I didn’t feel well at all, to the point where I was wondering if I should call an ambulance. All the helplessness from the past few months was running through my head. But I told myself I’d try to calm down, and if I felt even a little better, I’d go. That’s exactly what I did. I tried to sit with myself for a bit, and it helped, though not completely. I put on the new merch from Syfo Dias, did my basic everyday makeup, and left the house. Deep down, I knew it would help me stop thinking about how I wasn’t okay and distract me from the fear of what might happen, at least for a few hours.
When I got to Expirat, I already felt out of place with all the people there. Right on cue, my usual social anxiety hit. All I was waiting for was the music to start so I could listen, enjoy, and head home with the hope that I’d feel better. That’s how Fluturi pe Asfalt began for me.
And in what I’m writing here, I don’t want to focus on how many mistakes were made, if a note was missed, or if something didn’t sound right. I just want to talk about everything that went through my head while I was there, wandering around Expirat. But first, let’s see who Fluturi pe Asfalt are, for those who don’t know yet…
Who are Fluturi pe Asfalt?
(Info from supersomnic.com)
Fluturi pe Asfalt is an alternative band formed in 2009 in Cluj-Napoca. After their stage debut in 2010, they began to shape a distinct style, becoming one of the best-kept secrets of Romania’s new alternative wave. Their music blends post-rock and post-metal elements, with melancholic influences and deep tones, creating a unique sonic atmosphere.
Their first album, Reconstituire (2012), delivers a rusty, closed sound with tracks marked by harsh realism and a grey aesthetic where tragedy intertwines with introspection. Songs like Valuri și Stele, Circul, or Deochi I have become landmarks in their musical universe, leaving a distinct imprint on listeners.
In 2016, the band released Munți sub Mări, an album exploring new sonic territories, moving away from post-rock standards with nostalgic melodies and complex guitar layers. Tracks like Fără legătură and Nu crezi că pot bring out an almost visual melancholy, while Avioane, Totul se leagă, and Munți sub Mări retain the essence of post-metal.
Fluturi pe Asfalt‘s style is constantly evolving, characterized by long periods of silence between releases, during which the band members refine and perfect their sound, carefully preparing every detail of their new material.
Band members:
- Eugen – Guitar/Vocals
- Gheo – Guitar
- Andrei – Bass
- Robert – Drums
Discography:
2012 – Reconstituire
2016 – Munți sub Mări
Back to Expirat on February 6, 2025…
At the launch concert for their single Tot Felul, the song’s title perfectly described what I felt during the time from when the guys started playing to when they finished. I strongly believe music feels different for each of us, even if the lyrics or instrumentals guide you to a certain place. Fluturi pe Asfalt is the kind of band I listen to in private when I need a moment to breathe. And if I try to share them with others, everyone thinks it’s something extraordinary. It’s the same with Nava Mama, but that’s a conversation for another time.
The last 4-5 months have brought a lot of questions for me: questions about myself, about the world, about the things I do, the things I believe in, and those questions still linger… Am I doing the right thing? Why the hell don’t I have the courage to do what’s been on my mind for so long? And I find those questions reflected in Fluturi pe Asfalt because it feels like a continuous search (one that will never end) and you just have to get used to that feeling. But what happens if you get tired? The answer is in many of their songs and within yourself if you’re really willing to look.
The concert started with Valuri și Stele, the first track that opens their debut album Reconstituire.
“iar mă gândesc că m-adâncesc
în gânduri infantile
nici fericire nu primesc
deci fără sens – umile.”
By the third verse, I was already emotionally checked out. I started wondering if I was okay enough to handle this whole concert, which talks about some real stuff and explains it very well. It asks the questions and screams them in your ear, hoping it might get you to ask yourself something too.
What these guys are doing feels like an act of courage, beyond the fact that they’re on stage in front of maybe 200-300 people tonight. It’s not easy to be vulnerable. At least that’s what I’ve learned from a messed-up society. That if you show weakness, show feelings, you won’t get anywhere. A hard rock that crushes everyone else. This whole invisible power show we all put on, whether we want to or not, seems pointless to me. How we make others feel small, stupid, or insignificant. But then there’s the flip side, where we’re not like that, and we have 2-3 people we show we care about, where we let ourselves be vulnerable.
Well, these guys, in my opinion, managed to show their vulnerability to everyone in Expirat who really listened to them. They got past those 2-3 trusted people and reached a large audience, and for that, I’m grateful.
