Artist: Mislej – Mef, Drago
Label: Self-released
Release: 2013
Length: 42:56
Rating: 4/5
It took seven long years to get from Svoboda to Nova leta, but as Drago Mislej Mef, the wry man behind the lyrics of most of the Littoral’s hits, tells it (as a lyricist he’s sweetened the singability of Prizma, Bazar, Halo, Kameleoni, Boomerang, Kalamari, Faraoni, Avtomobili, Ana Pupedan, Victory, Anika, Tinkara Kovač, Lara Baruca, Slavko Ivančič and Tulio Furlanič, and his name is on more than 400 lyrics), despite his snail’s pace he’s still faster than Tom Waits, but the wait was necessary. Some things, some songs, only come alive after a few years of ripening, and with a successful conception and a hard birth you can just put time and clocks aside and simply give yourself over to listening to the record Najlepša leta. A former Koper city councillor, active radio journalist, organizer and above all potent musician who has spent the last thirty years writing the story of a lesser-known but still rich body of work (as a musician he played in the eighties in the new wave band Deseti brat, and later, after a few projects with Hišni bend (Vlado Kreslin, Drago Mlinarec and the late Ivo Volarič Feo) and collaborations with Predin, Kreslin, Lovšin and Kovačič, he founded the band Mef in NOB, or so the records say), this time he gives himself a chance to open the doors to a slightly forgotten but still relevant recent past, and instead of layers of nostalgia, this offering has more that’s new and fresh than chewed-over and already-sung.
Mef is a chronicler of his time, and in tune with that, Najboljša leta sounds, in its own way, angrier and sharper, set in the tuneful style of coastal pop-rock crooning, standing on the barricades of resistance against current politics. But this time the knee-jerk slogans are swapped for speaking in the past tense, inviting the listener to dust off forgotten memories of a time when everything was prettier and simpler, without it all sounding bitter or pessimistic, or on the flip side featherweight, sleepy, unresponsive and escapist.
Marije niso našli is the opening single, about the shattering death of a Marija from the coast. Life passes way too fast, and after we vanish all that’s left is dust, maybe a smell of beans and sky on the ceiling, and then even the memories fade, disappear, slip into oblivion. A minimalist weave of delicate piano, those few notes, acoustic guitar and Mef’s slightly raspy rocker vocals, narrating and painting vivid pictures, recalls another story, natively planted beyond the Mura in Beltinci, if you know what I’m hinting at. That’s by no means a bad thing, except this tale is a touch less sentimental, sharp-tongued, rough-hewn in that Littoral way and full of juice, and despite the dark theme, lively and tuneful. The almost-love-serenade Gluh in slep sounds like Jani Kovačič wrote it in a slightly boogie-rock way while listening to Neil Young’s latest records, and it’s about addiction, about not being able to do without. There are no substitutes for life to be found, and Mef, full of juicy ups and downs, describes the power of putting love, togetherness and narcotic attachment into words (maybe even attachment to nostalgia, or to something that can be more than a pretty flesh-and-blood lover who, like everything, withers and passes). Tempus fugit, and a missed moment can’t be recreated or chased, so Grem is a story about a leap into the unknown, no seatbelt, in which Mef tells himself you’ve got to take risks and scoop up life with the right dose of courage. Is it really the fool who dares to live, or the other way around? Mef, rocker-bold, allows himself a bit of self-praise and daring: an exceptional blend of potent chords on Hammonds, guitars and good drums, plus good lyrics, a truly poetic narrative about how we can all, Cohen-style, dare to match all those Dylans around us who dare to open their own registers and let themselves live. Borders don’t matter, the end is known anyway, and all that counts is that wild moment of a gorgeous ride at the current point X.
