"The Beasts of Tarzan" by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Third part of Tarzan saga - its still very exciting read and no doubt audiences around the world were dying to find out what else was happening with Tarzan and Jane, but this feel slight, barely noticeable but present slip into formulaic cliche. I have a feeling Burroughs probably felt trapped in all this and perhaps he wasn't so inspired - in any case its not really so brilliant as previous two parts because it relies heavily on everything told earlier - Tarzan strength, his way with primitive warriors and wild animals, Russian enemies and so on.

"The Beasts of Tarzan" stars with Tarzan and Jane living comfortable life in London, but naturally there is old Russian enemy who apparently has no other things in life but to plot how to upset and revenge on Greystokes - the character of Nikolas Rokoff is cartoonish villain, to be honest, because we don't feel absolutely anything human about him, he is simply a awfully bad guy and his role is to be horrible. He manages to separate Greystokes and to get them back to African jungle where they - not knowing they are actually relatively close - fight for their lives and eventually get re-united. Tarzan arranges his own army of wild animals and wild warriors who help him trough his adventures. By far the most interesting character is panther Sheeta who actually behaves very uncharacteristic for wild beast - Sheeta is more like home trained cat, to be honest and even our own cats are not so loving and helpful as Sheeta (our cats are cuddly and curly only when it suits them) but never mind, it makes for a good reading. I did enjoyed it for what it is but at this I decided to take a break from Tarzan and perhaps I will return to other sequels at another time.

More Paul McCartney

"CHOBA B CCCP"(1988) by Paul McCartney 

Where McCartney goes back to Hamburg (spiritually) and tries to catch that flame that sparkled and inspired him decades ago. I get a serious feeling that he must have been a bit tired of radio-friendly pop music that industry demanded and chart success being elusive (even for an old cat like himself, who certainly knew highs and lows of the business) so this album was kind of reminder of what he loved about the music in the first place. 

Its all Rock'n'Roll covers and while in all honesty it doesn't bring anything new to them, you can feel McCartney enthusiasm and love for this music. Surely Lennon did it famously before and yes, guys have been playing this kind of music probably way back in Liverpool so these versions are pretty close to originals. You would be pressed hard to find anything remotely unusual or creative about these interpretations - its fine, professional, he sings it like he means it and at the end of the day its just another cover album that probably wouldn't even have been remembered if not for the fact that McCartney did it. From what I can understand it wasn't even meant to be internationally released. If this have been released as true Russian release back in 1960s it would have completely different effect, of course.

"Flowers In The Dirt"(1989) by Paul McCartney 

McCartney's collaboration with ubiquitous Elvis Costello, but I don't really hear Costello in here at all.

Contemporary reviews were very favorable and everybody was praising him, though honestly this is the first time I labored trough McCartney's album (or perhaps the trend started previously with "Press to play") because where earlier music just poured out of him, this time it feels artificial and endlessly polished to the point where there is nothing left from that wonderful spontaneity that was just so right and natural. Besides hit single "My Brave Face" and unexpectedly lovely "Distractions", the rest is one over-long, over-produced collection that seems to drag on forever and never ends. I would probably not even bother with listening the whole album if its not for the fact this is Paul McCartney, so I gave him a proper chance (or two) but I don't hear anything interesting here and it just meanders without focus.

"Tripping The Live Fantastic" (1990)

"Bon Soir, Paris!" greets slightly hoarse and excited McCartney his enthusiastic audience - it was a very successful world tour and it kept the old boy not only busy, but also showered with adulations and awards (Guiness record for largest concert audience, I believe). He might have been perceived as superficial one, but he was darn the most successful of all ex-Beatles. 

Its no so much different from previous live album ("Wings Over America") recorded some fourteen years ago, except that technically and production-wise this time everything is more bombastic and carried away with adrenalin, McCartney sounds seriously hoarser than ever. As back than, its also clear than his solo material seriously pales when compared to glory of totemic 1960s material: no matter how hard he tries to present his newest songs (from "Flowers In The Dirt") nothing really counts until Lennon/McCartney songs come along and than real celebration begins. Yes, he had some truly big hit as solo artist but he also had hard task to always be compared to his younger self - just listen to audience roar as "The Long And Winding Road" begins and you understand that McCartney knows this business. "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" actually sounds great in the concept of stadium arena - all blistering guitars and thundering refrains, same for most of classic Beatles repoertoire. I dare anybody not to at least tap the foot upon hearing "Can't Buy Me Love" or "I Saw Her Standing There" - basically its all great fun, but you can easily skip McCartney solo work and just focus on Beatles jukebox. 

