Author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
Artist: Martin Krpan
Label: ZKP RTV Slovenija
Released: 1987
Length: 35:01
Rating: 5/5
Call me sentimental, I’m probably going through a phase, but the fact is that every so often it’s just plain wonderful to blow the accumulated layers of the dust of oblivion off the neglected shelves and offer the world an idea, or just the right excuse, to swap the worn-out needle on your turntable and get down to listening to the real stuff. While airing out the homegrown section of my shelves, the spotlight fell this time on the mightiest, strongest and most potent Carniolan around, the valiant Martin Krpan. Well, almost a Carniolan, because in the genetic code of this particular lineup, which for me is the very definition of quality Slovenian rock, the eighties live and breathe, and it’s also an equals sign for music that can, pop leanings and all, still be music with balls and soul. All of those attributes, plus the status of a legendary record that, if you don’t own it, you should at least know inside out if you consider yourself a true connoisseur of good homegrown music. I’m talking about Od višine se zvrti, the record on which Martin Krpan drew a line under their progressive past and showed themselves to be a punchy, commercially more penetrating band that still doesn’t sound like cheap junk from a clearance-sale shelf. Quite the opposite!
If the first two records carried the lukewarm stamp of a borrower of the already-heard, courtesy of Andrej Turk, this time around came radical changes and a reshuffling of the aces. Klinar’s soldiery (well, besides Aleš, let’s not forget the important roles of Dadi Kašnar and Tomaž Sršen) pull off some carefully planned flying substitutions. Guitarist Miha Stebe is replaced by the gifted Mark Čuček, but the key swap is behind the microphone. Martin Krpan entrusted that crucial role to Vlado Kreslin, the backing vocalist from the second record, and that’s where the success story began to be written, the story of the moment after which nothing was the same as before. Some people carry an aura of success and specialness around them, and this third reshuffled lineup of the mighty Krpan is openly rock’n’roll and, from the very first moment of synergy and burst of creativity, was destined for a flight among the stars. And the record I’m writing about today doesn’t carry for nothing a record that has stood for more than twenty years among Slovenian rock musicians: it’s the best-selling rock album of the last two decades. That’s also why Siddharta left their share of bitter aftertaste, and In&Out and a few other instant-fame seekers added their own share of flailing at the evergreens from this record, along with at least one solid echo of lyrics in the hall at a gig, even if borrowed, to the delight of eager lads and lasses. But today we’re not talking about them. Let’s rather give in to the charms of musical archaeology.
And not without reason, because the whole record Od višine se zvrti is a proper greatest-hits collection, except that back in 1986 Martin Krpan had only just written, recorded and served up these nine hits to a crowd of music lovers starved for good tunes. And this really is a jackpot, leading you through the rocker streets of Ljubljana with a rebellious, quietly nation-awakening and critical opener, Je v Šiški še kaj odprtega? No, it’s not just a boozy pub crawl around Ljubljana: you can hear, right away and unmistakably, the sting of revolt and revolution against the Belgrade centers of power of the time. Martin Krpan were always standard-bearers of the pro-Slovenian rock that was heading toward independence, and here you get the playful multi-part vocals of the boys in the band, Klinar’s simple piano touches, Kreslin’s raspy, deeply resonant voice, and full production from the band’s sonic guru, drummer Dadi Kašnar, who this time looks for help and a musical production boost from bassist Tomaž Sršen, with a visit to the legendary Metro studio adding its bit too. Je v Šiški še kaj odprtega? introduces all the strengths of the band’s new frontman, Vlado Kreslin, who is far more direct than his predecessor, and with a stroll through the capital of Slovenianness it announces that under the seemingly calm surface of meekness, changes are brewing and steps are being taken away from the unitarism of Yugoslavia. Potent Slovenian words fill your ears and soul, and the follow-up is no less punchy. Njen trnutek prihaja is a sensual, tastefully arranged song about eroticism, touch, loud and wheezing anticipation, the shiver of the unimaginable. Pure form, with perfectly calibrated guitars, keyboards, drums and simple choruses, drives the pleasure train onward, and on Še je čas there’s Kreslin’s resonant lyricism and a voice that’s epic but not pathetic, colorful and expressively rich in its storytelling. It’s an allegory of the breakup of Yugoslavia, a premonition of a plebiscite and secession, of going it alone, and on the other hand simply the story of a man who isn’t coping so well in his life and world, but still gives himself time for a thorough think about whether he should keep leaving his mark on the world, keep deluding himself, or maybe just hang it all up and leave. There are more layers and angles on the essence, but none of it, anywhere, in any way, dents the legendary ring of an evergreen you all know.
