Nicolae Guta: Part I | Nicolae Guta: Part II

Third Saturday of October, 1999: A thin, poor and obviously Romani man is peddling wares on a ragged blanket at the annual market at Negrin/Fekete tó, just outside Cluj Napoca, the capital of Transylvania. The Negrin market is held in an open expanse of field just off a small railroad stop. The Hungarian name for the village – Fekete tó – adds mystery to the place; the Romanian name means “Black”, while the Hungarian name means “Black Lake”. There is no lake anywhere nearby. Clear, blue sky; cold, bright autumn sun. A cloud of smoke from roasting meat drifts past. Behind the man are two tattered columns of audio speakers, blasting music at such high volume that it is impossible to get close enough to see what he is selling. The music is so distorted that it is barely recognizable as music, more pulsing fuzz than anything else; unbearably, shockingly, painfully loud. The man rocks back and forth, as if in a trance. Guța Volume 7.

The early Guța cassettes (they were all originally audio cassettes, when first issued, generally sold at the tables at market stalls specializing in “Gypsy”), were all numbered “volumes”. For want of a better description, we are going to call the period which extends from the beginning to the numbered cassettes through cassette Volume 6, “the early period”, and the period from Volume 7 until his adoption of the Bucharest pop manele style “the classic period”, following which he becomes essentially just another Romanian pop star, and this essay at least somewhat loses interest in him.

The first cassette of the early period, appearing in 1994, was “Volume 1”, the second “Volume 2”, etc. As of December 2008, there were 28 “Volumes” of Guța, not including a number of “Best of” cassettes, a separate series called “Boss of the Bosses” – also numbered (including “Boss of Bosses, 007”), many recordings with other Romanian popular musicians, a raft of bootleg as well as official wedding video recordings, as well as other recordings.

It is possible to divide the early numbered “Volume” cassettes approximately as follows: the first six are Timişoara-based recordings in the Banat sound, with a young Guța not yet prepared to test his voice to the extent he would in subsequent efforts. The early cassettes are primarily covers of songs already in frequent use at Romani parties and weddings, with only limited material written by Guța himself. Early on, particularly on the first several recordings, there is nothing particularly to distinguish Guța from other wedding and party singers in southwestern Transylvania and Banat. However, Guța Number 6 includes begins to explore unusual territory.

Side one or two of the standard Guța cassette of both the early period and the classic period generally begins with an instrumental, usually lightening fast and somewhat cartoonish, over which the credits are read: “Esteemed Listener,” this begins, before a list including studio, sponsor (“spon-zor”, accent on the second syllable), and others are listed. Often, the band is also introduced now. The band line-up on Guța Volume 1 was: Tudor Iovanovici (electronic organ), Remus Carpaci (saxofon), Marius Gheorghe (accordion) and Traian Constantin (guitar). At the height of the classic period, the core of Guța’s band was: Dorin Novacovic on synthesizer (the instrument the main purpose of which is to provide both the bass guitar line and the drum machine); Balan Petrovic on guitar; Anton Trifoi on violin; and Remus Carpaci on clarinet, saxophone and tarogot (a somewhat cruder Balkan clarinet).

Thereafter follow the songs. The cassette will include around 12-14 songs. Of these, all but one or two are in Romanian. The others – in Romani – may be standard Romani classics or more obscure older songs, or they may be new songs. Around four of the songs are doinas – “table songs” – siniake gilja in Romani. Of these, one or two will be the genuinely long, note-wrenching siniake, generally beginning with a plaintive organ tone, accompanied primarily by the half-sung, half-keened tones of the table ballad, with all of their extended trills and ornaments. Guța Volume 8 from the classic period is all table songs, as are several subsequent collections. Table songs are the black licorice of Romani music. They are ultimately the heart of the matter. The master will be judged by his table songs. The other two siniake will be slightly more rhythmic, generally accompanied by guitar, but similarly offering a narrative of dreams and ideals shattered, euphoria rendered sober. These songs are often referred to as “ascultare” – “listening songs”.

