“Forget Glastonbury, Reading, Burning Man and Coachella: the wildest music festival on earth is a cacophonic and crazy brass band festival that takes place every summer in the tiny Serbian town of Guča in the western region of Dragačevo.”[i]
At least that’s how ThisIsTheLife.com (an English party website) describes Guča’s annual Trumpet Festival. But, I am probably not a good one to confirm or deny this very bold statement since I have not attended a single one of those other festivals… and based on ThisIsTheLife.com, I don’t need to. I’ve been to Guča.
Nestled cozily among the hills of western Serbia lives Guča. And please note, I purposely use the word “lives” because, although Guča is a village, it does not simply “lie”; Guča “lives”; at least for one week a year… five days actually. And over the course of the last 49 years… these five days alone… has made this small village of 2022 souls “legend-… wait for it… … -ary”.[ii]
Just how legendary? Well… let’s put it this way… during this annual five day Trumpet Festival the population of Guča grows by over 34,000%.[iii] That’s right… over 700,000 people descend on Guča every year. All for a brass band festival. And as a man[iv] who was once ridiculed by his peers for being a “Band Nerd”[v], I took great pleasure in attending such a festival honoring the very instrument[vi] I “dedicated”[vii] so many years of my life.
Guča simply embodies everything that I know and love about the band subculture[viii] in the United States. As a whole, it is one of the best kept secrets… because simply put: band people know how to party. Yet they allow themselves to hide beneath a shroud of misconception: Geek! Nerd! Loser! Band people simply shrug it off and keep on playing… because they know the truth.[ix]
But in Guča, they let the “truth” hang out like the tummy of an overweight Serbian on a hot day[x]… Until Guča, I had never experienced such a celebration of pride, skill, dedication, and the sheer drunken debauchery. And I have been to band camp! Although, to put it in perspective for my theatre friends, the “Der Regen” cast party slightly resembled my Guča experience, just image the cast party lasting five days… wait… I’m pretty sure it did. But, They Might Be Giants weren’tinvolved. Anyway, I digress.
I think one of the reasons why playing an instrument in the States is often times look down upon by the self-proclaimed “cool kids” is because of the refined nature of music there. I can really only think of four styles of trumpet playing embraced in the States (I could be wrong), but it seems that most trumpeters fall into one of the following categories: 1) the elegant orchestral/symphonic trumpeter; 2) the disciplined military trumpeter, most often found in marching bands; 3) the Bugler, who serves as the hallmark of the Kentucky Derby and Renaissance Festivals; and finally, 4) the improvisational jazz/big band trumpeter.
One could probably argue that jazz and big band, America’s true gift to the world of music, could be considered unbridled or undisciplined, but I would have to disagree. Although, jazz trumpeters are very passionate, jazz has rules, even improvisation theatre has rules… and even more importantly, jazz has its own set of scales[xi] and for that very reason, I cannot in good conscious compare anything we have in the States the equivalent of what I saw in Guča. And I am not alone.
When asked about his trip to Guča, Miles David replied, “I didn’t know you could play trumpet that way.” Jokingly I would ask Miles, “what way? Completely hammered? You’ve never blown a few after a late night at the Blue Note?” But seriously, I completely understand what he is talking about. In the States, music always seems to be such a performance. As an audience member you are expected to sit quietly, listen, and appreciate… big band is probably the closest we have to a genre where the audience is encouraged to interact by dancing, but the band itself is always placed on some stage away from the audience and hiding behind their music stands.
