Sound Czechs

>> Uz Jsme Doma's Bohemian rhapsodies

by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

"They call it the Czech Liverpool," says Miroslav Wanek of his hometown Teplice in the northern Bohemia region of the Czech Republic. "It's a very industrial area, with maybe the worst air in all of Europe." As with American cities such as Detroit, the harsh environment of Teplice has forged some of the most remarkable music that eastern Europe has to offer. Take Wanek's band Uz Jsme Doma, for instance.

The name translates to "we've got it!" and by jove, I think they do. Imagine Frank Zappa recording a ska-punk album with Milan Kundera. Or Wile E. Coyote chasing the Roadrunner through some bleak, Dostoevskian landscape. Peppy and erratic tempos carry the sombre, minor-note melodies which betray Uz Jsme Doma's east-bloc heritage, bringing to mind post-punk folk of bands like the Ukrainians. "We have our roots in punk," says Wanek. "At the same time, we listened to the Residents, Pere Ubu, all kinds of avant-garde music. Our music is somewhere between the two."

Wanek is quick to point out that Uz Jsme Doma is not an intellectual band. There are no fancy electronics or outré instrumentation here; just bass, drums, guitar, sax and piano. Oh, and painter/illustrator/honourary band member Martin Velisek.

Velisek's esteemed position in Uz Jsme Doma clues us into the band's art-rock inclinations. His cartoonish but thought-provoking paintings and drawings have given the band visual definition for almost all of their dozen years in existence. For Uz Jsme Doma, art is not a pretentious indulgence. Rather, it's the most effective tool for bringing people together. "What we really want to show people is that while things may not be easy, there's no reason to kill yourself. One can always find a way, through humour, tolerance and attention to each other. The main thing is to change minds, and this is the job of art."

Wanek feels that the clearest proof of how powerful art can be could be seen at the two concerts they performed in Gorazde, Bosnia last year. The city, small and isolated by a sea of Serbians on all sides, had been cut off from all cultural contact by the ravages of civil war. Uz Jsme Doma were brought in with a tank convoy escort. "When we went there, we were like something from the moon for them," says Wanek. "Something from science fiction. About a thousand people came to the shows, and they were really excited. They were crying. They said, 'Thank you, you've brought us a touch of normal life.'"

With guests L'Orchestre des éléphants and Orgasmic Wedgies at Jailhouse tonight (Thursday, Nov. 6), 8pm, $5


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This document was created Thursday, November 6, 1997. ©Mirror 1997