n:ear festival: A haven of experimental music in central Slovakia

Published August, 2024
by Andrej Kabal

The 4th edition of Slovak experimental n:ear festival took place in Banská Štiavnica, central Slovakia. Focusing on all kinds of experimental music, the festival combines local and international artists and perfomers with a wide range of artistic expression, also with allusions to traditional music. Andrej Kabal attended the festival on our behalf, and brought back this report.

For a person not in possession of an automobile, it can be quite difficult to reach the city of Banská Štiavnica, which is located in the central part of Slovakia. Therefore, my trip to this beautiful small town located in the middle of the Štiavnica Hills required some careful planning and consideration of more options of how to get there. Leaving from Prague on Wednesday, I spent one evening in the capital of Slovakia, Bratislava, meeting some old friends of mine who told me that Banská Štiavnica has a reputation of a town where you can get your ass kicked quite easily, as the locals are the descendants of miners who never gave a damn and loved to get their hands dirty. Considering the fact that apart from n:ear festival, that I was travelling to, the town also has lots of other cultural events and initiatives, this seemed like pretty contradictory information. For example, a festival focused on young, progressive Slovak music acts called Realshit happened just one weekend after n:ear. Of course, I was not really eager to prove this one, but I kept it in my mind for the rest of my trip. The festival was spread out all around the town and thus the opportunity was there to explore it, which I took as an integral part of the overall festival experience.

After a shared car ride to the city of Zvolen and taking a bus through the slightly bumpy mountain road to Banská Štiavnica, here I was. Located at an altitude of 621 metres, it is surrounded by nature and forests and it is pretty hilly. I learned the latter fact pretty fast as I realised that my apartment is located on top of one of the hills of the town. Pressured by time, I rushed uphill to get the keys to my apartment from the most typical looking Slovak granddad type of guy, the owner. He was holding a stack of sausages and salamis while passing me the keys and reeling off the instructions loudly in a very typical Central Slovak accent, providing me with more information than I actually needed.

Fortunately, I was fast enough to arrive to see the first concert of the festival which took place at the first of the festival’s many locations. Jonáš Gruska had his sound installation ready in the courtyard of the Július Binder Gallery. Jonáš has been a long-standing fixture in the local experimental scene, whether through his activities in the field of sound art, running a cultural centre and the LOM label, or through his overlap into the study of fungi and lichens – he even published a book in this field. His work is thus also closely linked to the environment and this installation worked with the synthesis of sounds that can be heard in nature, especially in the insect kingdom. Sound, however, morphed into a more musical tangle of sounds in the end, which at some points was reminiscent of the more modern positions of contemporary club music. This all was made with his creation, a sound-light modular tower. This device was engineered for a balanced sound distribution in a circular arrangement. Sound, lights and movements of the tower were managed by a combination of algorithmic compositions and live control.

The courtyard of the gallery was decently full during the concert and my fears that this festival would have a small turnout due to its difficult to reach location and styles of music were fortunately not actualised. The combination of familiar and new faces proved that because of the hard working efforts of certain people, this scene in Slovakia is growing and has a tradition. We moved in small groups to the second venue of the evening, called Arte Misia, a local educational centre. It is located in the heart of the city and it is at the same address where the label Mappa has its headquarters.

It is definitely important to mention that the first day of the festival was curated by this label, which was reinforced by the opening speech of Jakub Juhász, the head of the label, right before the first concert. Jakub’s speech was in a way very specific and peculiar, his diction reminded me of my grandfather, laid back. Who knows, maybe it was influenced by the fact that Jakub has been living in Banská Štiavnica for a long time and the archaic atmosphere of this town has had an influence on him. However, one fact is indisputable, Jakub is a very original and fundamental person who has done a lot for the local scene, as proven by the international reach of the Mappa label.

The collaborative work of Maria Komarova and Lucie Pachová utilizes repurposed objects of everyday use, with which they then try to create sound surfaces. Seeing a guitar on the ground secretly sparked my desire for one of the performers to smash it on the ground at the end, but this didn’t turn out to be the case. The soundscapes of this project were softer and more subtle. The guitar itself was used with a combination of a cream whipper with a string attached to it, creating a tremolo picking effect on the guitar itself, which was slightly amplified. Other objects such as thermo flasks transformed into speakers, flower pots or sticks all contributed to the overall result. I recall similar installations made by the Czech DYI synth hero Petr Válek, which are much louder and abrasive than these subtle, almost ASMR like sounds. The temperature in the room was quite high, which made the entire performance even more dreamy and hazy than the said artists perhaps expected.

While moving to another venue, I asked the main organiser, Štefan Szabó, about the exact location of the Hájovňa. A 25-minute walk uphill was not the reply that I wanted to hear – my cardio is definitely not what it used to be. So I decided to take a taxi and use my own feet on the way back. On the way up, my friends and I had a discussion with a taxi driver, that basically no locals live in “the old city”: most of them live in the housing estates over the hill, as the majority of the old city parts are owned by the rich. When I asked him when did the mining stop in the town, he couldn’t answer me. I concluded that it must have been a really long time ago, but later I found out that it was in 1994. However, mining had gone into sharp decline in the middle of 19th century already.

