Author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
Artist: Various Artists
Label: Self-released
Release: 2010
Runtime: 74:14
Rating: 4.6/5
Writing poetry has always been seen as an act of artistic deviation from the usual uniform patterns of social norms, where the safest way is often not to think for yourself – unless by poetry we mean the indoctrinated scribbling of system hacks. Milan B. Popović is closer to an iconoclast of these ossified forms; in today’s nihilistic spirit, when young people are barred from actively joining the system of social life and change and from pushing the stalled wagon of society forward, the feeling of being forsaken by God is that much greater. God is dead, and man, off-center, levitates in an ether of airlessness and heavy leaden clouds. In Serbia, which still hasn’t fully recovered from isolation and the deep rifts of the recent war, this is sharpened and amplified even more. Music and writing can be a valve, and from the vortex of soul-healing and the subjective perception of an exhausted world’s slow revolutions, a condensed spurt of heavy music and shattering words gushes forth this time. Everything is in symbiosis. The decadence of metal and rock has chosen a higher mission this time and reached for the symbolism of articulated words with a thousand meanings.
So let’s start with the source of the words. Milan B. Popović is a representative of the young Serbian current of poets who, besides emptying his soul’s valves through dense rhymed and unrhymed language, is also a columnist and an active music activist. In a time of grotesque verbal poverty and illiteracy among the young, he’s one of the few who defiantly walks his own path, with three poetry collections under his belt so far – the books Molitva tetoviranog srca, Vreme brutalnih dobronamernika and Oka da ne ispustim dah. Now the time has come for the final frontal showdown and for launching his poetry at the masses with heavy metal and rock artillery. If we’ve set Prešeren to music over here, the Serbs have already stepped into a new millennium, and Popović has kicked open the door to a world of parallel reality.
From this world of parallel reality, Belgrade goth metallers Abonos burst out first in the lineup with the song Urlik . For the past eleven years the band has been building a balance between various musical influences, and the end result is opera-enriched metal, stamped by the powerful female vocals of Marija Dokmanović, subtly complemented by the muffled vocals of guitarists Jakša Vlahović and Jovan Prokopić. The symbiosis of atmospheric goth and an almost medieval undertone of extremes tells the story of a state between dreams and reality, right on the edge of a full-throated scream of liberation and an anxious ending. The string of female melodies is continued by Novi Sad doom deathers Tales Of Dark. Six years of activity was plenty for this septet of extremity lovers to put out their third release – after the demo U kori tame, the debut Fragile Monuments and last year’s Perdition Calls, Tales Of Dark are gradually anchoring themselves in the center of gravity of the Balkan death metal scene. The song Prah is a very polished piece, in which the sweet, biting etching of the clean vocals of the lovely Jovana Karajanov is balanced by the guttural, Schuldiner-style vocals of Arpad Takač, former member of Anguish Sublime and Senium. An outstanding death metal composition, brimming with the defiance of pride and a half-dark hope of heading toward a better tomorrow; the beauty of tenderness and horror makes for a very positive start to the rest of the listen. The mental symphony of total pleasure goes on with a touch of progressive music served up by Seraphim. Sadly, there’s a whole sea of bands called Seraphim – besides the Austrian, Thai, English and American namesakes, the Serbian quartet is the more metal-leaning one. Povezuješ niti tells the story of a nation and of an individual, and the emotional urge toward an emotional explosion unfolds nicely and linearly over sweet guitar solos. The impression of an avalanche of contemplative words on the tip of the tongue builds and, without any tiresome repetition, ties into a fourth plateau of perception. From Petrovac na Mlavi comes the quintet Backbone. They’ve got kerosene of a more recent vintage in their veins, and an almost Korn-like delivery gives nu-metal devotees the edge they need, which makes Zarđao vek a truly phenomenal listen. Six years together has given them the synergy they need across all elements, and their somewhat drier musical approach packs a punchy guitar duo, fat bass and drum rhythms, and the fragile-yet-brutal vocals of singer Nemanja. What follows is a mix of old-school and alternative lines. Alogia are an outstanding band from Smederevo, whose musical discourse weaves between modern metal and pumped-up rock, with three records under their belt already. Alogia’s collaboration with Sweety, a Belgrade artist formerly known as Slađana Milošević, picks completely different undertones for the confession that is the epically long song Izdaja (ja bih da odmorim dušu). Sweety a.k.a. Slađana Milošević is a Serbian musical phenomenon who has been performing for the past 33 years; this vital lady has chameleon qualities, since over her career, besides classical, she also launched an inventive wing for punk and post-punk, and further on, rock avant-garde. Part of this sonic provocation is the renaming and the shift into full-on rock subversion. Izdaja sounds like a spoken personal story, a personified rebellion against the expectations of the broader conservative masses. The result is an almost murky dance through the spheres of total madness, in which one longs to finally catch sight of oneself. The gothic finale fades into the psychedelia of