Temni angeli usode Rocked Bežigradfest (2013)

Arhiv Arhiv Last updated 3 October 2026

Venue: VPK Cvetličarna, Ljubljana, Slovenia
Concert date: 28.06.2013
Attendance: 300 – 400

The recession’s claws won’t let go, so for any music lover with a hellishly empty pocket, the news that the City of Ljubljana would back Bežigradfest was a real relief. The festival took shelter from this year’s moody, very British summer in the renovated, spruced-up Cvetličarna, now fully ready for gigs. After a look at the lineup it was clear to me – on June 28 I’d be there even if axes rained from the sky, because it meant another Ljubljana raid by a band that holds a very special, sacred spot in my heart and on my shelves. Ever since way back in 1985, the Brežice crew of offbeat rockers Demolition Group have been proving that being different and nonconformist can be recut into something so attractive and magnetic that the mere mention of the name is gravitationally loaded with malt and a burning urge to squeeze into the front lines, dance, and froth over thoughts with just the right bitter drops of wormwood and sweat, as served up by the oligarchs of perfection from Planet starcev. Actually, that planet’s name doesn’t quite fit anymore. It stopped fitting with the arrival of the excellent Gregel brothers, which gave the band’s birth certificate a thoroughly good rejuvenation, and then came the March news that the first and only despot of six strings in the lineup, the outstanding Bojan Fifnja, had left, and I awaited what came next with fear in my heart. Demolition Group have been on the brink of falling apart a few times, and after several years of silence they couldn’t and shouldn’t afford another break. Fittingly, they once again went for a young guitarist, Matija Lapuh, a multimedia artist who has also left his mark in the band Shyam. So how does Demolition Group work with only saxophonist Jože Pegam and charismatic singer Goran Šalamun left on stage from the old core, and the indispensable Matjaž Pegam behind the mixing desk?

That definitely needed checking out. Words of praise for young Matija’s account weren’t to be swallowed blindly, since Bojan was exactly the kind of guy whose guitar meditations and colorful contours of finely dosed effects made him one of those co-creators of the band’s sonic fresco you can’t just brush aside and swap out without complications, I figured. So on Friday a little squad of Rockline-connected names and personalities headed for the scene of the free party. In front of Cvetličarna’s closed doors a respectable crowd of familiar faces gathered, and in the sea of dialects from every corner of Slovenia you could hear and feel that anticipation for this gig was something special, festive, Sunday-best, even if evening gowns and ties were nowhere to be seen. A little after nine the doors of the temple of alternative culture opened, and we the faithful waited patiently for the show to start under the playful glitter of blue lights. A tray of beer is carried onto the stage, followed by the mustachioed saxophone wizard Jože; the left side of the stage is bolstered by young guitarist Matija, strapping on a Telecaster that looks like it’s been splattered with blood. Behind the drums sits the excellent Ivica Gregel, and from the right his tattooed twin brother, the brilliant, bass-wielding Tomi Gregel, kicks into the bars of Mučnina. It’s starting, and at murderous volume. The guitar roars and Jože’s sax barely penetrates the thick cloud of sweet noise and feedback. What’s immediately obvious is that Demolition Group are louder than ever. Noisier than life itself, they lift the composition into a state of rapture just as the indispensable Goran steps up to the mic. »Ask yourself why the ray of joy always shatters against the wall of woe / Finally admit that I alone hold the key to your happy world…« Goran’s bitter vocals are barely decipherable in the cannonade of guitars and distorted bass-and-drum lines, but the men from Brežice are in the right mood, and a bit of chasing after the right volume and sonic balance doesn’t spoil the vibe. After the last verse comes a thunderous roar of applause and it’s clear – the crowd greets its long-awaited despots and keepers of the keys to hearts hungry for music and happiness sincerely and without reservation! »What is Ljubljana? Did you come for a party? We’re here, to blame for everything…« says an already drenched Goran, addressing the pleasantly packed hall. Next comes the trip to Planet starcev. The song Kriv sem za vse fills the ears with a playful guitar line, sax (I’d actually crank the latter up a bit), bass and drums, and Goran still can’t be heard clearly or strongly enough, but the picture is getting better. The front rows give in to the dictates of dance and movement, and with sweat drops of happiness and elation I follow the nice contours of a well-thought-out setlist. The opening is all about punishing the deaf and hard of hearing! Dan dolgih sanj is a thunderous greeting to summer, and after the devastating touch of Gospodar (we asked no questions and had no brooding doubts about the lord’s omnipotence…) it’s time for the sweet punishment of the trio Biči luči in upanja. Matija is organic and doesn’t hide behind a ton of effects. The guitar works in sync and even sharper than before, though I miss a gram or two of Bojan’s guitar silkiness here and there, but the young guitarist is a good choice with his effort and his drive to blend and fuse with the band. He doesn’t pose and doesn’t buckle under the pressure of hundreds of eyes, among which there are surely some that never forgive a substitute his slip-ups, and the kid has learned his part well, with the excellent homework proven by the follow-up with Nimam rad boga. Demolition Group pull off the showdown with angels and demons, church corruption, middlemen and Pharisees in an inoffensive way, and when it’s over, instead of anointing water, a fresh dose of hoppy nectar turns up on stage from the wings. After the outstanding distorted opening comes a strategically placed calming of the passions with Dež, which still doesn’t put out the flames of liveliness smoldering in our hearts. Hundreds of throats join in on the verses. »You were like the sun that shines for me / far away, hot, dazzling / all my days I looked at you / you burned my eyes / Let the song of the sky pour down / on our love / like drops of rain, of happiness / that fall day after day…«. There’s little sweetness and optimism in Demolition Group’s lyrics, but with a wormwood of vitality and bitterness the Brežice lads charm more than they could ever repel. We Slovenes are lovers of weltschmerz and bitterness, and Goran’s smile of happiness proves that the sentiments of the crowd and the stage shamans of concert pleasure are well calibrated.