The title track Najboljša leta sounds exactly as if it had been tuned for Tulio Furlanič or any Littoral act that creeps off the radio waves in a similar, sometimes almost identical way (think of how much Tinkara Kovač and Faraoni resemble each other …). Obviously it’s a matter of local taste and melodicity, and the simple tale about the past recalls youth, a freshly opened disco in Žusterna, new tunes from local stars who could still actually play, and Mef says that really all the years are the best in every respect, because when we’re alive, it’s good. Ljubezen je v zraku dares to blow a bit of playful mischief, smoldering passion, love and sweetness into the story. The self-analyzing discourse of the lucid rationalist Mef toys with the limits of loop-based rhythm, almost terrace-style keys and minimalist electric guitar, and with the power of the Slovenian word with real potency, which glides through spheres of metaphysical elusiveness. The rhymes overpower the essence, and the sweet little song fills out the vaults of the otherwise full album in a more carefree way. The more sarcastic Luzer says nothing is handed to you in the cradle (or that everything is already determined in the cradle, if we make peace with the games of fate). Almost Zmelkoow-style poetics tell of a man who could be any one of us, and halfway through, the track is nicely marked by a dreamy, gliding solo that gives the songs a new, slightly open look, yet Mef stays in the realm of the calmer, safer zone of loudness. Cynicism makes up for distortion and decibels. Znal je bit jezen is angry only in title and words, which continue the narrative line of the loser described earlier, except it’s one thing how we see ourselves and another what others pin on us. Average in our own eyes, we may get from others a posthumous acknowledgment that we even dared to reach for the stars and pick dry gold from the sky. It’s a likable song that doesn’t come alive until a big finale, but you wouldn’t expect that from a singer-songwriter record on first listen anyway. Jesenska signals that we’re moving through the field of somewhat livelier melodies, with extra instruments from Tomaž Pengov’s full field, rather than the field of hammering, hissing atmospherics with pompous melody, rhythm and special effects. The exceptionally tasteful orchestration of the whole unfolds aesthetically and narratively strong from here on out. Slow Quick settles into a bluesy, laid-back tale of a perfect evening when words became flesh and the point of the wine-drunkenness became fact. Over cobblestones the whole crew strolls through the old town center to the sounds of a mischievous trombone, a youngster at heart, if not in body, reaches a hand for the backside of a pretty companion, and the seduction, to the murmur of the sea, shifts from teasing to a slow, savoring groove, you know how it goes … A sexy little story before the end, with its slow tempo and fading organ, clears the way to the final stretch of the regular album. Lahko bi bila knjiga sounds like there’s nothing left to add to a Dylanesque story in the Slovenian way. The book of memories is written and closed, but the crowd demands encores, right? That’s exactly where Mef lets himself step out of the rigid frame and answers the calls for bonuses: the tuneful Za zmeraj offers a bit more material for Popevke morja in sonca, and as the longest track on the album, with a touch of nostalgia and old vows of forever, it doesn’t spoil the arc of the whole story, it just offers a little more optimism and lighter contours. Črni bratje season the whole thing with a bit of old-town poetics (as if you were listening to Rani Mraz and Đorđe Balašević in Slovenian), and to the sounds of accordion and guitar they add a hidden punk dot on the i. The title song of the film of the same name sings: »No fascist will trample us or crush us bloody. / Here our people will stand, our language, our rights,« and at the end Mef adds a bit more, and there’s the promise for the future.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WV38MftQb2o
With Najboljša leta we can only admit that Mef was worth waiting a little longer for again, because the record works, even if at a less angry and less gruff potency. Mef doesn’t recreate the past two acts, but adds a note of his own that gives no hint the songs were written for anyone but him personally. The album warns that staring at the past is not the right recipe for a full life, since, given that many people console themselves that nothing can be done to turn things around for the better, pessimism and passivity cripple any move toward improvement. Both in personal life and in social reality there’s a shortage of potency and guts, so action, doing something and a return to the present are essential, is the hidden message you could read beneath the layers of Mef’s words. A really pleasant little record that deserves all the praise, and we can hope that some of that good essence lingers on after this musical note into the future too, also given that life’s cycles seem to be closing, and the long-absent Desti bratje are rejoining the NOB band. It’s never too late to enjoy that full moment here and now, and for one more round of good music!
Lineup
Drago Mislej Mef – guitar and vocals
Armando Šturman – electric and acoustic guitars
Giorgio Biselli – bass
Andjelko Stupar Đele – drums
Andrea F. – additional guitars, synth, samples, loops and backing vocals
Jadran Ferjančič – keyboards
Teo Kahlimanovič – keyboards (on track #5)
Matjaž Klaj – trombone (on track #9)
Steffy – vocals and backing vocals (#4, 5, 7)
Martina Franca – backing vocals (#5)
APZ choir of the University of Primorska (#7)
Production
Andrea F.
Track list
1. Marije niso našli
2. Gluh in slep
3. Grem
4. Najboljša leta
5. Ljubezen je v zraku
6. Luzer
7. Znal je bit jezen
8. Jesenska
9. Slow Quick
10. Lahko bi bila knjiga
11. Za zmeraj (bonus)
12. Črni bratje (bonus)
