‘Rakovi boce i morske ljage, i puno puno po kamenu smeča, na grobu mome umjesto svijeća, florescentna plastika držat će stražu. More zna svu našu bol’ (Gradski Cvjetovi) ‘Bottle crabs and sea urchins, and lots and lots of trash on the stone, on my grave instead of candles, fluorescent plastic will keep watch. The sea knows all our pain’ (City Flowers)

How to make a great record in three steps. One – lay down a limber rhythm that bounces with an insidious danceability.  Two – overlay these crisply pounding beats with beautifully crystalline guitars that brim with an entrancing, infectious melancholy.  Three – inject semi-shouted anarcho-punk vocals that bristle with a defiant vitality and, when required, a gratifyingly knowing sneer.  You’ll be bellowing along in no time, whether you know Croatian or not.

Welcome to the world of Zadar’s Mižerija (Misery).  I must admit that I missed this release first time round, but thankfully Doomtown Records have had the eminent good sense to run a second press.  The band’s name may belie its boisterous sonic energies but is rather more in tune with the darkly poetic lyrics as they tackle themes of loneliness, the patriarchy, and environmental degradation.

There is almost a brittleness to each of the five tracks, yet the sheer velocity of the band’s delivery ensures that everything holds together with a rollicking vigour.  From the utterly raucous opening two tracks Izolacija (Isolation) and Lanci (Chains), the flipside takes a rather more ominous turn on Crni Grad (The Black City) and Gradski Cvjetovi (City Flowers), before the unhinged, noise infused closer, Kraj (The End).