Brkovi
Friday, 27 June 2025
Mostovna, Solkan, Slovenia
New Kid on the Block
With Brkovi shows, it’s usually the same story for me — I have to blast all my favourite tracks in the car on the way there. For reasons unknown, Shamso 69, the band’s commander-in-chief, has refused for at least the past five years to slot my personal top four into the setlist: Vjetrovi tuge, Hrvat iz Gospića, Vrati se vrati, Nisi me bila vrijedna. I’m putting that in writing because I’m convinced Shamso will read this review and immediately play at least two of those tracks at the next show.
So, Brkovi rolled through on their Nema Labavo tour and stopped at Mostovna, a club with an open-air stage that makes for a seriously relaxed gig experience. I last caught them a good year and a half ago, and since then they’ve (again) shuffled the lineup. Guitarist Vlajko is out, and in his place is a barely-legal guitar prodigy, Luka Kramar. Frequent lineup changes always make me a bit sad — I can’t keep up, and the band starts to lose its identity in my eyes. It’s like when your favourite café keeps swapping out the waitstaff every month. Even if the new ones are prettier, more charming, and friendlier — it just isn’t the same anymore.
True to Balkan-star fashion, the band kept us waiting until eleven, then came out swinging with Usamljen oženjen, followed by a freshly reworked Naša mala zemlja and the new hit Labavi. At first I didn’t notice that guitarist Vlajko was gone from stage right, because Luka has a similar build and haircut — it was the missing overalls that made me take a closer look. As I later read online, Luka is just 19 years old and is already being called the new Croatian guitar wizard, with wins at quite a few festivals under his belt. Stylistically he comes from the same mould as his bandmate on stage left, the legendary Igor Paspalj — technically impressive, with a strong melodic sense and a knack for taking existing solos and twisting them into something wilder and more elaborate. All in all, a seriously impressive guitar duo in a punk folk band.
The show rolled on without a hitch in pure Brkovi fashion — one punchy banger after another, spiced up with Shamso‘s wisecracks, which are always sharp and don’t shy away from current events. I did miss the bar table stocked with drinks on stage, though this time the frontman had to make trips over to the drum riser to grab his bottle of wine. He got through it just fine, managing to empty half a bottle over the course of the set. Not that I want to jump to conclusions — we all remember the stories about Bon Jovi, bottles of Jack Daniel’s, and iced tea.
The crowd was moderate in size but absolutely electric. The ladies led the charge, head-banging hard and belting out the filthy lyrics from the front rows. I spent most of the show leaning on the barrier below the stage with one ear or the other buried in the speakers. Which brings us to the sad part: the volume was set somewhere around living-room level, which is seriously strange and just not right for a gig like this. A real shame.
Interestingly, the track that almost always gets the biggest reaction is the mini-anthem from the debut album, Mala. The atmosphere was cranked to boiling point by crowd-pleasers like Tolerancija, Ornela, Ništa više mi ne značiš, and the newer classic Više ni pankeri ne slušaju Punk, with its bittersweet lyrics.
Not to drag this out — let me just mention two more things. First, an incredibly heartfelt tribute to the late Sandi Mavri, who was clearly a close friend of Shamso‘s. And then there’s Šarac! What a drummer! The energy, the precision, the minimalist fills — and did I mention the ENERGY? This guy deserves to be the photo on the Wikipedia article for punk rock drummers.
Brkovi delivered once again — a hard-hitting Balkan party packed with laughs, energy, and great music. It’s hard to imagine a better way to spend a hot summer evening. You can check out the full setlist right here (Naša mala zemlja is missing from it). Now we wait for the new album, and then the next show. Brkovi su da se vole!!!
Text and photos: Igorac
