Author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
Artist: Various Artists
Label: Moonlee Records
Release: 2013
Duration: 38:11
Rating: 3.9/5
For a country of two million people, Slovenia packs a lot of creative firepower. Unlike the washed-out mainstream, it hits even harder and crackles away in hideouts, basements and far from the gaze of fashion trends and their followers, the sheep. Two important labels under this alternative sky are Pomurje’s God Bless This Mess and the folks behind Moonlee Records, who, instead of splitting off and fencing in an already cramped Slovenian scene, chose to step toward connecting and collaborating. Part of this fruitful merging of ideas, money and energy, which is a win for both labels, is the December offering in the form of the subversive dessert Banana Split. It shows off, in all their glory, Kleemar, devoted to electronics, drone currents and intelligent dance music, and the post-punk sonic provocateurs Trus! This dichotomous play on the edge of what’s (not) allowed worked out, and just before the holidays a properly well-packaged musical split saw the light of day. Besides the digital seed on Soundcloud and the CDs, it adds an extra dose of retro avant-garde flair with a pressing on 12-inch vinyl too.
First up on the record, with just three ambient tracks, is the transformed, electronic-rhythm-devoted Kleemar, aka Matej Končan. The first sceptre-holder of Slovenian IDM (intelligent dance music) went for a bit of a drone-flavored allrounder excursion. Wide open to sonic influences and musical impressions, he still doesn’t give up organic warmth despite the electronics and fiddling with mixers and sound synthesizers, and that warmth is why he’s been leaving his mark on the domestic and pan-European scene since 2000. A key member of the now-defunct Prekmurje Noise Conspiracy, after touching base and striking sparks of energy with Manul, Lollobrigida and Psycho-Path, he has become more and more committed to his own mission of self-realization. The symbiosis with bands has been swapped for a computer, a mixer and a rhythm machine, the daily bread being the black keys of sound synthesizers and surrender to his own creative imperatives. The melancholic, rather restrained trip kicks off with the track Bored Of Canada. After an organic-electronic manipulation in the manner of Beats Antique every register of melancholy opens up, with a nostalgic, warm surrender to binary-modulated lines. The associative trip through the dreamy dance tangle of acts like Mount Kimbie, Dan Deacon, Gold Panda, Four Tet, Album Leaf and Caribou this time edges toward Board Of Canada, except Kleemar is a lot more danceable and rhythmically tuned to the taste of the Slovenian crowd. The meditative hypnoticism of a thoroughly worked-out electro drone line keeps building and stacking up, with a sweet touch of estrangement and the rituals of repetitive breaking away from the formal commandments of the genre and the tastes of the masses. Kleemar is rustic and bold in a truly intelligent retro way, and with a pop-ish eclecticism he builds a bridge to what follows. The second part of Kleemar’s triptych is the track 4M, which is more psychotic, more defragmented and even more ambiently condensed. Kleemar is a master of urban contours, sensual metrics and tastefully tanned sonic textures, which give the second act of the record a touch of top-notch micro-ambient. It knows how to open the door at just the right moment to a world of cosmic trance, the relaxation of slowed-down bodily currents and a glow of positive, warm rays despite the electronics. The genius is in the details, which Kleemar wisely adds and withdraws at exactly the right moment. Besides shopping-mall metrics, the undefined mallow of a thousand influences dares to mix in a pinch of native feel for aesthetic manipulation. It calms the listener and leads them into a state of complete surrender, giving up all resistance against electronics, towards a world I was previously used to hearing from Mike Oldfield, who was also crowned with the title of electronics guru. The closing act of Kleemar’s showcase is the gorgeous Made In My Hand, which never violates the imperatives of minimalism, ambient drowsiness and beauty, but doesn’t dilute or build on them either. You’re left with the feeling that something could be added to the whole to lift it even further into a state of total discharge and freedom from all shackles. For that we’ll have to wait until next year, when Kleemar’s debut album is supposed to see the light of day, a full-length of well-thought-out dance music with a strong whiff of intelligence and sensuality.
