Author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
Artist: Miladojka Youneed
Label: Helidon
Released: 1993
Running time: 48:55
Rating: 4/5
Two years after the death of the gifted guitarist Kristijan Cavazza, who pumped fresh air into Miladojka’s body, brought a high-octane distorted soul, and wove quality sonic passages into the loom of the woodwind-and-bass fabric, the body of the prolific collective Miladojka Youneed hit a state of total collapse. Numerous members left the band, but Lovrič and Marolt decided to defy the collapse regardless and stitch together a follow-up to the hugely well-received and praised, yet (after a tragic turn of events) under-promoted Bloodylon, an album that set brand-new standards for funkadelic, juicy alt-funk standing on solid, juicy jazz foundations. The maimed, crippled body of the band decided to defy the gravity of the inevitable, and in a state of full creative drive a host of talented co-conspirators rushed to help. But since Miladojka never did anything twice in the same way, the result was anything but expected.
The ten tracks, recorded in Tivoli studio in the cold February of 1993, are dedicated to the late Cavazza. Wrapped in a peculiar, atypical veil of mourning, what was left of the creative kitchen cooked up something best described as electronically softened funk on a gooey pop base. Liberta Bloo is packed with good ideas, though its center of gravity is not exactly homegrown, since quite a few of the tracks you hear are covers of stuff other artists have already committed. Funnily enough, the record even opens with a reworked version of a track by Art Ensamble Of Chicago, and on Jungle Miladojka leave their own row of crooked teeth, filling a horn – piano duel of basic tones with obscure dance electro and synthetic sounds. Lovrič hooks in confidently and even more cheekily direct than before, and the polyphony of the brass has no shortage of moments to shake your hips and hunt for the best position for a barbaric funkoid mating dance. I’d actually dare say there’s even too much sweetness, so the cosmic pounding of Sax Maniac serves up slightly darker undertones. It sounds like a spontaneous act of space funkadelia, and you could easily slot the vocals of the now late king of pop Michael Jackson onto its basic matrix. In his own way Lovrič leans more toward barbaric rapping and playing with words with no traceable sense, and his vocals are nicely joined by effect-boosted vocals from a comely bouquet of talented guest singers. Mia Žnidarič, former Videosex member Anja Rupel, Meri Trošelj, Barbara Šinigoj and Alice Camara all take their turn at the mic. The minimalist texture is just dense enough that the repetitive patterns don’t fly apart into prime factors, though personally I miss just a little more punch and layering.
Less is more? Don’t ask me why, but the parody of the Kraftwerk single Pocket Calculator proves that with a bit more effort and dynamics even repetitive drums can give you a slightly firmer erection. The track, which even got the lawyers of the German electro-beat owners and pioneers of industrialized post-punk musicality on Miladojka’s case, is a brilliantly conceived prank, and just like back then, today we’re all experts at calculating survival algebra, which Miladojka latch onto nicely. The repetitive meditation of Dirty Blues underlines a state of total emptiness of spirit, and the sinister lack of distorted organic feel hits its climax with Burned Out. The horn section sounds artificial, the guitars as if they’d been run through an eighties sampler, and instead of zombies, the Jackson-esque imagery reminiscent of Thriller gets a slightly more bitter take on the standards, in a way only Miladojka can pull off. Nevergreen is a sentimental prelude that sneaks into the whole like a terrace-bar daydream, a deliberate red herring. In a musically softened interpretation of modality that only Besame Mucho can muster, even the guitars wake up and, in a way recalling Brian May’s moves, announce that the seeming one-acter is more varied than you’d judge at first glance. James Brown captured vignettes of everyday American life with Living In America, and Miladojka dissect him with no holds barred, depilate him and knead him into their package of rhythm and dance-floor raggedness. The layers pile up into a pop-soaked baklava of sweet stereotypes that’s still confidently funkoid and unirritatingly fresh. Maybe all that’s missing is an inch or two of thickness, since the two-dimensional rhythmizing of the electronic drums is too thin for me to credit what I hear with full-on orgasmic quality. The foreplay obviously went slightly in the wrong direction, pipes up the little worm of a dissatisfied grumbler in the cerebellum … Not even the Native American jazz of Talk About puts an end to that, while quite a bit more electronized eroticism is found in the hot little number Hot And Sweaty, a direct, playful, Kama Sutra–spiced projectile of hardcore-erotic confrontation with the world. There’s actually more eroticism than porn in it, which is exactly why Miladojka are still so juicy-hot almost two decades later. The intellectual peak of this otherwise full-blooded third full-length is without doubt the record’s final act, Show Me, which weaves Brecht into the whole. Lovrič, in a whispery, Morrison-style way, makes a gesture toward a tribute to two artists per excellance, while Miladojka crumble their minimalist dance toward a bitter farewell. The curtain falls, and in a smoky atmosphere of gloriously drowning sorrow in hectoliters of schnapps, Miladjka expose themselves to the world, offer their aching heart on open palms and, with their own special artistry, turn even fragility into music.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbdfMQ4Z-40
Libeta Bloo may not be the finest move in the otherwise imposing past of these Ljubljana legends of funkoid jazzcore, but it’s undoubtedly an act of liberation and of voicing sorrow. Liberta Bloo is an elegy and an urban tribute to those who’ve gone. By dissecting transience, the essence of further survival fills the goblets of the soul, or at the very least it was a bold move. There’s no shortage of music in the drawers, but you can already feel there are a couple of deciliters less heart’s blood in the chest than there was a few years earlier. Miladojka Youneed prove that, in their polyphonic surrender to being and their full existential captivity between Here and Now, they have more than just two faces, and on every one of those faces there’s precious little makeup to hide their feelings. That’s also why Liberta Bloo is less an act of despair than an act of survival, and the artists behind it were, back then, undoubtedly Miladojka.
Lineup
Miroslav Lovrič – guitar, vocals
David Jarh – trumpet
Mario Marolt – baritone sax, tenor sax, clarinet, backing vocals, piano, guitar
Aleš Randla – drums, percussion
Aleš Verbič – flute
Guest musicians:
Jani Hace – bass
Nikola Sekulovič – bass
Marko Štrumberger – guitar
Mio Popovič – guitar
Frederik Vargason – octopad, drums
Alice Camara – backing vocals
Anja Rupel – backing vocals
Barbara Šinigoj – backing vocals
Meri Trošelj – backing vocals
Mia Žnidarič – backing vocals
Production
Iztok Turk & Iztok Milkovič
Track list
- Jungle
- Sax Maniac
- Pocket Calculator
- Dirty Blues
- Burned Out
- Nevergreen
- Living In America
- Talk About
- Hot And Sweaty
- Show Me
