First beams of sunlight crawl through the cracks of the Bernese Dachstock. It is 10 a.m. –  midnight rock ‘n‘ roll, the drops of booze and sweat from a long night of partying not fully dried up – when a big band hammers a session into a recorder, live and uncut, with only three rehearsals in its bones and a considerable rest of blood alcohol content. A collective, but everybody has a mind of their own. Taking office to live up to musical liberty. Against the rules, against the grain, and headstrong. Damn it! Can they just do that?

The reason for the session is the project Destilacija – in capital letters: Songs that are spine-chilling and rev the pulse high up into rock ‘n‘ roll skies, where angels whisper Bosnian-Emmental lullabies. A sound that cannot be named, but when drinking schnapps, one doesn’t drink the label either. As long as the substance breaks in and lets the ears smolder and the limbs shudder.

It is a project, in which the leader is probably the highest risk factor: “rattle-clatter“ hothead Mario Batkovic has drummed the vision of a cross-genre chaos commandership into his madmen.

Total sabotage of ideals of people, who consider music in a finicky way, just like the sheriffs of the Confederate States considered a bottle of beer in times of prohibition. Characters, impulses and musical backgrounds are mixed together into a hearty stew, bam!, kapow!, let go, just do it. And then? No idea. Sounds crazy. Probably will go down the tubes. But you know what? At least someone had the balls to try it out.

And precisely because this project seems to be doomed to fail – this thing, that is being kept alive by over 30 participants –, Destilacija are being carried by the furor of a rodeo bull, that is already bloody from the spears, that fights on with the courage of desperation. Till the last drop.