Concentrate. Combine some noisy punk rage with intricate folk structures in a saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil then remove from heat and let stand until lukewarm. Add just a pinch of a waiting-around-the-corner-but-never-going-to-happen breakcore spice and bake for 10 minutes. Think you got it right? Then think again, because this Croatian trio is apparently so sick and tired of the post-rock formula they decided to invent their own unusual recipe. A recipe they called Tigrova Mast, a manifesto against all manufactured and pre-processed music, a dish that, despite being inedible for half the population, manages to satisfy many different tastes.
Tvrtko (bass), Bruno (drums), and Niko (keyboards) – aka Gut, Heart and Brain, respectively – formed the band with the intention on giving the listener a headache while trying to categorize its sound. Tigrova Mast embraces post-rock, post-punk, avant-prog or even math rock, still managing a humble sound within an utterly pretentious framework. We would be fooled to think that it only takes 18 songs to figure out what the band is out to, because from “Srelomka” forward, Tigrova Mast pull from a merry-go-round of genres and influences that would infuriate even the most laid-back ipod shuffle users. And still, this debut is able to keep its hands clean of the conceptual pool and reach into more tangible forms of musical expression.
Tigrova Mast resembles a complex piece of architecture, supporting its many different layers on a strong and puissant foundation. Starting with the oriental-ish Intermezzo I, the album gradually debouches, building itself on the pillars that one may recognize as being deeply rooted in Amon Duul’s music. Unfortunately, the top of this skyscraper can only be observed on cloudy days, as the sun will probably blind the listener when attempting to gaze at the 11th floor and beyond. It is with a hint of regret that I must say this amalgam is quite tiresome, as it requires our complete and devoted attention. Otherwise, the second half of Tigrova Mast might be mistaken as shallow background music, which is a shame considering the 3 minute gem “Osveta Shaolina.”
While each song handles the difficult task of giving rise to a stark atmosphere, they are incapable of standing individually, which eventually wears down on our patience. However, the endlessly exquisite, elaborate sounds of Tigrova Mast posses the ability to reconcile the extravagant prog-heads with the shabby post-punk kids. If prizes were to be given, Tigrova Mast’s self titled would certainly win “Best amusement park music,” this being one of the main reasons why some albums should not be sold without precise listening instructions.
Now concentrate and listen.
-Diana Sitaru