Magic Verses from the Man with the Black Guitar (2013)

Arhiv Arhiv Last updated 11 June 2026

Venue: SiTi Teater, BTC City, Ljubljana, Slovenia
Concert date: April 24, 2013
Attendance: 200
Ticket price: €13.50-15 (presale) and €18 (day of show)

This time the impression is a parable of thoughts from an emotional duo, male and female, man and wife, a duality that is one, and a oneness that can only exist in the balance of yin and yang, with the bond between them being, besides love, the magic of music. When the two of us sat down to write this piece, we could have strung together a series of metaphors and a litany of spiritualized words of lofty sophistication, but that wouldn’t have said much about the fullness of an evening that bore witness to the greatness and power of words, verses, music and the wisdom of a man who long ago gave up dance performances to keep his rocker soul, and who, after crossing the milestone of maturity, by yielding to dance and the tradition of his musical forebears still kept his upright, firm, rebellious soul, one capable of voicing so many words about feelings that few can paint so richly and lay open on their palms the way he does. Yes, this time our thanks for the awe and delight go to the gentleman with the hat and the black guitar, the poet from Beltinci, Vlado Kreslin. And this time the best way to describe a dream of a show is chronologically – as if oozing the heart’s nectar from our soul diaries and letting the thread of time unspool so that we’d never forget it – all by itself.

Normally, on a gorgeous sunny day, the little city of big shopping (BTC) can’t lure us into its core of noise, crowds and consumer euphoria, but this Wednesday was an exception – for a concert by a great musician we crossed the border of this little town with ease and, at the same time, walked for the first time into its less conspicuous, but by no means unknown, theater, SiTi Teater.

The golden orb in the sky was slowly losing its strength and the first visitors were already gathering in front of the theater entrance, enjoying the taste of one-euro champagne. People of all generations and from all walks of life. This evening’s going to be interesting! Full of anticipation for the Vlado Kreslin concert, which had landed at this theater as an April surprise as part of the SiTi za dobro musko concert series, we marched into the hall with our two red tickets in hand. We were the first ones in and were enchanted by the stage, which called out for hanging out, philosophizing, playing with rhymes, having a good time. In the background a red light glowed dimly, books, glasses and bottles lay on antique cabinets, a black piano stood silent in the quiet, the ceiling was magically filled with floating books with little lights, and smoke curled bashfully all around; the place gave the impression that something had already been going on here. As if a circle of friends had been enjoying a glass of red, cigars, reading poetry and making music. Or maybe that’s still to come?

The hall slowly filled up. The smell of cheap perfume and glasses of champagne in the hands of elderly ladies sizing each other up from the side, camera crews and photographers in low gear, the whispers of the impatient: »I can’t wait for it to start« … And it started. The lights of the floating books trembled at His arrival – modest as always, yet huge. Black hat, black jacket, black guitar. Vlado. Vlado Kreslin. A reserved but sincere greeting: »Good evening.«. We took off on the strings of the black guitar and surrendered to the rhythm of stomping feet. On the wings of wishes we also listened to our own wishes in the song Vsak si želi: »Everyone wishes they could stop time once,
make the world a better place …« After the opening song, the hall was stirred awake by a cheerful »Good evening!« and a whisper: »So nice that you came. Tonight I’m playing for you.« And then he played and sang Ena pesem. That song that reminds us there are still a few people like that in the world, people you’re glad to have around. The kind that sets the body swaying and singing spontaneously. Vlado urged the audience to sing, but they only bashfully mumbled the chorus. Oh dear, like at a funeral … And such a positive song! Vlado took care of the energy, belting the chorus so hard that even the floating books on the ceiling woke up! Their bulbs lit up like hope in the dark … With the song Nekega jutra, ko se zdani Vlado slowly woke up the listeners. The sun is finally rising, and the song from the audience spread quiet and calm, like the first rays of sun kissing the landscape. At the end of the song the hall got its moment of enlightenment – the roaring applause was proof that people had opened their hearts.

The song Tvoje jutro painted smiles on people’s faces as they sang louder, and at the end of the singalong Vlado shared a health tip with us: repeating the verse »Sometimes, rarely, it feels pretty good to be alive, to have nothing hurt, to have the most beautiful ray of light be the one that wakes you when you pull it off your eyes!« is the cure! We sent him off with laughter to the lonely black piano, where, accompanied by a fiddle, he sang the wonderful Abel in Kajn. After a thoughtful but powerful round of applause, the Prekmurje poet hugged his guitar and asked: »What would I do without you, dear audience?« He put the guitar down, put on his glasses and picked up a book. And that was no mere rhetorical question but a poem meant for us – the guests. He read it to us from his fourth poetry collection, Pojezije. Two more songs followed, Immigrant song about circus kids and Kritik, which humorously shows how people toss off criticism of music in passing. And the journey went on – down the Cesta, which is long, full of longing, wishes and sobbing. So we wouldn’t be alone on the trip, he invited a very special lady onto the stage – his daughter Ajda Kreslin, who accompanied her father on flutes. Together they performed Še je čas, on which Vlado, on guitar and harmonica, was accompanied by Ajda on transverse flute, while she enriched Poj mi pesem with the sound of the recorder. At the end of that one he apologized that they’d played it earlier than usual (it normally comes last) because Ajda was in a hurry – which also set off quite a few anecdotes about the little girl. The audience laughed at the young musician’s sweet and mischievous remarks, and Vlado led the journey Preko Mure, preko Drave, only to break it off because the audience had gotten lost – nobody was joining in, so he took the opportunity to tell an anecdote about the wedding of his friend Jure Šterk and a sharp comment about a shared song (which most couples have) from his son Naj Vid. We guests laughed again and enjoyed the song that carried us off to the sea, maybe even across the ocean … The words »Oh God, let me die young … Just let me not die young!« heralded the song Namesto koga roža cveti. During one of the most soulfully sung songs of the night, the hall joined in the singing too, letting its soul out into the open over the Gypsy melodies.

