master of the four strings, double bassist Matija Krivec, gets a solo spot too. Under the almost cinematic sound of the song (it reminds me of Halgato’s Rožo zaljšano with Kreslin), the men give up the chatter and would rather play, while in the treetops the birds sing. Birds that are then followed by a more jazzy, gypsy-swing tale of love. Ta ljubezen, with its inventive bluesy-jazzy vocals, weaves into a dense texture of guitars, accordion and the distinctly seasoned, slick harmonies of outstanding vocalists. It’s as if Brencli wandered off into the golden days of Bele vrane and the Slovenian popevka, yet the men (and the lady) have a feel for dosage and never come across as obscurely repetitive or merely recreating.
The eclecticism of mystical, elusive, windy drift into a completely different form of the whirling acoustic folk of Še oj še lets you know that not everything has been revealed and grasped yet. The wonderful interim positivity of accordion, guitar and violin lifts the load off the thick layers of more dreamy, scattered and not-quite-fully-manly harmonies. Sonet, fuller of life, passion and brilliant playfulness, brings back a few more sparks and flames from the debut. Mi smo ob_up is a pre-finale excursion into more humorous waters, the kind you’d credit to Adi Smolar, and Brencli are just as much masters of cynical, critical humor. Unemployment, crisis, recession blues and gloom: the sharp-tongued Brencli tell all of Slovenia’s melancholy, the thieves of ideals and dreams, to »fuck off«, while in the background undertones of Dixieland, Delta blues, cajun rock and outstanding lyrics play along. The acoustics don’t need any help from effects and electricity this time, because for the full punch of all those potent tones and undertones, each of them needs just two talented hands, a good measure of ear, and a microphone and recorder, where production overdubbing and spoiling the feeling of authenticity are neither allowed nor carried out! The finale, with the Bela krajina »hit« Igraj kolo jabuko, closes the whole in a style of cyclical completion that, despite its finality, leaves room for further jamming and upgrades. The apple of knowledge has only been nibbled at, and Brencli have enough imagination and musicality that next time, I’d bet, they’ll pour a completely different element into our ears.
As they put it themselves: »The wind blows from every direction. It can fertilize, warm, cool and scatter whatever it likes,« and so is the album as a whole, striving not to be shoved into just one single stylistic section on your shelves. Vetrova svatba is one of the more important gems of the Slovenian ethno scene, and Brencl Banda has, precisely the second time around, with its second act, become easy to place in the top league of Slovenia’s finest keepers of the old folk heritage, which they can offer without shame to a wider crowd of listeners not so used to ethno either. The collage of feelings and the playing with multicultural, worldwide influences to the beat of the Slavic heart offer a chance for anyone to easily surrender and fly on the wings of music and melodic suites about happiness, sadness and timelessness. And in the Celinka label’s charges I’ve found yet another homegrown nominee for album of the year- even though there isn’t a trace of distortion, squeals or thunder to be found, not for an inch of this subtle, airy, playfully windy turn in an unexpected direction …
Lineup
Klemen Bračko- violin
Rok Šinkovec- accordion and vocals
Matija Krivec- double bass and vocals
Andrej Boštjančič Ruda- guitar
Polona Žalec- vocals
Production
Matija Krivec
Tracklist
1. Gustavson D
2. Pismo
3. Tango
4. Na vrtu
5. Ta ljubezen
6. Še oj še
7. Sonet
8. Mi smo ob_up
9. Igraj kolo jabuko
