By PILO ZYBA, Greece

For days I had been meaning to write a piece about the 48th national song festival on R.T. This desire was sparked by last year-end’s festival. But the reason I did not put it on paper sooner was that I thought I should not write while under the influence of the festival, the conditions in which it took place, the people who took part in it, and so on.

Now that the year-end cake has been cut, and the slice with the gold coin inside was given to Ardit Gjebrea (whom I do not know personally), now that the murky clouds of competition and the battle for the title have cleared, I thought I would do an analysis of what we saw, what we heard, what we enjoyed or did not enjoy, to highlight the successes and the flaws, and to draw lessons (not to gouge each other’s eyes out),

so that in the future we might be more measured, fairer, more careful, and more sincere in the work

and the creative output of the artists in these genres. The Song Festival! That is what we are used to calling the event we are going to talk about and elaborate on, as rarely before.

This festival has a 48-year tradition. So, it is an artistic river that has carved its bed in our pop music culture. I watch and listen with regret (even from the artistic directors, directors, and composers themselves, as well as Gjebrea himself, who mentioned it on the television show 7 x 7) that this festival is a copy of the Sanremo festival in Italy.

I want to dwell a bit on this thought, which more or less irritates and troubles me at the same time. I will give a simple example. We often call songs from Labëria polyphonic, from the Greek words poli—many, foni—voices. In the Balkans, this kind of song is sung by Greeks, Bulgarians, Serbs, Montenegrins, and so on. But it was our song from Labëria that became a Unesco heritage, why? Because it was recognized as a crowning achievement in this field. Our pop music song might have been a little Sanremo, but over these 50 years of its development, it created its own pure spring, flowing from the melodies of

the national springs of the people’s artistic soul, of tradition, intertwined with the distinct colors of Albanianism. If it failed to do this, the weight of the blame falls on our old and new creators. But I am of the opinion that it has achievements and distinct features. Features that completely distance it from those things and those people who try to force it into a mold with Italian music, or turn it into a violin playing in the shade of its tree. So much for an introduction.

Let us return to this year’s competition:

The Song Festival is an artistic fair to evaluate the most successful composer, but not only that. For those who look further, this is just a tiny drop in the vast sea of the song.

Here are the things that are not visible at first glance, but which, together with the composition, create a whole

diverse atmosphere for the eyes, the minds, the tastes, and the love for the song and the artistic, visual outfits,

the presentation, instrumentation, harmonization, and so on. Behind a “regular” year-end routine festival,

hides an entire fashion parade in clothing, in advertising, in the art of the word such as the lyrics, the scenography,

the colors, the lights, the presenters, the conductors, the audience, and so on, and so forth.

So when we talk about the festival, we use that word first, but to place the winner’s crown there is a whole circle of flowers, which in the end make up the great bouquet of success that we simply call,

The Song Festival on Radio-Television.

Based on all these factors, I would like to begin my analysis of the festival (in truth, it did not contain such a celebration of artistic waves). This year’s festival was divided into four nights, why? Simply for profit on the one hand, and on the other, to include as many authors and singers as possible, just to please many others who might have found themselves out of the competition. To throw dust in the public’s eyes, one night is called the VIPs’ night, one the genres’ night, or the duets’ night. Please forgive me, dear readers. I, who write these lines, am a man in love with music; I have lived abroad for 20 years, but I grew up with the festival since I was 10 years old. These days for me (as for you) are special days. Days that fill our inner world for a whole year with artistic creativity. They are highly anticipated days, from a spring where we have been drinking water for 50 years. We have grown up with the emotions and joys that flow from it. And so we cannot accept the flaws (in my opinion) that are noticeable in its four-day celebration.

I will start with the two presenters, whose names I do not need to mention. Their duty is to create a harmonious, colorful, pleasant bridge between the song and the audience, the instrumentalist and the singer. Forgive me, but I did not notice this. Their presentation left much to be desired. The leap from speech and humor to get to the song and the audience, in most

cases, struck a false note. The invisible element is also to blame for this, that simple creator and drafter of the program.

Several times the presenters were applauded mockingly by the audience (I will not mention the instances, but if you ask me I will state them, or you can watch the replays on the internet). A presenter, dear organizers, differs from an ordinary person by the distinct diction of his voice, by his fluency, his simplicity, and the persuasive power of what he says, and of what he does not say, but which is said by his gaze, his posture, expressions of his acting talent, such as his facial expressions, his body language, the sweetness or the caress of his words. The directors had paid no attention to these features. So what did they pay attention to?