The rest of the songs on early and classic period cassettes are “jocuri” – dances — Romanian-language pop songs in the Banat style. These can be “ardeleana” – dances in the Transylvanian style – a fast and tight dance in 2/4 time. Or they can be the somewhat more expansive and ornamented dances in the Banat/Timiş County style, which shares a number of features with Serbian dance music, Serbia being just over the border and partially sharing the historical region of Banat.

On the cassette covers, an impish sense of humor: Guța wielding a samurai sword; Guța warming his hands over huge bags of money; Guța stuffing the enemy into the trunk of a car; Guța as Viggo Mortensen in Lord of the Rings, wielding the Sword of Aragorn just ahead of a concerned Legolas the elf warrior, longbow drawn. Some of these tropes are, however, well, double-edged. For example, the samurai sword has in recent years become a preferred weapon of inter-familial Romani warfare, a detail the Romanian yellow press rarely neglects to mention when reporting on violence between Romani clans.

Guța Volume 7, “Stuff the Enemies in the Trunk of the Car” (1999) constitutes the start of a fundamental shift in sound, both in terms of arrangements, as well as in recording style. The evolution is somewhat comparable to the change in Bob Marley and the Wailers’ evolution after they joined Island records and were re-tailored for Western rock audiences; from a provincial, particular style, a new sound is built, based both on advances in recording technology, as well as a willingness to adjust existing modes for a wider audience. From Volume 7, Guța relies less on a constricted 2/4 time and instead allows for a more expansive 4/4, as well as other signatures; the rhythm guitar of Balan Petrovic takes on increasing complexity, at times becoming among the most sophisticated rhythm guitar work available anywhere; the guitar and other instruments – particularly the bass tones — are assisted by heightened recording quality; and Guța and team acquire a taste for increasing amounts of reverb, echo, and other depth- enhancing sonic steroids; and Guța’s lyrical prowess – including his spontaneous prowess in live, especially wedding contexts – arrives in its element.

It is sometime around Guța Volume 7 that the vocal signatures also appeared. When exactly the phrase “Opa-dee-lay-lay” (and its twin, “Opa-dee-lay-la”) first appeared on the tongue of the master is a mystery, but Guța Volume 7 establishes this piece of gibberish as central theme, and all of the next cassettes explore every possible aspect of its usage. Guța can be recognized by “Opa-dee-lay-lay”. Second in rank, although no less important, are mouth rhythm elements, such as the refrain of “Shukar San, Shukar Kheles”: “Aj-dibideep-pa-pala-la”. But this could be other singers as well. “Opa-dee-lay-lay” is all Guța.

This period is Guța at the height of his creative powers, before his adoption of generalized popular Manele sound. The cassettes of this period include Volume 7 (“Stuff the Enemies in the Trunk of the Car”); Volumes 8 (“If I Did not Have Brothers, My Enemies Would Kill Me”); the two cassettes of Volume 9 (Part 1, “I’d Rather Have an Honorable Bride than a Lot of Money”, and Episode 2, “I’m Giving Some Coins to Everyone”; my translation of the title of Part 1 does no justice to the Romanian-language rhyming couplet, “Să n-am nici una de-o sută, Dar să am nevastă cistită”); Volume 10 (“We Are the Iron Guard”); and Volume 11 (“Guy of All Guys”). This period also includes a collection entirely of table songs, issued just before the appearance of Volume 9, called “I Don’t Know How to Be Better”, and featuring a demonstrably sad Guța on the cover.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Coming next: Part IV – Nicolae Gutsa: May the Enemies Die

New Years Eve, 2006: a portly actor sporting a rat-like Guța moustache appears impersonating the now nationally-prominent Guța among a parade of other mock-public figures on a New Year’s Eve television program. What is Guța hoping for in the coming year, the interviewer asks? A long, stupefied silence. And then the response: “better enemies”. The studio audience roars with laughter. Enemies – Dusmaea or Duşmanii in Romani and Romanian – the root word is the same – feature prominently in the Guța lyrical pantheon. The signature track from Volume 7:

   13. Vaguely suggestive of brutality is Guța’s past in heavy industry in the town of Petroşani, a mining centre. On several occasions after 1989, miners been summoned to Bucharest to violently quell protests by students and intellectuals. Among
many Romani fans, Guța is believed to have actually been a miner. However, his official website (http://personal.nicolaeguta.ro/, accessed 30 January 2009) identifies him as having worked for the railroad.

