29-VIII-2017.
And so we went to Dani piva (days of beer) to hear Vlatko Stefanovski. We almost could have heard him early on in 1975, when his then fledgling „Leb i sol“ was opening for Drago Mlinarec in Novi - but having been to another Dragec's concert just weeks before that, I think we went for some beer instead. This time we'll get him.
Went along štrafta, the usual tour - remembered to buy little scrunchies for our hairs (haven't cut mine for a few years now, why bother with what's left) but pushed them over the Canon's strap so all ten fell out when I took the next shot. Bought ćeten alva with the taste of ćeten alva (which can't be bought anywhere else but on such fair stands, unless you go for those with taste of vanilla or chocolate, which IMO defeats the purpose). Met Arpi with Silvija et al on the square (yes we walked from home). Walked around and didn't like what we saw - they put up fences everywhere, even by the sides of the bridge. What the fuck is this, an american style fear of litigation, in a country where the legal sistem is worth a full dick of cold water? Or just some guys overcharging on whatever „security services“ they provide and put these up just to show something for it? This is thirtieth Days of beer so far (I guess) and in all those years nobody ever fell into the water. Now they fence even the fountain, which has about 30cm of water. Doesn't look festive at all.
Downtown we met Boba with Milena and her firiend, so had a beer with them in Biblioteka ("Library" - a suitably decorated cafe in Gimnazijska). Seems he's screwed up the thread on that stock lens on the old Canon, autofocus doesn't have the power to turn it anymore - but hey, he made 500 shots and is learning fast.
Then went to hear Vlatko, but the sound was awful, at least three sound sources were mixed up. We tried to find a place where we could sit and hear - and the more we sought, the worse it got. Fuck that, let's go to pivnica. (Later we heard we were on the wrong square anyway - should have gone to center, not Žitni square)
There we found an almost empty terrace. The guy with solo acoustic guitar and amps was just finishing some soft domestic pop block, of sort of sentish or hotel wave orientation, but then the other couple left. Incredible, there were hundreds of people milling over the bridge less than 100m away, and yet we had the whole terrace and the guitar player to ourselves. As soon as we were the only audience, he changed tack, and started with „Sweet home Alabama“. I immediately put my nokla on the table and started recording. Too bad I was talking, I didn't think we'd be that loud, the recordings are otherwise excellent.
Around third song I went and put a 1000 dinars into his notes, and mentioned Oliver (Dragojević, not Mandić, though now when I think of it, that would also be interesting) and Čorba. Whatever he can remember. He launched into exacly our song, which is when we hit the second beer and also sung to ourselves. The whole theory that rock'n'roll can't hit you like turbo folk (v. narodnjaci) can, because it's foreign and this is ours, is utter bullshit. They're both equally ours and equally foreign - where rock is american there turbo folk is arab-turkish-greek - it's just that we usually don't try to play rock to get emotional, that bullshit is self-fulfilling for simple lack of attempts - well, rock hits me much better. Turbo folk actually never does, the annoyance level is too high.
When I approached him the second time, the tip was 2000. This is at most the second time ever that I did this.
The fourth beer we finished together with him and the waiter (whom I remember from all those meetings of the org committee for parastos three years ago). He (the guitar guy, not the waiter) is from Croatia, and when the shit broke loose in 1991 he had a long standing gig in Vrnjačka Banja, so he stayed. And is still here. His hair is just as long as mine, but with his baseball cap I couldn't judge where it starts. He's a real voice chameleon - he sounded like Bora čorba, like Oliver (D.), like whomever he sang (except Kiki Lesendrić from Piloti, who isn't worth doing), to the point that we later asked him is there a piece where he plays a role of himself. Didn't bother yet, it seems.
Made a few interesting shots while we sat, like the ongoing promenade on the bridge, the ship restaurant behind it, the pillar tops from the old bridge just sitting there and mostly nobody even knowing what they are, and finally these three guys relieving themselvess, facing the river (the bridge is the somewhat lighter stripe behind the light). There are port-a-potties, but that's 250m from here, on the other end of Žitni, or in other places on the other end of the main street, even more far away. No fence here, and still these guys didn't even stumble toward the river, no matter how drunk they were. Perhaps there's something in the culture of drinking here, that it's not a sprint, it's a long walk.
Somehow we managed to get a cab. These nights there are never enough of them. It probably helped that this was past the midnight rush hour, almost 2 in the morning. I would have forgotten this bit, but made a shot from a car halfway home, at 1:53, about half a block past the old cemetery.
An excellent evening.
Mentions: Arpad Gunaroši (Arpi), Dobrivoj Gunaroši (Boba), Drago Mlinarec, maturski parastos (parastos), Milena Požarić, narodnjaci, nokla, Novi Sad, pivnica, Riblja čorba, Silvija Umljanić, štrafta, Žitni, in serbian
3-XII-2017 - 31-X-2025