"Liverpool Oratorio" (1991)

Contrary to classical music snobs who are always dismissive towards anybody else attempting to even glimpse in their precious sphere (and are highly critical even amongst themselves about merits of classically trained artists) I have no problems with artists crossing over to different genres: its refreshing to hear people doing something outside of the box. Strangely enough, it seems that classical artists doing other music fare much better than the other way around. Everybody takes a risk, classical artists usually being accused of selling out, pop artists getting criticized for being too pretentious. All the hell breaks loose when classical diva Anne Sofie von Otter sings "Money, Money, Money" or Jessye Norman goes Jazz - no matter how much fun they actually had while doing this. 

McCartney obviously took this as a challenge. He is not from this world, he was not classically trained and probably can't even read the notes, which did not prevent him from being the most famous and accomplished Liverpudlian in the whole world. The piece was commissioned and performed widely, despite negative reviews it had sold in huge quantities (nr.1 for weeks on charts) and locals probably love it more than anybody else. But is it any good?

Honestly, it is a gimmick and novelty. Despite monumental talents involved - and its all done with greatest care, production values are classy, with Liverpool Cathedral choir, classical conductor and Kiri Te Kanawa - it is too careful for its own sake, like composer was awed with the idea and took no risks in order to prove he was darn serious. Kind of autobiographical story, it has eight parts with countless short songs (usually shorter than two minutes) that are not particularly memorable and would probably have worked far better as part of say, musical. I couldn't help but thinking the whole time about "Les Miserables" - except that "Les Mis" bursts with brilliant show-stoppers and this one have not even one (by far most interesting moments are actually instrumental ones). Considering that longest piece is violin solo instrumental, perhaps McCartney should have just forget about singers and focus on instrumentals instead. I still like McCartney but here he curiously lacks that legendary golden touch with melodies and apparently he is far more skilled in pop field. Vanity project.

"Unplugged" (1991)

Actually this might easily be the most enjoyable McCartney's album in some time. Ever since 1983. "Pipes of Piece" I felt that he had lost his muse and it was either overcooked & overproduced hitless studio albums, bombastic live recordings or mind-boggling classical pieces so this return to a very simple acoustic form sounds truly like a breath of fresh air. 

For one thing, because he is not a stadium stage, McCartney don't have to shout himself hoarse but can actually sing quite nicely. Because this is a small, intimate concert and not a usual greatest hits recapitulation, he had a freedom to built a repertoire from various corners - his very first song (written when he was 14), The Beatles, Gene Vincent, Bill Withers, Bill Monroe and everything that popped in his head. Free from all usual technical wizardry, most of these songs sound wonderfully sweet when played in acoustic version, its almost like coming home - my heart really bursts every time I hear old 1960s chestnut "San Francisco Bay Blues" which has always been one of my favorite pieces of music (Eric Clapton did it again, next year on his own "Unplugged" album) and this all works so well that it makes you wonder why did he bother with all that other music at all. Everything from McCartney's chatter between songs to music itself is delightful. The most unexpected however is his return to some forgotten songs from a 1970. solo debut - they tend to be overlooked next to greatest hits, but are truly good to hear again. It actually sends you back to that album.

"Off the Ground" (1993)

Unfortunately, lovely, quirky "Unplugged" turned out to be completely unusual little stop in McCartney's now already voluminous solo discography - before you know it, he is back to usual bombastic production and just like "Flowers in the Dirt" (1989) its all shiny cellophane covering not a very substantial product. It sold a truckloads in Germany but it did not set a world on a fire. I remember fluffy, peppy ""Hope of Deliverance" being played on the radio and on closer inspection there are not many songs that actually stand out - to me it sounds like watered-down "Flowers in the Dirt" and that album I had considered uninspired. 

"Get Out Of My Way" and "Biker Like An Icon" are fun moments and "C'mon People" is vintage McCartney copying himself, but nothing seriously stands out. I gave this album so many chances that now after all this time I must admit defeat, even with best intentions I hardly remember anything.