The return to Planet starcev is thus something perfectly natural for everyone. No, Goran, you’re not a happy band, and that’s exactly why we love you so damn much! The resonating of the glue of compact music, sweat drops of effort and sincerity, and a spirit of the times that blows and shaves between the synapses of some pretty heavy thoughts makes it clear that heart has become a currency today, and because it’s so rare we can give it everything and more. There are no reserves. Old fans stand shoulder to shoulder with casual gawkers, old hardened party animals and bikers with the makeup crowd, and the speakers burst with lovely sounds of sax and effected bass in the song Nisva tu. We hear Jože a little too little, and apparently he hears himself less too, because he ramps up the intensity of the honeyed air he squeezes through the brass body of his beloved sax. After Nujno ni comes the truth of the evening: »How do you feel when something isn’t necessary? But it is…«, and then Romantika, which always sounds like a showdown straight out of Otpisani. It’s sexy to waste the time of days long gone, and the dance of sweat-soaked bodies, young and old, dudes and girls, crowns the stage dance of the ringleaders. I can’t imagine Demolition Group without Goran’s facial expressions and, I hope, copyrighted upper-body dance, and the whole thing is further backed by the bassist’s and saxophonist’s strolls over to the guitarist, who is in his own movie, hungry and thirsty to enchant the crowd with one of the spells now borrowed from the almighty Fifnja. »Thank you. A hundred times…« Goran thanks the band for the roaring applause and announces the continuation with the playful, livelier Stokrat, which sketches the contours of a continent of deep and true love – the album Deep True Love, which gets its say with the song America. »Love is OK!«, and if what follows is something neo-gospel-ishly sinister and splendid like DAF, the day is nearly perfect. Tomi’s droning bass, the distorted screams of Matija’s Telecaster and Jovo’s sax. »When I creep into your mind / kneel on the floor / when I stroke your cheeks / kiss my palms / when I pull you close / hug my legs / admit in the sweat of happiness / that you are my god!!!« echoes from the speakers and from the lips and throats of the fired-up crowd, and the instinctive urge to burn out completely creates the atmosphere of a gig that will go down in memory as one of the best at this year’s Bežigradfest. Planet starcev is the record that put a new, fresh wind in the band’s sails, but the older part of the discography has gathered enough heart-grown patina that after Kak dan the time came for the peak, mental ejaculation and total rapture.

