ERSATZMUSIKA - Songs Unrecantable (Asphalt Tango)

The second album from Berlin's Russian émigrés takes us further into a dark and atmospheric world where post-Communist languor meets arch bohemian East German cabaret. This intriguing band possesses a contradictory sensibility that holds appeal for rock, indie, folk and 'world' fans alike. Off-kilter waltz rhythms meet deep growling Joy Division bass; plucked acoustic guitar, smoky accordion and harmonica mesh with angular Ribotesque clanking guitar; xylophone and percussion knock out subtle gypsy rhythms whilst piano and cello lend a ghostly chamber mood.
Vocalist Irina Doubrovskaja has been described as melancholic, such is the nature of the accordionist's deadpan, part Marlene Dietrich, part Nico delivery (the spirit of Velvet Underground is rarely far from the surface). But there's a dry, wry wit too. The (largely) English lyrics - whilst lacking dexterity - possess an endearing mix of callow Hippy platitudes, a naïve idealism and hints of post-modern absurdism (the band's debut album, Voice Letter, was all in Russian, so this move seems to be a marked attempt to broaden their appeal).
And musically, a nostalgia for the '60s pervades throughout - from those far-out lyrics and the Velvets influence, through a tinge of psychedelia, to a smattering of François Hardy's French yé-yé style on basic, rhythmically unkempt tracks such as '(Psilocybin Panic) It's the Russian Beat'. The off-beat Berceuse is the highlight, a European blues with elongated organ and chopping, chiming guitar figures that wouldn't be out of place on Tom Wait's masterpieces of downbeat Euro-centric Americana Blood Money and Alice.
Knowingly ingenuous, melodically off-key, nostalgically modern, sophisticated and yet always looking at the world through the eyes of innocents; Songs Unrecantable is both a yearning for the past sureties of behind-the-Iron-Curtain mundanity and a reflection of modern-day freedoms and fears. A balancing act pulled off with some aplomb.

KAL - Radio Romanista (Asphalt Tango)

They call it Rock and Roma - a frenetic gypsy-rock that recreates the energy of Kal's popular live performances in their native Serbia.
The eponymous 2006 debut by the band was a sprawling, organic affair, recorded in band leader Dragan Ristic's home studio with a shifting array of guest artists and taking in elements from Balkan gypsy to German cabaret music. The turbo-charged follow-up is built from the same template of violins, wild swooning clarinet, brass and accordion, but the band is tighter - in numbers (although there are numerous guest vocalists), style and approach. Tough rock-star vocals and relentlessly rocking squared-off beats lend an urban, strident edge to what is a less subtle collection of songs, betraying the agit-prop influence of the Clash and the manic, uptempo side of Manu Chao. The French/Spanish troubadour's influence is all over the part-English I'm Gypsy, an in your face defiant fight for Roma recognition. Romozon rocks out too, as does the title track, which contains a vibrant klezmer thread throughout, and the hard-nosed rhythmic attack becomes almost oppressive on tracks such as Pour Enfants et Personnes Sensibles and Oh Ma Cherie. There are softer moments though - Laj Laj rides a nice bumping beat with mournful textures provided by tuba and violin; Madame Boucxereaux is a French cabaret style diversion; and Luna closes the album with raunchy female vocal, accordion and acoustic guitar.

Radio Romanista is tight, taut and hard-edged. It rocks more than its predecessor, and thus if it's to break the world music market outside Eastern Europe, it will probably be as a slightly folkier Gogol Bordello. If you like Manu when he's plugged in and revved up, and Gogol when they let their roots show, this could be for you.

GABI LUNCA - Sounds From a Bygone Age Volume 5 (Asphalt Tango)

Another top-notch addition to specialist Balkan music label Asphalt Tango’s widely acclaimed series of classic Romanian music.

Gabi Lunca was known as the silken Gypsy woman - as much for her florid dresses and showy earrings as for her music - and was a national star much sought after for weddings, concerts and television appearances during the peak years covered by the recordings showcased here, the late ’60s and ’70s (she’s still alive, but sings only in Pentecostal churches these days). Delivering a melancholy, organic popular music style which was redolent of the times - all jaunty accordion and yearning violin, with a backdrop of cymbalom and percussion flourishes - she intoned soulful, heartfelt narratives in a smokily seductive, slight nasal voice that may not have quite matched Romica Puceanu (subject of Sounds of a Bygone Age Vol 2) in depth or artistry, but which spoke eloquently of the lives and loves of Communist-era East Europeans.

Highlights include the delicately nuanced, deliberate rhythms of Rau E, Doamne, Bolnavioara (with great stabs of accordion from Lunca’s musician husband, Ion Onoriu); the lurching Da, Mama, Cu Biciu-n Mine!, all wheezing beat, squealing violin, and with a deeper vocal from Gabi with Onoriu’s accordion dancing between the cracks of the verses as Lunca almost breaths sad, almost sobbing notes into the microphone; and Azi E Nor, Maine-i Senin, where Gabi is uncharacteristically deep and powerful, stretching the notes out to full, emotive effect.

The Sounds of a Bygone series is as lovingly-annotated and packaged as the recent Golden Afrique series, and is as eerily seductive as the much-cclaimed Ethiopiques releases. As such it deserves equal credit. Start here, and work backwards, you will not be disappointed.

This review first appeared on www.flyglobalmusic.com