I’d come full circle almost, finding myself at the foot of Prague Castle again at a train terminus. Although I’d covered the main landmarks numerous times by now, I still had the irresistible urge to explore beneath the gloss of the public shop window and discover the true heart of Prague.
The answer is, of course, that the heart and soul of Prague exists everywhere you go. Scratch beneath the surface a little and the signs are there. Take this train terminus, sure, it has all the necessary elements you’d expect, but more than that, just like back at Národní, dozens of posters fight for your attention, a reminder of another world away from the grey. The world of Music and the Arts. Prague is the only place I’ve known where the ‘other world’ feels like the priority rather than a mere pastime.
Natural talent perhaps? Or steel will against historical oppression? Whatever the origins and the motivations, Prague speaks out a message to us all, hidden away behind every corner, of pride and a love of life against a background of fear, like a rushing ocean held back by the angular concrete of a damn, straining to contain it.
No visit to Prague is complete without at least a taste of the variety of performances advertised everywhere, so tonight, at an unimposing, subdued venue close to the Rock Cafe, I had the pleasure of an instrumental Jazz trio consisting of double bass, drums and saxophone. Fittingly, the Jazz genre marries perfectly with the very essence of Prague. Misunderstood by many as ‘musical masturbation’, an underground practice of playing ‘between the cracks’ of music theory itself. Jazz is certainly not for the casual listener. Just like the Musical City itself, it requires concentration and effort, and a certain amount of knowledge to fully appreciate it’s nuances, its secrets, otherwise you’re left with just the fluff of the shop windows. Jazz music, of course, also famously provides a vehicle for the very best in virtuoso musicianship and technique.
I waited in eager anticipation. My surroundings harking back to the smokey 70’s social clubs of back home, with rows of long padded benches that had seen better days, stained by tobacco and decades of action. Besides the outstanding beer, Prague is also (in)famous for Absynth a.k.a ‘The Green Fairy’. A mind-bending Pernod on steroids, and a hedonist’s fast-track to memory loss. Tonight wasn’t a race to oblivion though, this was more subdued, more traditional and an introduction to Prague’s very own Becherovka, a spicy cinnamon concoction in a short glass. Warming, soothing and relaxing, but with an ABV right up with the best of them.
I was so relaxed I was almost horizontal by the time the music started. What we had here were three masters of both their instruments and of applying that technique to their vast knowledge of music. They would start out each number together, to establish the main rhythms and themes, but would each veer off into their own solo spotlights, often unaccompanied, with the audience filling in their own blanks. The double bass was first to pique my interest. A notoriously cumbersome instrument. Large and heavy, with four thick strings looking more like Prague’s own tram lines, and nothing as modern as frets to help with navigation.
By comparison, the guitar was easy. Exponentially smaller, lighter, with manageable strings and the reference point of frets. Here, the double bass player, even without these aids had broken into a solo of sorts, synching his solid bass rhythm with superhuman leaps up into the higher registers, in a frenzied physical, as well as an aural showpiece. I wondered how he even knew exactly where to play without frets as I slowly sunk even deeper into a world of gingery cinnamon-flavoured awe.
And now to a lesson in drumming. I’d played in bands before. Drumming was hard, requiring multiple sides of the brain, a steady rhythm, played LOUD. I’ve never seen anything like this guy though, holding the sticks loosely with palms up, almost merely dropping them onto the snare at times in a stark demonstration of light and shade. He created and suggested variations and deviations to the other members constantly. His minimalistic kit also raised an eyebrow, a snare, a high-hat, a bass-drum and nothing much else. He would showcase a different component at certain points, exploring an array of snare techniques, then the intricacies of open/closed high hats. This wasn’t a performance, this was a masterclass.
Floating over the top of the world’s greatest rhythm section we had the sax and the purest of melodic indulgences. The sax is just a beautiful, soulful sounding instrument, and in the right hands can eke out your emotions more directly than any vocalist could, which he did.
So there it was. Prague, Becherovka and Music. A match made in heaven. As the show came to an end, and almost predictably by now, the filtering out of the spectators was synched with the filtering in of the ‘entertainment’. Call girls, paid company, call them what you will, appeared almost on-cue to the fading of the music, turning the atmosphere cold and unwelcoming to all but the most accustomed.
Back on the street, Národní is teeming with life. It’s late but it’s still busy and everything’s still open. Prague, to this outsider, seems like a living entity, with the tram system running through its veins. A strange place to end perhaps, but the very key to Prague can be found in its underbelly of the underground. Down here on the metro there’s no public face, uncensored slogans are displayed freely, as normal people go about their day-to-day. The stations could almost be built of granite, with the red and gold proud imagery of the motherland. It feels safe down here. modern and clean, away from the putrid vice above.
At last, I understood. You see, on the outside, Prague has been conquered by war machine and sold its soul to tourism, but they were mere glancing blows. Prague’s unbreakable heart remains forever for those wishing to seek it.
Next morning I made the journey back to the airport by bus. As we left the central district Praha 1 into the surrounding areas, the scenery grew more authentically urban and less expensive as the grandiose of the musical city gave way to the normality of the high-rise blocks once again.
To the worker, the common family, maybe the glittering spires in the distance were just a dream provided for the tourists? But then again, selfishly, maybe this escapism is what I like about it? Maybe it’s because I’m interested in music? Maybe it’s the intrigue of Prague’s shady past or the fairytale backdrop of its landmarks, Maybe it’s the best beer in the world? Who knows.
I hope you enjoyed my take on Prague: The Musical City. For me, there’s no place quite like it. It’s dark but bright, ugly but beautiful, welcoming but secretive, free but imprisoned. It’s all the contradictions, just like the beauty of life and love itself.
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