Branko Mataja was born in 1923 in Bakar, Croatia during the Kingdom of Yugoslavia to a Croatian father and American mother. That same year he moved to Belgrade, Serbia where he lived until 1941 when German Nazi forces sent him to a labor camp in Germany. After the camp was liberated by American troops, he spent a year at an American military base and while there befriended many soldiers and became well-known in the base for his guitar-playing in various clubs they all frequented. He later moved to America and started a business in repairing and making custom guitars, making some for artists such as Johnny Cash and Geddy Lee from Rush. It's assumed he recorded this album and his other songs not on it in that shop. The album that came of it would stay an obscure Yugoslavian recording until it was rediscovered by a fellow Balkan-American musician David Jerković in 2005 and then subsequently rereleased by The Numero Group label.
Most of the songs here are specifically instrumental renditions of Serbian folk songs, though some other Balkan ones are also present. There's a distinct melancholy to Branko's playing, giving off the mood of feeling homesick for a country you never wanted to leave. Possibly influenced by his time in the US, there's a psychedelic or almost even Surf approach to the music, with phasers and echo completely transforming music traditionally played in group settings. It's a very lonely, but not necessarily sad record. More accurately I'd call it melancholic and longing, music of a place you have in distant memories and experiences. Faces are faded, places are blurred, you only remember what was playing in the background of them. This record's strength is not just the atmosphere but Mataja's superb musicianship, his chords linger and are played with such warmth that it feels much deeper sonically than it really is. It's easy to get lost in these old folk songs, to think of a place that no longer exists. Like a lullaby it softens my thoughts, at least for a bit, but also makes my mind race with memories and thoughts. This is all done with no vocals to speak of, making it even more impressive.
Many of the songs here are already somber in their original forms, like Da smo se ranije sreli [If we had met earlier] and others. To break up the mood occasionally, there are some more playful tracks such as Užičko kolo and the especially fast-paced Zapletnički čačak. No matter what the mood of the song is, Branko's playing never leaves much to be desired and always keeps it ethereal, even nocturnal to a degree. At times it feels like the only thing missing from these recordings is the faint sound of crickets in the background.
Traditional and Folk Songs of Yugoslavia is an incredible introduction to Serbian and other Balkan Folk music, making it more palatable to outsiders with its Psychedelia-inspired production effects, tight playing and lack of vocals. It's a pity this was the only album he released, though he apparently did release one more on cassette at an unknown date¹. There's also the 2022 compilation Over Fields and Mountains, which has some original tracks not on this.
Branko Mataja passed away in 2000, unaware of the appreciation his music would eventually get.
No comments:
Post a Comment