dissertation razvan george galos

June 2014

Dissertation

Underground Folklore: from a musical genre to a new cultural

consciousness?

Author:

Răzvan – George Galoș

Main Supervisor: Dr. Fabio Cleto

Università degli Studi di Bergamo

Support Supervisor: Dr. Claudia Kozak

Universidad Nacional de Entre Ríos

Răzvan – George Galoș Dissertation June 2014

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Declaration

I Răzvan – George Galoș hereby certify that this dissertation, which is 18,011 words in

length, has been written by me, that it is a record of work carried out by me, and that it has not

been submitted in any previous application for a higher degree. All sentences or passages

quoted in this dissertation from other people’s work (with or without trivial changes) have

been placed within quotation marks, and specifically acknowledged by reference to author,

work and page. I understand that plagiarism – the unacknowledged use of such passages –

will be considered grounds for failure in this dissertation and, if serious, in the degree

programme as a whole. I also affirm that, with the exception of the specific

acknowledgements, these answers are entirely my own work.

Signature of candidate ……………………


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Contents

Abstract ..................................................................................................................................... 4

1. The sound of underground folklore ................................................................................ 5

1.1. Folklore as inspiration ................................................................................................. 7

1.2. Dolhasca, an archaic place ......................................................................................... 11

1.3. From colinde to hip-hop ............................................................................................ 13

1.4. The sound of childhood ............................................................................................. 18

2. From identity crisis to national unity ............................................................................ 20

3. When in ’89 ...................................................................................................................... 29

4. The thin line between underground and mainstream ................................................. 34

5. Nostalgia between urban and rural ............................................................................... 39

Conclusion ............................................................................................................................... 43

Bibliography ........................................................................................................................... 45


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Abstract

The focus of this dissertation is to set the basis for the study of a musical genre

referred to as “underground folklore”. The term was coined by Romanian hip-hop band

Subcarpați in 2012 and used as title for their second album. Underground folklore is also a

good description for the style of the band, a hybrid between modern genres such as hip-hop

and Romanian folklore motifs. The first chapter analyses the sound of underground folklore,

in order to make room for questions regarding the reasons for its creation. The hypothesis is

that the musical genre was born as a result of an equation with many variables, the most

important ones being represented by concepts such as identity and nostalgia, which shall be

discussed throughout the study. The context around the creation of underground folklore will

also be defined as being related to Romania’s recent history and to the underground hip-hop

sphere of the city of Bucharest. Ultimately, the analysis will show that underground folklore

is a good example in describing Romanian society nowadays, especially regarding the dual

relationship between city and countryside, new and old, modern and traditional. This dual

relationship can be also observed as the cultural heritage of at least one generation. The

primary sources of the study will be the songs of Subcarpați, both instrumentally and

lyrically, alongside interviews and documentaries in which the members of the band are the

protagonists.


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1. The sound of underground folklore

‘Folcloru-i oxigen pentru un popor astmatic’

Folklore is oxygen for an asthmatic people

(Subcarpati, Balada Romanului, 2012)

This chapter analyses the construction of a musical genre, which has been referred to

as “underground folklore” (in Romanian underground folclor), a combination between old

and new, between traditional and modern, born in the city of Bucharest, but inspired by a

tradition that has survived throughout the centuries, resembling an archaic way of life that can

still be found in the Romanian countryside.

Before any other considerations it is important to clarify that the present study is not

focused whatsoever on concepts such as “protochronism” – term used to ascribe an idealized

past to a country as a whole, ‘which came to the fore in the 1970s’ in Romania and ‘had

affinities to earlier traditionalist interpretations of national development and, later, to

Ceausescu's increasingly nationalist utterances’, emphasizing ‘the unique and pioneering

character of Romanian culture’ (Hitchins, 1992, p. 1082). Although the results of such

concepts could easily be situated in the sphere of ridiculousness, Romanian culture, and

folklore especially, should be by no means seen with discomfiture.

The analysis of Romanian rural tradition, although it may seem like an approach to

localness, should not be observed in terms of the distinguishness that sometimes folklore

proudly acclaims and hardly defends, but purely as an inspirational factor that influenced the

expressivity of a new art form such as underground folklore.

The concept of underground folklore was introduced in 2012 by the Romanian hip-

hop band Subcarpați, which was established in 2010 and was described by The Guardian as

‘an explosive mixture of old and new’, ‘an eclectic combination that brings together

melancholy Romanian folk songs, Romanian unity songs, traditional instruments and the

rhythms of trip-hop, dubstep, hip-hop and dancehall’ (The Guardian, 2012). Underground

Folclor is also the title of Subcarpați’s second album and it appears to be a good description

for the style of the band, which at the beginning was hard to define; constructions such as


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“etno” or “neofolk” used by the media to name a new way to assimilate and produce folklore

were seen with scepticism by the members of the band. Although the construction

underground folklore was born two years after the band was formed, it provides a good

description for the early works, as well as a pattern that will be hard not to follow, at least in

the near future.

In this chapter the focus will be on the sound of underground folklore, with particular

attention given to the Romanian rural motifs and the way the poetics of hip-hop relate to

them. The first part will consist in a presentation of the use of folklore musical motifs

throughout various stages of Romanian music. Afterwards, a glimpse at some of the local

traditions still preserved will be important in explaining the influence of Romanian folklore

productions on underground folklore. Ultimately, a parallel and coalescence between

traditional folklore music and hip-hop will be necessary in order to define the architecture and

the sound of the underground folklore.

The objective of the present study is not to engage in an in-depth analysis of

Romanian folklore music, but to prove its necessity in terms of social and cultural identity

disruptions – of course, references to particular folklore productions will be made, in order to

define the subject at hand, a subject very little discussed from a critical point of view, a factor

that represents a big challenge considering the almost limitless possible approaches. Thus, in

order to avoid a massive confusion in the reader’s perception, the present chapter will try to

answer the question “what is underground folklore?”, while the subsequent will deal with

more difficult questions such as “why?” or “where to?”.

One could assimilate the process of writing to the process of recording a song, based

on multitracking (an overlapping of channels, where each one corresponds to a different

instrument), but with ideas instead of sounds. Of course, the simple overlapping of two or

more channels during the recording and production of a song is not enough to achieve a good

sound. In the same way, the present study needs a decent amount of mixing and masterizing,

in order to attribute the right place and level (of importance) to every idea, which just like an

instrument or a sound, has a defined role in relation to the spatiality and general vibe of the

final result. Hopefully at least the “rhythmic” part will sound decently.


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1.1. Folklore as inspiration

Asked about his relationship with folklore, Andrei Marius Alexe, also known as Bean

MC (which I shall refer to as “Bean” throughout the study), the founder of the Subcarpați

project, replied that his connection to Romanian tradition is ‘very personal’ and ‘can be traced

to his childhood, when he used to spend his summer breaks in the countryside, in Dolhasca,

Moldova’ (Alexe, 2012). ‘My grandmother introduced me to folklore music’ - Bean states -

‘she was always asking me to turn down the volume of my rap tapes, to show some respect

and listen to our music’ (Alexe, 2012). Bean affirms that he took advantage of the lack of an

authentic sound and the lack of promotion of folklore in current Romanian music, by

searching ‘the lost sound’, the sound he listened to ‘long ago’ in Dolhasca, very different from

the almost manufactured folklore he used to hear on television (Alexe, 2012).

Regarding the commercialized version of folklore, born during the Communist regime

and still representative for the majority of the Romanian population, ethnomusicologist

Speranta Radulescu remembers her ‘disdain and disgust’ towards this promoted genre,

manufactured in the image of the Romanian communist society: ‘planned from the “centre”’

(reference to the communist regime), ‘ideologically conformist, hopelessly optimistic, noisy,

artificial, false’ (Radulescu, 1997, p. 8). She continues by explaining that

It was not within our reach to repel the power of the Communists, who forced us to

swallow it; but we did allow ourselves to reject its musical insignia, availing ourselves of the

current opinion that music is divorced from any ideological connotations

(Radulescu, 1997, p. 8)

However, Speranta Radulescu remembers that at the Conservatory of Bucharest she

discovered that folklore was in fact ‘a real support and source of inspiration for the national

school of composition’, and although she had ‘no opportunity to hear this magnificent music

live’, she read in ‘the old collections’ melodies that were used in ‘remarkable compositions,

by Georges Enesco, Constantin Silvestri, Teodor Rogalski, Mihail Jora and other monstres

sacrés’ (Radulescu, 1997, p. 8). The commercialized version of folklore from the “Golden

Age” (construction that refers to the Romanian communist regime) is still very successful, a

success that can be observed especially in the variety of specialized television channels that

have an uninterrupted schedule of broadcasting. For an “untrained” viewer the sentiment of

unpleasant surprise, when stumbling upon such a channel, is more than natural.

What is important, though, is that folklore was and still remains a source of inspiration


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for Romanian music, from classical to pop, from rock to underground music. The individual’s

need to express oneself through the search of tradition could be considered a process that

occurs in moments of loss of identity, an idea that will be discussed later on.

During the communist era, the main example of integration of folklore motifs

appropriated in a different and decent way was the band Phoenix, also known as

Transsylvania Phoenix. At the beginning of the seventies, the band adopted a style referred to

as etno-rock, in a moment when censorship began to ban the majority of Romania’s rock

bands. Phoenix created a unique sound, using almost ‘primitive’ motifs, medieval tales

combined with rock, the musical genre ‘assumed as modernity’ at the time (Breazu, 2010).

The band remained in people’s hearts, due to a rare instrumental virtuosity and due to the

metaphorical character of their anti-regime lyrics. The majority of the members managed to

escape to West Germany in the late seventies and returned after the fall of Ceausescu’s

regime.

Other rock bands tried to assimilate folklore in those times, such as Sincron, an

attempt that led to an interesting combination between riffs that resembled the ones made by

The Beatles and traditional lyrics. Another project, Sfinx, combined psychedelic rock and

ancient Dacian mythology, a quite different approach and one that distances itself a little from

the folklore background analyzed in the present study.

Just as rock used to represent the main genre that ruled the seventies and the eighties,

hip-hop started a worldwide domination in the mid 90’s, maybe symbolically after Kurt

Cobain’s death. In both cases, the dominant genre was locally assimilated, but still remained

dominant. Subcarpați, just like Phoenix, do not play folklore music exclusively.

Hybrid products were born in both cases, but in Phoenix’s case the choice to

incorporate folklore is not as clear as in the context of Subcarpați. The storytelling feature of

hip-hop eases the understanding of why folklore was chosen as a source of inspiration, just by

taking a glimpse at the lyrics (such examples will constantly be used throughout the study).

The choice of Subcarpați for the present analysis is not arbitrary. In addition to being

the first band after Phoenix that used folklore motifs that do not sound like monophonic

cellular ringtones (the way the dance-folk attempts of the 1990s sounded like), the band

represents an oasis of interest, not only in terms of sound, but also regarding aspects such as

identity, generation, and nostalgia – concepts that will be developed in the second part of the

study.

In order to trace the band’s choice of folklore as support, an analysis of the lyrics of


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the song “Lăutar de București” (Lăutar1 from Bucharest), from the first album entitled

Subcarpați, could be appropriate. The translation is my own (just as any text from Romanian

used in the present study) and the rhyme was sacrificed in favour of the content.

