We came into this world to grow spiritually. If we don’t grow spiritually, we can’t do so professionally either. That means accepting life as it is, accepting the people around us, changing the things we can change and coming to terms with those we can’t ~ Vlatko Stefanovski
Few musicians in our region have bequeathed us such a rich cultural heritage as Vlatko Stefanovski. In this exclusive interview for CorD, we discuss his creative journey, accolades, cooperation with greats of world music, his new album, memoirs, and the concerts with which he will mark the 50 anniversary of his career.
Few musicians in our region have bequeathed us such a rich cultural heritage as Vlatko Stefanovski. In this exclusive interview for CorD, we discuss his creative journey, accolades, cooperation with greats of world music, his new album, memoirs, and the concerts with which he will mark the 50 anniversary of his career.
Vlatko, we congratulate you on the massive achievement of a 50-year musical career! When you look back, how would you describe your journey from the beginning to your current status as one of the region’s most influential musicians?
— I don’t like to talk about successes. Listing successes is unrewarding and pathetic. I would refer to my fascination with what I do. I’m still fascinated by music and the guitar as an instrument. I’m thrilled that I’m able to perform, to travel, and that I’m in relatively good health and can thus still be active. Success isn’t something that feeds me, it’s something that comes despite me.
Other people decided that I should succeed, specifically the audience. What’s important to me is that I see that same boy who was obsessed with the idea of making doing music when I look back. I can still see him sitting in the yard in Skopje’s Taftalidže neighbourhood, trying to produce expensive sounds on a cheap instrument. And that discipline of making bands at that time was so exciting! Create a band with your generation and try to perform in public. Not just to stay in a garage or a shed with your ideas, but to perform at school, in the city, in the country, not to mention playing abroad. That’s what feeds me, not successes. If I start listing the albums we recorded, the kinds of tours we had, everywhere we’ve travelled, that gets boring.
Success isn’t something that feeds me, it’s something that comes despite me. Other people decided that I should succeed, specifically the audience
And carving out your own place under the sun, for your craft, for your love and passion, that’s success. My friend Miroslav Tadić says: “When I fly on a plane and find myself surrounded by strangers, and when someone asks me what I do for a living and I say that I play the guitar and make a living from it, that’s success”! A man should be proud of that status. Success is being satisfied with what you do and what you’ve achieved in life. A little girl neighbour of mine asked me a while ago: “Uncle Vlatko, are you happy?” I thought for a second and said, “that’s a difficult question, but I can say that I’m satisfied, and that’s enough.” Happiness is an illusion. One sad news item that you read in a newspaper or one stupid message is enough to upset your equilibrium. Perhaps you have a fine balance for a while, but then comes a time of imbalance, the dynamics of life. You don’t have comprehensive insurance on that balance, or on happiness. And it is in that poetic sense that happiness is an illusion.
Music is a universal language. What is it to you?
— For me, music is the quickest link to connect with the universe, with some cosmic balance. Perfect harmony exists in the universe, in that chaos. Music can also be chaos. From notes, tones and sounds. Organising that chaos, those frequencies, and making that organisation of sounds say something to us and mean something emotionally. Frequencies that touch my heart, that’s music.
You stated recently that the neck of your guitar familiarises you with the universe, but also with people…
— In looking at that neck for over 50 years, I’ve been seeking balance, meaning and solutions. I believe that a man who is engaged in metal crafting, say someone who makes a tool, is also seeking meaning in his tools.
The painter looks at the canvas and seeks meaning when he paints, or while he paints. I believe that all creative people seek meaning through their work, and also search for answers to those countless questions that surround and burden us.
You were born in Prilep, where you stayed until the age of three. You say that it’s thanks to this that you “have a permit” to play the blues. How does industry inspire musicians?
— Yes, I found that connection because Prilep is a tobacco city, Tobacco Road. That thought crosses my mind by chance… I’ve been in Seattle, in Philadelphia, in New York, and in Rotterdam. I’ve also been in Rijeka, in Pula. I think young people are a little frustrated in those industrial cities and big cities. They are buried under physical pollution, but also social pollution. In their search for salvation, they form bands to express their frustrations. It’s much nicer to cause a din on your amp than to drift the tyres of your car. It’s also better for the environment, for the neighbourhood, and for our mental and spiritual state.
Let’s turn to Robert Johnson, Paganini, Bach, Jimi Hendrix and his Purple Haze. Why are top performers throughout music history said to have made pacts with dark, demonic forces?