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Nicolae Guta: Part I

Animal metaphors are not incidental to any physical description of Guța. From the reedy man in solid-color polyester suits in the early videos – now recently reposted on Youtube – to the ever-more-portly incarnations of the late 1990s and beyond, Guța’s face comes increasingly to resemble a bulldog. His bulbous eyes are planted at a slightly sad angle on either side of a huge slab of nose. His default gaze is somewhat addled, as if withered under the relentless impact of poor quality alcohol. Chin, dimpled; teeth, rabbity; jowls, packed; gums propped up and tight as if packed with immense wads of cotton; a single fang (upper, right) points slightly outward, describing the arc down the immense bulb of his belly. The latter object is perched atop two spindly legs, which originate from a dark cavern deep underneath it. These are capable of shifting the bulk of the item around with considerable grace, given the circumstances. It is often nowadays in a white suit. Particularly in light of the imbalance between torso and disembodied head, his dance style owes something to Charlie Chaplin. This effect is heightened by the fact that current Romani shoe styles render even longer his already over-long feet. Stuck to either side of his muscle-bound head are a pair of elfin ears and pasted across the centre of his face, the trademark moustache, curved in two sad half-moons downward. The organizers of this year’s New Years Eve television gala gave him a slapstick role dressed in a Securitate uniform, which seemed strangely appropriate.3 Remarkably, in light of the sum of the parts, the overall impression is of devilish charm.

But Guța’s voice, at the height of its powers, has been pure gold: instantly recognizable, precise in several octaves of range, in turns honeyed, sharp, gravelly, slightly nasal. He has – or at least had –immense stamina for the endless, quavered and embellished keened notes of the siniake/doina table-song laments. He has seemed never to need to resort to crooning because his voice has managed to

follow even his more intense emotional ambitions. In some films of weddings – his natural performative element – even he seems surprised at his abilities. In this sense, neither his children, nor national rivals such as Adrian Minune, Copilul de Aur or Florin Salaam, nor his only approximate rival on the Romani scene — Sandu Ciorba — are in his league.

Despite a boom in Romani music – including Romanian Romani music – taking place over the last decade in the “World Music” scene, Guța is relatively unknown outside Romania. He does not appear on the major World Music labels and is not featured in the major summer festival circuit of Europe’s summer. He is too expensive. In 2005, he cost 2500 EUR per hour or 10,000 EUR per night. Since his milieu is Romani weddings and similar Romani community events, this sum is a mere down payment for bakshish and request payments at the event itself.

As a result, particularly prior to his Bucharest move, his has been a performative mode developed almost entirely facing traditional – and highly demanding — Romani audiences, in performances generally lasting twelve hours or more. These Romani audiences come for the most important affirmative event on the Romani calendar – the wedding – and expect the Romani world reflected in the mirror of the band – and especially the singer. In the case of virtuoso wedding performers like Guța, the singer becomes the narrator of Romani values and of a Romani lifeworld, played out in the course of the event itself.