Mi s-a pus pata într-o seară One night I was stuck on listening to what my grandma

Să ascult ce-asculta bunica la țară odinioară Used to listen to in the countryside back in the day

Și-am rămas pe loc săgetat I remained still like a stone

Am știut din start ce trebuie sa fac I instantly knew what I had to do

Muzica m-a inspirat Music inspired me

Și-am început să fac ca flăcăii I started to behave like the lads

De parcă-am repetat ani întregi Like I had been repeating for years

Folclor și căntecul ploii Folklore and the song of the rain

Și dacă tot meșteresc muzică pe PC And since I already craft music on the PC, I thought

M-am gândit că poate sintetizez cântarea țării. I could maybe synthesize the melody of the country

Am unificat idei ce aveam în cap I united ideas that I had in mind

Adică trip'u de la țară și vreo câțiva ani de rap That is the trip from the countryside and a few years of rap

Să știi că ăsta nu-i cenaclu Keep in mind that this is not a literary circle

Nu ți-o dau de la înalțime It’s not coming from up above

Dar cum m-a lovit poate te lovește și pe tine. But it could hit you just like it hit me

(Subcarpati, Lăutar de București, 2010)

The translation seems largely unintelligible until the verses ‘Keep in mind that this is

not a literary circle/It’s not coming from up above’. Here a possible interpretation could be

that the literary circle alludes to Cenaclul Flacăra (“The Flame” Literary Circle), a cultural

project started in the mid-seventies that lasted until the mid-eighties, consisting in shows and

concerts for the masses. Although considered more liberal in comparison to the official

artistic production, it was still ‘coming from up above’.

Also, the word “trip” does not refer to a journey in the countryside, but rather to an

“exciting or stimulating experience” (one of the informal meanings of the word according to

Oxford Dictionaries). The combination between the ‘trip’ and ‘a few years of rap’ is the result

of Bean’s inspirational process, and leads to a construction of a peculiar genre. In this context,

it could be interesting to try to find out what his grandmother might have listened to ‘back in

the day’.

Thus, a glimpse at the local traditions in Dolhasca, the place where everything started

for Bean and underground folklore will follow. This trip to an archaic place will provide a

1 the article “The Music of Rumanian Gypsies” by A.L. Lloyd provides a very good description of the word “lautar”, here

used as a metaphor: “To most of us, Rumanian folk music means fiddle music, fast, furious and exotic. Yet in fact the fiddle

is rarely found in the hands of the Rumanian peasant musician. He has his own instruments- giant alphorns, five kinds of

bagpipes, and countless forms of flutes. The fiddle, like the cimbalom and the pan-pipes, belongs not to the world of the

peasant amateur but to that of the public performer, the professional minstrel, the lautar. There are rural lautari and urban

lautari. The popular professional minstrels of the towns play mostly in restaurants or, to an increasing extent nowadays, in

concert halls. The rural lautari make most of their living by playing at weekend dances (horas) and at country weddings,

which even today may last as long as three days or more. Most of these professional minstrels are gypsies” (Lloyd, 1963-

1964)


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deeper understanding of the Subcarpați phenomenon, and a better contextualization of the

sound of the band in their mission of ‘synthesizing the melody of the country’.


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1.2. Dolhasca, an archaic place

Dolhasca, located in the North-East of Romania, was a childhood refuge for Bean MC,

the founder and leader of the Subcarpați project. Bean’s case is representative for the majority

of the people growing up in Romania, who spend a significant amount of time in the

countryside, a space that plays an important role in individual development and the collective

imaginary – the place where everything began. Even nowadays, almost half of Romania’s

population, 46% according to Eurostat, lives in the countryside (Eurostat, 2012).

The hypothesis is that Dolhasca represents a place where an archaic way of life seems

to be preserved, characterized by a ‘revolt against concrete, historical time’ and ‘nostalgia for

a periodical return to the mythical time of the beginning of things, to the Great Time’ (Eliade,

1959, p. xi).

It is documented that the territory of Dolhasca has been inhabited since the 3rd

century

BC. Recent archaeological studies (between 1972 and 1976), especially the ones conducted

by archaeologist Silvia Teodor, produce evidence of a continuous human activity in the area,

starting with the Neolithic (Ecomunitate, 2012). Of course, it is not enough to state that an

archaic way of life was formed and preserved in Dolhasca due to human presence throughout

the centuries. But an analysis of the still preserved customs that have a repetitive nature could

shed more light on the subject.

The folklore tradition in Dolhasca, like in many places in Romania, is mainly

represented by the customs of the winter period, especially the ones around Christmas and

New Year’s Eve. By ‘repeating them every year, the local traditions are preserved and

enriched’ (Ecomunitate, 2012). It is interesting to observe the verb “repeat” in this context

that could be linked to the ‘eternal repetition of the cosmogonic act’ and to the ‘need of

archaic societies to regenerate themselves periodically through the annulment of time’

(Eliade, 1959, p. 85).

By dividing time into independent parts such as ‘years’, ‘we witness not only the

effectual cessation of a certain temporal interval and the beginning of another’, but also ‘the

abolition of the past year and of past time’, that leads to a ritual purification similar to a

‘combustion’, and represents an ‘annulling of the sins and faults of the individual and of those

of the community as a whole’ (Eliade, 1959, p. 54). Even in a modern context the ‘New Year

still preserves the prestige of the end of a past and the fresh beginning of a new life’ (Eliade,

1959, p. 77). Although some of the people that respect and take part in the local traditions do


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not realize the meaningful mythology behind their acts, it does not mean that the act itself

loses importance. However, Bean’s relationship with tradition does not seem to fit this

pattern.

For Bean the metaphorical return to Dolhasca represented a way to escape from the

city, from the fortress; a gateway to another ‘spiritual world’ and ‘imaginary universe’ that

could not remain without an effect (Barbaneagra, 1987). Once assimilated the ‘capacity of

deciphering religious, mythological and moral values’, life becomes worthy of living,

‘because the unknown world that opens in front of us is full of messages and hope’

(Barbaneagra, 1987). The process of initiation in Bean’s spiritual life could not have

happened in a place other than Dolhasca. Combined with a sentiment of nostalgia (concept

that will be later addressed, the return “home” situates Bean in a timeless world; a world in

which through the act repetition, people always ‘live in an atemporal present’ (Eliade, 1959,

p. 86). It could be considered a process in which history is refused.

The desire felt by the man of traditional societies to refuse history, and to confine himself to an

indefinite repetition of archetypes, testifies to his thirst for the real and his terror of "losing"

himself by letting himself be overwhelmed by the meaninglessness of profane existence

(Eliade, 1959, p. 92)

The concept of repetition could be used not only to analyze the behaviour of archaic

man, but also to underline the structure of the cultural products he creates. In the following

pages, the word “repetition” will be used as main feature of ‘colinde’ (the plural of the

Romanian noun ‘colind/colinda’), a musical genre ‘spread almost all over the traditional-

cultural area of Eastern Europe’, which ‘seem to be best represented, and with the largest

complexity preserved, in the Romanian rural tradition’ (Balasa, 2003, p. 119).

It is documented (Ecomunitate, 2012) that the main ceremonies in Dolhasca during the

New Year period are represented by the performance of colinde, which up until the Second

World War were practiced almost everywhere in Romania (Eliade, 1980, p. 11). The focus of

the next chapter will be on the similarities between two genres distant in space and time,

colinde and hip-hop/rap (throughout this chapter the two constructions will be used as

synonyms; hip-hop will be analysed as a musical genre, not a cultural phenomenon that

includes rap among other elements).


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1.3. From colinde to hip-hop

The translation of the word “colind” is sometimes ‘carol’ or ‘Christmas carol’, but a

more specific correspondent could be ‘traditional winter-solstice-song’, to underline the

considerable difference in terms of ‘complexity and variety’, ‘composition and performance’,

‘poetic, musical, formal’ and functionality from the ‘Christmas carols known in the West’

(Balasa, 2003, p. 120). Being of a pagan origin, the Church intended to abolish, ‘with rather

doubtful results’, the practice of colinde, a pre-Christian custom that was preserved thanks to

a particular geographical situation and to the ‘moderate political power of the Eastern

churches’ (Eliade, 1980, p. 11).

In 1647 a Lutheran pastor, Andreas Mathesius, observed amongst the Romanians in

Transylvania the practice of what he called ‘the infamous colinde’, ‘devilish songs

(Taifelsgesenger) learned by the young men before Christmas’ (Eliade, 1980, p. 11).

Mathesius adds that eventually ‘the men were obliged by the authorities to give up’ the

‘Romanian colinde’ and to learn the ‘Christian’ ones; ‘they did learn them, writes Mathesius,

but they continued to sing the old ones as well’ (Eliade, 1980, p. 11).

The “colindători”, the young men singing colinde, united in a group called “ceata” go

from house to house and ‘while on the street they make as much noise as they can – shouting,

singing, and beating their drums in order that no one in the village be allowed to sleep that

night’ (Eliade, 1980, p. 12). The order of the colinde is also important.

In front of each house they first ask permission of the host then sing a specific colinda at the

window, another one at the door, and the rest inside the house. After the singing, they dance

with the young girls, even the little ones. Sometimes a few of them, wearing different masks,

perform a short spectacle of the carnival type.

(Eliade, 1980, p. 12)

The traditional mask worn by those performing colinde is also one of the elements in

the performances carried out by Subcarpați. In musical videos, such as “Tza tza tza, căpriţă,

tza” or “Balada Românului”, masks are used to create a striking visual effect. In an interview,

Beans remembers the times when he used to be part of a group of colindători, back in

Dolhasca, and states his intention of taking the masks and eventually going back to the

countryside for the celebrations of the New Year (Alexe, 2012). In the group of colindatori

there is usually a young man wearing a traditional mask representing an animal (a goat, a stag,

etc). The mask, symbol of the divinity dies in a violent way at the end of the ceremony in

order to be reborn along with the New Year (Ghinoiu, 2013, p. 72).


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According to Ion Ghinoiu’s Dictionary of Romanian Mythology, the ritual of colinde

could be defined as ‘a complex ceremony, organized by a specific group of people, which

through sung or shouted texts, and sometimes with the use of masks, dances, ritual gestures

and magical formulas transmit the news of the death and rebirth of the adored divinity, bless

the community and make wishes for the New Year’ (Ghinoiu, 2013, p. 89).

A colinda usually ends with an oration (urare) ‘addressed to the master of the house’

and ‘recited by the vataf’ (the leader of the group) or ‘by each member’ (Eliade, 1980, p. 12).

The orations ‘are similar to those sung at marriages’, representing ‘the most important and the

more archaic element’ of colinde; ‘most probably, in ancient times they were recited or sung

at the beginning of the ceremony’ symbolizing ‘a ritual benediction of the New Year’

(Eliade, 1980, p. 12). With a repertoire that ‘varies from village to village’ and a number

between ‘ninety to about thirty’, the performance of colinde also includes particular themes;

for example the ones sung for the dead, ‘for families who had lost a member during the year’

(Eliade, 1980, p. 12).

It is known that ‘poetry once had a prized place in both public and private affairs’. On

different occasions, from births to deaths, from weddings to funerals, festivals and family

gatherings, ‘people would recite poetry to give shape to their feelings’ (Bradley, 2009, p. xii).

