Musically I’ve never been too strongly attracted to Balkan music, perhaps because of a lack of exposure to tuba bands in my childhood. I keep listening, though, figuring that sooner or later something would strike my fancy. Magnifico may just be it. Something of a mix between Manu Chao, surf music, spaghetti Westerns, and traditional Balkan brass, Magnifico is probably best understood as something of a South Slavic answer to Mumiy Troll or Gogol Bordello. It wasn’t easy being a young Communist growing up in the grips of the Kremlin, you know, and even though Yugoslavia was independent, the psychology is common to all of them, and even to Cubans and North Koreans to this day. You learn to adapt. You learn to suppress your emotions. You learn to do end runs around your own imagination. You go a little bit crazy. The internal security police exist like a gray pall over your entire life, and Las Vegas looms like a dream from heaven all out of proportion to the reality. When you finally break loose, you hardly know where to start in making up for lost time. This is the world into which Robert Pesut, aka ‘Magnifico’, emerged, full of iron and irony, both music and words, tongue planted firmly in cheek.

He’s got a new album out, too, called ‘Magnification.’ ‘Zum Zum’ starts off like a raucous Balkan gypsy rag, doing a parody of ‘Ten Little Indians’ al la Europe with gypsies giving the lie to modern Europe liberalism. ‘iThink’ ups the intellectual ante a notch- albeit in similar musical fashion- “iThink and I got an idea that, there is too much, too much nation, too much nation for liberation and too much nation, for one railway station.” ‘Bosangero Nero’ slows things down a bit and goes into ‘spaghettti western’ mode to great effect as our poor hero tries to explain to police that ‘I don’t know much about no globalization, I’m just a Bosangero.’ The effect is completed with cha-cha-cha ending. ‘Ubicu Te’ goes into full-scale Balkan brass and is the first song to be sung entirely in Slovenian… and with electronic flourishes. The parody and paradox continue unabated regardless of language, “There is no place where you can hide, someday you will be my bride. And if I got to kill, kill baby I will, if I got to kill you honey trust on me I will.” Yes, Magnifico has a strong psycho-sexual side to his tongue-in-cheek, which ‘Emily’ explores further, “Emily, Emily after midnight come to me, I wanna see you dancing just for me Emily.” ‘Pismu Kumu (Rambo Rambo)’, also sung in Slovenian, adds some Hawaiian-style guitar and some reggae–style beat to the musical mix and some serious religious doubt to the philosophical mix, “Oh, Rambo, Rambo,… I thought there was a heavenly God, to tell me some things I know nothing about, But neither has he spoken to me, nor he knows to tell me anything, it seems to me he’s just a big hoax.” Hmm, maybe Communism wasn’t so bad, after all.

‘Avanti Popolo’ is the only song to be sung in Italian, though hardly an ‘Italian’ song, and ‘Giv Mi Mani 2’ shows the influence of English language- and hiphop- on modern Slovenian music, though neither song is much more than mid-album filler. “I’m clever I’m not a fool, I got TV and I know what is cool, Sex and drugs and rock’n’roll, Satisfy my body and soul” may be a genuine expression of existential dilemma, but ends up sounding more contrived than inspired. ‘Did You (Did U)’ fares better. Self-deprecating and ironic, the lyrics actually manage to explore some little-discussed territory of the human psyche, and does it with horns and electronica in the background, “I don’t care if you look at my lady, no problem it’s ok with me.” That takes guts. ‘Ljuba’ adds another wonderful ‘spaghetti western’ feel overlaid by Slovenian lyrics, while ‘Amore’ carries the Italian feel to its locial conclusion. “There is something up above, some people call it love, some people call it love, and I feel amore, yes I feel amore.” ‘Hidee Hi Hidee Ho’ is something of a Balkan war march, compelling enough, but ‘The Land Of Champions’ alone is worth the price of admission. This is no less than a Balkan ‘House of the Rising Sun’, boogie-woogie surf style, ‘Oh mother, tell your children not to do what I have done, I've lost my soul, oh glory hallelujah, down in Yugoslavia.’ Who’d’ve though to rhyme hallelujah with Yugoslavia? He’s Robert Persut and he calls himself ‘Magnico’. The album is ‘Magnification.’ Cute, ey? Check it out.