Electronic Sound July 2015 (Regular Edition) - Page 33

such as Oskarova Fobija, Beograd,
Videosex, Šizike and a host of others,
who found themselves thrust into the
underground spotlight. In the midst of
it all, Vincent became an axial driving
force, a real electronic innovator. Unable
to afford expensive synths or kit, he
spent many hours holed up in the
studio, programming and recording his
armoury of patches and effects, layering
voice samples and artificial sounds to
scintillating effect.

MAX VINCENT
The Future Has Designed Us
DISCOM

A new compilation of unreleased
material by one of Yugoslavia’s
unsung heroes
Max Vincent might not be a name
you’re immediately familiar with, but
the pioneering Belgrade-born musician,
composer and arranger was pivotal in
raising the profile of electronic music in
the politically volatile corner of eastern
Europe that was the former Yugoslavia.
For Max Vincent, the future was very
much where it was at.
His contribution to the electronic mise
en scène can’t be overstated. From the
late 1970s to the mid 1980s, Yugoslavian
punk and new wave were the prevailing
genres. By 1984, however, the tectonic
plates had begun to shift. That was
when Vincent (real name Miodrag Misa
Mihajlovic), then a precocious, synthobsessed 17-year-old, got together with
his friend Intro to compose ‘Ostavi Sve’
(‘Leave Everything’). Released under the
name Max & Intro, it’s now regarded as
one of the most influential ex-Yu minimal
wave cuts.
What followed was the gradual
emergence of predominantly Belgradebased Yugoslavian electronic acts

Despite the lack of fancy equipment at
his disposal, Vincent’s producerly finesse
really shines through on ‘The Future
Has Designed Us’. Embracing influences
across the electronic spectrum, from
early Yello to Art Of Noise and beyond,
the 10 tracks on this defining compilation
range from 1984 to 2002 and are a
testament to his visionary life’s work.
Although the songs are delivered
primarily in his native tongue, the
language barrier here is irrelevant.
You don’t need to speak the lingo to
appreciate the mesmeric robotic hues of
‘Beogradska Devojka’ (‘Belgrade Girl’),
which is like Cabaret Voltaire gone
eurodisco, or the seductive proto-Pet
Shop Boys stomp of ‘Loš Je Dan’ (‘Bad
Day’), or the atmospheric after-dark vibe
of ‘Šta Je To Što Nam Se Dešava’ (‘What
Is Happening To Us’).

Vincent sings in English too. “This is
a story about Shirley,” he informs us,
crooning wistfully in his cool, seductive
baritone, at once soothing and resonant.
If Scott Walker were Serbian, this might
well be how he’d sound. There’s no
denying that Vincent was a singular
talent. Rather like the plangent, epic
movie scores of his fellow countryman
Goran Bregović, the wonderfully
cinematic ‘Odlazim’ (‘Leaving’), the
album’s prophetic final track, hints
tantalisingly at the career path Vincent
might have taken had he not died
suddenly from a heart attack in 2004,
aged just 37.
The eye-catching photograph of
Macedonian sculptor Dušan Džamonja’s
war mon ument (‘Memorial To The
December Victims In Dubrava’) on the
album sleeve is a nicely considered
finishing touch. It’s designed to connect
the grandiose, futuristic physicality of
Dzamonja’s important work in “real
space” with Max Vincent’s esoteric,
futuristic adventures in music. Eleven
years after his untimely death, Vincent’s
captivating odyssey, a benchmark of
the ex-Yu electronic canon, feels more
essential than ever.
VELIMIR ILIC