Hájovňa is simply an amazing place. Surrounded by forests, it used to be a gamekeeper’s house, and now got transformed into a cultural space. Apart from the standard selection of drinks (including Steiger, a beer with terrible taste, but a really cool name), the staff prepared some pretty tasty lentil soup for anyone starving. The place itself has a very strong DIY vibe and hosts concerts, movie screenings and exhibitions. Tonight’s gigs took place outdoors, in front of the house, with a stage surrounded by trees. With some stage light magic, and the night slowly approaching, this was just the perfect setting for the concert of the Polish musician Raphael Rogiński. His performance was the expected highlight of the festival. In short I would sum it up as campfire music for the 21st century. It was an intimate and technically precise gig with a slightly mysterious atmosphere. An acquaintance of mine told me a story about a wasp’s nest that was found in the marquee behind the stage shortly before the concerts started. Raphael, who is supposedly allergic to wasp bites, declared that at least he would die on stage if anything happened. Brutal. Fortunately, the artist survived the concert and whether this story is true or not is hard to say. Personally, I believe this story, as it adds a bit of tension to the atmosphere created by Rogiński’s take on American primitivism with influences of jazz, blues and his native Jewish heritage. 

The following act, the Slovak duo Popol Noci, provided the noisiest show of the entire festival, performing cover songs, using modular synthesisers, keyboard and some vocals.

”I summoned the duo Popol Noci, who tread the exact line between cosmic keys and the incandescent pulse of underground shafts. Between the sound of modular synthesis, psychedelia, drone, and the giggles of a cunning permon”, was Juhász’s colourful description of this duo and I couldn’t agree more. Despite the slight technical difficulties, they do their job properly, creating a noirish atmosphere, as thick as the night falling on the forests of the Štiavnice hills as they play. I’m leaving for my apartment while they finish their last song, heading downhill through the forests, using the light of my iPhone to see the path in front of me. The group that I’m walking with mentions something about bears, which are quite frequent in this region. This makes me think: will I survive this night or will my life end abruptly in this forest, mauled by some wild animal? The light from my phone occasionally randomly illuminates the statues of saints that are placed along the forest road here, which in one case ends with a startled scream from one of our crew members.

I woke up the following day to the sound of church bells and the crowing of the rooster, creating a very typical aural setting for this region, with the occasional noise of the circular saw that our host is using in the yard. It is half past seven in the morning. Life in small towns starts early, putting people like me into hostage situations. Recounting yesterday’s first day of the festival, I realise that n:ear is not only about music, but also about discovering the sites of Banská Štiavnica. If you want to get through the complete program, you will see a lot of site-specific locations. And lots of them are in exteriors such as forests or “tajchy”, artificial water reservoirs, created as a byproduct of silver mining in the area, which is very specific for this region. While trying to find some place where I can eat, I discovered some festival recommendations for where to go. I find that even though this UNESCO heritage city has a vibrant tourism industry, it has very limited options as to where you can eat a decent and reasonably priced meal. Despite numerous restaurants and cafes, the quality of the food is either absolutely terrible or extremely overpriced. Finally, we found a hotel restaurant where the prices are comparable to the centre of Prague. The buildings of the historical centre only reinforce this. On my way back I met the festival organisers, getting the church ready for the evening organ concert. They tell me that due to the Crowdstrike issue, there is a possibility that one of the performers might not make it on time as he is stuck at airport. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, hoping that everything will turn out well. It is a “pleasant” 28°C and I’m climbing uphill.

Skipping the daily program of the festival, which was the screening of the documentary movie Hopa lide made by ethnomusicologist and filmmaker Petr Nuska was not a voluntary, but more of a pragmatic decision. It is important to note that the festival has a long history of working and showcasing marginal, especially Roma communities and I learned indirectly that the documentary was an interesting glimpse into the community, but due to its length, it was not played in its entirety. I hope to get to it somewhere and rectify this mistake.

The evening program was packed with variety and the first part took place next to tajch Ottergrund, at an altitude of 801 m above sea level, the highest one. Áron & László Porteleki, the son & father duo, played a purely acoustic set which was inspired by Hungarian folk music and traditional song cycles combined with free improvisation. No seats, just sitting on the grass or blankets and music without any amplifiers. This amazing temporary time capsule was filled with Áron’s brief narrative explaining the origin of songs, switching traditional instruments while playing. The walk back in the heat exhausts me that much that I decide to watch the performance of the n:ear ensemble from a distance, while sipping a Kofola drink. The ensemble performance involves participation from the audience, an activity I personally dislike and feel anxious about. However, more social people probably enjoyed this performance.