— You mentioned Robert Johnson and Paganini. And I will mention a detail from the Milorad Pavić novel Dictionary of the Khazars and the hero of that book who talks about the devil’s ‘prstomet’. The Devil’s ‘prstomet’ is a sixth finger, an imaginary one, of course. It is the finger that helps you to be the fastest and best. Someone from my band once said “You have the devil’s sixth finger” because I can reach some rather difficult musical phrases and parts on the guitar neck. We all try to reach something that’s unreachable. To go to the next level and climb, like in a video game. But not everything is about virtuosity… We came into this world to grow spiritually. If we don’t grow spiritually, nor can we grow professionally. That’s accepting life as it is, accepting the people around you, changing the things you can change, and coming to terms with those things that you can’t change. As I enter my elder years, I realise that a person shouldn’t rely too much on cognitive reasoning, on that which is imposed on us by reason. Rational judgement doesn’t help in art, but rather mental restlessness, or peace, or inner passion. That inner impulse, to hunt down some things, to head after them, to realise them. On yes, I have a wicked idea, and I’ll solve it by consulting intuition, talent, respecting all obstacles I come across and trying to evade or overcome them. Spiritual growth is what follows us, what is given to us. And it’s good that this is the case…
You’ve recorded almost 40 albums. The album Kao Kakao exploded back in 1987. What was it like to create during those years?
— That had a very strong impact, strong energy. Powerful inspiration. And a bit of survival. The struggle to be or not to be. When it comes to the album Kao kakao, it was a creative explosion and the salvation of the group Leb I Sol…
Is a formal music education essential for someone who has talent and practices hard?
— When it comes to formal education, my late brother, Goran Stefanovski, the famous Macedonian playwright and professor, would say: “I can’t teach you to be an artist. I can teach you a trade. And what you will make yourself is up to you, the artist”. I’m not an opponent of formal education, although I didn’t receive a formal education in music. That’s why I needed a lot longer to master something. Those who have a formal education can reach a solution by plane, while I had to walk, through thorns, which isn’t recommended. But there’s no recipe to become an artist. If you want to become a craftsman, there is a methodology. And you have to provoke yourself if you want to become an artist, to call out yourself. I recommend that young people don’t wander; that they go to school, learn the basics of music, harmony, melody, counterpoint, to read notes.
You launched your solo career in the middle of the 1990s. How did you find the courage to take that step after the great success of the band Leb i Sol?
— I found it restrictive in the band. I couldn’t sell some crazy, unusual ideas to my colleagues at that time. And I decided to head off the beaten track, into the unknown, to go astray. Even if I failed. I also tried various things out of curiosity, trying to make something that wasn’t expected of us. Well, that’s a double-edged sword – it’s either a hit or a miss. In terms of material security in the 1990s, that was a critical juncture for me. I got married, had a baby. And I started thinking about a solo album that would be completely unpredictable, as an experiment. There was no certainty of success, quite the opposite. That was an extremely uncertain risk. You can’t always play like that. But, at some point, you have to pluck up the courage to do something stupid, unexpected, different. You have to be ready for that. As Salvador Dalí said, the most important thing is to disgrace yourself. You can’t follow the beaten track and play it safe. In art? No way! All the greats took the riskiest roads.
It used to be important to record a good album, to have a tour, to generally deal with me; to be good, not to say the best. And even in a social sense, not only in our musical environment, to have a good attitude towards things. It wasn’t politicians on the front pages, but rather musicians
I need to be able to recognise talent and sincerity in someone’s music. I don’t need someone’s ingenuity; their calculated dexterity. Honest, innocent awkwardness is dearer to me; something that’s been made for the first time. Just like the Beatles. Every creation of the Beatles is a universe in and of itself. That’s because they experimented and took lots of risks. There are followers of trends and there are trendsetters. The critics had no idea what Jimi Hendrix was doing with his guitar. They weren’t mature enough back then to understand what he was doing. Nobody sounded or looked like Hendrix. And the audience followed him like sheep to a shepherd. And now everyone is pretending to be clever. Now everyone indulges the audience. That’s not art; that’s the worst mistake. The audience must love who you are, because you’re a trendsetter. The audience can’t tell me what I will play. On the contrary, I will tell them what they should listen to.
If art is meant to testify to the time in which the artist lives and creates, is it necessary for the artist to be a moral person; to advance along a path of virtue?
— Never confuse the work with the artist. That’s because an artist can be a rascal, a gambler; he can be Dostoevsky, he can be indebted, promiscuous. If you boil Miles Davis down to a man who used cocaine, who walked around with a gun and furiously drove his Ferrari around New York… His work is great, but his character was what it was. If you boil John Lennon down to a man who was addicted to heroin, then you’re totally mistaken.
An artist is just a human, with all the human frailties, faults and fears. I tried to keep my private life out of the media. The media are inquisitive; they would love to rummage around one’s bedrooms and closets. That’s not really my cup of tea. Of course, values exist that it isn’t good to humiliate, disrespect and compromise. Love, freedom – those are the main two words. Freedom of spirit, body, movement. Love for plants, animals, people, children, the universe. Love, universal love.
You’ve received numerous accolades and awards for your contribution to music throughout your career. You performed in 2013 with the London Symphony Orchestra (Miroslav Tadić and Teodoski Spasov). Could you share your impressions of that with us? What does it mean for an artist to find himself in the same group as the likes of Deep Purple and Pink Floyd?
