GORAN BREGOVIĆ
ALKOHOL
Wrasse Records 238
I don’t know much about Serbian music but if Goran Bregović is typical (and I suspect he’s not!), it’s mutt music extraordinaire. He calls his ensemble the Wedding and Funeral Band, but there’s not a note on this album that would give melancholic pause. The blaring brass and gritty vocals of the opening track, “Yeremia,” are a cross between a street parade and a drunken riot! And that is the point of the album. Bregović intends this music to be taken in two draughts; the first is a tribute to Sljivovica, fiery plum brandy that is Serbia’s national beverage. In that spirit the tunes get progressively wilder. By the time we get to “For Esma,” it’s a meandering mess, as if everyone in the band is three sheets to the wind. Overall this project is a ragout of many ingredients: pieces that sound like rembétika-meets-mariachi (“Paradehtika”), those featuring lusty Balkan choral singing (“Venzinatiko”), some rock riff seasoning (“On the Backseat of My Car”), a bit of flamenco influence (“Gas Gas Gas”), and camp worthy of The Village People (“Streets are Drunk”).
ALKOHOL
Wrasse Records 238
I don’t know much about Serbian music but if Goran Bregović is typical (and I suspect he’s not!), it’s mutt music extraordinaire. He calls his ensemble the Wedding and Funeral Band, but there’s not a note on this album that would give melancholic pause. The blaring brass and gritty vocals of the opening track, “Yeremia,” are a cross between a street parade and a drunken riot! And that is the point of the album. Bregović intends this music to be taken in two draughts; the first is a tribute to Sljivovica, fiery plum brandy that is Serbia’s national beverage. In that spirit the tunes get progressively wilder. By the time we get to “For Esma,” it’s a meandering mess, as if everyone in the band is three sheets to the wind. Overall this project is a ragout of many ingredients: pieces that sound like rembétika-meets-mariachi (“Paradehtika”), those featuring lusty Balkan choral singing (“Venzinatiko”), some rock riff seasoning (“On the Backseat of My Car”), a bit of flamenco influence (“Gas Gas Gas”), and camp worthy of The Village People (“Streets are Drunk”).
The second draught is supposed to be Champagne and though the band is tighter and the klezmer and gypsy jazz influences are clearer, these pieces are considerably rougher than one would associate with a glass of bubbly. Even a composition such as “Na’tan Ixara Oikopedo,” which opens with soulful sax, soon segues to bright tones and loud crescendos. Listening to this album is a bit like being intoxicated—you wouldn’t want to imbibe heavily on a daily basis, but every now and again it’s fun to get shit-faced and silly.--LV
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