Anglicky in Olomouc

Iggy & The Stooges at Frýdek-Místek

We'll, it's not often see really big names appear in the Czech Republic, or so we thought. Since our arrival at the beginning of the year we've seen a few big names advertised – Portishead are playing in Prague and Carl Cox is on his way to nearby Brno for a bit o' the ole dancefastic all-night young person mixamatosis and for the Česky fans of no-nonsense rockovy Alice Cooper, Deep Purple, Iron Maiden, Bon Jovi, Uriah Heep, Girlschool (who we saw and can report were truly excellent) and even Suzi Quatro! That such blasts from the past are making it all the way here tells us three things; you're never to old to go back on the road to pay taxes/divorce settlements/etc, that the Czech Republic is now clearly worth the effort, and that the Czechs, like all slavs, love rock – I mean, they really love it!

Neither of us had seen Iggy & The Stooges before but, even though the gig was in another unknwown town, decided we'd better make an effort. The online payment was easy enough and before we knew it pdf'd tickets were a-sittin' comfortably upon my desktop. Ee – Th'wonders o' newfangled e-commerce,eh?

We hired our usual cheapy blue Škoda Felicia, circa 2001, and headed off to Víceúčelová sportovní hala, Na Příkopě 3162, Frýdek-Místek. Where? We didn't know. Until the concert details popped up on the screen neither of us had ever heard of the place. Regardless of exactly where, and only conscious of exactly when, we sped in an easterly direction towards the city of Ostrava and the Polish border away from gentle light of the setting sun.

The Czech countryside really is sublime. Rolling hills covered in thick forest surmounted by medieval turreted castles, in between little ochre tiled roofs of towns eternally nestled amidst the bright green fields each with its own beautiful fat baroque church spire pointing proudly into the deep blue evening skies... the journey was beginning to take on the feel of a Peters' Holiday Tours of Out-of-the-Way Places.

One hour later we were in Frýdek-Místek. I know nothing about this town, except that's where the gig was, that we had missed the turn off to the venue and that the turn-off in the return direction was temporarily closed for roadworks. So with 10 minutes to spare, we raced up and down the hills of this rather nice town looking for a way to get to the gig beside the Ostravice River that divides the Frýdek from the Místek parts – a bit like Buda and Pest in Budapest. Eventually, more by luck than judgement (or perhaps it was my excellent instincts?) we found the road to the venue and parked within 30 metres of the entrance under the flyover being repaired.

The Víceúčelová sportovní hala is an ice hockey rink that has clearly seen better days. Ice Hockey is an intense, oft-violent game wherein two grudge-bearing testosterone-filled bunches of lads or lasses (with long sticks) beat the crap out of each other with the excuse of putting a hockey puck into a tiny net guarded by a Gundam armed robot (also with a long stick). The clientele that appreciate this sort of spectacle may enjoy the almighty collisions and frequent fights on ice a little more than the delicate ambiance of their surroundings. In that respect, this venue was true to form – a weather-worn, futuristic communist-era relic that probably needs more cash to keep it upright than the building is worth. But as an industrial, grunge-fueled rock sweat pit it was perfect.

Queuing outside the 6 pokladny (ticket booths) were occupied by patient babičky (grandmas) as the crowd drank up before being body-/ticket-checked in. The warm-up band had already begun: Tata Bojs (Tata Boys – if that really needed to be pointed out) being a reasonably successful local outfit since 1988, appeared to enjoy their moment and succeeded in winning over the audience. On top of an excellent, well-rehearsed set they had the benefit of a bit of the old local lingo to work up the crowd. Singer-drummer frontman Milan Cais did his best to shake off the obvious Phil Collins comparison by standing on his kit or running around the stage and crooning from time to time, but it just didn't work – I mean, he's got a receding hairline and everything...

 

Before I come to Iggy Pop, I should point out that this gig had 4 beer tents set up on the un-iced rink, but it took us about 20 minutes to queue for our two Radegast beers. The queues didn't diminish – in fact, they got longer throughout the evening. There's something really quite inefficient with the way Czechs serve beer: it must have a 3 1/2 inch head, but even with gentle pouring down the inside of the glass it could take anything up to 5 minutes for the frothy stuff to eventually make minimum serving level. By which time it has begun to get warm. And the queue is getting longer. And my hot little hand has been holding the change all that time. Grrr... This just wouldn't happen in the UK or America or Australia where you get a full pint (none of this fancy culturally-expected maxi-head) and you get it quickly or the customers get irate.