They could not tell the difference between a singer, a presenter, or a creator, or even worse, their goal was to highlight their own talent in the songs they sang, in the compositions they made, in the dances they performed, in the humor they created (mostly forced). As if this were a festival of new talents for all genres. Forgive me, this is not professionalism. The presenters, the orchestrators, the singers, planted, hoed, and harvested the crops of the world. Their music, their song, ate the bread of a professional, so it did not satisfy the audience artistically. This did not happen only with the presenters but also in other areas of the stage.

The festival’s motto seemed to be “We do it all.”

Let us delve into its motto and look carefully. Half of the composers created a song,

wrote the lyrics, composed it, orchestrated it, and finally threw in a vocal performance themselves. A rare professionalism, to be admired. What is wrong with that, someone will say? I say there is! A song is a physical

and spiritual connection of the composition with the lyrics, the singer, the orchestra, adding here the artistic harmonization.

All these components are professional, so they cannot be directed by a single person, no matter how talented he is. But this, brothers, is a deliberately created working method. Behind it come the opinions expressed to this end.

Why does a composer differ from a poet, a ballet master from a singer, a presenter from an actor?

By their professionalism. But neither Mr. Çako nor Mr. Gjebrea agrees with this. Here is what they said the day after the festival on the show 7 X 7.

Çako:

“The composer is a professional for the lyrics too; in truth, a poet can also do this job.”

Gjebrea:

“Composers in the world today create everything themselves; we have achieved this too.”

And here are Mr. Gjebrea’s lyrics, after he has played and displayed his talent on the piano, Çako sings:

Another life.

“Another, another life I want,

Another, another life to live.”

Please, readers, find the poetry, the imagery, the inspiration in these lyrics.

Below, the composer Mancaku creates in lyrics and music.

“You are far and when I share a kiss,

I see you on the other edge.”

Çlirim Leka....

My night.

“I did not think that on that night

On my path I would meet you,

You took my heart little by little

How I live, no, I do not know.”

Vitmar Basha

You listen, but you do not understand a single word.

Whoever manages to translate such lyrics gets a national prize.

It stands out more with the bands, where even their names are ridiculous.

“Unextinguished Stars”, “Supernova”, and so on.

Forgive me, gentlemen composers, what would happen if we replaced 2/4 time with 4/4?

Because this is what has happened with the song lyrics. A mishmash, a fog, an ambiguity. Poetry is an art just like music. Its artist, who is called a poet, is an artist of the word just as you are of the note. Please, why do you adopt and coddle the world’s children, is your own child not enough for you? You cannot become the father of all artistic fields. If you do your job well, you are respected. The music and the lyrics are the two legs on which the song steps, walks. You fit its poetic leg with a prosthesis, and it is forced to limp.

While it limps, your composition leg limps too.

With the exception of the lyrics by A. Doçi, D. Gjergji, J. Papingji, and a few others, the lyrics were rickety, breathless, lacking the beautiful art of the written word.

The lyrics are the language the song speaks (in terms of the taste and beauty of the word). But what can we say about its beauty, when all the artists do not speak Albanian but butcher their mother tongue.

Here are the examples:

Alban Skënderaj, instead of the word Ekpliksi—surprise, from Greek, uses eklipsi—(of the moon), also from Greek; Albanian is out of the question.

Olen Çezari, Moment—from Italian, çast in Albanian.

Gjebrea, Polivalente—from Greek—multi-polar, multi-branched, diverse. Metamorfozë—

from Greek, after the change, after the embellishment in Albanian.

Or the word “performance,” which everyone generally uses out of place.

In all the cases where foreign words were used, they were never put to the true service of the thought the sentence was expressing.

The exact same thing happens with the composer and its orchestrators. The orchestrator’s talent is to harmonize the music with the musical instruments, in time, characteristics, and range, depending on its musical development. How can an agronomist do a doctor’s job? Well, in our festival, this success has been achieved.

I cannot say what I said above regarding the choreography (a foreign word), the ballet troupe, who were more precise, more professional, more harmonized and connected to the music and its lyrics. Likewise, the big screen and the stage lights, especially on the third and fourth nights, were truly professional. I can say they came to the rescue of the musical weaknesses too, throwing a light veil of beauty over them to somehow hide the flaws. The instrumentalists also presented themselves well, both the band and the soloists.

