Rock Monsters Romania

Alright, let’s paint this picture, since we’ve all looked out the window these days: I barely made it to Quantic on Thursday. The road felt like a trip to the Everest Base Camp. I was tired, it was almost weekend, but not quite (worst part of the week, if you ask me), I was low on oxygen and my feet were starting to fail me, but I managed to reach the summit in Grozăvești just in time, and do you know what I arrived to?

I opened the door and realized I had just crashed a “hora.” Inside it was a totally different temperature. The Day 4 set started with Sukar Nation, an ethno-rock band from Iași. I had accidentally skipped the warm-up, since the crowd was doing a full workout. It felt like your average Romanian wedding party, and I felt bad that I didn’t have a drink in my hand already. Their show consisted of a beautiful fusion of balkan sounds, with a whole family of crazy woodwinds like sax, aerophone, trombone and more. The ensemble, coordinated by the very energetic lead singer, Victor Bejinariu, was like choreography, but it kept the chaotic, unscripted energy of this respective genre. It’s as if the booking staff knew the weather forecast beforehand and built this line-up intentionally, to revive the frozen audience.  

Let’s not diverge and remember this is a rock music festival. And rock it was. The riffs were pretty punky, and I believe they could have been punky-er, maybe even a little bit angrier. At the end of the day, a balkan party isn’t just about love and light. We have recently seen a resurgence of ethnic sounds in Romanian rock music, so whoever approaches this niche needs to take a few things into consideration, in order to stand out, like the authenticity of the final project, and whether or not you wish to pursue originality over becoming mainstream. It’s very easy to slip into cliches and cling to a trend just because. But now, I believe Sukar Nation delivers well enough. 

Since it was already a different season inside compared to the outside, we were now ready to surf with Dl Goe. It was my first time seeing them, but they were often mentioned online, so I obviously had expectations. Safe to say they were met. This set was cozy and cool, and I was happy to notice they had a whole bunch of fans in the crowd. 

It’s not just from the band title and a Google Search, that you can tell this is an actor’s musical project. The performance was theatrical and immersive, and obviously, I couldn’t put a label on their music. It sure fits the theme of QFest, but it’s something different. I’ve never heard jazz and rock sound so poppy in a context like this one. If they got even crazier I would have felt like I was part of an old French movie.

One of the most interesting things about Dl Goe is that they dramatize trivial themes, like falling for a girl in a convenience store or making the most out of being a lowlife. If I could describe the vibe of their show in a single Romanian word, I would simply say it’s “vrăjeală,” which means that their music is trancy and suffocatingly fun, but distracting. The playful rhythms and groovy melodies embalm you in a narcotic sheath and make you swing from side to side and feel silly and careless. But I believe it hides something. If you open your eyes and take a step back you might wake up and realize that the nuance is a bit shy. And when the song’s over, just like after waking up from hypnosis, you wonder “What was that about?”. I bet there’s an answer in store.

I didn’t even have time to sober up from this one, when Day 4’s headliners stepped on the stage.

I first saw Bosquito live when I was back in high school in Focșani, maybe about ten years ago. I’m pretty sure this Thursday I watched a different band entirely. Maybe it was because the first few songs were from their later era, and entirely different from what the old fans might be used to. However, everything felt way more mature and I was glad to re-discover how far their project has gone. So far that you can feel their latest music comes from a totally different place. They’re not the same old guys who took their mioritic tunes and gave them the American dream. They are now wise, happy and settled, and that leaves a mark on the art you make. Their 2019 album, “Sus,” reflects that in the ballads, where everything is more calculated, slow-paced and somber. Even if I believe their latest work misses the old unique latin rock essence, I salute their courage to pursue new horizons and I think it suits them well for now.

That was until they played “Femeia,” one of my favourite old songs, during which I went berserk. They did it in a much bolder manner than I remember, as if it was a statement that they’re not just back, but here to stay. At some point, their guitarist, Ciprian Pascal, had a quirky little solo and it was annoying how he did not take one single look at the guitar, probably because flaunting his skills on stage was just muscle memory. Another thing that warmed my heart was noticing how much fun the members had on stage, and how naturally comfortable they felt there, based on the kind, homey glances they were exchanging with each other, where you could tell they’ve been friends for the longest time.

On my trip back home I listened to “Gossa como yo,” their reinterpretation of “Gitano” by Carlos Santana, which they did in an old live session back in the days, and it made me think: “We have Santana at home.” At least sort of. At the end of the day, there’s no point in being someone else but yourself.

Review by Raluca Baciu