"Paul Is Live" (1993)

Seriously, another live album? It has not been so long since "Unplugged" (1991) and "Tripping The Live Fantastic" (1990), not to mention that other triple LP album back in 1970s so now we are really facing the cornucopia of live recordings that basically cover very much same ground. I can't find any major difference between these recordings (except the fact that "Unplugged" was stripped-down and charming, while others are big stadium bombastic) and as much as I like McCartney, this is really for die hard fans and collectors only. I guess fine if you were there, but the rest of us can live with originals. Ah yes, just as expected, new songs are completely overshadowed by 1960s classics which makes this truly an nostalgia act. "Hope of Deliverance" is exception here, this little cheerful ditty actually sounds like fun when standing next to older songs.

"Flaming Pie" (1997)

It has been 16 years since last McCartney album I truly enjoyed - so no wonder that I seriously started to doubt is it worth following his work, as it just did not appeal to me anymore. Guy has such magnificent back catalogue that it towers above almost everything he did afterwards and great sales, world tours and live albums are basically just an afterthought, the autumn of a long, long career. Four (count: four) mediocre studio albums later, with dabbling into classical music and soundtracks, I started to get tired of my own expectations that he might "return to form" because what does it actually means - artist constantly grows and changes, so what we might like is probably long behind him already. "Flaming Pie" is fortunately return to melodic pop of 1970s and therefore relatively easy-listening, except the fact that it is look back - which means it was all done before, hundreds of times. However, it IS far more enjoyable than anything he had recorded in years so even if he firmly doodles in his comfort zone, it is still a warm, fuzzy and feel-good collection. But to my ears this sounds like Tom Petty.

"Run Devil Run" (1999)

Collection of 1950s Rock covers. 

It actually sounds like a great fun, thundering guitars, pounding pianos and all. Sure, McCartney already recorded the whole album worth of similar material back in 1988 but this one sounds even better - he is energized with the presence of some old colleagues, clearly loves this kind of music and free from pressure of writing original songs, he roars like excited schoolboy who suddenly got a chance to sing and impress everybody. There are few originals but focus is mainly on old chestnuts and believe me, "All Shook Up" is worth the price of the album alone - whatever private sorrows McCartney experienced between four walls, he clearly uses music as life-affirming, healing and self-assuring tool to dust himself up and continue trough this life. Somebody else would sink into depression and mop around, but McCartney cheers himself with irresistible, happy ditties like "Movie Magg" and "Brown Eyed Handsome Man" which in itself is very interesting and points at artist inner core. Hidden somewhere inside are cracks: "No Other Baby" and "Lonesome Town", impossible to listen without understanding reality behind this album. 

"The Return of Tarzan" by Edgar Rice Burroughs

The first and classic part of Tarzan saga is the one that everyone remembers - Tarzan growing up in a jungle, raised by Apes and fighting his way around the wildlife, meeting Jane and so on. All the movies, cartoons and various media representations usually focus on this part of the story but its definitely not the only one - it success prompted Burroughs to write many sequels and even though occasionally he might have been sick of doing the same thing, it made his name familiar, his wealth enormous, his fame international. Apparently he also continued writing completely different adventure stories set in fantasy genre but so far I am not familiar with them. However racist and strange original Tarzan story might appear to modern readers, it was still exciting and enjoyable enough to continue my exploration of Tarzan universe so I decided to read some more. Although I am definitely sure that I read those in my childhood, I don't remember them at all.

"The Return of Tarzan" is actually far more exciting and adventure packed than its precedent - once Burroughs set the stage in the original story, now he just continued in the much better, far more polished style. For one thing, we were left with Tarzan silently leaving his beloved Jane in hands of another man and keeping the secret of his aristocratic background (and wealth) hidden from everybody. And what was than just casual but we today perceive as racist attitude towards other skin colors is not so obvious here - in fact, nomadic Arab tribesmen are described as brave and noble. This time around we find Tarzan in Paris enjoying highly sophisticated life, getting entangled with some nasty Russian characters, being employed as secret agent and ending up on shores of Africa - and this is just a beginning. It goes really a roller-coaster from here, with hidden mysterious city of Opar (whose ancestors are hinted to have been from Atlantis) and never ending action - its by far superior to first part, once the reader gets his head around the first part where Tarzan lives in Paris. Its really very enjoyable adventure novel so I immediately went on with a sequel.

"Tarzan of the Apes" by Edgar Rice Burroughs (1912)

Just when I felt that my daily life became unbearable routine, a strange health scare shook me up a bit and during my several days of recovery the only literature I could think of as comforting was something easy - I browsed my e-book library in search of some familiar title from children's books and decided to find a escape in "Tarzan". Which turned out a brilliant, great escapism.

