Kalemegdan Disk - ROCK FROM EASTERN EUROPE

Supraphon Release Information

To praise František Ringo Čech’s recordings has always been considered a bit of a non-starter among our critics. If no criticism was in order, it was at least appropriate to draw attention to the sophistication and cunning with which this man is doing his thing in our show business. But traditionally the customs in these spheres have been determined more by Chekhovian characters than by bitter critics. The development goes forward in those indefinable moments when the songs of the aforementioned characters get somewhat out of the hands of their originators and rise above all stylistic boundaries, and are, for example, both commercial and quite pleasantly original at the same time. The album under review shows that.

The first impression of the album was almost shocking. It was caused by the acoustic accompaniment, Hruby’s violin and the singer’s obscured voice. In short, everything indicated that it was not František Ringo Čech but Čundrgrund who released the elpíčko on Supraphon.

On the album we find four tracks in which Čech’s hard rock is replaced by acoustic accompaniment. However, the “electric” songs and the album as a whole also have a pleasantly relaxed atmosphere. Schelinger also comes across naturally and without stylization, not even a shadow of Black Sabbath haunting him, he doesn’t sing for his life, which is good, because this kind of adventure would hardly suit him anyway. The ambition and result here match the talent and ability of the creators, resulting in a pretty successful album where no one made too many mistakes and no one lied. František Ringo Čech’s lyrics remain dull and without sparkle compared to the work of his folk generation colleagues, but they also don’t pretend to be anything.

The fact that Čech’s band doesn’t try to play exactly like Led Zeppelin is perhaps the reason why being tied to a recording studio or local customs doesn’t feel like a bridle holding the music to the wall. There are some very adventurous and exploratory moments in the acoustic songs. The most notable is in the track “Nestálost” (Instability), when the musicians venture into some exquisite vocal improvisations – exactly the kind that sound in the favourable player constellations at ČDG concerts. The main merit of this record, however, is that it puts folk-rock songwriting on the same platform as electric bigbeat, and hopefully our listeners will learn to listen with the same ears.

(Melodie, 2/1980)

In the seventies, he was not missing at even one disco Pouštěčina in the then popular club Déčko on the corner of Italská and Vinohradská Street in Prague. Either he came for the whole evening, or at least late at night when he was returning from a Prague performance or coming back from a tour. He didn’t dance much, no, but he sat at “his” table, sipping Coke and rum, smoking a hundred and six, chatting with his wife Alena and friends... During the breaks he went to the mini-room behind the disc jockeys, asked for some of his favourite foreign rock records (Gary Glitter, Status Quo, Sweet, Slade) and was happy to be persuaded to sing along to some of his then Supraphon singles.

He felt at home in Déčko, because he rehearsed there during the day with the band Faraon, for which he was discovered by the then bass guitarist and aspiring lyricist Karel Šíp. In the archives of Pouštěčiny they still keep the jingle that Jiří Schelinger sang as a valuable treasure: Pouštěčina is here / And Jirika is here too / Do what you want / We do the same...

Prague-born Jiří Schelinger (6 March 1951 - 13 April 1981) grew up in a musical environment (his father was a music teacher) and trained as a plumber. He made his debut as a singer with the band Nothing but Nothing, then sang in Prague cafés, his repertoire and singing style shaped by the great rhythm and blues and soul role models of the time, including Ray Charles, James Brown, Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett and Percy Sledge.

In the seventy-third year he became the lead singer of the aforementioned group Faraon (see the Supraphon pop recordings “Dráty pletací”, “Šlapací kolo” and “René, já a Rudolf”), with which he also recorded his ballad hit “Holubí dům” (Pigeon House) (music by Jaroslav Uhlíř, lyrics by Zdeněk Svěrák, who, however, hid under the pseudonym Emil Synek at the time).

A year later, he joined his performing (and writing) destiny with František Ringo Čech’s band, with whom he embarked on an adventurous journey along the paths of his beloved hard rock, from which, however, he occasionally strayed towards pop songs, which, thanks to his unmistakable vocal colour and uncombed speech, significantly deviated from the pop standard of the time. In this context, let us also recall his interpretative contribution to songs from the films “Romance za korunu” (Romance for a Crown) (1975), “Hop a je tu lidoop” (Hop and There’s a Lidoop) (1977), “Což takhle dát si špenát” (How about some Spinach) (1977) and “Trhák” (1980).

In the 1970s, Jiří Schelinger, in collaboration with František Ringo Čech’s band, represented the only adequate domestic response to the world wave of melodic hard rock, for which he was equipped not only with spontaneous musical sensitivity, but also with unique interpretive skills, including exceptional vocal colouring. Just as he was about to make a radical cut in his career, which was to be the forthcoming and unfortunately never completed rock album “Zemětřesení” (Earthquake), shocking news came from Bratislava. After jumping from a Bratislava railway bridge, Jiří Schelinger tragically died in the waters of the Danube. It’s hard to explain how it all went wrong fifteen years ago in April. Let’s just note that it was on the 13th...

Miloš Skalka

Full album: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoUcJiPqo8c&list=OLAK5uy_m-DL1c_M168Kk9HTPxbnKMzRIi5I3-g0M&index=2

Tracklist

Side A

1. Jaro 2:17
2. Nesmím znát prý její jméno 5:08
3. Nestálost 5:44
4. Čas 5:27
5. Láska 4:41

Side B

1. Bílý sníh létá 4:17
2. Bral jsem to vážně 3:14
3. Zima 4:27
4. Pohřeb přítele 4:49
5. Nám se líbí 3:56