Rap could also be considered poetry, ‘but its popularity relies in part on people not

recognizing it as such’. This is because people often associate rap with ‘good times’, while

considering poetry ‘hard work’, ‘something to be studied in school or puzzled over for hidden

insights’ (Bradley, 2009, p. xii). This supposition does not apply to Subcarpați, mainly

because their rap is not about good times; on the contrary, it sometimes reflects the devilish,

pagan vibe of the archaic colinde, leading to more basic and practical uses of poetry.

If ‘rap is a public art’, then ‘rappers could be considered our main public poets’,

‘extending a tradition of lyricism that spans continents and stretches back thousands of years’

(Bradley, 2009, p. xiii). Bean’s double identity, both as a colindator and as a rapper, could be

confusing in outlining his status as an artist. The hypothesis is that both genres have had at

least the same importance in creating and developing Bean’s style, and implicitly the sound of

underground folklore. Before engaging in a more concrete analysis of the relationship

between the two realities, colinde and hip-hop, it could be interesting to point out Bean’s

vision regarding the definition of underground folklore.

Starting with the idea that even folklore has its underground part, Bean likes to think

of the genre of Subcarpați as ‘natural way to produce music’ (Alexe, 2012), just like a

shepherd who finds a piece of wood and scoops it and starts playing a melody of longing, of


15

mourning (Alexe, 2012). The image of the shepherd is also very representative in the context

of colinde, because in most cases it resembles God. In fact, ‘God – as well as Jesus, Saint

Peter, or the Virgin Mary – looks very much like a Romanian peasant’ in the collective

imaginary, and a relevant number of ‘colinde present God as a shepherd with a flock of sheep,

piping on a shepherd's flute’ (Eliade, 1980, p. 14). It is not only Bean’s ideal image of

underground folklore that is represented by a shepherd playing a flute, but also his creative

process seems to imitate, in a metaphorical way, of course, the archaic image of God. In most

cases the main motif of a Subcarpați song is inspired by one of Bean’s ideas, which springs

while he is playing the kaval (in Romanian ‘caval’), an end-blow flute associated with

shepherds. Moreover, underground folklore is defined by the same Bean as ‘the place in

which you forget everything you learned about folklore and you start to feel more’; he feels

close to those shepherds’ state of mind, and for him that mood is crucial in the definition of

underground. ‘Maybe this was the main drive’, Bean continues, ‘the catalyser, the search of

the lost sound’ (Alexe, 2012). In the search of this lost sound it is important to try to find

influences from colinde in the outline of underground folklore, this time from a melodic and

structural point of view, implying as well the features of hip-hop.

The recital of colinde is practiced even nowadays, repeated year after year, depicting a

survival trait characterized ‘not only by virtue of the tradition's inertia or of the (mostly

forgotten) venerability of the pieces origin’ but mostly ‘by virtue of an imperishable rationale’

(Balasa, 2003, p. 120). This rationale lies in the independence of the colinda from the

narrative text, from ‘the melody’ and even ‘from the quality of performance’, in its constant

alteration, representing ‘something that communicates and satisfies now’, in the ‘very

moment of its actualization’ (Balasa, 2003, p. 120). It could be considered an act of

improvisation on the part of the singers, ‘independent both to (poetic) text and tune’, which

has nothing to do with their ‘conscious intention’ (Balasa, 2003, p. 120). This improvisation

finds its basis in the numerous possibilities of the so called ‘syntagmatic repetition’ (repetition

of the verse and strophic refrain). In Romanian ‘traditional/folk singing a single poetic text

can receive up to 64 formal treatments/versions’ (Balasa, 2003, p. 120).

Some of the elements mentioned above, such as alteration, actualization,

improvisation and repetition could be easily integrated in a description of the poetics of hip -

hop, the background of underground folklore. The similarities between two genres so distant

in time and space, colinda and hip-hop, wrap the sound of underground folklore with a hard to

ignore naturalness.

A Romanian peasant that recites colinde could be compared to a hip hop MC (MC


16

standing for master of ceremonies), who combines the beat with his cadence in order to

satisfy ‘the audience’s musical and poetic expectations’ by disrupting the patterns of a certain

song ‘through syncopation and other pleasing forms of rhythmic surprise’ (Bradley, 2009, p.

xv). Subcarpați’s performances, especially live, present common features with the

interpretation of colinde, such as ‘repeating the verses, intermingling the refrains, breaking

and prolonging the lyrics by vowels and pauses’ (Balasa, 2003, p. 119); actions that could

lead to a new and different structure of the song with every performance, ‘divorced from most

considerations of melody and harmony’ (Bradley, 2009, p. xvi).

Regarding “repetitivity”, the songs of Subcarpați present this feature both from a

lyrical and from an instrumental point of view. The inner structure of the verses is defined by

repetitiveness (whether it’s the case of one or more words, or just syllables), allowing the

song to acquire a type of “catchiness” similar to the one of colinde, a genre that lived

throughout the centuries also because of its facility in being passed on orally, in terms of

memorability. Instrumentally speaking, the element that defines hip-hop’s repetitiveness is the

rhythm, the ‘beat’, made of ‘the kick drum, the high hat and the snare’, which can be

‘sampled or digitized, beatboxed, or even tapped out on a tabletop’ (Bradley, 2009, p. 4). The

rhythms of Subcarpați go from hip-hop to dubstep, from dancehall to drum and bass, but the

main beat is always a derivate of hip-hop.

It could be stated that ‘poetry was born in rhythm rather than in words’, if we imagine

that the ‘first poem might well have been a cry uttered by one of our ancient ancestors long

before modern language emerged’ (Bradley, 2009, p. 5). Thus, ‘in its simples terms’, a poem

could be regarded as ‘reproduction of the living tones of speech, regardless of meaning’

(Bradley, 2009, p. 5). Rhythm is crucial in the economy of rap, because ‘no matter how

conversational an MC’s lyrics may sound, their rhythm makes them poetry’ (Bradley, 2009, p.

5).

Rappers have a word for what they do when the rhythm sparks them; they call it flow. Simply

put, flow is an MC’s distinctive lyrical cadence, usually in relation to a beat. It is rhythm over

time. In a compelling twist of etymology, the word rhythm is derived from the Greek rheo,

meaning “flow”

(Bradley, 2009, p. 6)

As an art form per se, hip hop is based on repetition – ‘but repetition with a difference’

– leading to a creative process that ‘consists of MCs taking ready-made things that are close at

hand and transforming them to fit the pattern of their unique artistic vision’ (Bradley, 2009, p.

212). This process applies to Subcarpați as well, the majority of their songs being inspired by

other hip-hop works or Romanian traditional motifs. To fit the first case scenario, a good


17

example is the song “Rău necesar” (Necessary evil), from the brand new album Pielea de

găina (Goosebumps), released on the 13th

of June 2014. The song is inspired by Roy Ayers’

“We live in Brooklin, Baby”, both from an instrumental and lyrical point of view; the main

keyboard motif is basically the same, although the rhythm is slightly slower and more spatial,

conferring an echo-ness designed to give “goosebumps”. As for the chorus, the pattern is

identical, leading to a translation from the original version, with only two substitutions –

Bucharest (Bucureşti) instead of Brooklyn, and mother (mamă) instead of baby.

Trăim în Bucureşti mamă We live in Brooklyn baby

Vrem să reuşim mamă We wanna make it baby

Şi-o să reuşim mamă We’re gonna make it baby

Trăim în Bucureşti mamă We live in Brooklyn baby

(Subcarpati, 2014) (Ayers, 1971)

Described by the band as “a tale from Bucharest Babylon”, the song detaches itself

completely from the American correspondent, due to the two kaval solos, which give the

feeling of falling asleep in the Romanian mountains, and then waking up in the heart of

Bucharest’s jungle. Although the loop, the ready-made, and the use of registration as

reference situate hip-hop in the realm of post modernity, without being able to exist as a

philosophy outside these parameters (Balabas, 2012), the slightest contribution and personal

interpretation can change completely the meaning of the primary source. The song “We live

in Brooklyn, Baby” has been used as support by other hip-hop artists, from Mos Def to

Papoose, mostly to state the pride of their origins, to represent their neighbourhood, Brooklyn.

In the case of Subcarpați, Bucharest seems rather a place to escape from and the solution

could be the refuge in places such as Dolhasca, the space and time of childhood.

The return “home” to the countryside, and the rediscovery of folklore has changed the

perspectives of the band towards musical composition. Of course, the main part of the process

still involves the use of the ready-made, which could be represented by another hip-hop song

or a Romanian folklore motif. Nevertheless, in some latest performances, the members of the

band have tried to insert their own instrumental compositions, such as the ones on the kaval,

which in the long run could substitute the need to cut small parts of Romanian traditional

songs and use them as loops. Their relationship with folklore became deeper, and so did the

need to use traditional instruments in order to express their feelings and contribution in a

project meant to bring back the lost sound of folklore in people’s houses, in a format they

could assimilate. And that sound seems to be the sound of childhood, and there are several

different perspectives that attest to it.


18

1.4. The sound of childhood

‘The repetition of traditional samples’ provides the songs of Subcarpați with a ‘strange

atmosphere and a very visceral feverishness’; the compositions are wrapped in an aura of

‘improvisation and flimsy construction’ (Breazu, 2010). This reflection is very interesting and

this third element, the almost stumpy and undefined sound of the band, apparently

independent from text and tune also deserves a deeper investigation and a valid point could be

represented by its integration in a scheme of the ‘ages of sound’.

The ‘age of sound’ is a concept that brings together various stages of the development

of musical forms, from a systematic point of view, not a historic one. These sections are not

correlated to the stages of individuals, the cultural age of mankind, nor to the biological and

mental age of humans and could be generically called: childhood, youth, adulthood, old age

(Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 27). In any case, the term “childhood” is not the equivalent of

“primitivism”, the last being often ‘related to an outdated evolutionist perspective’

(Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 27). Similarly, the term “adulthood” does not represent a ‘greater value

from an aesthetic point of view’; the ‘passage from the first stage to the last does not represent

a quality progress, but only a change of state, from flexible and irrational forms to fixed and

rational forms’ (Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 27). Thus, ‘what we call “adulthood” when referring to

the age of a sound is not superior to what we call “childhood”, because these terms don’t have

an axiological meaning and because cultural products that belong to different “ages” cannot

be compared from an aesthetic point of view’ (Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 27).

The hypothesis is that the sound of Subcarpați describes the particularities of

childhood, in terms of age. The childhood stage of sound is characterized by the

predominance of the indetermination, of the continuum. The musical sound is ‘amorphous,

unstable, tending towards noise, the melodic systems are not sufficiently delineated and

rhythm and structure are hard to differentiate’ (Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 28). This type of sound

is called the “abyssal sound”, and a ‘good example could be the guttural sound of the

Romanian kaval or the one of the buhai’ (Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 28). The “buhai” (ox) is a

friction drum made out of a wooden tub or bucket open at both ends with an animal skin

tightened on top pierced in the middle for a horsehair "ox tail", used in the New Year's ritual

plugușorul (‘the little plough’) where it reproduces the sound of oxen mooing when pulling

the plough (Wikipedia). This paragraph takes us back to the archaic character of the New

Year’s traditions, mentioned at the beginning of the chapter. It also describes the sound of the


19

Romanian flute as “abyssal” – a connection here could be made with Bean’s search of the lost

sound through the use of the kaval. Moreover instability is invocated as the main character of

the childhood age, a common feature with the almost stumpy and undefined sound of

Subcarpați.