There's no getting away from it, Iggy & The Stooges look old, but they've been doing this stuff since 1967 and have developed a red hot stage presence that, could it be bottled, would make someone a mint. From the get-go they rock 'n' rolled at a sound level that threatened to permanently deafen. Iggy, bronzed skin taut across his 66-year old frame, rolled about in his trademark awkward gait, the result of 40 years of dangerous misuse and, according to a Rolling Stone interview, damage from "a fall I took dancing on an amplifier left me with my spine twisted and a slight limp". His abandon to the music of the Stooges ensured ALL eyes were on him as he paraded through favourites like, "I Wanna Be Your Dog", "No Fun" and so many more. "Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell" and "Raw Power", older material now included on a compilation album of the same name, was carried off with unabashed rawness that stayed true to their earlier output.

At one point Iggy invited the kids at the front to climb over the barriers and invade the stage. This they duly did and all went well until one bloke tumbled off into the dark nether regions before the stage. This somewhat sobered Iggy who then ran off for about 10 minutes and left the Stooges to their abstract rock fusion thing. For all the years, the Stooges have fared worse than their famous wrinkly frontman: they looked like they'd be more at home to pipe and slippers. Their sound, however, was as rude and aggressive as you can imagine and they have amounted a huge amount of skill in doing it so well for so long.

In all, the gig was brilliant: furious, aggressive rock that brought the house down. The Česky audience was all very hezký (nice – oh, hezky česky is a bit of a local phrase) – all jiggy, toked up and calling for more and more, but we, being harcore rock n' rollers with an hour's drive ahead of us and all, ran at this point to miss the crush.

Exhibit This!

One of the great attractors for our move to the Czech Republic was to dive back into Europe's cultural... 'milieu'. In the hyper-commercialised kitchy society of Hong Kong we very much felt an urgency for genuine artistic expression: whenever we saw it we would erupt into lathery paroxyms of manic applause. Now, we feel we are included in one giant pan-European mechanism of free expression where integrity is king. On this continent there is a positive glut of artistic content and opinion, part-generated and part-encouraged by sincere public interest and a strong thirst for creativity that is impossible to slake. It also has a very long and well documented history.

It appears Europeans everywhere want to be artistically stimulated; they love novelty and, apart from the cheaper pop forms, they willingly seek out the many excellent ways it can be delivered – even if on the way they have to sidestep one or two large deposits of sloppy cack. On that last (cacky) point, before coming here we were a little unsure about the artistic gravity of our specific destination – it was already clear from our exploritory trip in December that the quality of performed music was high. We were delighted to see the amazing permanent exhibition of František Kupka at the Kampa Gallery on the Vltava River (partly because it was the warmest place to hang out during a freezing afternoon). But at what level the rest of the arts? Just how free is 'free expression' in our new and glorious Česká republika?

Czechs are very fond of reminding outsiders (read tourists from western Europe and north America) that their country is now firmly in the CENTRE of EUROPE. And, as you can see from the map above, they certainly have a point - most of Sweden and all of Finland and Greece are further east. It is self-evident that the old eastern bloc falsehoods set up from behind the Iron Curtain coloured opinion here, but we in the west were just as guilty of misguided views. To many-an uninformed mind eastern Europe is still be a cold place of rigid, unyielding authoritarianism, a dreary innovative desert devoid of the sparkly fashionable things of London, Paris and Milan (unless you liked fur coats) and the last bastion of inedible food and lethal, battery acid vodka. Back in the communist era there may indeed have been an awkward choice in proletarian artistic endeavours; the bland and officially-sanctioned 'folk' songs that heralded increases in tractor factory production, or the sombre tobacco-stained and subversive codified intellectual expressions that took the form of secretive novels or plays about freedom-but-not-about-freedom. But that was then...

It is, of course, still possible to see the echoes of the old ways of thinking. Many older people here know not one word of English (before 1990 Russian was the second language) and, though Czechs are undoubtedly polite, the decades of suspicion regarding mysterious and pesky western foreign types have left their mark in the curious sideways glances given by some at the supermarket checkout. But there are precious few that miss the old days, apart from the ageing party apparatchiks of yesteryear who were reviled, or at best sidelined, after the velvet revolution. The best that can be said of it all was that everyone's heating was cheap.

It was therefore imperative to get to see the best that this new country had to offer – the best available, that is, right here in this town. At one time Olomouc was an important strategic location worth defending, but its ring of impressive defensive walls and earthworks inhibited the town's organic growth and in the end other cities like Brno and Ostrava dominated Moravia as artistic hubs, focii for scientific endeavours and thriving commercial centres. All the better for us – Olomouc's character is its quaint, sleepy charm. But the quietude belies a bustling essence of creativity that can be seen in anything from studenty bands and studenty art to premieres of important seminal works and major retrospectives of internationally-renown artists.