— I must admit that it meant a lot to me. While I was waiting to appear on stage, I once again saw that 11-year-old boy that I once was, sitting in the yard, playing an acoustic guitar. The road was long, and I again looked to that little boy who was yearning not for success, but for music, for the guitar; to create something beautiful and to experience that artistic satisfaction.
If the Himalayas exist, if the Mount Everest of artists or musicians exists, it was right then that I climbed to its summit. There are few people who haven’t had a formal education and perform with that orchestra. There are almost none.
How did it come about that the members of Kings of Strings met? How did the idea of teaming up come about?
— That was a great adventure; three guitarists from different backgrounds. One Westerner, Tommy Emanuel, a country and western fingerpicker; one gypsy jazz musician from the Netherlands, Stochelo Rosenberg, a genius on the gypsy jazz guitar; and little old me, the boy from Skopje’s Taftalidža neighbourhood. And those are moments when you cross instruments, exchange life and musical experience, worldviews; when you share taste and knowledge. When you see how people conduct them selves and how much they practice during the day. That was all a big school for me.
Concerts commemorating the 50th anniversary of your career have been announced to take place in Skopje on 14th December, in Belgrade on 16th December and in Zagreb on 18th December. What are you preparing for us?
— I will try to channel my entire life’s journey for that one evening. I won’t make a documentary about myself, I’ll simply invite the friends who’ve made my career and life more beautiful over the years, and who’ve helped me realise some dreams. That will be an acoustic concert, and later an electric one. And they will be different. I’m not a fan of major spectacles, I don’t like too many lights and stage attractions. I love the magic to happen between the people on stage.
I need to be able to recognise talent and sincerity in someone’s music. I don’t need someone’s ingenuity; their calculated dexterity. Honest, innocent awkwardness is dearer to me
Too much emphasis is placed on production today. Well, I’m not going to watch someone’s light show. Pink Floyd did that 35-40 years ago, when they turned a light show into art. Everything is so predictable today. All those scanners, monitors behind the scenes, fireworks and pyrotechnics – it’s all been seen before. I need to see a man on stage who knows something and who feels something. Give me a little knowledge, skill and a bit more emotion. If you can throw me some emotional medallion, I’ll thank you. The concerts that have been most moving to me in my life had precisely that human dimension. Ray Charles in Skopje, a few string players from the Macedonian Philharmonic. His voice and his piano. Pure emotions.
You’re currently preparing your new album, Muscle Memory. Will we hear any of that during the concert?
— Oh yeah, hopefully the album will have been released by then, as I’m approaching the end of production. It will be very interesting. I have some neck-breaking guitar playing, some wondrous stuff.
For the people who follow me, for my fans, it will be a rich chocolate cake of an album. I want to give them a special treat, and to treat myself to a cake for the anniversary.
You’re also preparing memoirs that you plan to publish soon. Will they also come after the jubilee?
— The toughest part will be submitting the material to the publishers, who are pressuring me. I’m almost done, with just a few details left for me to finish. Yes, the memoir follows the jubilee that I’m not celebrating, but rather commemorating. That’s nonetheless an achievement, roaming around forests and mountains for 50 years, around various gigs.
That’s an impossible mission, especially in the Balkans, with its closed roads, borders, roads under construction. Sometimes there’s electricity and sometimes there isn’t. That’s 50 years of serious travel. It’s miles; as they say, it’s not the age, it’s the mileage.
We’re witnessing a veritable flood of tribute bands. How important is it for young people to create original, authentic music? How would you encourage them on that path?
— Bands got old, some died. Only the Stones provide solace… However, on the other hand, all symphony orchestras are actually tribute bands … to Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Stravinsky. And those are tribute gigs and I have nothing against the artistic ones. The problem is that there are increasingly more quick offers with ideas of quick profit. Fast food, fast music. I would hereby encourage young people to borrow phrases and learn from others, from vinyl records, from CDs, from YouTube.
For me, music is the quickest link to connect with the universe, with some cosmic balance. Perfect harmony exists in the universe, in that chaos
But I would encourage them to make new music. The world doesn’t need copies; we need originals. I don’t need someone to perform Dire Straits for me – I saw them play live. Okay, musicians need work and that should be understood. On the other hand, it takes courage and audacity to make original music. And to compel listeners to buy it, to seek it out. I know that’s terribly difficult, but it’s also very sweet. If you manage to offer that audience your taste, your music, and they accept it, then that’s a very sweet victory.
In cooperation with Austrian company Thomastik-Infeld, guitar strings branded with your name and surname will be produced. You are the first artist in these lands to receive this honour…
— I will receive Infeld Strings, Vlatko Stefanovski Choice. I’m really looking forward to that! When I enter the guitar shop, I’m like a pubescent boy from the suburb of Taftalidže. When I see all these toys that I have enough of, but you never say that you have enough. Neither guitars, nor pedals, nor cables, nor amplifiers. That’s always a desire for something more.