Furthermore, the ‘musical examples of this age of the sound seem to be triggered by

the unconscious and probably represent the most elementary form of music; they are close to

speaking, recitative or vocal signals’ (Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 28). They represent the common

musical background of humankind, from which the subsequent structured music emerged.

‘According to some theories, music seems to be born out of speech, or vocal signals, which

are not fully singing’ (Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 28). The aesthetics of hip-hop seem to perfectly

fit this pattern, because rap ‘is not speech exactly, nor is it precisely song, and yet it employs

elements of both’ (Bradley, 2009, p. xvii). Moreover, the singing technique used by Bean

could be defined as ‘sprechgesang’, between singing and speaking (Teodoreanu, 2011, p. 30).

Traditionally, the content of a song has been identified by scholars as ‘being made out

of music and (poetic/discoursive) text’ (Balasa, 2003, p. 125). But there could also be a third

element which fits into the description of Subcarpati’s songs, that passes through the

traditional aesthetics of colinde, the architectural building of hip-hop and the unconscious

feature of the childhood sound. This ‘immaterial’, ‘essential’ element ‘intervenes in order to

compose the real being of a song’ and it consists in the very ‘spirit, appetite, instinct’, in

which the poetic body, ‘dominated by the subconscious spirit of architectural building,

achieves itself as a work of art, and functions as sacred experience’ (Balasa, 2003, p. 125).

The different factors that go into creating a particular sound, like underground

folklore, range from primordial elements to colinde, from urban environments and hip-hop to

the quiet, archaic life still present in Dolhasca. All of these factors speak about more than just

music, since they are related to the state of the Romanian society nowadays. Such a fusion of

diverse elements calls to attention other issues that have been concretized in the Subcarpați

phenomenon. After an analysis of the inner-working of their musical productions, the context

that surrounds their music has to be taken into consideration as well. If their music marks a

change in Romanian music, it must mean that the change occurred first in society.


20

2. From identity crisis to national unity

Mă adresez tinerilor în special I address myself especially to young people that are going

în criză de identitate, fenomen naţional through an identity crisis, a national phenomenon

Şi nu vreau să-ţi devin conştiinţă, taică I don’t want to become your consciousness, man

vreau doar să înveţi din greşeli, dar stai că I just want for you to learn from your mistakes, but wait

Lumea o să mă-nţeleagă greşit People will get me wrong

“uite ce figuri de românache obosit” “Look at the character on this lame Romanian”

Am spirit naţional, dar nu sunt fanatic I have national spirit, but I’m not a fanatic

Folcloru'-i oxigen pentru un popor astmatic Folklore is oxygen for an asthmatic people

Trecutul şi prezentul mă definesc ca roman The past and the present define me as a Romanian

chiar dacă sunt atipic în felu' în care o spun Even though I’m atypical in the way I state it

Mi-o zice numele, o zic actele My name says it, my papers say it

şi mai nou aş vrea s-o zică faptele And lately I wish my actions could say it

Am brazi ca verişori şi molizi ca fraţi I have fir trees as cousins and spruces as brothers

iar lumea prin ţară ne cheamă Subcarpați And people all over the country call us Subcarpați

Cănd eu zic limba, voi ziceţi:română When I say language, you say Romanian

(Subcarpați, Balada Romanului, 2012)

The song “Balada Românului” (The Ballad of the Romanian) is the hit of the album

Underground Folklore, released in 2012 by Subcarpați, with approximately 1.5 million clicks

on Youtube so far (the most popular musical video of the band). The reasons for its popularity

could vary; from the manifesto-feature to the trippy visuals (which involve the Romanian

traditional masks mentioned in the chapter 1.3), from the frenetic violin motif to the

calculated yet sometimes unexpected alternation of the beats (the intro being dominated by

undefined and interrupted scratching that makes room for the main beat, which eventually

transforms into a drum and bass madness that in the end fades and allows the voice to restate

the chorus). Whatever the choice of the common listener might be, there is one thing that

cannot be treated with indifference: the content of the lyrics.

The main words of the song that deserve a deeper investigation are “Romanian”,

“national” and “identity” (or more likely “identity crisis”). The message that insists on

national unity makes Balada Românului one of the most explicit songs of Subcarpați and can

lead to a new understanding of how the concept of identity could be used to build a Romanian

consciousness. Although the verse ‘I have a national spirit, but I am not a fanatic’ could be

seen as an attempt to render the character of the song milder, interpretations vary, and the

general impression that the manifest projects more nationalism than it lets on. By using the

song as starting point, which later will be accompanied by other lyrical fragments as example,

a discourse around the concept of identity, and implicitly around Romanian identity can be


21

brought into question.

Identity is about belonging, about what you have in common with some people and what

differentiates you from others. At its most basic it gives you a sense of personal location, the

stable core to your individuality. But it is also about your relationships, your complex

involvement with others and in the modern world these have become ever more complex and

confusing. Each of us live with a variety of potentially contradictory identities, which battle

within us for allegiance: as men or women, black or white, straight or gay, able-bodied or

disabled, ‘British’ or ‘European’ . . . The list is potentially infinite, and so therefore are our

possible belongings. Which of them we focus on, bring to the fore, ‘identify’ with, depends on

a host of factors. At the centre, however, are the values we share or wish to share with others

(Rutherford, 1990, p. 88)

The problem when talking about identity is that the word ‘has taken on so many

different connotations that sometimes it is obvious that people are not even talking about the

same thing’ (Rutherford, 1990, p. 43).

One thing at least is clear – identity only becomes an issue when it is in crisis, when something

assumed to be fixed, coherent and stable is displaced by the experience of doubt and

uncertainty

(Rutherford, 1990, p. 43)

Identity has been the subject of numerous studies in the past years and the concept has

been ‘deployed and developed through a number of different stories, academic stories as well

as those of individuals, communities, peoples and nations’ (Woodward, 2002, p. 1) . Thus, an

enormous bibliography has been created, making every new attempt at identity analysis seem

both inadequate and frustrating. But different definitions can be used in different contexts,

thus assuming different meanings; and the context is very important for the present study. The

most ambitious characteristic of this dissertation is the contemporaneity of the context – most

of the events described are current, they “just” happened or they are still happening – and the

limitless possible approaches are a really good description of the world we live in, infinite in

choices.

Identity is about ‘belonging’ and ‘common values’, but before engaging in an analysis

of belonging and commonness inside a community, it is important to start from a less ample

perspective and consider significant the identity process of an individual, the young individual

that Subcarpați ‘especially’ address themselves to.

For most of human history, forming an adult identity was by all accounts a relatively

straightforward process. The average person simply assumed and fitted into the culturally

prescribed roles that his or her parents and grandparents had themselves adopted. Those who

did not do so might have been banished from their community, or at least sanctioned in some

way.

(Cote & Levine, 2002, p. 1)

The process of initiation towards adulthood has drastically changed in modern

societies and sometimes it might never take place. Throughout human history, ‘identity


22

formation was not a matter of individual choice and negotiation, so problems associated with

these activities were not common’ (Cote & Levine, 2002, p. 1). Thus, humans are not used to

‘living in societies where they are continually confronted with high levels of choice over

fundamental matters of personal meaning’ (Cote & Levine, 2002, p. 1). The comparison

between modern and premodern societies is not pointed towards ‘glorifying’ the latter (Cote

& Levine, 2002, p. 1). Not so long ago, the concept of “identity crisis” was not so common. It

seems that technological advances, which have proven to be extremely important for recent

history, are indirectly proportional with finding ‘a meaning of existence’ (Cote & Levine,

2002, p. 2).

Due to all these factors Romanian young people that find themselves in an identity

crisis, as the lyrics of the song suggest. “Young people” and “identity crisis” are two

constructions that have been constantly linked in recent times; sometimes so much that it

almost seems a natural and harmless association. We are used to think of young people as

individuals who are lacking in personality, with an undefined personality, with a defined but

always-changing personality, or a double personality and so on. However, the term “identity

crisis” has a much more sensible background that does not always point to “harmless” and

easy associations.

Erik H. Erikson coined the term “identity crisis” in order to define the ‘severely

traumatized’ condition of the ‘war victims he treated during the Second World War’ (Cote &

Levine, 2002, p. 95). The construction he referred to as “shell-shocked” is used to describe the

problem of Erikson’s patients, ‘which had lost their sense of themselves as having a past and

future’, a situation in which the ‘ego had lost its sense of itself as a temporally continuous

entity’, leading to a ‘severely impaired’ sense of identity (Cote & Levine, 2002, p. 95).

Erikson observed the ‘same symptoms of identity confusion’, ‘in severely conflicted young

people whose sense of confusion was due, rather, to a war within themselves, and in confused

rebels and destructive delinquents who war on their society’ (Cote & Levine, 2002, p. 95).

Connecting the two situations, Erikson described the ‘identity crisis as a period during

which an individual’s previous (childhood) identity is no longer experienced as suitable, but a

new identity is not yet established’, occurring ‘sometime during or following puberty’ and

ending ‘any time from the late teens to the late 20s’ (Cote & Levine, 2002, p. 95). Erikson

argued that

an identity crisis of some form, even an extremely muted one, is a universal aspect of

development as part of the transition from childhood to adulthood. On the one hand, well-

structured cultures provide some sort of initiation, rite of passage, or apprenticeship for this

transition. Common to these structures is a benign guidance offered by the adult community to

help most people through this period of tension-resolution


23

(Cote & Levine, 2002, p. 96)

But what happens if the adult community does not offer a decent guidance? Romania’s

case, which is by no means unique, provides a very rich material in terms of individual and

social identity crisis.

The song “Balada Românului” is mainly addressed to young people that are going

through an identity crisis. The elements that symbolically pertain to the process of

identification are the Romanian name, the Romanian ID card, and last but not least the

Romanian language. All these symbols lead to the will for action (‘I wish my actions could

say it’). Thus, when listening to the song, a young Romanian, uncertain or not about his/her

identity, can be mesmerized by Bean’s convincing lyrics and flow. The rapper begins his

manifest by saying that there is a possibility of people misinterpreting his message, as if he

were apologizing in advance for any ‘fanatic’ interpretations of the song. He continues by

saying that he has a national spirit, but not from an extremist perspective and then concludes

the verse with a metaphor that later became the band’s motto, ‘folklore is oxygen for an

asthmatic people’. What happens next (the lyrics that follow) transforms the song into a very

debatable subject.

When the song appeared, Facebook was almost collapsing because of the number of

shares (that proved to be the first ‘action’ of the listeners) and the most common description

that accompanied the video was “When I say language, you say Romanian”. The construction

of phrases such as “When I say X, you say Y” clearly belongs to the rhetoric of rap and it is

used especially during live performances when the artist interacts with the audience and

almost controls the crowd. Subcarpați apparently succeeded in controlling the members of

their crowd, in primis the ones sitting behind their laptops.

But who decides when certain frontiers are crossed? To what extent can the song be

considered nationalist or extremely nationalist? And to what extent could such a feature be

misinterpreted if the band’s self-description is not ‘fanatic’?