Two recent exhibitions at the Olomouc Museum of Art demonstrated the exciting  flavour and quality of high art in this town. The first, From Titian to Warhol, was a four-part retrospective of works held by the museum that demonstrated the nature of the local visual arts within a very turbulent four centuries. The exhibition showed how those born in these lands were able to execute sensitive painting and were sufficiently skilled draftsmen, sculptors and... well, could turn their talented hands to pretty much anything!  The church commissioned many excellent pieces until egalitarian and nationalistic trends took power from the hands of theocrats and artists began making a name for themselves in the salon culture the mid-19th century. From then on into the first half of the 20th century the region produced exciting works that should undoubtedly be included in any review of romanticism, impressionism, cubism, surrealism or naïvism.

And then everything was torn apart by the second-world war. It is possible to say that Czech art struggled on after the communist coup, however artists were barely able to find innovative and unconstricted ways through the stifling state system. At least, that's how it appeared to me. Overall, the art of the 50s-80s didn't cut the mustard – there just didn't appear to be the same high levels of energy as before and everything lay beneath the surface. Since the Velvet Revolution things have obviously improved and current Czech art can hold its head as high as it likes.

The second exhibition,  Jan Švankmajer - Dimensions of Dialogue was itself a retrospective of the highly influential artist's works in different media. This giant amongst living artists (he's 78, ya know) is best known for his strange, surreal stop-motion animation for shorts, such as Dimensions of Dialogue, and full-length films, such as Alice and Faust. Do check them out if you are unfailiar with them.

He also produced painted work, collage and sculpture that (and I know this is a critiques cliché) astounds with its audacity. Parts of dead animals combined with toys were the most spectacular and surreal – quite large works in glass cases – and mechanized masturbatory contraptions that also featured in his film Conspirators of Pleasure. I might just have to go back again: Švankmajer is a surrealist artist of the old school – lots of rich depth and dark humour.

Throughout the centuries many Czechs have enjoyed an artistic bent. The spectacular Holy Trinity Column in Olomouc, possibly the very best baroque column of its kind in the world, was carved by local boys – something about which Olomouc is rightly proud. I'll write more on this UNESCO listed monument another time. By looking at ancient buildings around town it's easy to see Czechs have also been excellent architects.

But Czech art is not just about looking at static monumental things. They're also quite good at music and dance,  a little of which I already covered elsewhere. We delved into Czech culture right and proper the other night at a concert of Slovakian popster-crooner, Miroslav Žbirka. Miro has been doing the rounds since the late 70s, somehow obtaining permission to travel back and forth into the forbidden west for matters musical. To be fair, we bought the tickets for his gig without knowing a thing about him. This was the last of the selection of tickets for the Moravian Philharmonic's Dvořákova season we purchased earlier in the year and the lady at the Town Hall ticket office didn’t seem to think our going was anything out of the ordinary. We actually thought it was something classical: perhaps if we’d known we might have opted out, but in the end we’re glad that we didn’t.

The first alert that something was different was the venue, the university’s Sports Hall – a venue outside the town centre next to the cut-price Lidl supermarket. We wondered why this performer wouldn't be in a church or civic building of some sort. The next indicator was the audience gathering to attend outside the venue; a complete strata of age, sex and a mixture of Czech society, definitely not of the politely applauding churchy-classical concert variety seen at other concerts. Inside the large basketball venue, the busy crowd milled about by the entrance, queuing impatiently for the toilets and handing in umbrellas and coats at the cloakrooms (a Czech normalcy at any event). The stage contained seating for an orchestra, an area for a band and screens to project the performance when the lights dimmed. What followed was a two hour mixture of a Cliff Richard audience, Eurovision Song Contest orchestration, excellent session musicians in the band and the Czech equivalent of Chris de Burgh warbling meaningfully into a microphone as he nonchalantly strummed. The Moravian Phil gave their best using decent arrangements of his best-loved songs (it's on a new album, ya know) and also worked wonders supporting his Hey Jude and All You Need Is Love proving once-and-for-all some essential cool Beatleness credentials. The audience loved it! High culture it certainly wasn't, but it gave a gamey flavour of local middle-of-the-road music in these parts and it was very well done.