The follow-up offers less tenderness. It’s the doing of the post-punk indie electro trash poppers Trus!, who bet on a bit more organic feel and verbal diction. The lively contours play out at three points of communication: Jelena Rusjan on bass, Boštjan Simon on keys, sax and vocals, and Marko Lasič on drums. TRUS! are unpredictable and elusive. The psychotic Movie Star, after the sensual handoff from Kleemar, develops into a slightly more electronized, ambient, ethereal electro that adds a lot of unburdened pop to the whole. The light overture, with its dialogue between bass, drums and keys and Jelena’s dreamy vocals, is quite stripped down but effective. It’s followed by a shift into dirtier, darker spheres of collective subconsciousness. The ominous Enemy builds darker contours of emotional distancing and rebellion, and after meditatively many layers of claustrophobically dense keys, an organically solid bass and drums weave in. The distorted universe of wound-up female energy, aimed at an ignored, missing link in the dialogue, serves as a total release of all frustrations. They hang statically on the horizon in the form of crystal-sharp echoes and jingling ambient bits at the very end of a truly well-tuned post-punk track that has both head and tail. The more brutal Phantasma adds elements of darkness and almost Sonic Youth-style psychedelic madness, with which Trus! take their stand on the ramparts against a world of superficiality, shallowness and lies. I won’t claim their sonic language offers comfort, softness or petting, but after the punk-ish pop a turn begins toward gradual revival, waking up from a deep coma, from sleep. The more restrained Seven Words sneaks into the whole as a moment of suspense, a return to harmony of emotions. The explosive advocates of this time ambient, chaotic synth pop clearly have a problem with that, since they’re looking for a bit more action and tectonics. The latter is backed up by the bass and in the manner of the debut First Step, upgrading synthesized, almost naive melody with harder, merciless sonic contours. What Do You Do is the big finale, a more organic reckoning with the unprepared. Explosive bass, drums and synthetically torn saxophone sounds (almost like we’re used to from Demolition Group, except this time there’s more brutality in the foreground 2227 than a dash of sentimentality) twist, after a punchy rhythmic intro, into a more brutal, excessively tuned chorus of total atonal defiance. Squeals, noise and Jelena’s screams, »What do you do? Do you do anything?«, thicken toward an explosive ending and a completely cut-off finish, fading out, silence, a total nihilistic Nothing.
This mischievously set-up duality isn’t meant for uncritical, snag-free consumption. Quite the opposite: rushing to uncritical judgment would rob the listener of the sensations of a deeper grasp of the music, which is purposely schizophrenic here. After the suspense of excess noise and the calming of passions with Kleemar , the second act is more psychotic and angry, and grows up to the name Trus! right down to the very foundation. At the same time, the muses behind this run of tracks are related and similar to each other. All are committed to subversion and a slightly more intellectual way of digesting music. The music is polished in production and well packaged, but each listener has to fight their way to the very core of the provocative banana themselves, through stubborn, thorough peeling of the layers of this Banana Split. The effort is richly rewarded, though, with a double dose of quality and message, addressed to different people at the same moment, or even to a single person in wildly different moments of existence. It’s good, tasty and worth consuming many times over, but in line with your capacity, stamina and craving for doses of Slovenian (electro) alternative avant-gardism.
Lineup
KLEEMAR:
Matej Končan – ambient, electronics, programming
TRUS!:
Jelena Rusjan – bass, vocals
Boštjan Simon – synth, sax, vocals
Marko Lasič – drums, vocals
Production
Ivor Knafelj & Kleemar / Vitja Balžalorski, Gredoč & Trus!
Tracklist
1. KLEEMAR – Bored Of Canada
2. KLEEMAR – 4M
3. KLEEMAR – Made In My Hand
4. TRUS! – Movie Star
5. TRUS! – Enemy
6. TRUS! – Phantasma
7. TRUS! – Seven Words
8. TRUS! – What Do You Do