The concept of identity stems from the clashes that arise between “we” and “you”,

“them” and “us” and so on. The elements of Romanian-ness revival described in the song

cannot be shared by all members of Romanian society. Some of the more than one million

Hungarian ethnics living in Transylvania could be offended by the song or at least left outside

its parameters because apparently they don’t share all the attributes of what, according to the

song, means to be a Romanian. Can they consider the same ‘fir trees’ as brothers?

Then again, a strange case of positive assimilation of the song has occurred in which


24

none of the elements of national identity mentioned above (language, name, ID) applied to the

listener. The band published in 2013 on their Youtube channel, less than a year after the

release of “Underground Folklore”, a video in which a young foreign individual sings with an

almost perfect Romanian pronunciation the song “Balada Romanului”. The protagonist of the

video described himself as Chinese-Colombian by birth, Panamanian raised and Romanian at

heart. Chinese on his mother’s side, Colombian on his father’s side, the protagonist of the

video, was introduced to Subcarpați by a Romanian work colleague. As a challenge, the boy

started learning Romanian after listening to “Balada Românului”, with significant results. The

band saluted the initiative and posted the video.

The song can create different reactions. In the first case scenario the point was not to

assume that Subcarpați present a xenophobe attitude, but one cannot ignore the nationalist

feature that could be exaggerated by the listener and thus transformed into xenophobe

behaviour. In another song, called “Doina Spiritului”2, from the band’s first album, released in

2010, the same idea of national unity is present.

E manifest anti-teritorial It is a anti-territorial manifest

Îndemn la spirit naţional An urge for national spirit

Atenţie! Fără fanatism! Caution! No fanaticism! Caution!

Atenţie! S-a făcut sânge cu el în istorie Blood was spilled because of it throughout history

(Subcarpati, Doina Spiritului, 2010)

History matters. It matters because it provides the ever-changing characteristic of the

process of identity construction, which finds itself in deep connection with time and place. In

the song “Balada Românului” Bean makes a reference to the ‘past’ and the ‘present’ that

define him as a Romanian, but without making clear which past and which present. Thus, an

analysis of the Romanian past and present could represent a main point in the present study,

not from an objective, historical point of view (because it is quite impossible to describe

historical events from an objective point of view), but rather from the perspective of how

people relate to certain events. History is important

both to our sense of who we are and to our understanding of the present. The voices that count

in the telling of history shape the narratives and the perspectives from which both past and

present are understood. Misrepresentation and non-representation are both damaging

(Weedon, 2004, p. 29)

The misrepresentations and non-representations cause damage because they can

2According to dexonline.ro “doina” is a poem of Romanian folklore that expresses a sentiment of longing, or

revolt, or love [...]. Doina is sung by the ‘bitterly persecuted peasants to keep themselves alive; without it they

would have disappeared. Singing or chanting their sufferings, imagining absent happiness, has brought them

consolation, given them their only joy (Poetry Foudation, 1914)


25

transform history in ‘an instrument of power’ or become a cause of history as instrument of

power – ‘whoever controls the past has good chance of also controlling the present’ (Boia,

2001, p. 237). In Romania’s case, which is by no means singular, ‘the conditioning of public

opinion through history has proved to be a constant part of the strategy of those in power, a

method which is all the more clever as most people do not even notice it’. (Boia, 2001, p.

237). If we were to add elements such as ‘tradition’, ‘custom’ and ‘insistent propaganda’, we

could state that ‘Romanians seem to be more attracted by symbols specific to national

cohesion and authority than to those characteristic of democratic life’ (Boia, 2001, p. 230).

For many years there has been a historical and political discourse ‘which insistently

sublimates the idea of national unity and even unanimity around certain values, political

attitudes, and personalities’, constructed around the idea that during the ‘great national

problems’, the ‘Romanians have always shown “solidarity”’ (Boia, 2001, p. 231). This kind

of discourse has influenced various generations of people that constructed a personal view of

Romanian history characterized only by certainties. They could be called people without

doubts. As historian Lucian Boia argues, the effervescent idea of a national unity in times of

trouble is completely untrue.

In the Middle Ages, [...] the Romanian principalities were often in confrontation. In the present

century Romanian society has proved to be more often divided than united. A crucial decision,

leading to the creation of Greater Romania, was the entry of Romania into the First World War

in 1916, against the Central Powers. Contrary to the myth of a Romanian quasi-unanimity in

the action aimed at liberating Transylvania, it can be observed that a far from negligible

section of the political and intellectual elite were not in favor of this political orientation, while

some voices were even raised decisively against it (even if all shared, though each in their own

way, the “national ideal”). And what about the Second World War? Is it possible to claim that

all Romanians were enthusiastically in favor of entering the war alongside Germany in 1941,

and that again all Romanians, equally enthusiastically, were in favor of turning the guns

against Germany in 1944? Then there is the installation of communism. Was it supported by

all Romanians? Or .did all Romanians fight against it? In fact, during the years of communism

an older fracture line was deepened; the old elite was crushed, and a new elite rose from the

lower layers of society. It was a process which divided Romania in two, so that we can talk

today (in a political and cultural sense) of “two Romanias”, just as there has been talk of “the

two Frances” since the revolution of 1789

(Boia, 2001, p. 231)

Boia writes about two Romanias. But now, more than a decade later, two seems – in

the best case scenario – a forced minimum number. There are several “Romanias”, and the

one described by Subcarpați is in turn composed by various parts of other Romanias. The

members of the band consider themselves to be “underground” and could easily be integrated

in an anti-canon discourse, because their folklore is different from the one planned from the

“centre”, where national consciousness is constructed, mutilated and then served. Subcarpați

see folklore as a‘spring of energy’ that could give people a common goal, a ‘common


26

consciousness’ (Subcarpati, 2010). Moreover, they affirm that they find themselves in the

country in which a desperate common ground between people is necessary, and that no

politician, national hero (true or false) or historian could describe Romania better than the

music they produce (Subcarpati, 2010).

However, ‘national unanimity’ remains only a ‘political myth which has not existed

and does not exist anywhere’ and ‘divergences appear, as it is only natural they should, in the

great problems, not in the small ones’ (Boia, 2001, p. 231). Lucian Boia sums up the general

social character of Romanian society in terms of nationalism, imagined history, illusory

superiority and obsessive inferiority.

If nationalism means the acceptance of inextricable conflicts, autochthonism, its privileged

variant in the Romanian environment, leads in a no less worrying direction. Nationalism

implies the affirmation of primacy over the others. Autochthonism almost ends up ignoring

them, sinking into a world of its own, practically out of history. Neither confrontation nor

isolationism are acceptable solutions. We know that only too well, but it seems that history

drags us back. Not real history, but the history we imagine. This history, in which the

Romanians are different from the others and subject to persecution by the others, a paradoxical

combination of illusory superiority with an obsessive complex of inferiority, illustrates a state

of mind which is inappropriate to our time. Insistent actualization of a glorified past and

abandonment in its trap perpetuate confrontation in relation to others and immobility in

relation to ourselves. We do not need to wipe the battlefields from our memory. But perhaps

we can succeed, as the French and Germans have succeeded, in giving them a new

significance.

(Boia, 2001, p. 240)

Sometimes what people imagine is the most important thing. And after all what is a

nation other than ‘an imagined political community - and imagined as both inherently limited

and sovereign’ (Anderson, 2006, p. 6). Benedict Anderson writes about the relationship

between the members of the nation and their idea of living in a community and gives the

example of the Olympic Games, where national spirit is strongly manifested. Of course, the

examples nowadays are numerous and the most recent one could be the football World Cup in

Brazil, a country where football is more than a sport, some might define it as a religion; thus a

World Cup tournament could be seen as a metaphor for a modern-day crusade.

Nevertheless, Anderson describes a nation as ‘imagined because the members of even

the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of

them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion’(Anderson, 2006, p. 6).

Although members of a community will never meet each other, they still have common values

that lead to the creation of a common identity.

As mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, identity is about belonging and common

values. When talking about nation-states there are quite a few elements that define identity,

from official symbols to unofficial ones.


27

States mobilize flags, anthems, monuments and rituals to promote narratives of identity and

belonging. Other agencies and institutions, from tourist boards to industry and commerce,

market national costumes, crafts and customs, cuisines and landscapes in their constructions of

what makes a nation different and, in this case, worth visiting. Often these images have little to

do with life as it is lived. Identity in all its forms, even national identity, is never singular but is

plural, fractured and reconfigured by gender, ethnic and class relations.

(Weedon, 2004, p. 20)

The relationship between Subcarpați and national symbols is strong, and it is probable

that the success of the band was initially influenced by its association with key dates of

national memory. The band’s first concert in Romania was on the 16th

of October 2010 in

Timișoara, in the western part of the country, the city where the Romanian Revolution of

1989 began. “Romanian Revolution” will be the construction used throughout the study,

although opinions about the events in Romania in December ’89 are various and deeply

antithetical (another good example of Romania’s false unity in moments of crisis). It is the

term most widespread and the most common in people’s memory. The only certain thing

about the Romanian Revolution is that people do not know what actually happened and they

will probably not find out in the near future.

The motto used by the protesters during the uprising in Timisoara was “Today in

Timisoara, tomorrow in the whole country”. Subcarpați used the same motto after their first

concert in Romania, clearly stating their goal to conquer the whole country through another

revolution, this time a cultural one. Although their first appearance was in October 2010, the

official Subcarpați day is on the 1st of December, Romania’s National day, also known as the

day of the Great Union. This date was set as national holiday after the ’89 Revolution and it

celebrates the union of Transylvania with the Kingdom of Romania on the 1st December 1918.

The Romanian national symbols are the national flag, the coat of arms, the national

anthem and the national holiday. The national flag is rarely seen in public manifestations,

except in cases such as football matches or Subcarpați concerts. The national holiday

coincides with the almost traditional celebration of the band held every year on the 1st of

December, when songs like “Balada Romanului” become an anthem. If one adds folklore to

these elements, Subcarpați could be considered to have all the ingredients for the recipe of a

new national consciousness. The same process of imagined community could be applied to

describe the people involved in this cultural phenomenon, but a more correct definition would

be “semi-imagined”, because the majority of the artists involved in the underground hip-hop

sphere know each other; it is the audience that can build the imaginary feature.

Around all these elements there is a crucial date, a catalyser – December 1989. This

year became the anno domini for the then very young generation of the members of the band


28

(people born between 1980 and 1990) and played an important role not only in building the

identity of the band, but also the identity of its public.

The importance of the anti – totalitarian events in December 1989 can be seen in the

first single of the band called “Când a fost la ‘89” (In English: When in ’89). The analysis of

the song in the next pages will represent a perspective on how the band relates to historical

events.


29

3. When in ’89

Cum ai fost tu Românie, Other countries have been

au mai fost și alte țări. Just like you used to be, Romania

Au mai fost și or să fie Many have been and others will be

și aici și peste mări. Here and overseas

[...] [...]

Nu au mai putut răbda, They could not take it anymore

haiducii au umplut strada, The “outlaws” occupied the streets,

că nu vor securitate Tired of “Securitate”

și rația din gostate. And of the greengrocery rations

[...] [...]

