• Dali Muru

What is it like to be the forgotten-about member of a duo? I don’t mean like Art Garfunkel or John Oates, who weren’t as beloved but, by the band’s name’s nature, were impossible to truly forget about. I mean “you have a band with two guys, one that everyone knows, and one that nobody remembers.” You can be forgiven for feeling this way about The Postal Service – if you ask most people, “Who was in The Postal Service?” they’re going to remember Ben Gibbard, but are they going to remember Jimmy Tamborello’s name? Probably not, unless you’re talking to a huge dork who will also point out to you that The Postal Service happened because of Tamborello inviting Gibbard to sing on “(This Is) the Dream of Evan and Chan” on Life Is Full of Possibilities by Dntel. Is that kind of dork writing this article? Mind your own business.

Despite the overwhelming success of The Postal Service, Tamborello’s Dntel project (much like his short-lived pop duo Figurine, which featured Tamborello and singer/Dntel collaborator Meredith Landman) never reached the acclaim that it truly deserved. When he made another Dntel album in 2007 – after the monumental whirlwind success of Give Up, the one-and-only record the duo released togethe – he called it Dumb Luck (a fitting comment on the nature of his band’s massive success) and packed it with other guests, like Conor Oberst, Grizzly Bear’s Ed Droste, Markus Acher of The Notwist and Rilo Kiley frontwoman (and Postal Service collaborator) Jenny Lewis. The record didn’t capture the attention of the indiesphere in the way it should have, and Tamborello receded from the limelight, punctuated by an anniversary Postal Service tour that, sadly, did seemingly nothing to help his star shine more easily. It would take another five years for him to release 2012’s Aimlessness, and since then, he’s released an excellent-but-not-groundbreaking record every other year.


  • Intel
©Prendergast Norma
  • ©Prendergast Norma
  • ©fabonthemoon
Elders is the debut release from Ensemble Nist-Nah, a nine-piece percussion group led by Nantes-based Australian drummer and percussionist Will Guthrie. The diverse group of French musicians that make up Ensemble Nist-Nah – whose collective experience encompasses traditional Gamelan performance, contemporary composition, noise, jazz, and everything in between – perform on drum kits, traditional and junk percussion, and a complete set of Javanese Gamelan instruments. Though building on the foundations of Guthrie’s solo work with Gamelan instruments (Nist-Nah, BT057) and primarily performing his compositions, Ensemble Nist-Nah is a collective endeavour, propelled by a breathtaking enthusiasm that has seen the ensemble manage to rehearse, perform, and even tour Europe during the Covid-19 pandemic.

May 7th at Knotwilg festival 

  • © Laurent Orseau
  • © Laurent Orseau
  • © Laurent Orseau

The Yugoslavian was forced to Germany, then moved to the US and brought psychedelic wonder to his native music. After a rediscovery in a Hollywood record store, he can finally be heard.

War, slave labour, concentration camps and life as a refugee: having survived such hardships, it is no wonder Yugoslavian musician Branko Mataja was happy to live quietly in a Los Angeles suburb and build custom guitars for the likes of Johnny Cash and Geddy Lee. His death in 2000 attracted no obituaries and his 1973 LP Traditional and Folk Songs of Yugoslavia remained unsung. Mataja had lived under the radar, a musician seemingly playing only for himself. Now, almost half a century later, his music is finally being reissued and it is causing quite a stir.

“What Branko did was unlike what anyone else was doing at the time,” says David Jerkovich, a 43-year-old American musician who is the force getting Mataja’s music heard. “His playing has this kind of outsider, intense quality and it’s just so unique to him. And his studio technique is incredible – he bounced and overdubbed sound in a manner no one else even approached.”

Jerkovich was cratedigging in a Hollywood used record store in 2005 when he came across a copy of Traditional and Folk Songs of Yugoslavia, priced at $7. “He just looked so badass on the cover that I had to buy it,” Jerkovich says. “I was buying Yugoslav-era music as my parents are from Croatia – I’m a first-generation American – and I was wanting to gain a greater understanding of their musical roots. I got home and put it on the stereo and …” He pauses, then says: “It’s unlike anything I’d ever heard before. What Branko has done is take these ancient melodies and built something very abstract, very beautiful, out of them.”


By Fab on the Moon 

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© Laurent Orseau

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