Edgar Rice Burroughs - who by the way, was born on the same day as me - was struggling writer who tried his luck in pulp fiction of the time and struck the gold with this story. For some reason, it really found enormous audience around the world because it was so exciting - not entirely original, mind you, because "The Jungle Book" touched very much similar subject some two decades earlier - and everybody loved adventures of a noble savage who was such a superman, strong, muscled, agile, handsome and good-hearted at the same time. It was a excellent choice for me, because I got completely lost in the book and forgot about my health troubles but it was also interesting because now I was reading it from a different perspective of middle-aged person familiar with the story. This time naturally, I noticed nuances that were beyond me previously - Burroughs might have been pulp fiction writer but he consciously used very elegant, classy style (therefore he was actually very much above the rest of competition), some of his sentences and ideas are a bit rusty and creaky now (inheritance of class for one, Tarzan is noble and wonderful because he has aristocratic blood in his veins), there is a certain xenophobia between the lines and native Africans are without exception all savage cannibals. None of this in any way spoiled the pleasure and excitement in reading a thrilling story, because it is truly very enjoyable romp, but this time I was aware of it, while as a kid I couldn't tell these things.

Interesting thing is how our perception of Tarzan had changed with time, apparently he (or this particular story, because there is a whole saga later) became such a well-known public persona that later translations (movie, radio, comics and such) very much erased parts of original story and focused on the frame: baby boy raised by ape mother, later Jane and fights with wild animals. Author's original musings about aristocratic blood making his hero so noble, racial issues and all between-the-lines, now suspiciously old fashioned statements were slowly corrected and whitewashed. If you know Tarzan only from the Disney reincarnation, original novel comes as a great surprise. I enjoyed it very, very much and even went on with a sequel that I'm reading right now at the moment, but apparently this is the most popular part of the story.

"The Great Dictator" by Charlie Chaplin (1940)

By contrast, I did not found "Great Dictator" funny at all - back than, cinema audience roared with laughter because Chaplin was poking fun at Hitler and Mussolini and it was a very brave public statement indeed, coming from world's biggest comedian, it seems everybody loved it and it was hugely successful but to be honest, once Chaplin got really engaged into making real politicians (thinly disguised but recognizable) the part of his universal charm and magic was gone for me. This was labored, artificial and plainly anti-German propaganda. Where earlier movies with "Little Tramp" worked so wonderfully on many different levels, this was something done with a determination and its own agenda - anti-war and anti-army I suppose, which in itself sounds very nice and idealistic but is unfortunately it is done very ham-fisted (including final monologue) so I had a constant gnawing feeling this is not a comedy at all, but a Charlie Chaplin anti-German propaganda effort. Yes, there are some funny moments but its all a very broad slapstick, mugging, face-making, grimacing, cake-in-the-face, pot-in-the-head and many 1920s tricks that now look obsolete. Main problem for me is that earlier Charlie Chaplin masterpieces were silent movies and this is the first time he works with dialogue, which don't feel like Chaplin movie at all - I don't have a feeling that he had brilliant script and most of the time its Chaplin clowning around with his than-wife Paulette Goddard - considering seriousness of the real-life story, I just found the whole Jewish Ghetto part of the film very superficial and lightweight. I understand this was American movie for American audiences, made at times when truth about Holocaust was not universally known and everything was just hearsay (how about thousands of Jewish immigrants who escaped certain death in Europe?) but still it feels immature. I understand Chaplin's heart was in the right place and he condemns folly of few greedy, war-passionate politicians in his own way, making them look foolish but WW2 was a horrible, dark and tragic chapter and knowing this, I can't laugh out loud about it - perhaps it is the first-class anti-war propaganda but I don't find it even close to brilliance of his earlier works. Once artist leaves his universal appeal and focuses on particular agenda, it is not magical anymore, its just a well crafted product with a message. 

"Modern Times" by Charlie Chaplin (1936)

After ten years of sailing, I have found myself smitten with some weird disease, symptom of which is a permanent Vertigo - something from inflated ear infection, probably - being unable to work and locked up in my windowless cabin, I spent three drugged days being completely dizzy from seasickness pills doctor insisted would help my condition: they didn't, but I slept non-stop. When I finally woke up from my stupor, I read Bill Bryson and browsed my movie collection - strangely, nothing appealed to me because I kind of forgot about movies completely and found them childish. One thing that seemed fairly appropriate for someone who can't hear very well and should not use headphones were silent movies.