Kreslin, wanting the people to sing for him, asked which song they’d like to hear. Titles rang out from the crowd: Bela nedelja, Spominčice, Dekle moje, Lili Marlen. He then told us that Bela nedelja is a suicide song and exists in several versions (Serbian, Hungarian, English). The song’s verses touched us and left a bitter aftertaste, which Vlado’s stories about the people of Prekmurje and their life in the drafts, along with the song Sodobnik iz 1905, quickly washed away, since they had us laughing till we cried. We loved Vlado in his role as storyteller, sharing his tales in a funny and engaging way. At the mention of his father, who bought a guitar with his first paycheck, the room buzzed – we were all hyped for the next song. After Tista črna kitara, which sketches Vlado’s childhood, the air was once again filled with Vlado’s stories – stories of life and the wisdom of ancient times, values that are being forgotten … Kindness, acceptance, honesty, joy, love, connection with nature, with your home region, with family. He poured himself some tea and wrapped up the tale of the black guitar with words someone had said to him many years ago: »Your father is an honest man.«

That was also the cue for a new guest, Milan Kreslin, Vlado’s father. The audience welcomed him with a huge ovation. Together they sang a song in public for the first time: »As if it were that month of May right now, I loved living it, untamably young …« Then they introduced a song of Russian origin that Vlado’s father heard in 1945 in a Czech camp, and they performed it with real feeling. Little stories from their lives just kept raining down; the two of us are lovers of a good story, and when you’re invited to listen to a storyteller of life stories and wisdom, you don’t turn down the invitation. We’re glad we didn’t. The punchline of a funny tale about the cinema in Beltinci was the song Goodbye Jim, Goodbye Joe. We in the audience greeted Milan Kreslin with enthusiasm and thanked him for his valued presence, then sang more boldly during Dekle moje, pojdi z menoj!, and most of the crowd spun and let loose during the cult track Od višine se zvrti, which Vlado sang with such passion that we still get goosebumps today. What he put together in that theater setting was by no means just a performance, but a hangout.

We wanted more and we got more! The maestro came back on stage – this time with a little glass of red wine and the comment: »It starts like a Mass, and it ends like …«, and a male voice in the audience finished: »A tavern.« He picked up the black beauty and played … Prešeren’s sonnet of homesickness became even more majestic with the black guitar behind it. The poetry carried us away … I found myself staring at the books on the little cabinet. Without meaning to, I was reflecting on tonight, and it hadn’t even ended yet. A book has to ripen. Vlado Kreslin was an excellent poet and musician when I was a child. And he keeps getting better. He’s ripening. Or is it me who’s ripening? I realized that this evening had fed my soul and lifted it off the ground. And then Dad showed up on stage again with his joyful face. Vlado introduced him along with the song Daj mi Micka pejneze nazaj, or rather the anecdote behind this folk song, to which Kreslin Sr. had added a third verse: »Kak naj iden v drujgi kupleraj, či mi ne daš pejneze nazaj?« They sang it as a duet, both putting on sunglasses and looking like the Blues Brothers. Punchy and playful, they wrapped up the show … But after a second long round of applause Vlado came back on stage with a harmonica and sang Muzikanti. Yes, he brought joy, he brought a few instruments, he brought a magical evening. For the perfect finish, he and his father cuckooed their way through the traditional song Ku-ku and left an empty, lonely stage behind.

In the lobby we thanked Vlado for a lovely evening, and when he asked me how I liked it, I answered: »Magical.« He reacted with surprise: »Really, magical? Interesting, because the record I was recording today until six this morning is going to be called Čarobnice.« And he gave the brand-new Ljubljana audience a peek at some of that magic dust, taking us into a magical world of dreamy sentiments once again in a new, utterly his own and piercing way. With his raspy voice he soothed the soul in times when many of us are beginning to doubt the authenticity and goodness of our fellow humans, and even less believe in the myths of a golden age of humanity. This man with that black guitar and hat let us feel a sentimental uplift and, through a kaleidoscope of thoughts and memories, spun the hands of the clock back to a time when we still knew how to laugh, were happy and felt deeply. And that’s also why the excitement at the news of new verses, new lines, new rhymes and raspy melodies is genuine, and Čarobnice will stretch this feeling of seeming happiness for a moment or two longer – thanks to you too, dear Vlado. Thank you.

Written and edited by: Nataša & Sandi Sadar Šoba