Veneau flăcăi din uzine Lads were coming from the factories

precum un roi de albine, Like swarming bees

dar printre ei erau iscoade But amongst them there were spies

de-ntorceau vorbele tóate That were turning all the words around

De-ntorceau vorbele toate, Turning all the words around

Of, of, că d-aia mor Oh, it kills me inside

(Subcarpati, Când a fost la '89, 2010)

Although deteriorated in time, ‘this subject was never marked by traditional Romanian

music – the way it used to happen with historical events back in the day’. This is the

description that accompanied the first single and video of Subcarpați at the end of June 2010.

According to Bean the video is about the arrival of the Romanian peasant to the city, a

moment that for many peasants represented the ‘end’ (Alexe A. M., 2010, p. 18); the end as a

metaphor for the sudden change in lifestyle, from the quiet environment of the countryside to

the improvised, grey and forced soviet-like neighbourhoods. The video is related to Bean’s

identity as well, because he was born and raised in that kind of neighbourhood, as the

majority of the people growing up in the cities of Romania, but his parents came from the

countryside. This dual-relationship between city and countryside represents a good

personification of the connection between hip-hop and folklore as ingredients of underground

folklore.

The video is about a passage from the countryside to the city and the lyrics are

describing an event that should have been a passage from a society to another. In both cases

the transition results difficult and it does not fully occur. The song opens with a preface – a

chorus addressed to Romania, in which the country is advised that its character is by no means

unique and that similar situations will occur, maybe because people tend to forget their history

and make the same mistakes all over again, in different times, ‘here and overseas’. The next

strophe resumes in four verses the main reasons that led to the uprisings in 1989.


30

The word “haiduc” is a key word to describe the ones that ‘occupied’ the street, but

the translation ‘outlaw’ is not at all satisfactory. According to Romanian dictionaries

(Dexonline, 2014) the word has different meanings and may refer to a person that would retire

in the mountains against domination, steal from the rich and give to the poor, to a mercenary

or to a Hungarian soldier (the word being borrowed from the Hungarian “haijdu”). The most

common feature of the word in its various meanings is the fact that a “haiduc” would steal

from the rich and give to the poor. The term is spread among the Balkans and it delineates a

character similar to Robin Hood, present in folklore storytelling. The derivate word

“haiduceasca” refers to a fast tempo folklore dance between men that make the use of bats

during the performance (Dexonline, 2014), very similar to the one illustrated in the video of

“Balada Romanului” two years later; of course, no intentional link was made between the two

different words used in two different contexts (it is just an etymological lucky match).

In the case of “When in ’89” the term “haiduc” is wisely used as a metaphor for the

ones that were uprising against the totalitarian system, but it could also refer to the Romanian

partisans that lived and resisted in the mountains during the communist dictatorship. The

‘outlaws’ occupied the streets because they were tired of the Securitate (the Department of

State Security and probably the first word a foreigner might have learned when coming to

Romania), the Romanian secret police that was responsible for many atrocities that occurred

during almost a half century of dictatorship; but they occupied the streets mostly because of

the portions they were receiving from the state’s ‘greengroceries’.

Ceausescu’s plan to pay all international debts in the 80’s led to a rigorous economy of

austerity that basically starved the country. The lack of food and of basic necessities such as

heating, medical attention, combined with a lowering of the incomes were the main reasons of

discontent that led to the events in December ’89, which ended with the fall of Ceausescu.

Otherwise, the majority of the Romanian population was not against communism, from a

philosophical point of view.

It would be an illusion if we were to imagine that the majority of Romanians rose up in 1989

against communism as a system from philosophical motives, as it were. They rose up against

the consequences of communism, refusing to go on accepting the total degradation of their

conditions of life. And nowadays these same people are no longer ready to accept poverty out

of love for democracy (Boia, 2001, p. 7)

The general vibe nowadays is that ‘at least half the Romanian population consider that

they had a better life before 1989’ and ‘such nostalgia is fed not only by poverty but also by

lack of adaptability to an open society (as proved by the fact that we find it also in the eastern

part of Germany, which is far from poor)’ (Boia, 2001, p. 7).


31

The ones that can’t adapt to an open society are mostly the people that were born and

raised in the national-communist mentality, and for whom the “Golden Ages” were truly a

time when they progressed from a social point of view, from peasants to workers, from

workers to professors, politicians, etc. It is impossible for the young generations to imagine

such a questionable and incredibly very recent past. Not even all the stories, movies, memoirs

from the times of the regime could really transpose a young individual in that context.

Lucian Boia argues that a ‘correct intellectual approach ought to dissociate the

historical and moral judgement of communism from an assessment of people’s attitudes to

communism’ (Boia, 2001, p. 7). He continues by stating that it is ‘one thing to arrive at the

conclusion that it was an immoral and harmful system, and quite another to consider that all

Romanians would have made the same judgement’ (Boia, 2001, p. 7). As mentioned before,

there was an anti-communist resistance, but its importance in relation to the general context

was non-existent. Of course, different opinions exist regarding this matter.

There was indeed an anti-communist resistance: some would minimize its importance or even

dispute its existence, while others, in contrast, give it a greater significance than it really had.

There was also, even without open resistance, a degree of intellectual and individual non-

adherence to communism. The “Romanian resistance” is a chapter of our history which has its

share of truth but also of mythology. In general, “resistances” are amplified in the imaginary.

Westerners have done the same thing in reconstructing the story of “anti-fascist resistance”. In

fact in any society those who resist are in the minority compared with those who submit,

accommodate themselves, or even profit. The Romanians who joined the Securitate were

certainly more numerous than those who resisted in the mountains

(Boia, 2001, p. 7)

The same Romanians that joined the Securitate could be the ones Bean sings about in

the final strophe – the ‘spies’ that were infiltrated among the lads and that turned the words

around. A lot of words were indeed turned around those days and a general panic was created.

Romanians were fighting against Romanians and nobody was really on anyone’s side.

“Spies”, “terrorists”, “soldiers” were the most spoken words and the reason why Bean “dies”

inside is probably because of the strong media manipulation regarding the events of

December ’89. Every ex-communist country has dealt with transition in its own way, some

more successful than others. Romania, though, could be included in the “others” group.

All postcommunist societies face major dilemmas in confronting their traumatic past. A

functional democracy cannot be based on lies, denial, and amnesia. Romania's exit from

communism has resulted in a hybrid quasi-democratic regime, with former communists [..]

maintaining influential positions and opposing a genuine break with the past

(Tismaneanu, 2008, p. 166)

In fact ‘Romania is the only ex-communist country where the Communist Party has

vanished into thin air, where former communist activists remain in power (again a unique

case) without having anything to do with a party that no longer exists, and, if it does not exist,


32

almost seems never to have existed’ (Boia, 2001, p. 234). The general silence regarding this

matter is sometimes disrupted by actions such as the song “Când a fost la ’89”, which try to

deviate a bit an almost clear trajectory of the collective memory graphic, characterized by a

strong temptation towards forgetting: behaving as if communism never existed (Boia, 2001, p.

234).

By choosing such a sensible subject the song became an instant success on social

networks. Of course the parts were again divided, and many “us” - and - “them” discussions

flourished on the band’s Youtube channel. It is interesting though that the majority of people

involved in the discussions were young people that weren’t even born in ’89, or they were at

most little kids at the time. For the most of them the song became an opportunity to remember

the Revolution, without basing the process on personal memories, but mainly on numerous

stories and myths. For some the song felt like a good reason to criticise the present political

order, mainly formed ‘in the years of communism’ (‘that is a fact, not a value judgement’)

(Boia, 2001, p. 233) – held responsible for a tumultuous transition that originated in ’89.

From a symbolical point of view the song could be defined as an action of remembering what

others worked so hard to forget, or to make people forget.

No viable democracy can afford to accept amnesia, forgetfulness, and the loss of memory.

An authentic democratic community cannot be built on the denial of past crimes, abuses, and

atrocities

(Tismaneanu, 2008, p. 172)

Complementary to amnesia, forgetfulness and the loss of memory, there is another

strategy that ‘can be summed up in the words: “Still, something was achieved”’ (Boia, 2001,

p. 234). This phrase, which could at least reach a top three in the most common opinions

between now and then, is accompanied by another construction such as ‘communism was as it

was, but people still worked and created’ (Boia, 2001, p. 234).

Such a line of argument – which is indeed true – has the virtue of diverting those who are less

skilful in the tricks of dialectic. Any measuring of “achievements” ought to be based on an

overall and comparative view. The Danaids, too, worked in their day, perhaps even more than

the Romanians. According to this sort of judgement we should appreciate the achievements of

Hider: the greatest motorway network in Europe, the eradication of unemployment

(Boia, 2001, p. 234)

The phrase “people still worked and created” during communism goes to a certain

extent. For instance, the etno-rock band Phoenix that was previously mentioned (chapter 1.1)

created as much as they could, by transforming their lyrics into metaphors that were spotted

with more difficulty from the “centre”. Other bands, such as Timpuri Noi reached even a

higher level of finesse in writing songs that were proven to be against the system; moreover,

the band admitted to have refused to be part of the “Flame” literary circle, and the lead singer,


33

Artan, would sometimes imitate Ceausescu’s pronunciation while performing. So yes,

creativity was stimulated, ‘but let us not imagine that they could create outside communism,

as if the system were just a simple facade, an innocent unleashing of Romanian folklore’

(Boia, 2001, p. 234).

After ’89 the territorial borders of Romania were opened, but also the cultural ones.

After so many years of national propaganda people were more likely to look outside of

Romania for inspiration. In terms of youth culture, the parts were divided (mainly in

Bucharest) between the rockers and the “depeșari” (the ones that listened to Depeche Mode,

which reached the peak of their carrier around that moment with the album “Violator”). The

rockers were mostly influenced by Guns N’ Roses and later by Nirvana, and suddenly the

youth began to breathe an air of involvement, of participation, of contemporaneity with their

western correspondents.

The neighbourhoods, characterized by a Wild Wild West vibe, where the local

“entrepreneurs” would soon begin to play hide and seek with the law, created the premises

for a type of “thug life” which a lot of youngster would aspire to. In the second half of the

90’s hip-hop started spreading worldwide in the format which distanced itself from the jazz,

soul and funk riffs of the 70’s and 80’s, and became “harder”, instrumentally and from a

lyrical point of view. At the time the “scene” was dominated by what appeared to be a never

ending battle (not only metaphorical) between Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G, the

representatives of the West side, respectively of the East side of American hip- hop. Both of

them lost their lives because of this uncontrolled and exaggerated discourse of “us” and

“them” that would soon be borrowed even by the precursors of Romanian hip-hop and applied

at a more local level, between the neighbourhoods of the capital city. The neighbourhood

would become a symbol for every young kid growing up, and the “bloc” (the soviet style

building widely spread in all the ex-communist countries in Eastern Europe) would become a

house and a playground, but nevertheless a main point in the formation of the individual’s

identity.

The spread of hip-hop nationwide occurred at the end of the 90’s with bands such as

La Familia and B.U.G Mafia dominating the commercial sphere. But alongside the

commercial, underground hip-hop started to flourish as well. The following pages will

explore the position of the band inside the underground phenomenon, as well as their

opposition to the use of music for commercial purposes.