I can say with conviction that the professionalism and the tradition, the beauty and the values, lay in the songs

by Agim Krajka, Dorian Nini, Edmond Zhulali, Bledar Skënderi, and for pronounced weakness

Alfred Kaçinari, Mark Luli, Supernova, Unextinguished Stars, all in my personal opinion, since it is known that the music genre is also a matter of feelings and tastes.

As for the singers, it is worth mentioning the good performance by Flaka Krelani, Geldi Halili, Anjeza Shahini, Juliana Pasha, Erga Halilaj, and so on, while Guximtar Rushani, Klaudio La Rexhina, Jona Koleci, Nazmie Selimi, Unextinguished Stars, and Supernova stood out for pronounced weaknesses.

The method of competition?

Like everything else above, the awarding of the prize could not remain outside the pre-prepared schemes. The jury members, respected and honored people, read and decide. At every given

point, the audience starts not to react at all, having understood the jury’s decision. One of its members

gives a dissenting opinion in points, Gjebrea gets fewer points. Meanwhile, the applause and cheers show the audience’s pleasure and true appreciation. Does the public’s opinion have no value at all? I think that even repeated applause shows seriousness and appreciation. The jury and its people know these appreciations well. But they pay no mind. And in the end, something that has never happened before, the winning song

is sung with the hall half empty or completely empty (forgive me for the unrefined words I use). Did the jury members notice this?

The story ends here, only to open the next day on the show 7X7.

There, the arrogant Gjebrea, now wearing the olive wreath, no longer discusses the song but the European festival. “I,” he says, “wrote the song in English, I condensed it into three minutes as the jury of the European festival requires, excuse me, he expressly said, in the Euro Song.” All correct,

except he did not say that his song was commissioned and preselected.

After discussing how we should present ourselves in Europe, the comedy of ignorance and lack of knowledge began.

Skënderaj.

“In Europe in the future we should present ourselves with rock, pop.”

The Director:

“It is not that easy, we must adapt to our music and tradition.”

Gjebrea:

“F... Europe for Balkan music.”

If my grandmother had been alive, she would have said, “A busted ass.”

I do not know if Mr. Gjebrea knows Balkan music. Do Turkey, Greece, and Serbia, which have won prizes in this festival, belong to the Balkans?

If they won, why did they win? Why were they appreciated?

I will tell you, an amateur who does not know as much about music as you do, a semi-amateur guitarist, but I know better than you where their music stems from, the journey it has taken to get there, and the message it has brought to Europe. That simple message of their artistic soul, intertwined with their ancient and comprehensive culture. And I am speaking a bit harshly when I say, Europe, Mr. Gjebrea, values originality, simplicity. It does not value

what lacks a name and artistic dignity. A note is a soul turned into sound, a call taken from the babbling of the people’s rich art and brought down to the artistic stages with delicacy and beauty, without losing the values and virtues from which it came. Well then, that Balkan music has won because it holds within it

the rhythm of their life, the agility of martial movements turned into choreographic art, their soul

turned into music. That is why they have won first, second, and third prizes, meaning they have what you cannot do, or what we cannot do for many other reasons, which you do not know, and which I have no intention of explaining to you. Artistic competition is a long and difficult road; it passes through many stages, obstacles, whims, and interests, which you who received the prize should know better.

I also feel sorry for the organizers, although the director openly stated his opinion on 7x7, “We did not have growth in this year’s festival, but we did not have a decline either.” In short, we grazed in the usual meadow, we simply ate what they gave us and left, only to appear again next year.

I do not know if the leaders of R.T.Sh., of the Ministry of Culture, Gjebrea, Çako, and others heard his words, or if their balloon “had been inflated with the prize and arrogance” and had risen to fly to Europe?

It will seem ridiculous to you, but when I left Albania 20 years ago, my grandmother saw me off

with a song from Labëria about exile, which still echoes in me today and brings my birthplace close to me, the babbling

of the springs (folkloric), the rustling and the lullabies of the breeze, the murmuring of the Vjosa, without which I cannot fall asleep at night if I do not bring it to mind.

Gentlemen composers, poets, singers, can you bring these feelings down into the fields of your musical scores?

If so, your art will remain; otherwise, you are beating a tin pan for nothing, your music will remain the noise of raindrops on the sheet metal of the roof where the livestock rest.