Author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
Artist: Dežurni Krivci
Label: god bless this mess records
Release: 2013
Runtime: 37:44
Rating: 3.9/5
The Prlekija backwoods have always been a neglected corner of Slovenia, and being overlooked and dirt poor never killed the urge to revolt and to scream a loud cry of opposition at every system of inequality and oppression. After socialism, which at least gave the region jobs and bread, came the age of »liberation« and liberal »prosperity«, and instead of castles of gold the oligarchs robbed people of even the little they had – including their dignity and their dreams of a better tomorrow. When something like that happens, and what’s more keeps happening permanently, the time comes for change and revolution, and slogans and finger-pointing at the culprits are usually left to the bravest, or to the ever-handy usual suspects with nothing to lose, and Dežurni krivci are proof that this is how it goes. The four-piece from the village of Sveti Jurij ob Ščavnici has been spinning tales of revolt since 1996, with guitar cannonades of noise, post-grunge aesthetics and the alternative storytelling of non-conformist heavy sound. After three albums since the turn of the millennium, Nikogaršnje mesto – daleč od ljubezni, Kakor človeka and the tight, compact Strup, the time has come for a dose of pure, unvarnished Fakti.
The fourth record is more than just the studio runoff of several years of garage ramblings. It’s a peculiar geopolitical document of time and place, and besides the present, Dežurni krivci also remind us of the steel shackles of our age, with a somewhat darkened memory of the promises of the past. Alongside the record, the Fakti package comes with a thick dose of bitter existential poetry. On top of a dozen songs set to music, listeners and the lucky few whom the label God Bless This Mess once again spoils the way it should also get thirty transcribed lyrics, which chronicle our road to liberation, liberal enslavement and mindless fading in the sea of global uniformity in a caustic, uncompromising way. Let’s leave the rich visuals aside for now and focus on the sound alone. That’s damn saturated too, my dear friends, and for starters it’s enough to say that you won’t be getting any tenderness or ballads on this record.
Sloni is the overture to a noisy symphony of total discontent. In the stampede of grease-smeared pachyderms, the rudimentary tangle of distorted guitar, bass and drums dominates the sonic space between your left and right ear so convincingly, together with the commanding and highly suggestive, almost theatrical delivery of the band’s lead throat, singer Leon Štrakl. Leon, Tomas, Igor and Marko coexist completely naturally, and the biorhythm is set so that the lads on wake-up duty can’t afford to hold anything back. Molčimo continues the trampling of the Sloni, and over Tomas’s thundering bass, reminiscent of Gregl’s excursions in Demolition Group, Igor, Marko and Leon take their time and space for a full exegesis of everyone who just nods along, of all the silent bystanders whose last piece of bread the oligarchs are stealing from already plundered mouths. Klovni is a stoner post-grunge escalation of a hard string of merciless words, and instead of Predin’s metaphors and figurative meanings, Dežurni krivci swear by the maxim »call a spade a spade«. There’s no optimism in it, but I ask you – is there still time for pretending and blindfolds? Zavezali so nam oči is the answer to that question. It’s time for us to open our eyes and stop believing in miracles that won’t happen unless we plan to act. The negative charge keeps growing, and the Fakti record only ramps up the tension! Brez upanja is a somewhat calmer stretch on the road from start to finish. The Prlekija poetry is bitter, stripped of light and optimism. Dežurni krivci turn their noise tricks and the blows of hard-hitting grunge rock into their own tool and weapon of indoctrination, and the post-punk and post-HC delivery somehow evokes Henry Rollins in its own way. Instead of white or colorful flags, the Slovenian cavalry too raises its black and bloody banners into the air. Vstani! is a call to rise up and keep going down the hard road, because indifference kills and standing still only chains fresh tons of mud, crap and leaden lies to our weighed-down limbs.
Fascinated by how directly it calls for a reckoning with the past, and above all with the bearers of the ideology of hopeless decay, the record arrives at its dark half, and Dežurni krivci demand Oko za oko, zob za zob. The song is somewhat suspended, as the blow of apocalyptic meter builds up gradually, and the words, in tune with the fact that the tongue has no bones but breaks bones, are strung together like a rebel call to topple the autocrats and executioners of the people. After Stiskamo obroč the fact is clear: there’s precious little light on this road, and just as little deviation from the steel core of mental catharsis. Fakti is a document of tragic times, and the main heroes of this story are really all of us who live through them. The post-grunge repetitive string of bass, drums and toxic, greasy distortions builds a massive wall in front of which all the culprits get shot. Lačni is a condensed punk haiku, after a moment of HC reckoning with the world, as if Jello Biafra had pulled it off with his soldiery, which lets the Maske fall, and after the penultimate Sodba comes the time for deliverance with the Cobain-esque Pogum. The out-of-tune intro leads the steely composition to the moment of farewell, and after a fairly drawn-out overture Dežurni krivci drive their anti-globalist train to the moment of the last victim. Noise, dissonance and revolt in the final, twelfth reprise, dotting the i on Fakti as the curtains fall.
Compared to Strup, I’d point out that Dežurni krivci (on purpose) haven’t taken a step forward in quality. But in this bundle of original material, sung expressly in Slovenian, the band has packed in all the pain, anger, rage, suffering and discontent they could squeeze into this heartfelt studio derivative. So there’s no revolution, at least as far as form goes, but content-wise the record is damn full and juicy. Dežurni krivci slap a not necessarily comforting band-aid on the wounded heart of the Slovenian folk in their own non-conformist way, so that after listening, if you truly give the whole thing your attention, you’ll hardly stay indifferent and unmoved. Personally, I think that with a little more aesthetic sense and a few more production extras the guys could have achieved even more, but then again, to each their own, and sometimes less can be more. Time will tell who’s right, and for now Fakti can stand clear, loud and proud – as a protest note that Dežurni krivci wrote to adorn the doors of our profane cathedrals of liberal existence.
Line-up
Leon Štrakl – vocals
Tomas Tibaut – bass
Igor Ketiš – drums
Marko Čuš – guitar
Production
Hannes Jaeckl, Dežurni krivci & Štefan Kovač – Pipi
Tracklist
- Sloni
- Molčimo
- Klovni
- Zavezali so nam oči
- Brez upanja
- Vstani!
- Oko za oko, zob za zob
- Stiskamo obroč
- Lačni
- Maske
- Sodba
- Pogum
