Date: 05.05.2018
Location: Cerkno / C.M.A.K. / Slovenia
A quick interruption up front. How do you get a permit to tear down a house that’s part of the old town center? Who signs off on that, and is it enough to just own the building and nothing more to knock it down whenever you feel like it? Isn’t a building like the one that houses the C.M.A.K. club in Cerkno part of Slovenian cultural heritage? C.M.A.K. in Cerkno was recently under threat of losing its space, which would have dealt yet another heavy blow to a Slovenian club music scene that’s already undernourished and impoverished. It’s no news that this country is a stepmother unless you’re into accordion and polka. Well, C.M.A.K. has fended off the first blow for now, but the question is whether it’ll fend off the rest. For the time being, it’s still standing.
This year it became part of the “Im memoriam prof. Peter Hafner” festival program and, as part of it, hosted a combo of three extremely interesting acts. Two Slovenian and one Croatian. The night’s headliners were Ljubljana’s Jegulja, who describe what they play as greasy-sounding metal. At least as greasy as, well, eel meat. The special attraction this time was delivered straight from Železniki, where Disdrug (This Fuck) come from, active since way back in 2000. Keeping both bands company were Nemeček, Zagreb’s noise-junk post-rock alternative crew.
C.MA.K. hasn’t been this packed in a long time. Supposedly it holds 80 people when it’s stuffed to the gills, and this time the number really was close to 80. A little after ten in the evening, Disdrug This Fuck were herded onto the stage. The band is a trio of “musicianers” (if you’ll allow me to put it the Cerkno way) who play completely instrumental music. Matija Žumer, Andrej Podlipnik, and Anže Krajnik are the guys who delivered a proper humoresque as the opening act of the evening. In some other story they could easily be an exceptionally sharp parody band, because they’ve got no shortage of imagination for top-notch black humor. Even the song titles alone are sometimes so bizarre that they could earn a “gore” label, like Razstrup ta drek or Sjebao me bog. But don’t be fooled, these guys aren’t messing around. As much as they’re jokers, they play that much more damn well. And then some. They cultivate a homegrown repertoire that’s all their own. They’re complex and, rather than alternative, almost progressive. They mix all kinds of rhythms into their music, but they like best the ones that no dance step fits. Only twisted ankles and torn knee ligaments. They know how to surprise with their performance. More than once. While gnawing their way through a song, they change rhythms several times within it, and the phrasing is also very colorful, stocked with plenty of complex transitions. You could say they’re not short on jazz moments in these instrumental jams. Even Balkan-Arabesques sneak into the music, and I won’t think twice about biting my tongue if there isn’t a pinch of calypso in there too. A band that, after almost two decades of activity, simply has to get serious at least to the point of releasing an album. At least one in their career, even if it contains the band’s entire discography to date, spanning eighteen years. The tracks run three minutes and a bit, so they could probably cram everything onto one little disc. One more thing. While listening, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the guys used to listen to a lot of Rush, especially their output from the second half of the seventies. So. From that you can conclude for yourselves that as grotesque as the guys are, they make up for it with exceptional quality, which, along with a hefty dose of humor, delivers superb playing.
Most of the evening belonged to Ljubljana’s experimental instrumental trio Jegulja. Just the sight of the guys in Steven Wilson and Frank Zappa shirts announced that musical oddballs were taking the stage. Well, if the word oddballs gives you trouble, let’s just say musical eccentrics. Jegulja are a trio. And what kind of trio? Like Van Der Graaf Generator. A trio without a bassist. So one guitar is tuned lower, carries seven strings, and is set up in a more Shredder-ish way, while the other is dialed in a touch more precisely and also howls a touch more “wailingly” when it wants to. Together, the two guitars form an extremely felicitous sonic passion play, a beautifully built soundscape. A massive wall of sound, a sonic fullness, up which the unbridled drumming temperament of Jan Prosen climbs and scrambles, who is otherwise known as an excellent guitarist. Jan used to play guitar in Down Patrol and Dr. Evil, among others. The guitarists Jan Kozel and Jure Gašper read each other superbly. They’re always on the same wavelength, powerfully doubling the ornaments in the passages. A heap of finesse keeps popping up in the complex instrumentation. A heap of those little tricks that the two guitarists add over the phrases and transitions. Still, Jegulja are anything but an easy bone to gnaw on. A spiky, greasy groove sucks you into a trance, but you have to be slightly disconnected for that. So Jegulja put the listener to the test. Musically, it’s an excellent fusion of several genres. Ahem… post metal, stoner, sometimes a whiff of sludge, and a few psychedelic passages too. Jegulja visibly enjoyed playing. They had plenty of stage time and really wanted to give the best they’ve got and know. And that’s how it went. The band truly delivered a bravura performance, one that bent under extraordinary commitment, and also showed off naked instinct and sensuality. Jure, who is also a member of the band Uroš, said during one of the breaks that they could play C.M.A.K. three days in a row if need be, that they always love coming back to CMAK and always feel great here, of course. Before the show, people who know the band warned me that Jure loves to talk. Well, if he can’t sing between songs, at least he says plenty in the breaks. Yes. They also warned me about the obscene bathroom language, but Niki from Godscard, at his artistic peak in that manner, always walked away with first place with ease. That’s not even the point. Only the music counts, and every musician has their own way of addressing the crowd. Jure’s is, shall we say, wildly provocative. Jegulja are a must-see! They play brilliantly and can boast an exceptionally charismatic expression of their musical art culture. Complex metal jams, then. One after another, each headstrong and distinctive. Progressive, no doubt about it. And that yellow Frank Zappa “Weasels Ripped My Flesh” (1970) shirt of Jan’s merely hints at the possibility that Jegulja will expand artistically over the years even more concretely, and step across the boundaries of metal even more decisively.
It was late when Jegulja wrapped up their set. Finally, Zagreb’s Nemeček took the stage. There were a few fewer people in front of the stage now, since it was late and the organs of balance were also seriously worn down. Still, the Zagreb crew got a nice response from the gathered crowd. Of all three bands gathered in Cerkno that night, Nemeček were the least instrumental, since some songs have short lyrics, though of course they’re hard to make out because of the extremely screechy vocals, which go hand in hand with the band’s pronounced noise contour. The way things “creaked” and droned during the Nemeček show was nowhere near the case with the first two bands. The groove is here. The songs are a bit more simply conceived compared to the previous two bands, yet the rhythm is exceptional. The band has the “beat” in the little finger of its left hand. The riffs are heavy and powerful, and the quartet was in a terrific mood. So it delivered an extremely dynamic show. In every respect, of all three bands, they definitely did the most workout, and also broke the most sweat.
Given the damage to my personal brain processor, which in select company in the garden behind the former Hotel Porezen building, between 8:00 and 18:00, had to nonstop scan a multitude of carcasses of frozen Patagonian squid that, during their manual cleaning, were mercilessly being sent into the association cortex by photoreceptors, there was no other way than to finally get myself to bed. So I left the venue early and didn’t watch the show to the end. It’s a wonder I didn’t fold sooner given my EMŠO. C.M.A.K. therefore won big! These are the kind of bands you only wish for in a club!
author: Aleš Podbrežnik
photos: Aleš Podbrežnik