Anyone who knows me knows that at concerts, I usually focus on the drums, bass, and pedalboards. But tonight, I was focused on everything. Because these guys really felt like a whole, a kind of old machine that just keeps going and going. The comparison isn’t great, but here it is: they reminded me of my grandma’s old nut grinder. That thing’s been in use for 30-40 years and works perfectly every time, never fails, and always gives the same perfect result. That’s how these guys seemed to me. The coordination was spot on, especially on Munți sub Mări, a song I let play softly around the house while I join in with my air guitar or imaginary drumsticks.
I was curious to watch the crowd too and see how they were taking it all in, from the usual girls in the front row (the cliché at every concert) to people battling their inner struggle to show whether they liked it or felt anything. “No, I’ll stand like a rock, won’t move. No way I’m showing that guy on stage I like what he’s doing.” And then there were the excited folks dancing and enjoying themselves.
I was in my own world, eyes closed, making little movies in my head to each song. Fluturi pe Asfalt can be the perfect soundtrack for your life stories if you let them. In my mind, I had vivid images of events and people, scenes accompanied by guitar riffs or relentless drums. I admit, I felt a bit sad every time a song ended because it meant the movie in my head ended too. But somehow, I was also happy to have revisited those memories and people, and it made me wonder if I’ve really moved on or if I keep going back because I’m not okay. Not because I like remembering those things, but who knows if I’m lying to myself or not? Maybe I already know the answer but just don’t want to admit it.
On Visepare, I think I had the longest story, with the most things to remember exactly how they happened. It’s nice to relive stories with loved ones who might not be around anymore.
“nu e ploaie fără nori,
nu e soare fără zori,
nu vreau iarbă fără flori,
şi nici vis să n-am fiori.
nu sunt ochi fără lumină,
şi nici oameni fără vină,
nu vreau pace de la toţi,
nu faci linişte când poţi.”
I’ve come to the conclusion that I somehow created this peace for myself that everyone else is looking for or singing about. Now, if that peace gets disturbed repeatedly by different events or people, that’s another story. The road to this peace was hard, and it’s still a miserable road that keeps going. Feels like Harap Alb’s initiation journey we used to hear about in Romanian class in high school.
Back to the stage: what I found interesting and funny at the same time was how three introverts, Andrei, Robert, and Eugen, shared the stage with Gheo, who was practically flipping around with his guitar. It felt like such a cool contrast that I kept trying to figure out why it worked so well. Their relationship on stage is fascinating; they each seem to be in their element, but as I said earlier, they meet somewhere in the middle.
This band has always been an “aha moment” for me because I always thought I was the only one feeling certain things or seeing things a certain way. It feels like these four guys come along to tell me, hold on, it’s not just you—chill out, there are others thinking the same stuff. In a way, it’s that feeling of not being alone, but also the ego saying, there’s no way someone else thinks or feels exactly like me. Well, apparently, it’s possible, and it’s not a rare thing. Surprise,I’m not as special as I thought I was at one point.
When they asked, “Do you like the circus?” of course, I answered yes, I live in Romania after all. And that’s how the song Circul started. About ten minutes of:
“sunt oameni pe jos, omizi ratate
la circ toate sunt frumos colorate.
cu capul întors şi aripi pe spate,
cu faţa pe dos, frumos dirijate.”
…and with an instrumental that you can’t help but keep in your head for two weeks after the concert.
Everyone experienced the songs in their own way, or however much they allowed themselves to feel. That’s the beauty of it in the end, to allow yourself. But that’s harder to do than it is to write or say. I thought a lot during the concert about how much my mom would’ve wanted to hear Fluturi pe Asfalt live, and how fascinating she would’ve found what these people are doing on stage. But who knows, maybe next time. I think she would’ve been there, giving her whole heart and energy to each song, just like I used to before growing up and discovering what life’s really like.
At some point, the reason we all gathered at Expirat made its appearance—Tot Felul.
“și-mi cade-o lacrimă când văd
îmi cade-o lacrimă când cred
îmi cade-o lacrimă când trec
și-o lacrimă când plec”
It’s no surprise that I really love music with depth. Sure, the fun, background stuff has its place, but that music with amazing instrumentals and lyrics will always be ten steps ahead of anything else I discover and think I like.
The songs flowed, and so did the great moments, including Vladimir from Pinholes (aka the guy who’s in every band in Romania) who got on stage and didn’t disappoint at all, even though he was also handling the sound from the stage somehow.
The concert ended with Nu crezi că pot, the song I still have on loop on my crappy Amazon speaker while writing this.
“nu crezi că pot,
păstrează-mă.”
The question is simple after all this: did I keep myself or not?
Review by Ionela Pleșan
Rock Monsters Romania 
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