Location: Krpanov stadion / Pivka
Concert date: 12.09.2009
Attendance: 0
Ticket price: 15 €
Tank Rock festival, an ambitiously conceived project that went down last weekend at Krpanov stadion in Pivka, served up a pretty tempting lineup. Besides our old acquaintances Forgotten Eden, the stage was shaken by rock veterans Requiem and the ever-present Divlje jagode, while the big man of the rock trade, Janez Zmazek, took care of the hot finale with his Don Mentony Banda. But let’s take it from the top. As a regular concertgoer, I was first struck at the improvised entrance to the grounds by the realization that, despite my not exactly typical punctuality, I’d shown up in Pivka almost two hours too early (good thing the nearby pub was waving me in with a broadcast of the basketball massacre against Lithuania). The poisonous “efficiency” and downright incredible “orderliness” of our local organizers decided to strike in Pivka too, just in case we happened to forget where we live.
FORGOTTEN EDEN
Forgotten Eden’s set was marked from the very start by an extremely tight sound. One of the band’s main strengths, besides the impressive vocal chops of bouncy songbird Jure Počkaj, is the excellent work of the backing vocals, whose bold placement can thrill quite a few of the more demanding music gourmets. Riding on the intense chewing-through of their latest album Eden, Forgotten Eden came across as consistent and confident. There was no room for flubs in their show; despite their youth and the inexperience that comes with it, they sounded drilled down to the last detail. If anything really bothered me, it was, so to speak, the overly compressed sound, which these days is practically proverbial on stage. Just as an example: while Sabljaković’s string solo excursions pull all the threads of the fiery guitar exhibition, the rhythm guitar rusts away shyly and barely noticed in the background. Its contribution, serving up disciplined distorted landings, was hardly noticeable next to the bolder of the two guitarists. The synthetic-sounding filler of keyboard wizard Iztok Kocen also often lacked any lasting connection to the action, and he impressed less with his keyboard parts than with his steady supply of backing vocals.
Forgotten Eden decisively won the fight for the hearts of the local headbangers gathered below the stage, which is of course exactly as it should be. With a repertoire that, by blending catchy tunes with sharp heavy-rock sawdust, clearly signaled a tendency to crawl through thick layers of earwax, the guys left the impression of a well-oiled collective that has no shame about “reheating” musical forms we’ve heard countless times.
REQUIEM
Requiem’s mileage shows at every step, which could ultimately be read from their routinely laid-back set, which, unlike Forgotten Eden’s “bloodthirsty” charge, predictably landed much closer to routine (meant in an extremely positive sense, of course). Requiem dishonored our ears with a brisk march of heavy-rock gems that settled into the hearts of true worshippers of rock music long ago. The fact that these old guys have stayed faithful to steel-plated rock sawdust for years, and with an enviable harvest of success to boot, can feed with hope for a brighter future of rock & roll those poor souls who, in their desire to satisfy primal urges, have so far visited the rock mortadella bar in vain. Requiem showed excellent form; they sounded fresh, almost youthful. Primož stayed in great vocal spirits throughout, and we only got a bit of patching of vocal holes right at the end of the set, when the old man’s vocal acrobatics understandably demanded some toll. Besides the already traditionally confident guitar tandem of the in-form duo Slokar/Marin, Requiem also stood out with excellent backing vocals, which successfully embellished the presentation of the band’s greatest triumphs, from Amsterdam through Čarovnice all the way to the famous instrumental kazachok Mr. Twister, which in terms of performance made for the peak of the Ljubljana band’s set.
DIVLJE JAGODE
The script by which Divlje jagode keep pulling young and old into a trance at their shows has stayed unchanged for a long time. The quick serving of the basic heavy-rock drone of a two-guitar, bass and drums lineup rarely delivers any standout moment worth mentioning that would bring a bit more excitement, let alone juiciness, to the tight rows of memorized setlists. It was no different in Pivka, where, as it later turned out, Divlje jagode played the role of the evening’s main attraction. Lipovača’s well-trained little troop knows well how to handle things, especially when the gig is on some eternally sun-drenched sub-Alpine pasture. Divlje jagode raced through the set briskly, without hesitation, with visibly “chilled” faces that spoke volumes about the band’s lack of mood, or perhaps even lack of interest. You’d logically think that with such an approach the gentlemen wouldn’t come out of the evening unscathed, but Željko’s men nurture such a rich stock of hardware, well settled into the pores of the local audience (which, by some logic I find hard to grasp, built up a thoroughly idealized image of its heroes long ago), that they have nothing to fear in unfolding this bloody scenario. The Divlje jagode principle is very simple: Motori for an intro, followed by an avalanche of the band’s favorites like Krivo je more, Autostop, Konji, among which they managed to squeeze in a not-too-pedantically performed instrumental à la Turce, predictably served up as an excuse to rest Osmanović’s well-smoked vocal cords, and for the farewell Divlje jagode, after which the men quickly packed up their things and left.
DON MENTONY
The finale of the first Tank Rock, directed by Don Mentony Banda, promised a drastic turn away from four hours of droning distortion cacophony, so it was no surprise that after a good twenty minutes of Mentony’s machinations, the bulk of the black-clad crowd, packed tight not long before, slowly but surely began to dissolve toward the exit. Janez’s simple, unembellished combination of daring blues rock was understandably far too unattractive for many a (too) proud bearer of metal-styled epaulettes, which vividly testifies to the state of mind of our local music community, which has no ear, let alone any decent understanding, for consuming the bare basics of musical art.
As for Don Mentony themselves, the Pivka show brought no major departures from the usual guidelines. As one of the few still-active masters of the art of blues-rock guitar who, in these times of parading plastic and sterility, still dares to wax some completely natural rock & roll, Žan remains magnificent in every element of the show. His raspy, rawly laid-back vocal remains an instrument polished to perfection for shaking out moral transgressions of every color and shape, and there’s no need to waste words on the man’s Clapton-style guitar maneuvers either. Zmazek’s nicely oiled quartet of companions-in-arms works homogeneously when needed, and when the moment calls for it, individuals gladly step aside with lively melodic acrobatics. All these excursions, of course, take place under Žan’s watchful eye, which, with its chameleon-like glances in every direction, steered the stage action in a fatherly way.
Don Mentony’s sonic palette has kept steadily growing over the years, and these days mostly thanks to the passionate, fiery accordion parts of Boštjan Dorič, whose presence offers an effective counterweight to the excellent youngster Luka Vehar, it broadens the horizons of the band’s finest hardware. Many an evergreen of Žan’s wide repertoire thus carries less distortion, with the vacated spot of its quick stride taken by the excellent work of the newly recruited youth, which further adds to the slimness of the overall sound. Zmazek clearly expects a lot from both of them, since compared to the long-announced appearance in the national broadcaster’s studio, used for recording the upcoming live album, he gave his six-string comrade noticeably more room to maneuver. Vehar has visibly gained confidence since the radio-studio adventure (this time, for instance, he shone with an inventive solo spot in the song Na drugi strani).
Zmazek’s little troop of unsatisfied blues-rock gladiators did their job excellently given the circumstances. The inhumanly early hour, which struck past midnight for the third time during the opener Ko noč zamenja dan, failed to suck the stage enthusiasm out of Janez’s sprightly little body. The lukewarm response from the crowd, which more than once provoked a particularly juicy remark from Žan, got away with a bit more success in that respect. Judging by what I saw, sadly, with good reason too!
Photos: Mojca Perdih
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