TO BE CONTINUED

Coming next…

Coming next: Part III – Nicolae Gutsa: Esteemed Listener

Third Saturday of October, 1999: A thin, poor and obviously Romani man is peddling wares on a ragged blanket at the annual market at Negrin/Fekete tó, just outside Cluj Napoca, the capital of Transylvania.
The Negrin market is held in an open expanse of field just off a small railroad stop. The Hungarian name for the village – Fekete tó – adds mystery to the place; the Romanian name means “Black”, while the Hungarian name means “Black Lake”. There is no lake anywhere nearby. Clear, blue sky; cold, bright autumn sun. A cloud of smoke from roasting meat drifts past. Behind the man are two tattered columns of audio speakers, blasting music at such high volume that it is impossible to get close enough to see what he is selling. The music is so distorted that it is barely recognizable as music, more pulsing fuzz than anything else; unbearably, shockingly, painfully loud. The man rocks back and forth, as if in a trance. Guța Volume 7.

1. clau...@gmail.com. The author is grateful to his wife Cosmina Novacovici for extensive assistance with the translation of the texts of songs quoted in this essay, as well as for critical comments on a number of observations included here.
2. This is a somewhat different kind of claim to the series of observations concerning “the invention of tradition” included in the volume of the same name edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Hobsbawm, Eric, and Ranger, Terence (eds.), The Invention of Traditions, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983.
3. Vaguely suggestive of brutality is Guța’s past in heavy industry in the town of Petroşani, a mining centre. On several occasions after 1989, miners been summoned to Bucharest to violently quell protests by students and intellectuals. Among many Romani fans, Guța is believed to have actually been a miner. However, his official website (http://personal.nicolaeguta.ro/, accessed 30 January 2009) identifies him as having worked for the railroad.
4. See Stewart, Michael, Time of the Gypsies, Boulder: Westview Press, 1997, particularly pp.50-72 and 181-202.
5. Someone has recently uploaded videos of these – featuring Romani dancing in the Timiş style and a thin Guța seemingly from a different era — onto YouTube. The direct links are provided with each song.
6. Lyrics are not included on Guța cassettes, though the titles of songs are. For a number of reasons, I am not using the Romanian-language orthography used by Guța on the cassettes to render Romani. I use instead spelling more conducive to unequivocal recognition by native English speakers. Thus, for example, I have rendered “Shukar San, Shukar Kheles”, where Guța uses “Şucar san, Şucar cheles”.
7. http://www.youtube.com/watch
8. http://www.youtube.com/watch8
9. http://www.youtube.com/watch?9
10. For an excellent exploration of this tension, see Sante, Luc, “The Genius of the Blues”, in New York Review of Books, Volume 41, Number 14, August 11, 1994.
11. See Verdery, Katherine, National Ideology under Socialism: Identity and Cultural Politics in Ceausescu’s Romania, Berkeley, Los Angeles, Oxford: University of California Press, 1991.
12. This is a somewhat different kind of claim to the series of observations concerning “the invention of tradition” included in the volume of the same name edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Hobsbawm, Eric, and Ranger, Terence (eds.), The Invention of Traditions, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983.

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Courtesy of Gogol Bordello

Gogol Bordello will be kicking off its national headlining tour next Monday at Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach. The show, which was announced formally last week, will surely sell out because of the band’s rabid following and the venue’s intimate capacity.

To new listeners, vocalist Eugene Hütz’s thick Eastern European accent may invoke memories of villains from cherished Disney movies of childhood. This can be off-putting for some. The band’s current sound is a universal fusion of gypsy, punk energy and dub undertone. Just as the sound of the band isn’t limited to any continental borders, neither are the languages Hütz utilizes. Russian, Spanish and an obscure display of untranslatable Ukrainian gypsy-speak all appear, sometimes in the same song.

It may be strange to think every member of the band is from some disparate part of the world or was birthed from some ambitious mix of ethnicity.

Onstage however, the far-reaching influences of the band resound in fevered harmony as Hütz’s acoustic guitar in tow plays mischievous ringmaster to them all. Known for live shows that defy predictability, any Gogol Bordello performance is part circus-theater, part cabaret. If the audience is really lucky, Hütz may dazzle the crowd with improvised drumming on tin buckets dangling from a bandmate’s leg. Be at the show to find out.

For more information about the show, visit Belly Up Tavern’s website at bellyup.com.