This is where I decided to have a look at Charlie Chaplin and his famous "Modern times" - we are all familiar with scenes in a factory but honestly there is much, much more happening later and it truly surprised me that film turns into a such epic saga. Another example of things I just assumed I know. It charmed me instantly, of course, because Chaplin was a true genius and magician - his creation, "Little Tramp" is easily understood to anybody no matter what background and we love him dearly, for all his sweetness, clumsiness and old heart. This story apparently happens in Metropolis-like factory where work, machines and buttons are parodied mercilessly until we (audience) roar with laughter - I was honestly surprised that something filmed almost a century ago was still so fresh and funny. Basically, everything after the first start on the fast track was new to me and I laughed and laughed, until I found myself rewinding scenes and enjoying them again. What a genius!

Once Little Tramp looses his job - there is a whole unspoken atmosphere of unfairness, poverty and depression around - he quickly ends up in a prison, from which he doesn't even want to leave. However, he gets Cocaine in his salt, (Charlie Chaplin on a Coke!), saves policemen from escaped criminals, meets minister's wife (very funny scene) and gets release from the prison, with job recommendation letter. And this is still just a beginning of the movie! There is much, much more coming up later - it really goes on forever but its wonderful, heart-warming and joyous to watch. I almost forgot everything about myself and my whereabouts while I was so deeply lost in this masterpiece. Film is so immensely rich with characters, stories, little details and magic that I honestly think its one of the best things I have ever seen. 

"Notes from a Small Island" by Bill Bryson

This is a five star classic of humorous travelogue and it deserves all the praise heaped on it, Bill Bryson's reputation and success is build on it.

I have been cautiously flirting with Bill Bryson's books for some time now and they never ceased to amaze me, make me laugh, snort, growl and in general produce all sorts of animal noises. This time I actually had to take a break, wipe away my tears of laughter, catch my breath and than I could return to the book. Honestly, I think guy is hilarious - apparently there is no subject in the world he won't touch and best of all is his self-mocking humor where you can clearly see this is someone who doesn't take himself too seriously. 

"Small Island" from the title is of course UK and Bryson takes adventurous trip with train/bus trough all the places on his map - not just big, world-famous places like London, but trough many of completely obscure industrial towns that used to prosper decades ago but now are slipping silently into rust. Bryson makes a point of obsessively trying to find something unique or positive about them, often coming to conclusion that many of these places look very much alike, thanks to big shop chains that grace UK and besides another shopping centers it seems that cities have lost their originality and what made them unique in the first place. Its extremely funny - I started with a polite smile and ended with a roar - but I understand that people who understand and love this might be either British or in some way connected with UK, otherwise the jokes and innuendos might be lost on other readers. I used to live in London so naturally this definitely hit home immediately as I could recognize and understand what was he talking about. Just wonderful. 

Boba Stefanović

Serbian singer Boba Stefanović passed away at 69 and this is my little heartfelt tribute to him.

Of course I never met the guy, in fact I was not really familiar with his music until way too late - his peak happened in early 1970s when I was still just a toddler and I discovered him some twenty years later, as sudden enthusiasm for old Ex-Yu music coincided with my move to Amsterdam. I am not sure would this happen otherwise (and it might, since I really always loved those old pop festival records even before I moved) but from a safe distance everything sounded far more interesting than I remember and suddenly I was really into those old single and EP recordings that otherwise my generation considered terribly tacky, kitschy and uncool. 

I clearly remember when I heard Stefanović for the first time: via Internet I had ordered some compilation of 1970s pop singers (I still have it somewhere) and he was one of them, gently and seductively crooning "Živim tako sam" and "Kažu mi da još si uvek sama" which truly hit me like a brick - not only that music was sophisticated and well arranged, but the guy sung like a dream and it was so sincere, gentle and seductive at the same time that knees buckled. Than I asked around and found out that this was typical reaction on his voice way back than when he was popular - because of this voice, he was kind of sex symbol in his time. Even now, every time I hear these songs, something inside me is moved profoundly although I am trying to rationalize this and remind myself this is just a funny old-fashioned pop music and why would I get so wobbly suddenly, but it does floor me every time no matter what I say.

