I guess this blog is really easy for me to write.
I have already presented you my favorite hip hop artist but I am glad to have chance to say something more about him.
Marchelo's real name is Marko and he was born in 1983. He lived in the small town called Paracin. Those facts are important because they make him authentic when it comes to Serbian hip hop.
He was 8 when the civil war started and 12 when it ended. In NATO bombing (1999) he was 16. His songs are mostly about the war or the bad economic, cultural and political system in Serbia (which was the result of the war).
In Serbia, the capital, Belgrade is everything. Belgrade is being built, all the money goes in Belgrade, the best schools are there. Serbia is Belgrade in a way. When you come from a small town to Belgrade (which most young people usually do because they hope for better life in BG) they are seen as the outsiders and it is not really easy to become a part of the capital. It is a totally new life and you have to try hard to be successful. People from small towns live in small rented and (for our condition) expensive apartments. They have to work because their parents do not have money to support them and they have to be good students in order to get a job. Looking like this, it is no different than the US. I am going to give you some facts that might change your mind: no one is willing to make the shifts at work more convenient for you (if you can't work the full shift everyday you are not going to get a job), a lot of people are not going to accept you to work for them if you do not have experience, you spend at least 6 hours at the university (this often goes to 10-12 hours), passing or failing the exam often depends on professor's mood(since the exams are oral), there are no services or clubs to help you, no syllabuses and no appointments when the student have a free time etc. Therefore, the fact that he knows both sides of Serbia makes him even more credible in the area of hip-hop. Paracin makes him know the poor and forgotten part of Serbia. Belgrade makes him credible to talk about the 'crazy life'.
I tried to translate a song for you. I hope it makes some sense. I put some explanations in brackets but if anyone wants to know more you can ask me.
I am watching the stars again. I am wondering what is destiny?
My cheats are shacking. This land was always longing for tears.
The pain is overtaking me. Tonight I am waiting for Godot on the metro staircase.
(Godot is a name of a play where two people wait endlessly and in vain for the arrival of someone named Godot. Godot should bring them happines but he never comes.)
I dream in gray yet I would like to dream about life.
O God, whose sins are we paying for?
Whose debts are we paying back?
All those futile wars and rainy days without a rainbow
Young people waited for new paths...
Don't look at you home, angel. You will die of sorrow.
My peers died in the name of false patriotism and the war was not even their fault.
O god, I admit, I am pussy, I love to live!
Pictures are waving from the wall although people say the time flies.
I am praying to sun not to forget about us.
And I swear to God there is not going to be an idol for which I am going to die for.
Thank you philosophies and utopists,
But I don't believe in all those stories about patriotism, dogmas and false sciences.
I know that dead people cry. I hear them howling.
They howl and scream: "Was (the war) it worth it?"
"Was (the war) it worth it?"-ask that a mother who lost her only child.
But we still live together (people in Balkans) poorly and miserably.
We cry for the paradise we had and we want people from all over the world to know...
They should know that we killed and cried from despair.
They should know that even today we don't know the reason or the significance of the war.
I rocked the mic in Tuzla (Bosnian city) and they welcomed me like I was their brother.
Everyone is sick and tired of the war. The hatred is not ours, it was given to us!
O father, tell me, should I hate a Muslim or a Croat?
We still feel the pain from the same wound.
People are people no matter where they come from.
Same things are frightening us...
Forgive us our sins.
I am not the one who knows but I hope that you are the one who knows,
Where did that hatred, tears and fear came from.
Ashes to ashes and dust will be,
But no one will know why brothers kill among themselves
(people in YU always referred to themselves as brothers since it really didn't matter are you a Muslim, Orthodox or Christian, Croat, Serb or Bosnian as long as you were a good man)
Our people are poor, miserable and manipulated.
When they don't have anything more to sell they sell the community.
Whole Balkan cries once again.
We have great nations with small brains.
Strict idols and leaders are like drugs for us:
All the times we chose bad political systems.
My dear people we have to move on!
I don't want to shoot in the name of suspicious forefathers!
I don't want to start new life after every war.
Fuck you all: whenever I go,
-In Europe, left, right, up or down-I need visa.
It is our stupidity that we live in fear and indecisiveness,
and the will of the most of people to stay closed in the mentality of village.
(living in a village means being close-minded in Serbia)
Even when we start walking on the right path we slide to hatred.
We are inpatient and we have to pay for that.
We forgot to smile. The muscles on our faces are not moving.
Here it (the smile) is when I see the singers
(most of our singers are ridiculous and everyone makes fun of them)
But it disappears as soon as I remember where I live.