A social-philosophical jewel from Belgrade. Anti-sexist poems for special occasions, written by 'two beauties' with 'brains' and 'ovaries'. – This is how the commercial machinery for this young duo could be set in motion. The two Bitcharke ('bitch' pronounced phonetically in Serbian translates into 'whip') could somewhat commercially, 'distributively' speaking be labelled as hip-hoppers. Una and Marija whip without taking on the dominant role; both authors and performers are bitches in the noble sense known to a socially and emotionally mature segment of the population. Their message, of course, comes as no shock to these people; instead, they see it as a necessity, as a confirmation, a relief. Most people will find the following statement over-emotional and exaggerated, some may not: Bitcharke were born of the famous Belgrade underground; they lived through ten and more miserable years in the city. Nowadays they dress proud poems of the too-rare urban spirit with the wounds of the past. Poems which sound like Brechtian moralist parables, but even stronger, either because of the explicit sexual language or because of the unspoiled political ambition, nonchalantly playing with the spine of its own correctness: Bitcharke on Grass aren't trying to change the world, there is no naivety in what they do. Instead, they notice everything that makes it "easy to be human and so hard to be a human" – that is to say grandiosity and its mental patterns, which can be found in the 'grey' everyday life behind the walls of skyscrapers, and at the same time in the 'uptight' and seemingly 'other' underground. The supposed scandalousness of the two artist once again questions the Belgrade myth all over again, the 'open city', the weird jungle where the starched, stuck-up city kids with urban desire always knew how to cunningly catch on.
A part of the Belgrade 'scene' naturally cannot and (knowing Belgrade conditions) also must not accept the mainstream thesis of the Western social philosophy of today for reasons which can be found specifically in the 'nineties (the disintegration of the 'only' home land, 'reality war drama', turbulent relocations, never-ending demonstrations, the obscurity of the run-down, impoverished city). Taboo for a part of the Belgrade 'scene', therefore, isn't the Western, modern Baudrillardian focal point which, nevertheless seems to be worth saving 'just in case'. A taboo remains, specific to this space, a type of redundant object, simply an obstacle which has to be torn down, if necessary, over and over again, but not, of course, at any price. Bitcharke are, perhaps, more easily understood through the eyes of their 'parents', as educational scarecrows of historical memory – that is, through the prism of the 1960's and 1980's; the dispersed situation in contemporary Belgrade demands a special, confident and intelligent exposure of double standards. Bitcharke on Grass by no means moralise. Instead, or simply because they choose not to moralise, they are a subject of the strictest moral acuity, more than that: a confident ethical contribution to the emptied, damaged city of Belgrade. As such they present more than mere simple provocation today; they are like a literal, spiritual inversion of a former, cursed, obscure, dead band called Ekatarina Velika, which means they are much more than just a fatal valve for survival. Not only for the sub-species of the hip-hop way of life and its poetic forms, Bitcharke deliver important content to the fundamentals of the 'urban ethical code'. These are the things that we have always highly valued, since they trigger such humorous and productive political misunderstandings. In completely literary language and for the sake of 'special' Bitcharke material, a 'special' accent: With the dead, in the language of the dead.
Miha Zadnikar
