There are two things you must know about Slovenia: the first is that it is where the oldest known musical instrument in the world, a fifty-thousand year old Neanderthal flute, was found. The second is that Ljubljana’s MENT festival (a mere 11 years old by comparison) continues to champion inspiring and adventurous underground music.
Like festivals such as EXIT, Sharpe and Tallinn Music Week, MENT is both a conduit and a sounding board for the music scenes in East, Central and Southeastern Europe. Delegates and professionals come to Ljubljana to learn how to crack the Balkans, or to connect with similar organisations in Krakow, Riga, or Kosovo. Or to watch acts that rarely tread the circuit. This year saw some exceptions: the sublime Gilles Peterson headlines the opening night and a day later Lankum play a wonderful show in the cavernous Kino Šiška main hall with a set full of old favourites. Spine chilling takes on ‘Go Dig My Grave’, ‘The Rocky Road To Dublin’ and ‘Peat Bog Soldiers’, and a spiky version of ‘The New York Trader’ work their magic. You could have heard a pin drop throughout.
The mantle of popular could also be extended here to locals Širom, who precede Lankum with a lengthy “two-song” set replete with their ménage of instruments – stringed, plucked, thumped, scraped, or otherwise. The trio still have this ability to sound otherworldly and disarming, all at once: a fascinating portal to a world full of fancy. Their trickster music ebbs and flows over a rapt, seated crowd.
MENT has recently embraced the exciting developments in the region’s electronic music. One such is Kosovo’s Tadi whose “fractal”, extraterrestrial soundtracks – served up with a throbbing, steamy sauce – are hard to stay still to. Elsewhere, at the Metelkova squat complex in the sweaty Gromka venue, Jure Anžiček, aka 08080 of the Slovenian Clockwork Voltage collective, weaves fabulous cosmic patterns with lots of kit: who needs microdosing when there’s this kind of inspiring psychedelic techno to hand? Another fabulous Clockwork Voltage show comes courtesy of nobena at the same venue the following night. nobena’s dark, spacey techno is incredibly refreshing, inspiring, even. Another very enjoyable show comes across the squat’s forecourt at the increasingly rowdy Gala Halla venue, courtesy of Prague’s BoLs/sLoB. BoLs/sLoB, (Matěj Dvořák to his mother), who lays down a frenetic and glitchy stew of chops and beats that fizz with colour; the set is akin to an action painting that weaves this way and that across the room.
The festival has a knack of promoting acts that could pass you by on paper, but end up stopping you in your tracks. Geneva’s Yalla Miku surprise pretty much everyone on the opening night with a set that dips and sways through a raft of ideas and traditions: gnawa driven by guembri and krar, choral harmonics and electronics, all thrown into vastly differing, discombobulating workouts. One passage sounds a bit like Amon Düül II at full throttle… Elsewhere, in the imposing hilltop castle overlooking the city, Laura Agnusdei provides a set of sublime, often haunting sax-based soundtracks. Agnusdei is a fascinating artist, with a soulful take on alternative ambient-electronic music. Backed by two cohorts who join her in prodding keypads, pushing buttons and blowing sax, Agnusdei makes cool, simpatico investigations in sound, each with a tangibly beating heart.
I am grabbed by a dear local friend. “Come and watch some young Slovenian punks, it’s important,” he says. I find myself led by the arm to Metelkova’s evil-smelling yet very moreish venue, Menza Pri Koritu. We watch the whirling racket created by BibliBan, a trio of provincial malcontents from Slovenj Gradec. To say that their songs are hyperactive and wayward takes on the first Stooges album is the best I can do. I love them. I stay on for Rotterdam’s Texoprint, who play a cavalier set full of driving rhythms and barked instructions. Their music has something intrinsically European about it, too: romantic, sincere, direct and just the right side of awkward. They go down a storm as the guitarist lays down wash after wash of sound which also reminds me of Adrian Borland’s doomed freakouts.
Yes, punk, guitars, noise: it’s what Ljubljana is often known for musically and it’s still worth embracing, especially at Metelkova and especially if you are watching two bands as good as Vojdi and Tramhaus. Tramhaus play a time-constricted set at Gala Halla, which obviously frustrates them. Still: there is an animal grace and power about the band currently, and a confidence born of constant touring and all the associated schlep it brings. Now the stage is their escape, no longer the showroom. Singer Lukas prowled and pounced, his constant movement complimenting the walls of sound conjured up behind him. Silences are cleverly played into their songs: an element which generates pent-up excitement and provides release during burning takes on ‘Rotterdam Make It Happen’, ‘The Cause’ and a monstrous ‘Past Me’, which signals mayhem from a jubilant crowd. They are on the cusp of greatness. Over at Gromka, three besuited Slovakian men known collectively as Vojdi lay down the best gronk rock this side of the Soft Boys’ A Can Of Bees. Their playing is phenomenal and as brazenly “uncool” as it can get: chapeau!
MENT acts as a cultural crossroads for many, so it’s fitting that the last word should be for the band that best captures the tectonic shifts and strains in Europe in these uncertain times, Use Knife. The Ghent-Brussels-based outfit play an absolutely thumping show. Their offering has become darker, starker, and maybe more psychedelic in the run-up to their imminent new album. A nod to Coil, too, maybe… The insistent, pulsating mix of (electronic) dark folk, new beat, Arabic percussion and Iraqi Maqam see an audience melt into various shapes in Kino Šiška, surrendering to the beat and the dazzling visuals on the gigantic screens. There is much more menace in the air, what with their talk of little vagabonds and wanderers… Until next time.
