This page is created to accompany the book and the radio show on rock music and its culture, entitle The recovery was still ahead of me. How did I get to it?
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Duga nota
With Pain I Was Born, is a title of a song by Croatian jazz vibraphonist Boško Petrović, that describes well how the text of the book was conceived during my rather serious illness. Writing it, however, was not painful at all, as the memories flowed and jelled, page after page, during the year that followed. I started writing, barely out of the hospital immediately after I hung down the phone after talking to Vlatko Fras. Vlatko called me asking whether I would be ready to write a text for the book that Buca Popović was preparing about the late Belgrade pop Idol Vlada Divljan, whose great songs marked our youth. Vlatko didn’t have a clue that I was just out of the hospital and was surprised to find out I will have time to start writing immediately. Sure I would, I told him, and I knew immediately why and how. My memories came to the surface as my life slowed down during the heart viral infection, whose first phase I have had just barely overcome. The recovery was still ahead of me.
As soon as I have finished those first twenty pages of what will become one of the last chapters of the book, I knew how will the rest of the chapters look like. I have written the first chapter, called April 1st, in Croatian, and have then continued writing the text in English. After just a few paragraphs I switched back to Croatian as memories that were surging were personal and intimate and I felt I would be taking some of the intimacy away if I would have continued in English. So, it was to be a autobiographic book first and foremost in spite of the fact that most of the text I wrote is at the same time essayist, full of my observations on the erosion of the liberal values following the demise of the rock culture by the end of the last century. The first chapter I wrote did contain exactly some of the remorseful observations on when did rock started succumbing to nationalism and other old fashioned social mores. Of course, for us growing up in the former Yugoslav Federation the end was abrupt and clear and the deaths of our rock and roll buddies at the battlefields showed us that rock did not succeed in stopping what we have thought will never come. For every lost life of an individual enamored in rock culture and its liberal values, from Vietnam to Vukovar, we have an obligation to keep the flame of the liberal values alive.
The memories that remained were of the time when rock and roll was saving our souls form the uniformity of communist politics and reductions of personal freedoms we had to live through while growing up. Those memories were surprisingly bright and cheerful, of something exaggerated fun we had while growing up and were successfully trying to enlarge the room of freedom of expression and I was confident that they will make an interesting read to those who did not live through those times.
I wish to explain here the story of the title. Duga nota in Croatian means Long note in English. While searching for the title of the book, sometimes in the midst of writing of the text, I felt that one of musical gestures that embodied the passion and belonging to a non verbal expression of it is the sustained note of the electric guitar that countless a guitar player performed on stage and in the studio when they wished to transport a listener into a state of sentiment closer to their passion. While toying with the term sustain, I understood that there is no Croatian translation of it as local musician would use the word “susteyn” in English to describe what they are playing in Croatian. While searching for a translation, I was advised that a proper Croatian term for it would be “a continued tone” (“kontinuirani ton”), which somehow lacked any poetic connotation and moved us in realm of physics rather than poetry. I have therefore discarded the possibility to call the book “Continued tone” and continued searching for a proper equivalent of my idea.