34

4. The thin line between underground and mainstream

‘Underground is the most beautiful playground for artists’ (Bivol, 2014)

According to many Hip Hop aficionados, Hip Hop culture consists of at least four fundamental

elements: Disc jockeying (DJing), break dancing, graffiti art, and rapping (emceeing). Since its

emergence in the South Bronx and throughout the northeast during the early and mid-1970s,

Hip Hop has encompassed not just a musical genre, but also a style of dress, dialect and

language, way of looking at the world, and an aesthetic that reflects the sensibilities of a large

population of youth born between 1965 and 1984. This broad characterization of Hip Hop may

seem imprecise to some, but it reflects the Hip Hop community's refusal to be singularly

defined or categorized, and demonstrates the dynamic nature of Hip Hop as a phenomenon that

many hip hoppers believe must be felt, experienced, and communicated

(Alridge & Stewart, 2005, p. 190)

The four fundamental elements mentioned above (DJing, break dancing, graffiti art,

and rapping) are also important in establishing a border between commercial and underground

hip-hop. When talking about mainstream, some of these elements slowly distance themselves

from their original meaning or worse, they do not appear, because the artist tends to ignore the

heritage of hip-hop culture and follow only material interests. Underground on the other hand

could be defined as the place where these elements are kept alive, and passed on to the future

generations. The element of passion is evoked as central when talking about underground hip-

hop.

The members of Subcarpați were recently the protagonists of a short documentary

called Bucharest Underground Cocktail 3 – Docum3ntary, directed by Mihai Bivol and

published on the 14th

of June 2014. In the video the four elements mentioned above are the

background for Subcarpați’s confessions.

Emil Teleaga, also known as Afo, a common presence in the last two Subcarpați

productions, Underground Folclor in 2012 and Pielea de Găină (Goosebumps) in 2014, talks

in the documentary about how people labelled them as “underground”. He states that people

associate underground with negative terms: ‘they think that if you are underground, it means

that you are angry, bad [...], they associate you with the worst things’ (Bivol, 2014). Afo

continues by providing his own definition of underground as ‘the most beautiful playground


35

for artists’, a place where ‘they can fully express their work, where they can implement their

feelings’ (Bivol, 2014). In this case, underground should not be defined in relationship with

its etymology – it is not something situated “under” the canonical culture. It could be defined

as a subculture, as ‘a cultural group within a larger culture, often having beliefs or interests at

variance with those of the larger culture’ or as ‘a denoting a group or movement seeking to

explore alternative forms of lifestyle or artistic expression; radical and experimental’ (Oxford

Dictionaries). Thus, aesthetic value judgements in which underground is considered inferior

just because of prefixes such as “under” or “sub” should be avoided.

Afo continues by stating that the inferiority of underground from an economical point

of view does not stop the artists from constantly creating (Bivol, 2014). This fact could be

also attributed to the new techniques and equipment involved in the production of music that

are very accessible. Software programs such as Cubase or Ableton offer an amazing support

for musical recording, editing, production, post-production, etc. One only needs a midi

controller and a microphone to make a decent track. Add to that a consistent musical library

of loops and effects and you have got studios of the 21st century that could be anybody’s

bedroom or in some cases anybody’s backpack. Imagine any young individual with a certain

dose of creativity and with basic knowledge of sound-engineering, hanging out at the beach,

at home, in a train, in a bar or on a bench in the park, with a 25-key midi controller and a

laptop, enjoying the same features of musical production as all the popular artists in the world.

Once the song is done, the social media become the new record labels in terms of promotion

and distribution, and they often win the battle with major companies such as Universal, Sony

or Warner. Subcarpați’s consists in a small room with Wi-Fi internet.

The line between underground and mainstream is very thin, and a lot of artists have

started as underground and then became very popular. This example could be applied to

Subcarpați as well, considering their notoriety not only online, but mostly offline. With six

concerts in 2010, thirteen in 2011, nineteen in 2012, twenty-six in 2013, this year the band has

scheduled thirty-four concerts according to their official website. Although the numbers are

increasing, the members’ policy is to have as fewer concerts as they can, and if possible to

avoid rehearsals, in order preserve the energy for the public (Mixtopia, 2014).

Although the band could be considered mainstream because of its evolution in the past

years, marked by concerts at important festivals such as B’estfest or Electric Castle (the latter

was recently organised, on the 19th

of June 2014, with an attendance of over 20.000 people),

the process of marketing and distribution of the material is clearly anti-commercial. Since the

band’s creation in 2010, all their records have been posted on the official website


36

(Subcarpați.com) and can be downloaded free of charge by anyone. Hard copy CDs are not

sold, but only given as a gift to the fans that attend the launch of a new album. The reason for

this (at least the official one) is that they received folklore for free, as a heritage, and they

would like to pass it on in the same way. Another hypothesis could be the fact that they

realized the context in which we live in, an online world where everything can be

downloaded.

The idea of passing things on is very recurrent in the discourse made by Subcarpați

and it fits the concept of underground that the band sees as a ‘vein of creative intuition, which

always inspired the following generations, or at least one generation’ (Bivol, 2014). Afo

thinks that the next generations will realise that people who were there before and built

something truly existed (Bivol, 2014). The “mission” of the band to bring back folklore in

people’s houses, of course in a modern version, is also stated in the fresh-from-the-oven

album Pielea de Găină (Goosebumps) launched on the 13th

of June 2014.

Noi am adunat de la lume să dăm inapoi We gathered from the people to give back

Cu asta am crescut așa-i tradiția la noi This is the way we were raised, this is our tradition

Din izvorul nesecat ce ne-a fost oferit From the inexhaustible spring that we were offered

Am ales câte un cântec și l-am dăruit We picked songs little by little and passed them on

(Subcarpati, Pielea de Găină, 2014)

The action of gathering old folklore songs or motifs, reinterpret them and pass them on

crossed the borders of the Subcarpați albums and gave birth to a compilation called Culese din

Cartier (Gathered from the Neighbourhood), launched in 2011, in which 15 different artists

contributed with their own mash-ups between traditional songs and modern beats. The album

was promoted by Subcarpați and made available online for free. The project Culese din

Cartier continued in the years that followed but it was narrowed down to a single individual,

Argatu’, a young man from Falticeni (Moldova) that was given the opportunity to publish his

works under the aegis of Subcarpați. The compilations Culese din Cartier – Prezinta Argatu’

(Gathered from the Neighbourhood – By Argatu’) volume 1 and 2 received a very positive

feedback by the Subcarpați fans, and the third album is to be released this year on the 1st of

December, Romania’s National Holiday.

The event that hosted the launch of the last two albums of Subcarpați, Underground

Folclor and Pielea de Găină is also important because it has almost become a tradition for the

band to release new material during this non-profit event and celebration called Street

Delivery, whose purpose is to ‘highlight the role of public space, cultural importance and

historical memory for a durable development of the city’. According to the official website of


37

the initiative (streetdelivery.ro) the mission is to reinvent and strengthen the role of public

space, by converting the urban landscape in a living space. The motto is to close the streets for

cars, open them for the people and transform them in a promenade full of ideas.

The term “delivery” is also interesting because it can be used with multiple

significations. The common meanings of the word are to ‘hand over’ or ‘to provide’ but the

most uncommon one could better fit the idea of the event, namely to ‘save, rescue, or set

someone or something free from’ (Oxford Dictionaries). It could be considered an attempt to

save the cultural heritage and hand it over to the people that participate.

The recent revival of folklore interests not only the music scene but also fashion.

Designers have started to integrate folklore in their work. Asked if they associate themselves

with people from the fashion world, the members of Subcarpați answered negatively, because

they don’t know the aim of these entrepreneurs, and they don’t want to have anything to do

with people that are only interested in making money; moreover, they refused to be sponsored

by brands for product placements, because it would be against the basic rules of the

Subcarpați project (Mixtopia, 2014).

Although the members of the band are walking the line between underground and

mainstream, they remain loyal to first one. They do not consider underground as being cool or

as a fad. For them ‘underground is that place where you struggle as an artist, where you bang

your head against the wall, where you crawl until you polish your style and make it your own’

(Bivol, 2014). Their loyalty for the underground part of hip hop culture can also be backed up

by their participation at “traditional” rap battles or cyphers. The battles usually consist in a

contest between two opponents, where the best improvised discourse wins. The cypher on the

other hand is a gathering of several hip-hoppers that take turns in freestyle rapping. Both

manifestations are the subject of different videos on the web, manifestations that the members

of Subcarpați participate in.

Over the past three decades, Hip Hop has developed as a cultural and artistic phenomenon

affecting youth culture around the world. For many youth, Hip Hop reflects the social,

economic, political, and cultural realities and conditions of their lives, speaking to them in a

language and manner they understand. As a result of both its longevity and its cogent message

for many youth worldwide, Hip Hop cannot be dismissed as merely a passing fad or as a youth

movement that will soon run its course

(Alridge & Stewart, 2005, p. 190)

The fact of speaking to the youth in a manner they understand is also an important

element in the discourse of Subcarpați. The band combined folkore with beats a young man

would understand and would be able to assimilate and digest better. The following pages will

be about the same duality between hip-hop and folklore, between city and countryside, but


38

from a different perspective. The elements will be inserted in a nostalgic frame that works as a

catalyser for the Subcarpați phenomenon. Although the subject could have been discussed at

the beginning of the study, it could represent a cyclical feature for the paper, that started from

the analysis of the countryside and it returns in the same place after a trip to the city.


39

5. Nostalgia between urban and rural

Am crescut pe la Romană I grew up in Romana

BNV si prin Titan, mă In BNV and Titan, yo

Prin Dolhasca şi câmpie, In Dolhasca, in the fields

Ştiu ce-i aia iasomie. I know what jasmine is

Mă duceam şi prin păduri I used to go into the woods

La bureţi şi la muguri. To pick mushrooms and offsprings

M-am ferit de heroină I stayed away from the heroin

Prin spate pe la uzină. Behind the factory

Cânt despre copilărie I sing about my childhood

În oraş ori la câmpie In the city or in the countryside

Le-am avut pe amândouă I had both

Şi nopţi reci şi stropi de rouă Cold nights and drops of dew

Şi-am strâns struguri pentru vin And I gathered grapes for wine

Îmi place Charlie Chaplin I like Charlie Chaplin

Duceam vaca la păscut I used to put the cow out to pasture

Mă-ntorceam pe la apus I used to come back at sunset

În colţ în 34 In the back of the 34 bus

În drum spre Baba Novacu Heading to Baba Novacu

Mi-e dor să sau de mâncare I miss feeding the animals in the yard

În ogradă la animale

(Subcarpati, Am crescut pe la Romană, 2010)

The song “Am crescut pe la Romană” (I grew up in Romana) is probably the best

metaphor to describe the Subcarpați project. Romana stands for the Roman Square of

Bucharest, the most central part of the city. BNV is short for Baba Novac, a neighbourhood in

the third district of the capital city, very close to the wider Titan neighbourhood. Besides

being a very good example of the relationship countryside – city, the song represents Bean’s

memories of his childhood. Bean’s nostalgia for the time of his childhood is the trigger that

gave birth to the musical project, as he states in the song “Lăutar de București” (mentioned in

chapter 1.1). What nostalgia is exactly can be summarised in the definition given by Svetlana

Boym:

Nostalgia (from nostos return home, and algia longing) is a longing for a home that no longer

exists or has never existed. Nostalgia is a sentiment of loss and displacement, but it is also a

romance with one’s own fantasy (Boym, 2001, pg. xiii-xiv)

Therefore, nostalgia stems more from a feeling of lack and displacement, rather than

from real events. The idea of home, one of the concepts included in the nostalgic

phenomenon, is more a mythical home, which speaks of fantasies and romanticized pasts. The

urban “home” for the members of Subcarpați during their childhood and adolescence was


40

Romana, still a symbolic place for the Romanian children, adolescents and young adults

nowadays. The place probably represents the epicentre of every foreign influence that arrives

in Bucharest, which then slowly spreads through the city. It is one of the most globalized

spots in the capital city, one where a gigantic, triumphant McDonald’s occupies most of the

square. Hence, it stands out in an otherwise historical neighbourhood, where the other

boulevards highlight a different age in Bucharest’s history, the most representative example

being Calea Victoriei where traces of the Little Paris era are clearly visible to any passer-by.

