Bijelo Dugme "Bitanga I Princeza" 1979****

I've been listening to rock and collecting records for 35 years or so, and it took me a long time to acquaint myself to what one can call (in the absence of a better term) East Bloc Rock. Not surprising really, most people are still not aware of its existence. Yet exist it did, long-haired rockers who, despite the political adversities, recorded for State-owned labels in the so-called East Bloc. It amuses me to think that, contrary to popular belief, the iron curtain was not as impermeable as we think: those east of it were aware of the trends on the other side, creating their own versions of it often as good or surpassing their Western counterparts. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there was a scene comparable to the one in the US or UK, but when you compare the rock scene of, say, Hungary or Yugoslavia to Western countries of similar size like Austria or Portugal, they weren't falling behind. No, apparently the iron curtain was to block our view, to make us believe that art, creativity, and fun were smothered by a totalitarian regime out of Orwell's 1984. We knew there were symphony orchestras, folk troupes, and high-achieving athletes on the other side - but who could imagine East Bloc youths playing loud rock music, dancing and partying like Western ones? Of course, the situation differed from country to country: East Germany, Poland, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, and Hungary produced their fair share of rock music, which was rarer in Bulgaria and Romania, and non-existent in Albania. In the Soviet Union itself, rock was an underground phenomenon to which the State only opened up hesitantly and gradually during the 80's.

Bijelo Dugme was one of the first East Bloc bands that I sought out - apart from East Germans City whose "Am Fenster" was a huge hit with Greek pirate radio stations when I was growing up. Then, during the late 80's, it was Goran Bregovic's turn to steal the hearts of Greek audiences, initially through his music for Emir Kusturica's Time Of The Gypsies film and afterwards through collaborations with popular Greek artists, as well as with Iggy Pop on the soundtrack of Arizona Dream. I enjoyed Bregovic's lyrical take on Balkan folk as presented in these soundtracks, as well as the more upbeat Balkan tunes from Kusturica's next movie, Underground.  So naturally when I heard that he used to be real rock star in Yugoslavia I was excited to hear a sample of his older work. At the time it wasn't possible to get hold of the records he had made in the 70's and early 80's with his band Bijelo Dugme (White Button), but with internet shopping becoming easier I later got hold of a double CD compilation, which I presented on this blog a few years ago. 5 out of the 6 tracks from 1979's Bitanga I Princeza were included in the compilation, but when I came across a vinyl copy for a good price I couldn't help myself; this is exactly the sort of music that's meant to be heard on vinyl. This was their fourth great album in a row, slightly different than the previous ones because it minimized the folk element in favor of conventional hard rock. It is the first time they had problems with the sensors: first of all, their chosen album cover was replaced by the label with the one you see here. The original depicted a female leg in stockings and high heels kicking a man in the groin - it was considered vulgar even though it wasn't any more provocative than their previous ones. Two lyrics were also censored, one for containing the Serbo-Croatian version of the "f" word, the other -curiously for an atheist state- because the phrase "...and Christ was bastard and misery" was deemed offensive to Christians. The band denied having any such intention, the name of Christ probably being used in the song as an umbrella term for "saviors" in general. The album opens with a couple of hard rocking numbers: "Bitanga I Princeza" reminds me of Uriah Heep's FM-oriented singles of the era, while "Ala Je Glupo Zaboravit Njen Broj" is a speedy rocker sounding like a cross between Rory Gallagher and Greek rocker of the same era Pavlos Sidiropoulos. "A Koliko Si Ih Imala Do Sad" is among the band's funkier pieces, while "Na Zadnjem Sjedištu Moga Autaand" even flirts with disco. "Ipak, Poželim Neko Pismo" is a mid-tempo piece with funk groove and a vaguely Balkan-sounding chorus - the only throwback to their pastirski rock days. On a completely different tone, the two symphonic prog ballads "Kad Zaboraviš Juli" and "Sve Će To Mila Moja Prekriti Ruzmarin Snjegovi I Šaš" display aspirations towards serious musicianship. Many consider Bitanga I Princeza the height of the band's artistry. It certainly features a variety of styles without containing any weak moments, while subsequent albums would move away from hard rock towards pop and new wave, and would only intermittently yield a really good song. In my mind, Bijelo Dugme is one of the most underrated classic rock acts in Europe but few outside their native land seem to agree - could it be that because of growing up in another Balkan country, their take on rock music is more familiar to me than to others? Anyway, it's worth delving into the whole East Bloc scene; the fact that all these rockers imported a variety of styles from outside and mixed them with local traditions has produced some interesting, genre-defying, results. I can recommend this Spotify playlist as a starting point, but there's also still much I haven't discovered myself yet... 

***** for Bitanga I Princeza, Sve Će To Mila Moja Prekriti Ruzmarin Snjegovi I Šaš

**** for Ala Je Glupo Zaboravit Njen Broj, Ipak, Poželim Neko Pismo, Na Zadnjem Sjedištu Moga Auta, A Koliko Si Ih Imala Do Sad

*** for Kad Zaboraviš Juli