We’re all looking for the right path to walk from today into tomorrow. Some know where to turn before the fork, most wander and grope through the haze of everyday life, but what all the living share, though undefined and not always clearly articulated, is longing. And it’s precisely that longing that Krpan’s strongmen sing out in the song Kdo je ta pravi. It’s outstanding funk rock with a whiff of Stevie Wonder and his incredible Superstition in the opening chords and the touches of Klinar’s piano keys, one of my favorite lesser-known tracks on the record, and it manages to conjure up the full magnetism of electrified wriggling and passion even after crossing the vast oceans of time that have passed from the song’s creation to today. I probably fell in love with this one partly because of the perfectly placed note of saxophone that sneaks in in just the right raspy yet sweet way, courtesy of Urban Urbanija, yes, Miladojka’s Urbanija, proving that the Krpans know how to pick guests with style and thought. Mi nikol’ ne tarnamo, mi nikol’ ne dvomimo is a sharper, more rocking continuation about conquerors of women’s hearts, and if pretty girls really only love bad boys, then Krpan is a bit of a naughty sort too. Kaj je staro, se novo zdi is a song that gets all the guys on the road to a midlife crisis thinking. Youth has faded, but the heart stays young despite the aging body. The song reminds me of the structure of the debut by America’s Bon Jovi, I think for a moment, and when it comes to slogans that aren’t really slogans, To ni političen song is political and also isn’t, if you believe it, and it’s all about declaring, provoking and waking up those who listen and actually hear what’s being said. Others, more superficial, succumb to the right, well-tuned harmonies and the sequence of melodic themes that take you onto the right train of pleasure, and besides proper distortion there’s no shortage of proper guitar solos, proper masculine vocals, layered harmonies and real solidity across the whole sonic picture, which grafts the genetic code of the band’s essence deep into your soul and memory, forever.
Sovražnik ne spi is, in its slightly naive but very catchy storytelling, about the battle of the sexes, deception, playing games, overlooking things, and behind it all there remains at least a morsel of collage devoted to the old pro-socialist scaremongering of the masses, that we must always be ready for battle, war, defending the homeland from an outside enemy. Martin Krpan don’t draw any sharp dividing line here, but what matters is that the melodies and rhymes work and lure the listeners to dance. And that’s the second-to-last dance before the finale of this truly lovely little record. The record’s final act is devoted to the title track, Od višine se zvrti, which shakes you to the core, no matter who sings the lines about fear, passing time, Icarus’s flight toward the Sun, with every verse, every chorus, every keyboard chord, with everything. It’s a ballad about the fragility of dreams, which, for all their transience, are always sweeter dreamed together.
A loving embrace of warmth with a gorgeous resonant sound drives the perfect whole to its end, and what you, the listener, have reached the bottom of this time is rightfully called a great classic of Slovenian music. There are no weak links here, and Martin Krpan finally grow into their mighty name. The hesitancy of the early days is beheaded, and the road to eternal glory and a pedestal of excellence is wide open. This outstanding third act of a discographic trek into the unknown confirms that the Carniolan-Prekmurje soldiers of finely spiced rock were ready to go a step further. The unbelievers and doubters are washed away into the blackness of the universe of oblivion by nine solid aces, which, besides the music, got their main stamp from the presence of a real, manly, raspy voice belonging to an exceptional man with a black guitar, who had left his hat in the corner back then and dedicated his guitar strings to work in a band that hadn’t yet said and confessed everything. The only question was whether anything so perfect and top-notch could be improved on at all. Could that flight toward the sun of perfection also be the one that ultimately led to Krpan running out of steam and collapsing? I won’t judge that this time, but it’s true that even if there had been no follow-up, Martin Krpan could have set Od višine se zvrti up as a monument to their greatness, significance and excellence. But the guys knew that resting on the laurels of old glory isn’t the comfiest way to go, so the follow-up did indeed come …
Lineup
Mark Čuček – guitars
Dadi Kašnar – drums, percussion
Aleš Klinar – keyboards, vocals
Vlado Kreslin – vocals, acoustic guitar, harmonica
Tomaž Sršen – bass
Guest musician:
Urban Urbanija – saxophone (on track #4)
Production
Tomaž Sršen, Dadi Kašnar
Track list
- Je v Šiški še kaj odprtega?
- Njen trenutek prihaja
- Še je čas
- Kdo je ta pravi?
- Mi nikol’ ne tarnamo, mi nikol’ ne dvomimo
- Kaj je staro, se novo zdi
- To ni političen song
- Sovražnik ne spi
- Od višine se zvrti
