Author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
Artist: Xaxaxa
Label: Moonlee Records
Release: 2012
Length: 30:48
Rating: 4.5/5
Being socially critical and sick of the empty promises of idea-free politicians shouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world these days, whether you’re a creaky, seen-it-all old cat or a milk-toothed kid with no hope for the future. And since it’s good to have a fitting soundtrack for blowing off steam on the fly, it doesn’t have to be some Americans or fed-up locals, because you can just as well spin the latest record by the Macedonian outfit Xaxaxa (or Hahaha in Cyrillic). Despite the band’s name, these heirs of the former act Bernays Propaganda, Skopje’s bouncy punkers running on alternative fuel, are anything but made for carefree fun alone. Beneath the Macedonian-language lyrics and singable melodies lies plenty of bitterness and direct criticism of the system we live in today. Robbed of their dreams, instead of crying about it or immediately reaching for guns and bombs, they reached for instruments and served up a listenable version of very well-articulated revolt, which has been filling the audience’s ears for three years now. Last year the tango lesson with Tango revolucioner also took place at the first punk rock holidays at PRH 1.1, and just a year later it’s time for the next chapter.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rANMglEjlTg
Despite the fast pace of creation, Siromašni i bogati is a well-thought-out piece of work, proof that Vasko Atanasoski, Nenad Trifunovski and Đano Kuč took their mission of exposing the emptiness and sadness of our times as a sacred calling, not just a way to kill spare time and idleness. The minimalist cover stays true to the DIY roots of punk, HC and that real alternative whose colors were defended by Fugazi, Hüsker Dü and whoever else goes back to the eighties and early nineties. It’s backed by a just-right seasoned sound that leans on the legacy of that aforementioned duo, and to those names we can add nods to Dag Nasty, Wipers and Rites Of Spring. Fine – we won’t be reinventing the wheel this time, and after a pretty juicy debut the big question is: is this a rerun of the old story, stagnation in the safe shelter of a winning recipe, or a step forward? You get the answer in one go, right after the sound of Hrabar nov svet foams up in your ears, bridging the punchy tempo of the debut with a new chapter in Xaxaxa’s development. Vasko, Nenad and Đano stay true to their roots, so there was no point expecting that you wouldn’t spot some family resemblance on the new record, but with the richer sonic picture of Kolku nazad možeš da se vratiš? it’s clear the lads have taken a step forward. Vasko’s just-right sloppy guitar and its dirty distortions are nicely joined by a meticulous bass that Nenad has down pat, and the drums under Đano’s sticks sound just-right lively and, above all, tight as a sewing machine. Under the recognizable voice of the band’s lead throat, a just-right tender female voice from the backing vocalist weaves into the story. Alongside it comes the rhetorical question of whether Skopje is actually an inevitable road to ruin for the young, while in this year of cataclysm the realization remains that wars, earthquakes and fallen cities are a forecast of the future, and a return to some golden age of abundance and dreamy carefree days is impossible.
Pessimism? I’d rather call it healthy realism, and we should all admit the truth to ourselves every now and then, so that obvious things and clear calculations with the fund of the present don’t knock us off track when things aren’t the way politicians promise. That’s what the song Siromašni i bogati is dedicated to, a song about deep chasms in all the Eurocentric and Balkan, or hell, worldwide banana republics, except that the hegemony of dirty starvation from Africa has now moved onto our home turf. Vtora smrt, or “second death” in our language, is a lyrically less clear track for all young, life-filled people. Instead of physical passing, it’s devoted to recessionary belt-tightening and anarchic revolt against state-level rot, while the follow-up Kon svoite se vrtiš says that even when you go back to your nearest and dearest, it often turns out the old bonds are broken, so there’s no returning to some sweet state of primordial safety. Crawling back to the home nests you should have left is the result of financial strain, in a game where the rich are the rulers of the world and the poor are slaves of the rulers of this pigsty called modernity, and any hope of moving toward liberation, at least by the evolutionary path, is off the table. Xaxaxa wrap this up nicely in a musical projectile of alt-rock catchiness, and the just-right sugary sounds of a trumpet and electric piano leave their mark on the track too. Xaxaxa are critics with an aesthetic sense, and it’s the kind of criticism that slips right into your ears. Those ears do have to be at least a little open to Slavic languages, otherwise the main message slides off into the void and people can only sway into an easy dance to the otherwise lovely sounds, even though we’re all standing like sheep in line for slaughter while oligarchs of idea-free economists and politicians spin us fairy tales, with which they’d take, on top of the dignity that’s long gone, the little we have left to survive … And there’s no logging off from that, Vasko and company add with the song Probav da se isklučam. The bit of futuristic play with tracking chips and branding herds of citizens can be taken literally here, but there’s also plenty of room for an allegorical reading, in which we’re all marked by our economic status, our genes and our geopolitical positioning.
Siromašni i bogati is a more articulate, melodic piece of work that takes the story steadily upward, and I’d stress that the quality level has definitely been raised a notch, one we’ll damn well expect from the Macedonian pop-punk revolutionaries going forward too! Judging by the whole thing, this record is a true ideological treatise, a political manifesto and, above all, a very well-calibrated piece of music with passionate musicality. In it a sliver of hope remains: for work for everyone, for light at the end of the darkened tunnel of the present, for deliverance from the pains and troubles of the world we live in. Xaxaxa demand an active response and, if nothing else, a dance, after which, having sobered up a few times over, we’ll be able to hear the meaning of words common to all of us. And with this dance sentiment we’ll soon be able to take our fate into our own hands, start filling Molotovs for a final reckoning with those who steal our hope for a brighter future. Backed by our numbers, we could more easily say to the thieves of hope’s light: »We’ve read you, and after this revolution not one stone will be left standing on another in the walls of your palaces of arrogance and unjust sucking-dry of the last atoms of social welfare and common sense!« I’ve strayed from the music into political activism a bit, but in harmony with Xaxaxa it makes damn good sense. You know how it goes – he who laughs last laughs best, and Xaxaxa take the honor of embodying the sarcasm of that saying in both substance and name. The quiet threat of the future, and above all fed-up weariness with the state of the present, is a parting gift we’ll happily sink our teeth into again in the future!
Line-up
Vasko Atanasoski – guitar, vocals
Nenad Trifunovski – bass
Đano Kuć – drums
Guest musicians:
Vladan Drobicki – trumpet on 5 and 7
Panče Bujukliev – electric piano on 5 and 7
Kristina Gorovska – vocals and clapping on 2, tambourine on 7
Production
Nenad Trifunovski
Track list
- Hrabar nov svet
- Kolku nazad možeš da se vratiš
- Siromašni i bogati
- Vtora smrt
- Kon svoite se vrtiš
- Probav da se isklučam
- Sekoj raboti
- Ako se odvojam od bolkata
- Fanariotska prikazna
- Ja polni zemljata so smrt