Romana, on the other hand, and the boulevard that leads to it, are filled with shops and fast

food restaurants that are connected to a new era and to a new type of person. Romana, besides

being the meeting point of many western influences, in terms of fashion and music, also

represents a meeting spot for people in general (those who are born and raised in Bucharest

and the ones that come from outside of it as well). When you have to set up a meeting, a date

or a night out, one of the first suggestions would be: “Let’s meet at Romana, in front of

Mcdonald’s”.

As a place, Romana has not changed very much in the past fifteen years (from the time

Bean used to be in high school up until now). But yet something has changed. The times have

changed, the generations have changed. Like hip-hop used to be hip years ago, now it seems it

is time for the word “hip” to be associated with the term “hipster”, ‘a person who follows the

latest trends and fashions, especially those regarded as being outside the cultural mainstream’

(Oxford Dictionaries). Lately, the image of the hipster in Bucharest has detached itself from

the original meaning of the word, and everyone that wears a scarf could be considered a

hipster. From this perspective Romana has become the “home” of many hipsters and the fact

of not being mainstream has become mainstream. Hence, the times have changed, and when

the status quo is disturbed, nostalgia arises to replace the lack of stability. This is all

connected not to a real physical place, even though ‘at first glance, nostalgia is a longing for a

place’, but to ‘a yearning for a different time – the time of our childhood, the slower rhythms

of our dreams’. It is a way of coping with a loss of innocence and inner peace that cannot be

grasped in modern society. In that regard, one can say that the onset of nostalgia has to do

with concepts that the current generation does not even know, since, in reality, ‘nostalgia is

rebellion against the modern idea of time, the time of history and progress’. Progress and

forced industrialization disrupted a private connection that the individual used to establish

with his environment and therefore, with himself. Moreover, nostalgia alludes to a fear of

time and death, in that sense keeping track of the past and creating a fairy-tale image around it

affords one the luxury of not coming to terms with the present and the future. What a


41

nostalgic person would want to do is ‘to obliterate history and turn it into private or collective

mythology, to revisit time like space, refusing to surrender to the irreversibility of time that

plagues the human condition’ (Boym, 2001, p. xv).

What better way to fight the irreversibility of time than to return to a place where time

does not exists? The archaic character of Dolhasca was previously discussed in relationship

with time, and the choice of Romanian tradition as refuge seems to be even more legitimate in

the context of underground folklore. The 34 tram is the one that goes from Romana to Baba

Novac, representing thus the means to get home for Bean. He got on it and arrived to his

physical home. At the same time, he mentions thinking about the traditional and idyllic world

of Dolhasca while riding this tram. Therefore, even though he is on his way to one home, the

stable, constrictive one in Bucharest, he thought about his other home, Dolhasca, the one

where he could get to know another, more poetic universe. Dolhasca is a space still bound by

laws that have nothing to do with the laws of modern, industrialized society – those ancient

laws of archaic man. Somehow, Dolhasca is a place where time stops, literally and

figuratively; literally, because most of the times, villages still look and feel as they did

decades ago, creating the illusion of a paradise that does not age. Figuratively, since Bean,

like many other children in Romania, grew up and spent his childhood in this village. For him,

Dolhasca will forever be associated with childhood. His personal, untainted memories, are

trapped in Dolhasca. In that part of the country, he lived the life of the archaic man,

unburdened by the anxieties of modern society. Consequently, his identity was not yet

fractured while living in Dolhasca, since most identity disruptions take place after childhood.

Therefore, his nostalgic feelings about Dolhasca are related to his identity, one inhabited by

Dolhasca as well as Baba Novac.

Baba Novac, as mythicized by Subcarpați, becomes more than just a street. Filtered

through the band members’ nostalgia, it leads the listener onto the path of remembering and it

is depicted as having to do with origin, the place where it all began. Baba Novac, alongside

with Dolhasca and Romana, represents one the poles that lead to the band’s work. It is no less

important than the traditional environment symbolized by Dolhasca, but it accounts for the

underground and the rap part of their style. Thus, the band’s identity is split between their

nostalgic memories of Dolhasca and the ones brought on by their neighbourhood of Baba

Novac.

Interestingly enough, it is not only within the limits of the Subcarpați project that

nostalgia makes itself known. Lately, there seems to be a collective nostalgia taking over the

city of Bucharest and bars that have a retro appeal like Plastilina (Modelling Clay) are on the


42

rise. These bars are decorated with motifs taken from the Romanian folklore or from

traditional Romanian clothing. Not only that, but they serve traditional Romanian cooking, or

products that are mostly remnants from before the Revolution, like Eugenia, a biscuit with

chocolate filling that is manufactured in Romania; it is the quintessential cheap sweet one

could buy. These types of products are in the spotlight again not because they are the best,

quality-wise, but because they remind the people of their childhood, of the simple snacks one

could get a hold of as a child. What is more, in the countryside these products are not a

novelty, but a reality, in that environment they are not retro and a fetish brought on by

nostalgia. Hence, they are connected to the countryside and the village. Another example is

the Pegas bike, frequently used by villagers, which was rebranded and updated to suit the

needs of a modern society that longs for the symbols of its past.

The duality between village and city is encapsulated in Subcarpați. Their music, as

such, and what it talks about, is a very accurate description of the Romanian society in which

life in the countryside is juxtaposed with the one in the city. This duality severs the grasp

people have on their identity, leading to a type of collective nostalgia which is ‘in short, the

means for holding onto and reaffirming identities which had been badly bruised by the

turmoil of the times’ (Davis, 1979, p. 107). What the new type of retro bars and products

amount to is a desire to fuse these two identities together, by bringing the village into the city,

creating a nostalgic oasis in the middle of a technologically advanced environment. The city

thus ‘becomes an alternative cosmos for collective identification, recovery of other

temporalities and reinvention of tradition’ (Boym, 2001, p. 76). Furthermore, ‘it is an ideal

crossroads between longing and estrangement, memory and freedom, nostalgia and

modernity’ (Boym, 2001, p. 76).

The tragedy linked to nostalgia is that longing has a highly idyllic character and

people’s nostalgic remembrances cannot be trusted, for ‘one is nostalgic not for the past the

way it was, but for the past the way it could have been. It is this past perfect that one strives to

realize in the future’ (Boym, 2001, p. 351). When analysed objectively, the various nostalgic

elements of urban life all point to reinterpretations of the past or of traditions and not to the

items themselves. Moreover, in their quest for truth, even the band’s songs tend to romanticise

the times and places of their past, as screened through their nostalgic tendencies, because

lacking the imaginative abandon of fantasy or the caprice of dreaming, nostalgia at least

purports to represent the true places, events, and moods of our past, even if our powers of

historical reflection may cause us to question whether “it was indeed that way” (Davis, 1979,

p. 47)


43

Conclusion

The present study discussed the musical and cultural phenomenon known as

underground folklore as being part of a much wider context that is constantly redefining itself.

Underground folklore, as it has been analyzed, emerged in a specific time and place, but that

does not mean that similar forms of artistic manifestation could not arise in other contexts

worldwide. The phenomenon employs various other art forms, among which rap and folklore,

both of which were discussed as being powerful evocative elements that are linked to

nostalgia and identity. Therefore, the band members’ past and notions of identity went into

the creation of this musical genre. However, both their past and their identity are constantly

changing and are difficult to define.

Nevertheless, when nostalgia is brought into the discussion, the limit between true

facts and emotions and fictionalized ones is blurred. Moreover, folklore takes on an important

role when there is a perceived threat to an individual or to a nation’s identity. Shifts in

identity or the desire to create a new one lead to the incorporation of folklore as the one

element that connects people to their past, thus to their essence. For Subcarpati, especially for

Bean, folklore and the past are synonymous with Dolhasca, the place that represents his

childhood and a part of his dual identity, split between the traditional, edenic environment of

the countryside and the urban, constrictive one, represented by Bucharest’s neighbourhoods.

In a sense, this dual identity naturally leads to a fragmented one.

Since hip-hop is, by definition, an urban culture that emerged in cities, more

specifically in neighbourhoods, and since folklore belongs to Dolhasca, an ancient society,

both elements being the ones that make up underground folklore, it is clear that Subcarpati’s

musical style stems, or tries to stem, from the lost sound, the primordial music that is closer to

the pure, traditional societies than the other sounds produced today and from a modern sound,

rap, that tries to encapsulate the current way of life and its problems. The duality represented

by the city and the countryside has been analyzed not only as being emblematic for the band’s

identity, but also for Romania itself. The band’s allure lies in the way it represents the two

poles that have been defining Romanian generations for the past decades. An identity caught

between the idyllic promise of the countryside that coincides with childhood, and the urban

landscape of the city where one grew up, is something that most people can relate to. It will

be interesting to see how the phenomenon will evolve, and if it will still be representative for


44

future generations as it is for today’s ones.

Considering that talks of identity and childhood inevitably lead to nostalgia, the band’s

nostalgic tendencies were discussed as being connected to a mythic longing, that makes one

desire to return to traditional societies such as Dolhasca, which in reality is a desire to return

to the simpler times before the various factors of modern society interfered with man’s sense

of identity and security.

Given that underground folklore represents the last piece of a larger domino, an

analysis of previous elements was necessary. The phenomenon depends on more factors that

were each analyzed in a different chapter, all of which could have been transformed into a

monograph, but then the focus would have shifted from the main subject. The first chapter

describes the process that went into the creation of underground folklore, with special

attention given to the relationship between its crucial elements, the old and the new. The

conscious or the unconscious blending of these two elements transforms underground folklore

into something even more powerful than traditional artistic forms such as folklore which

would sound unnatural in today’s society on their own. One could also state the contrary and

consider that underground folklore is just a hybrid product of which the dominant part

remains hip-hop, a culture that has spread worldwide creating a fad and adhesion based more

on a sentiment of “coolness” rather than one of authenticity and necessity of expression. This

is where “underground” comes into play and where the difference between underground and

mainstream hip-hop becomes relevant.

Even though they have been moulded by international and local factors, Subcarpati’s

example and specific blend of music are inextricably Romanian, due to their insertion of

folkloric elements and the personal attachments infused in their nostalgic lyrics. On the other

hand, the music is reactionary as well, and it strives to create a new cultural consciousness

that uses the past to try and change the present.

Music could be considered more liberal than other art forms and could be defined as

something that produces emotion out of emotion. Underground folklore has succeeded in

transmitting various feelings, from individual nostalgia to collective memory, and it is a

musical style that at least one generation seems to relate to.


45

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