2024-07-31 12:23:47
Several generations and people from very different societies will mourn this departure. Oldřich Janota died on Saturday morning – singer, author of powerful songs and experimental music, naturally independent seeker of spirituality in today’s world.
At the age of 74, he was definitely not done with his work. If perhaps part of the audience needs such reassurance, then let’s say it in full: one of the biggest personalities that music and alternative culture had in our country in the last half century has left.
Oldřich (let’s use his first name on this occasion, as many in the audience also used them) started out among singer-songwriters with a guitar, but it became clear very quickly that he would not belong to the “folk” scene. The first songs like Lost in the World still referred to the psychedelic folk of Donovan and other authors from the turning 60s with a flood of seductive images. In the early era, Janot even managed to comment on the Czech national destiny: the songs Tango 1926 or Česká skladanka did so sarcastically, the interpretation of history based on national myths was laughable for the author, but his biting point of view remained mature. He critically examined the atmosphere of parties (Queen of the Bees), he was able to spread the landscape of metaphors for the image of all those who change philosophies and opinions when it’s easier (No Man’s Land). He also played in the group Pentagram with Jakub Noha.
From the 1970s, however, it was clear that Janota would always seek her own, proudly independent path to spiritual horizons. Mysterium in his songs refers to paganism and Christian mysticism, he based Buddhist and Hindu motifs on knowledge and his own lifestyle. As a result, the compositions gave off a strong feeling of a journey into the depths of mystery, rather than a challenge to intellectual performance. Even though Oldřich Janota always had plenty of impulses for reflection.
His group Mozart K. Janota certainly did not build it according to proven models for the years 1979 to 1983. The sound of underground bands was determined by harmonium, saxophone, mandolin: art historian Miloš Vojtěchovský, musician and writer Jan Štolba or drummer Martin Rychta worked there; there was also a version of the composition with sitar player Emil Pospíšil. Everyone was essential for a great result.
The band, which easily demolished the back seats of the car by carrying a massive harmonium, quickly became a legend. The frontman’s ability to combine concise and unexpected images with the seductiveness of rock rhythms and a sense of melody entered the underground scenes, pushed to the edge by cultural guardians, like a flame. The images of the Prague periphery in the compositions Měsíc nad Radlicemi, Proluka or Jinonický dvůr are photographs of the time: in his skeptical, but also very observant view, Janota had something in common with the writers Franz Kafka and Michal Ajvaz.
Oldřich Janota was prompt and full of gentle humor. | Photo: CTK
He turned Hotel Savoy on Prague’s Pohořelka into a place of contemplation and revelation. Drawing on his own experience as a janitor or a newspaper colporteur, the compositions Local fool or Subscription described local characters: without sentiment, rather in the spirit of his song slogan “love – a two-faced animal”. Oldřich’s baritone was essential: incantatory, switching between singing and deliberate parlance, as if he wanted not to deprive the music of the magical dimension of speech.
During the time of Mozart K., the song Zrychlený vlak was also created. She was loved by many fans, including the rock songwriter Petr Fiala. He recorded it with his band Mňága and Žďorp and made it famous under the title I cesta moe bi cijl. Janota, who thus found himself on the radio playlist for the first time, enjoyed the paradox of the cover version: “That song was created as a reaction to the way the nation signed the Anticharta in droves, to that disappointment. And Petr took it in a light dance way. But the joy that added, is perhaps a better answer to such a sad event as Anticharta. And actually, thanks to Peter, it is the only song of mine that was on the charts and was played on the radio.
Janota desperately needed to keep looking. The audience, which happily sank into the figurative songs Druji bhrek, Batva na Tursku or Protínáme kruhy, suddenly lost clear song contours. The trio with Luboš Fidler and Pavel Richter took hold of electric guitars and tape loops: the wave of experimental sound was inspired by the minimalism of Steve Reich, but at the same time it had inclinations towards noise absorption. The later selection from the recordings of this trio under the name High Fidelity is a treasure for fans of more extreme rock and experiments, and is highly respected by critics.