In the Balkans, these instruments are used in such a different way. The music here is all about celebrating… not for the people, but with the people. The music is a true experience. These small brass bands, which are the foundation of Balkan folk music, are a fixture at weddings, births, baptism, and other religious celebrations. As many of your know, we awoke on the morning of Orthodox Easter to one of these brass bands strolling around our neighborhood proclaiming the good news in their own unique Balkan style[xii]. And, I have heard that there is a brass band that hangs outside Belgrade’s largest birthing hospital and plays for the babies and parents as they are discharged from the hospitals and heading home. I guess the best way to describe the energy would be like a drum circle, only with brass instruments. And when all of these bands come together once a year in Guča to compete, the sounds and feel is truly remarkable that it can only be described as “Gučtastic”. [xiii]
I arrived on the final day of the festival, Sunday, just before lunchtime. Things were definitely going on, but it was obvious that the record crowd from the night before had either thinned out or tucked away on the camp grounds sleeping it off. It was the perfect time to explore. The first thing I discovered about Guča is that the festival never really stops at the end of each day. People might pass out, but for the most part things keep on rockin’. So, even though it was pretty quiet when I got off the bus, the venders were up and running… and let me tell you… the venders were plentiful. As I crossed the bridge that connects the main festival arena to the main streets of the village I saw a sea of venders of every shape and size. An endless sea. And before reaching the end of the bridge I noticed the “Guča air freshener” vender. I was like, “What? My car can smell like Guča year around? Stale beer, Roasted Lamb, and Split Valve Droppings? I must have it!”[xiv]
Beyond the air fresheners, the venders were very diverse. You could pretty much buy anything there… but T-shirts of course dominated the festival. Not just “Guča, been there, done that, woke up in a gutter” t-shirts… but some of the most beautiful foul t-shirts you have ever seen… if you can read Serbian. To cut to the chase, most of the shirts featured the Serbian “F” word… and in homage to the Nationalistic ideals of the region, most suggested that you “F” anything or any place in the world that doesn’t have “Guča”.[xv]
But for me, the amateur foodie and wannabe grill master that I am, the meat and beer was the ultimate draw of the festival. I had heard stories about it… and some friends who had gone on previous days tried to warn me… but nothing could prepare me. Standing on the before mentioned bridge I was overcome by one of the most beautiful sight I have ever seen… a fire pit contraption which held four automatically routing spits. Each spit holding a whole pig, lamb, or goat. And about ten feet away from that vender… was another vender with the same contraption… with another similar vender another ten feet away… it was a landscape a grilled meat. My knees trembled… I lost my balance… I fell to the ground weeping… and then I ate. And it was wonderful.[xvi]
And of course, when you are eating that much meat you need at least one or seven cold beers… but it doesn’t really matter because a pint ran somewhere around 120 Dinars, which is just under $2.00… for the most part it is cheaper to drink beer than water here.[xvii]
Finally, there was the music… the crowning jewel of the festival. I was so caught up in the Guča vibe that I neglected to attend the actual competition. You see, each of the food venders had pretty substantial seating areas with waiters and tables… and the brass bands that had been eliminated during the previous days of the competition were making the rounds. Rather than behaving like sore losers, packing up their instruments and going home, they stayed and became one with the streets and café’s of Guča. The streets were alive. You could simply move from café to café all day being one with the food, beverage, and music. But you don’t just sit and listen in Guča… you dance… you dance with the band as they play! Honestly… it is all very hard to explain… but I would go again in a heartbeat.[xviii]
[vi] Trumpet (UrbanDictionary.com): The funkiest, most coolest, most jazziest, most mellowist, most brightest, most classicalist instrument ever made. Gods version of social Darwinism is who he decides should play the trumpet. Use in a conversation:
Person 1: You play the trumpet?
Person 2: Yes.
Person 1: You are my new God.
[ix] The trust: Trumpet players make better kissers.
[x] On hot days in Serbia, it is not uncommon for very overweight men to roll their shirts up over there belly’s and walk around… in public. At Guca, this practice was common for folks of all shapes and sizes.
[xiii] JP desperately wants to coin a word that gets into Webster! Start using it!
[xiv] I bought three! Can you say “stocking stuffer”?
[xv] This is of course where I found the perfect t-shirt for Costello.
[xvi] Serbia is not a smart place to come if you are a vegetarian
[xvii] Special Note: Beer in Serbia is also sold in two liter bottles… which is awesome!
[xviii] Coming soon: this month’s SchutzHappens video, which documents JP’s trip to Guca
