Artist: Joko Ono
Label: ZARŠ Records
Release: 2013
Runtime: 15:20
Rating: 3.8/5
When I first picked up the debut from the Ljubljana outfit Joko Ono, I’ll admit my head was full of expectations that tied this Ljubljana quartet to what I went through years ago listening to the provocative avant-garde debut of an almost identical lineup, just with a different singer – the outstanding album Kokos Kokos Presenta, which nailed me to my seat with its freshness, its psychotic chaos and its totally unexpected Bungle-esque surprises and trips into the unknown. A lot has happened since then, but above all the band swapped the gender of its frontperson – and no, not in the surgical sense. They simply parted ways with the masculine, unpredictable Milan Jerkič and, while hunting for a replacement, ran into the vocally innocent but seriously music-hungry Živa Zidar Borja, completely out of the blue. A young lady with zero prior experience, teaming up with a trio of guys who, ever since 2001 and the breakup of KZSKA and Extenzor, have been cohabiting without bowing to any particular musical direction, in one shared universal dialogue, a layered musical debate of pure inspiration but fiercely polished meter and rhythm. Žiga Rangus on guitar, Žiga Kranjc on bass, the hard-hitting Igor Iskra behind the drums, and at the mic this time a young woman who outdoes a good deal of what you’ve heard so far.
The girl has a brutal pair of vocal cords, which give seven songs – or rather lyrics, penned with the socially minded, critically sharpened pen of Maribor punk poet and heart and soul of the legendary Center za dehumanizacijo (CZD), Bojan Tomažič – a tone and an edge all their own. The chemistry between the trio stays unspoiled, and Živa slots into the whole beautifully with her grooved, brutal vocal in one go, already in the lively intro of Ena, where a trace of Intimci remains palpable, while the final form is closer to a sweet sermon from Jello Biafra at the loom of multi-genre schizophrenic punk, with a slight pinch of Bungle-esque discourse or a lovely aftertaste of System Of A Down. Without Matej Gobec’s refined production this record could easily have been rougher and less tightly knit, so credit is due here to the man who contributed to the sonic might of records by Laibach, Fishbone, Leeloojamais and Hazard, and who this time gave his precious time and energy to the young troops of Ljubljana’s musical wildcards. The punch is perfect, and Joko Ono keep it up from here on with precisely measured heavy hits of sticks on skins and cymbals, a pretty uniformly sounding distortion from Rangus’s guitar (and not in a bad way; the fact is the guy has dropped a hefty chunk of the palette of effects he once used in full), and Kranjc’s well-exposed bass, built on high-register leaps. The second single from this first leap into the garaged world of totally sweaty punk is the short track Hitreje, višje, močneje, which settles scores, anti-globalist and without mercy, with global parasites and capitalist oligarchs.
The primal EP Joko Ono doesn’t leave much time for digging deep or philosophizing, of course; a couple of chords pushed to the max build and lay brick after brick of a solid wall of sound, and after a pretty compact and raw opening it’s time for the first guest spot. This time Živa is joined at the mic on one of the album’s softest tracks, Daleč je raj, by the first throat of Niet, Borut Marolt. The ska-rhythm intro soon morphs into a more brutal duel between Živa and Borut, which comes off properly stitched together, and Joko Ono show off a less extremely punkoid side too. The next stretch stays with the eminent guests, on the more modernized, metalized HC-bash Moj Svet (rhythmically it recalls a derivative mix of Deftones, Korn and Guano Apes, and SOAD or Scars On Broadway are felt here quite concretely too), where Corkscrew’s Jaka Burger takes the mic with finesse. The most polished track on the album serves up plenty of lovely pointers, directions in which Joko Ono could, and in the future really should, develop. Živa can actually sing beautifully, with a softer voice backed by the sinister, demonic whisper of the splendid Burger, and this first completely original track on the record is truly what gives this debut its standout value. This time Joko Ono clearly had different plans, though, because after the melodic suspense they’re soon back in the zone of dehumanized poetry, and the track Globalisti, with its spectrally wide-open punkness of guitars, bass and drums, tears down and levels the temples of commercialization, while an almost Motörhead-style punch of rhythm and melody then turns into something else. Kri sounds like Korn’s Blind in the intro (probably because of the dissonant guitar), and Joko Ono then prefer to let blood, their own and yours, with a sweet mix of brutality and softer, much sweeter vocals. The album’s second fully original track shows that when Joko Ono hit that rare zen-like feeling of fusing completely with themselves, they’re a damn potent and creative band. The band obviously damn well likes having Jaka Burger around, too, since both of the album’s strongest tracks are spiced with his presence and his great feel for that missing piece that makes a dish perfect. With Konec the album wraps up decently and solidly, but without a real sense of resolution and closure.
The end is the beginning, and for many a purist, a picky listener, or a spoiled little shit or brat wholly devoted to commercial pop and easy-listening harmony, the beginning may also be the end of any desire to dive into the spectral world of dominant, unpolished punk with lovely alt touches. Personally, I’m honestly thrilled with Joko Ono, because in times when we neither can nor may allow ourselves sweet-talking drivel, deceiving and painting the public over with poppy crap, sugar and illusions, punk is a gorgeous balm for the revolutionary spirit. The band is potent, and the members are bound by a solid steel bond of perfect tightness and connection. You feel it, you touch it and above all you hear it, though it’s true that after such a long incubation and birth of this little record I was maybe expecting a bit more – more original lyrics, more of their very own poetics without borrowed words, which sound punchy and convincing but you can tell someone else wrote them. That’s exactly why Moj svet and Kri convince me most, while the other tracks, in their defragmented, ragged state, don’t quite do it, if I’m honest. Don’t get me wrong, nothing’s missing from the whole except a little more balls of their own, and Joko Ono can justifiably count themselves among the very top ranks of the anti-globalist garage troops of the finest musicians already today. This time they grabbed the punk cudgel to settle accounts with the world of injustice, and I’m very curious where the road will lead them next. I hope we won’t have to wait as long for an answer to my curious questioning as we had to wait for the debut, which is also too short, and the EP doesn’t reveal those stronger aces that I’m convinced the guys and the girl are still hiding up their sleeves.
Lineup
Žiga Kranjc – bass
Žiga Rangus – guitar
Igor Iskra – drums, backing vocals
Živa Zidar Borja – vocals
Guest musicians:
Borut Marolt & Jaka Burger – backing vocals
Production
Matej Gobec
Tracklist
1. Ena
2. Višje, hitreje, močneje
3. Daleč je raj (feat. Borut Marolt)
4. Moj svet (feat. Jaka Burger)
5. Globalisti
6. Kri (feat. Jaka Burger)
7. Konec