Model, a song from the compilation CD Transslovenia Express and the second record Bad Gag 2, which I’d gladly kill for, becomes a screen for finding the perfect balance between the punkish and funky parts of DG’s soul, and the young and old parts of the Demolition body feel damn good in both astral halves. The solos of guitars, bass, sax and drums then level up superbly with the equally rustic hit U tvojim očima. »In your eyes a fire is lit / when your gaze is on me / And your hand is the gentlest of all / When you reach it out to me / In long nights you tremble in your sleep / You chase all dreams away without me / And you breathe hard, your tongue is hard / When you tell me about us…« are verses that conjure up 1995 and teenage rapture, giving in to the naivety and beauty of first loves, among them falling in love with a lover who’s still genuine and present, and answers to the resounding name Demolition Group. Gram recalls the weight of the arguments of Biča Luči in Upanja, and Temni angeli usode is the peak of the evening. Any thoughts of criticism toward the freshly baked members and links in the chain have, I hope, fallen silent. There’s no need to stress their identity, and the lyrics put into words what the bars of the songs and the DG gospel carry. In it there’s room both for the joy of the garage tune Japanci and for the fact that Včasih tudi drugi. Crackhead proves the total dominance of all the musical links in the band, and despite Nirvana, the fact is that Zucco is immortal and will be here even when we’re gone. Three sets of encores make it known that every goodbye is too early, but still, at some point you have to leave the stage and recharge your batteries by doing nothing. »Do you want to hear one more song? If you say yes, you get one, even though we couldn’t play five more…« Goran provokes, and the confused crowd doesn’t know whether to answer the question with yes or no. Joco wanders off to greet friends below the stage, and in the process gets himself into a pretty tricky situation with the mic at the edge of the sax, so for a while he’s practically inaudible. Still, we got a quality dose of encores, where we also heard the outstanding Neovangelij, as well as the tender and long-awaited Mesečina, after which we heeded the advice of the song Ljubiva za svet and mated, fucked, and had sex for the world, this rotten planet of ours, and gave ourselves over to the primal. That was present here too, along with the fact that now and then you end up holding something foreign in your hands. Even though Pridigarji, the provocative Ormož carriers of the ska-punk soul, are happy-go-lucky guys by nature, and DG are gloomy and, as they put it themselves, depressive, Diktatorska, a dedication to the Ormož slickers, sounded authentically »Demolition-ish«. There will be no repeat of this, and a night like the one here and then won’t come back anytime soon. So after Like Night Before came the time for the last encore with Swing, and the Demolitions once again wrote themselves into the annals of live music as total winners.

Drunk on power, we raced through the world of woe without mercy, leaning on lies to the end of all roads. May the new day bring happiness, peace and love. Forever your fate’s angels. And falling in love with DG is perfect and repetitive. It gives itself away in tapping feet and the downing of the fifth beer. It gives itself away in smiles of happiness and relief. It gives itself away in gestures of enchantment at the age-hardened tomcats without whom the universe of Slovenian music would be damn boring and empty. There’s more than one reason for this. I wouldn’t waste words on the perfection of the music and the sincere lyrics, because that, as the one and only true foundation of success, can be a travel kit for decades of dominance on the homegrown alternative scene. The Brežice crew have precious little competition in the same weight class, yet they never get arrogant or lofty. The charm of old-timer beauty is here, despite the rejuvenation of the musical core, and here to stay! It’s about maturity and experience. Infatuation has been replaced by love, and that love is eternal, indestructible and hegemonically bossy. That’s also why it goes without saying that the next meeting of the crowd and the outstanding quintet will be held in the spirit of obedience to the latter. Resisting is pointless and senseless, because what’s good isn’t bad, and what isn’t broken doesn’t need fixing. So let’s hope we can keep proving this mutual attraction of stage yin and below-the-stage yang in practice for many more years, because the synergy of the two, at least in the DG practice, is always something exceptional and worth repeating!