For Oldřich Janota himself, the bold change meant the end of the favor of a wide audience: stories about surprised audiences at festivals are still circulating today. The singer and creator had no regrets, he couldn’t help it. He also always kept a gentle distance from the enthusiastic audience, as if he sensed in them a risk for his work. Later, recalling his higher popularity, he said: “After all, it’s a little better to starve a person who once had a good meal.”
However, he still has plenty of fans left. In the acoustic trio with Vojtěch and Irena Havel, his work became transparent and combined “live loops” with great instrumental skill. Although Janota was an essential poet, he did not skimp musically, he chose a more difficult path and, especially for certain poets, he needed to have experienced instrumentalists by his side, who, however, did not lose their human sensitivity – this already made the bands excellent company.
Janot’s song Zrychlený vlak was made famous by the band Mňága and Žďorp under the title Even the journey can be a goal. Photo: Alexandr Satinský / MF DNES + LN / Profimedia.cz | Video: Indies Scope
During the time with Irena and Vojtěch Havel, Janota found the end of totality: he could finally start releasing records. But the non-conformist author was against the fact that “like everyone else” he should now publish a set of works from the years of totalitarianism.
As proof that he no longer really thinks in the form of a rock song, he released in new freedom an instrumental album of collective ambient improvisation Another Speed of Time: Star Map. In general, he was wary of publishers and offers, it was impossible for him to approach general standards “because that’s how it’s done”, stories about unfinished projects would certainly make a funny collection.
He refused to be the Janota that various people projected into him. It is almost absurd that the audience had to wait for Mozart K.’s recordings until 2003, when Janota himself carefully compiled the archive double-disc Jako měsí. Above all, years later, he relaxed his intransigence and in 2016 agreed to the eight-album retrospective Ultimate Nothing. It was certainly not by chance that he had Jaroslav Tarnovský, a musician thirty years his junior, unencumbered by sentiment, compile it.
Janota is a great representative of spirituality on a truly independent level, at the same time he knew the people and ideas of faith (or various beliefs) closely. However, as the years went by, the elegant mystical ecumenism, certainly connected with the search of the sixties and new age currents, began to be exchanged for favoring domestic Christianity: it no longer needed an exotic detour across the other side of the world. For the cover of the Ora pro nobis album, he designed a motif that seemed to him to be a divine joke. The flag of the European Union is flying behind the Virgin Mary’s head: we can see that the circle of stars is essentially an adopted symbol of the Marian stars. When asked what kind of personal relationship he, as an obvious non-member of the church, has with the Mother of God, he said: “An advertising slogan on Kofola is offered as an answer: When you love her, there is nothing to solve.”
What was Oldřich Janota like? Like many intrinsically creative people: quick-witted, full of subtle humor and an enviable connection to the present moment. He wandered between a number of jobs from care work to translation. He was kind – and uncompromising when it came to making decisions about matters of his creation: he often flooded the organizers and collaborators who wanted to do something for him, but he didn’t want it at that moment. He had a great feeling for egalitarian coexistence, at the same time he was able to silence the audience simply by remaining silent, he was a leadership figure. Sure he could be a guru, but he never succumbed to the temptation of truly controlling others.
He never stopped changing. Those who came to the concert in recent years could catch him singing almost as a family with his wife Romana, at other times with master jazz instrumentalists Jaromír Honzák, David Dorůžka, Luboš Soukup and Vít Křišťan. But you could also expect his great songs – and instead Oldřich didn’t play a note and made the audience sing along. He taught them his songs, meaning games, “independent mantras” and little koans. Rather than treating the listeners to an encounter with a star, he led them to discover that they themselves have the starlight within them. By the way, this is a shift completely characteristic of the 21st century.
Oldřich Janota with his wife Romana Janotová in a picture from 2010, when they gave a concert in the monastery gardens in Cheb. | Photo: Martin Stolař / MF DNES + Lidové noviny / Profimedia.cz
Oldřich Janota had cross-generational respect, even younger independent bands like Sítě perceived joint evenings as an extraordinary moment. Now, when a long line of known and unknown people describes him as a unique personality, it is worth reminding: he has never received any annual award like Angel or Vinyl. He was useless to the juries, who are so happy to betroth their awards to someone who raises their publicity or resonates with current issues. Oldřich Janota was the format for the state award: now he can only receive it in memoriam.