Alice In Wonderland, so that the rap-sharp verses of MC Iskaz can weave into the mix with Balkan drums and rhythmic thickening. The blend of rap and fragmented shrapnel of metal nicely fills out the parabola of striving for full existence, beautifully and defiantly. The synergy of this reactive mixture then picks up a bit of electronic chill. Disparador sing Pokrov iznad mene, and the creative energy of musical poet Dušan Svilokos, an avant-garde force of the Serbian guitar scene, is threaded through the whole dance of slowed-down shadows. Darkshines go for less suspense. This band of four real dudes and a lovely lady from Kragujevac has loads of musical know-how, and their foundation is primal thrash and galloping guitars, into which they work a pinch of synthesized rock on the song Umiriti dan. The quintessence of the song is an elegy, a confession of passing from a chaotic state of total pain into something more constructive. Jelena Savković’s female vocals go head to head with the outstanding guitar passages of Branislav Blagojević and Ivan Ilić, and by the sound of it you just long for the guitar stampede to go on. Instead, a melodic, balladic cooldown follows from Art Diler. Dok me pogledom streljaš shows the sensual side of the musical quartet from Petrovac na Mlavi. Personally, I crave sharper feelings rather than thinning them out with too much sensuality. A sort of AOR answer comes from Atlantida with the song Talasi. Post-rock alternative is added by the Belgrade band Amaranth. Živite li? is an ambient, sensual piece that even Isis wouldn’t turn their noses up at, and it definitely makes a good-sounding foundation for further digging into the discography of this band, who folded four lines of an extended haiku into a meditation on the full state of Buddhist rapture, into the state of satori. Umiri me, the song by A.R. Club, returns to female undertones. Modern new wave psychedelia, as this prolific quintet describes its music, sets itself the epic task of reaching into the depths in search of answers about the central meaning of existence. Altered Reality Club, which is what the abbreviation stands for in their full name, dare to weave violas and a string touch into the acoustics and muffled war drums. The acoustics go hand in hand with the more modern approach of Broken Strings, who are at their core alternative and grunge people, but this time reached for sonic minimalism. Instant Karma give Ponos a whiff of Partibrejkers poetics, and the proud stance of rebels with a cause sounds rather naive and pleasantly light. Asphalt Chant, unlike the bands before them, are much more devoted to gothic gloom and leaden-slow rhythms. Oprost is a melancholic farewell, and the premonition of the end sets up a modern-day opposition to reality, to norms, to the hierarchy of false saints, prophets and apologists of capitalist collapse. Asphalt Chant would rather be nihilists and adherents of the end than prolong the agony at all costs. Demether with Sunca kap move into rustic structures of a slightly brighter goth, with the sound of organs and a wider palette of melody. Dunja Deurić’s sweet vocal gives a special bright grip in a piercing state of parting. The images of departure soften. The state of irrevocable ending sets in, and its heralds are Heaven Rain, who in a somewhat more pompous way, in the song Dva , seek their path into the sky. Man is a duality of opposites, and the two principles – light and dark – in the magnetism of a bizarre match bring the interweaving of poetry and music to a symphonic close.
Vreme brutalnih dobronamernika is exactly that: a metal and mental symphony that takes words, as well as the choice of notes and tones, as a tool for personally satisfying the craving to feel, to speak out, and to leave an articulate mark in space and time, here and now. If a sheet of paper once caught the written words like thoughts and soul-ideas trapped in meaning, this time the sound from the speakers is what fills the space. Poetry has stretched out into three dimensions, the soul sobbed, the heart fluttered, and the ears got more than quality filler. Vreme brutalnih dobronamernika can serve as a way to promote poetry as well as musicians who would otherwise remain complete unknowns to many on this side of the Balkans. It would be a shame to judge and dismissively reject something as deep as poetry just because the last time you read lyrics was under duress. This time the offering is varied and much easier to consume, though that in no way means that what you hear won’t set your thinking in motion, and the cogwheels of contemplation and feeling will push you into wanting more. Maybe you’ll reach for a book, maybe for a pen, and leave your own mark too. The pen is mightier than the sword, and a word steeped in music is mightier and more powerful still than silent written verses. And Vreme brutalnih dobronamernika is more than just a bullseye! Is any further argument even needed to make you finally drop your resistance to sipping the noble drops of the poetic?
Lineup
bands:
– ABONOS
– TALES OF DARK
– SERAPHIM
– BACKBONE
– ALOGIA & SWEETY (a.k.a. Slađana Milošević)
– ISKAZ
– DISPARADOR
– DARKSHINES
– ART DILER
– ATLANTIDA
– AMARANTH
– A.R.CLUB
– BROKEN STRINGS
– INSTANT KARMA
– ASPHALT CHANT
– DEMETHER
– HEAVEN RAIN
Tracklist
1. ABONOS – Urlik
2. TALES OF DARK – Prah
3. SERAPHIM – Povezuješ niti
4. BACKBONE – Zarđao vek
5. ALOGIA & SWEETY (a.k.a. Slađana Milošević) – Izdaja (ja bih da odmorim dušu)
6. ISKAZ – Polusvet
7. DISPARADOR – Pokrov iznad mene
8. DARKSHINES – Umiri dan
9. ART DILER – Dok me pogledom streljaš
10. ATLANTIDA – Talasi
11. AMARANTH – Živite li?
12. A. R. CLUB – Umiri se
13. BROKEN STRINGS – Čekam
14. INSTANT KARMA – Ponos
15. ASPHALT CHANT – Oprost
16. DEMETHER – Sunca kap
17. HEAVEN RAIN – Dva