As if that wouldn't be enough to make Olomouc (and by extension the Czech Republic) as artistically vibrant as anyone would like, we also took in some contemporary dance. This. Was. Spectacular! The three female dancers used mostly upper body movements to convey depth of meaning and engaging vivacity. Kick-started by Andrea Miltnerová's astonishing Dance of the Magnetic Ballerina, the evening blew my socks off! Contemporary dance is often a set in a fairly tragic mode – lots of miserable people unhappily running about an empty stage without ne'er a sock or shoe in sight, but this was very different – and exciting! The first piece took the form of a series of Ms Milnerová's repeated arm movements modified and gradually exaggerated to a powerful repetitive soundtrack created by Jan Komarek. Dancing in a fluttery tu-tu surrounded by very skillful and sombre lighting (also by Jan Komarek), each precise movement became even more dramatic, of which you get only an inkling from the Youtube clip below.

 

Part of the Tanec Praha (Dance Prague) series of events, this event's second half featured two performances by Korean Howool Baek and Cypriot Lia Haraki. NOTHING for body, the first of these at first felt a little whimsical, an almost Disney-esque undersea journey with inching wormy fingers and fluttering fan-like hands, but the meaning became deeper as the performance extended. This is also embedded because it is too good not to share.

 

Finally, Lia Haraki's abstract Tune In was simply breathtaking. Her rhythmic and repetitive arm and hand movements brought unlimited gesture to the fore to brilliantly convey the unconscious. Beginning and ending with heartbeats in the dark, she unconventionally and intensely explored what it means to be human. As it said in the bumph, "dance without ego, body without thinking, experience without assessment."

 

Of all of these events, the last perfomance answered the question posed at the beginning of the post, just how free is 'free expression' in our new and glorious Česká republika? The answer is crystal clear – more free than we could have imagined: varied, exciting and excellent!

Making a Grand Entrance

When it comes to building work, ours is pretty small fry: we're not even converting the entire apartment but merely the kitchen and bathroom. Having said that, once those two rooms have been completed, and there's only the guest loft bed to think of, we'll have even more time to devote to all the other exciting things that make life here so vibrant – like beer! Manyof the renovations and restorations in this town, however, have a truly dramatic and spectacular results.

Olomouc's city heritage status, and UNESCO status for the Holy Trinity Column alone, means that much of the late medieval town centre is preserved – something about which we are quite grateful. The older, bigger buildings are grand and gorgeous, time pieces from the heady days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the winsome and lithe Art Nouveau creations date from the formative days leading up to the end of the 19th century and into the inter-war Czechoslovak period where Czech national identity was at its strongest. The smaller, residential houses from this latter period are generally cute and quaint, those after the Communist coup of February 1948 are best forgotten.

The conservation status is paying dividends largely in terms of tourism and as an attraction for cultural events. People come to the Czech Republic to see the beautiful old buildings, to sit and drink coffee in attractive town squares and to enjoy the excellent local beers within the ambiance of old medieval vaulted beer cellars. Our building is just within the city zone that receives European grants to restore and develop older buildings and we hope will soon get a significant sum to put right a few decades of abusive weathering. Local governments may have tarted up their town centres, but the government has also used money to restore religious buildings, be they catholic, protestant or Jewish. The state has pledged to restore religious property seized during the communist era and, after decades of neglect, has used its money to restore some of the most pleasant and interesting medieval, renaissance, baroque, classical and modern religious buildings in Europe. The Catholics are delighted, the Baptists refused this windfall on principal, but even the Seventh-Day Adventists have accepted their share of money. Not everyone approves.

Many well-proportioned buildings in Olomouc often have highly detailed or stylised house frontages. The best have had sympathetic restorations, although the ravages of time and the damages of thoughtless building work in others continues to sadden the eye. As with other populations, it is unlikely all Czechs fully appreciate the old and the fragile environment in which they live: many appear to be particularly in love with double glazing, more's the pity, and one can only hope that the time will come when they will tire of all that obscene and ill-fitting pvc nastiness.

Below, then, are a few pictures of doorways in the town. There are many more that, were there time and energy enough, could and perhaps should be documented appropriately. Perhaps if eyes are the windows of the soul, then windows are the eyes of the... and the door is the... Hmmm... well, that metaphor's not reversible, is it? That these interesting architectural features have survived this long is little short of miraculous. That they continue to be used daily are a testament to good building work of previous centuries, and, thanks to a bit of luck and present-day thoughtfulness regarding that which is worth preserving, may survive for centuries still. If you are thinking of coming to stay in Olomouc, architectural features will undoubtedly become a prominent part of your appreciation.