I decided to overcome my anxiety while watching this concert from a bench near the Hájovňa on a trace amount of psychedelic mushrooms that I received as a birthday gift a few days ago. Once again descending into the city through the forest, this time still during daylight hours, the illusion of a bear menace is completely shattered. To have a festival in such a setting is simply an experience, I say to myself while walking through the woods. I’m also starting to wonder if they’ll even let me go to the next concert on the schedule, since it’s being held at a local evangelical church, and I’m wearing a classic long sleeve t-shirt by metal legend Báthory, which has a big, edgy pentagram on the back of it.

This problem was resolved by the heat: a church completely packed with people, and mushrooms that turned out to be stronger than I expected. Sitting in the far back pew of the church, I enjoyed the Kit Downes & Calum Builder collaboration immensely. Calum Builder’s custom-built instrument was made from pipes salvaged from old churches in northern Denmark, seconded by a local baroque organ at which Kit Downes sat. The varied sonic range of this improvisation with the atmosphere underpinned by the light show was another highlight of this festival for me. I left for my accommodation with the feeling that I had seen something special. Inside, I wondered how this concert was perceived by the local church community, which in Slovakia is in most cases extremely conservative. However, I saw people in the church during the concert that I hadn’t seen at other events at the festival, so the concert must have sparked some interest among the local people as well. What they had to say about the experience, I unfortunately didn’t find out. Walking back to my place of sleep I discover the graffiti tag A.C.E.B. which has got a legendary reputation in certain social circles. I can’t resist the urge to take a picture in front of it.

I decided to devote Saturday to exploring the city and its surroundings, so I skipped two gigs from the day’s schedule. Unfortunately, the concert I was looking forward to, Adela Mede & Adam Donoval, was cancelled due to illness, but the festival offered as a substitute a swim in the tajch by which the concert was to take place, where tea and small refreshments were served. Constant walking around the town which is basically hill over hill, trying to find some normal place to eat, has made me a bit exhausted, so I entered the last musical part of the program with a slight bit of grumpiness and scepticism. However, that was a mistake. The concert of the doudouči ensemble under the direction of Michaela Turcerová was perhaps the best performance of the entire festival. The orchestra presented the beautifully minimalistic piece which was not afraid to be dark, relentless and noisy, yet still beautifully fragile in certain parts. Again, the lights and atmosphere in the venue, which was now a local cultural center fit this perfectly, despite the fact that it was just your average socialist cultural house concert room.

The energy of the performance overshadowed the last concert act of the festival – the concert of percussionist Alex Lazaro which took place in a smaller room and the temperature added to the sweatiness of this rhythm based performance. I drink aperol while sitting at the Archanjel bar where the DJ trio Wyme & Seafur & Krishpin play their catchy mix of gqom, reggaeton, carioca and afrobeat. The musical language of this set is so universal that it fits the space of this “normie, touristy” café perfectly and doesn’t feel intrusive at all.  I thoroughly enjoy it and the last aperol before bedtime becomes the second to last.

Before going home, I exchange a few sentences with Jakub Juhász, who informs me that there seems to be a fight brewing between the locals and the festival participants. I remember the warning my friend gave me a few days ago. Jakub knows quite a lot about local mentality as he’s been living in Banská Štiavnica for quite a while. Since I’m not really the brawling type, I decide to go. Suddenly, a car rushes past me down the hill extremely fast, doesn’t make the turn, gets skidded and with a huge noise and squealing tires gets clocked. Exactly where I had planned to pass. Shocked, I run away, later realising that the small talk with Jakub saved my life and that I will not avoid writing this report. Thankfully, after this incident, no one supposedly had any desire to fight anymore. Still shaken, I go home to sleep, which takes me a while.

I was sad to find out the next day that I missed the performance of Eva Priečková and Katarina Poliačiková. From the accounts of others and the footage, it was a dignified ending point for the festival and a kind of beautifully symbolic gesture for the community that worked with our personal griefs. It might also have been helpful for me to get my hands on the stone that symbolises my grief and then throw it away. We all have many problems and demons that we must, willingly or unwillingly, battle with.

n:ear festival, however, helped me to forget these problems and sorrows for a few days, also indirectly causing me to feel more alive than ever before. It offered me a beautiful combination of interesting and innovative music in a beautiful environment of nature and special locations, which even the occasional parochialism and conservatism of a small Slovak town with its pluses and minuses couldn’t spoil for me.

But dare I say that the contrast I experienced this weekend is such a symbolic metaphor for the state of contemporary Slovak society. On the one hand, there is a group of people who represent prejudice and narrow-mindedness, and on the other, there are extremely bright and passionate people with a great community who are trying to raise the level of culture in Slovakia, even at the cost of frequent confrontation with everyday reality.

And this is what I think about n:ear festival as such.

Text: Andrej Kabal
Photos: Andrej Kabal, Slavo Uhrin

This article is brought to you as part of the EM GUIDE project – an initiative dedicated to empowering independent music magazines and strengthen the underground music scene in Europe. Read more about the project at emgui.de.

Funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are however those of the author(s) only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union or the European Education and Culture Executive Agency (EACEA). Neither the European Union nor EACEA can be held responsible for them.