Boba Stefanović - according to informations on Internet - was one of those early 1960s enthusiastic Rockers who played in beat band (""Zlatni Dečaci" who played surf instrumental cover versions of classics) before turning to serious job & family. Except that actually serious job became a hobby (painting) and hobby (music) became serious - for a time in early 1970s he-who-was-skinny-as-mosquito-but-sang-like-a-lion truly became Serbian biggest music heartthrob. His well worn out singles from roughly 1970-1975 sound like a product of their times, lavishly orchestrated, always balancing on verge of kitsch, often weeping in self-pity (heartbreak, loneliness and such) but oh voice, you don't even care for lyrics as long as Boba sings. I know that this sounds ridiculous but he might be only singer in the world who makes me feel like infatuated teenage girl.

There's not much of his discography - handful of singles and two LP records to my knowledge - and he seems to live dreamer's life, not overtly ambitious or running after either fame or money. Listening to this CD compilation brings back all the emotions and memories - real, imagined - not just for me but for the several generations of music lovers who are dangerously close to being middle-aged at this point: as we age, our idols are getting older and the realization that everything - music, fame, success, our lives - is a ripple in time slowly looms over everything. Never more than when we find out that our beloved music Gods had passed away - what actually stay behind and would future generations care at all? Stefanović's music was much loved and heard in his time but he was just a short chapter on ever-changing music scene and he never achieved or continued that first early 1970s flush of success (Zdravko  Čolić quickly replaced him as poster pin up pop star) - thankfully there is some irresistible, romantic music left behind (along with some duds, but never mind) and you know, it might be nostalgic but is also darn enjoyable listening. Approximately half of disc is lost to weepy, waltzy ballads of its time but thankfully the voice raises above the 1970's production. 

"Porin" for "Dnevnik jedne ljubavi"

"Porin" is Croatian equivalent of "Grammy" and this year a special award will be given to a cult album released in 1973. and constantly in print ever since. I have written about "Dnevnik jedne ljubavi" (Diary of one love) on this blog several times previously and it thrills me that 40 years after its original release it still creates excitement, inspires and lives on.

Since Croatia became independent country, what once used to be large music market of Ex-Yugoslavia had shrunk considerably - where musicians previously commanded attention and audiences across the territory that spread from Alps in the North (Slovenia) all the way down to border with Greece (Macedonia) and being superstar in those times meant your albums are played and admired widely trough different places, separation and independence of borders had drastically limited not only market but also influence. Today's stars and wannabes might be known only locally but hardly anybody will know about them across the border and vice versa. Now when Croatia, Serbia and all their neighbors are strictly separated, there are really just a handful of seriously big names who can perform everywhere, this is why Croatian "Porin" seems a bit self-congratulatory since it is a tiny market based on capitol and few provincial towns - every year it feels like choice for awards is a struggle because music activity is either live concert performances or compilations and re-issues. 

Even without "Porin", creators of "Dnevnik" were highly esteemed and congratulated for decades: composer (late Karlo Metikoš) went on to collaborate with lyrics writer Ivica Krajač on two rock-operas, while singer Josipa Lisac continued from strength to strength ever since without ever seriously being challenged as our own Croatian Rock Queen. So even though it is nice that this album is recognized for its historical importance and awarded with special "Porin" as official masterpiece it always was, more than ever its obvious that nobody ever followed or dared to surpass this example even as inspiration - more than anything else, "Dnevnik" was all-star collaboration between the whole bunch of talented and enthusiastic musicians, something that apparently never happened again in a business overshadowed with egos, producers and financial speculations. Musicians still collaborate but on much smaller scales and hardly ever you have sense they play for the sheer joy of music as they played on "Dnevnik" that was created without any serious planning how to sell the product later - Metikoš was famously quoted as saying that he wrote it as something to be proud of, not thinking about sales. And this is why it stands tall as highly respected and yes, awesome masterpiece from start to finish, one of rare Croatian pieces of music that could have been recorded in San Francisco, Memphis or London, not our simple recording studios of Zagreb's "Jugoton".

Since Metikoš and Krajač put her on pedestal way back than, Josipa Lisac never really had a competition which in itself turned into a problem because she might have flourished differently if other girl singers showed little bit more ambition and imagination, so there would have been somebody to raise the bar of challenge. The way things turned out was that 99% of girl singers were almost without exception satisfied with soft crooning, cheesecake TV family entertainment (pop festivals and such) so Lisac - who was always highly individual and peculiar performer - became more and more isolated in her divadom, until now she seems like intimidating reminder that once, long ago we actually had seriously talented musicians instead of bunch of amateurs who are giving awards to each other. More than ever I feel sorry that she was not born elsewhere because she is and always was a singer of world's class, surrounded and crippled with mediocrity.