Album Review: Eylem Şiir by Kontra Fanzin
Released in 2014, Eylem Şiir by Kontra Fanzin is a bold dive into the world of spoken word and sound poetry. This Turkish album doesn’t play by the usual music rules—it’s more like an auditory experience that challenges how we think about rhythm, voice, and meaning. If you’re into stuff that’s raw, unfiltered, and makes your brain do a double-take, this might be your jam.
The album falls under the "Non-Music" genre, which honestly feels fitting because it’s not here to give you catchy hooks or hummable melodies. Instead, it delivers something deeper—a mix of speech, experimental sounds, and thought-provoking narratives. It’s like listening to someone unravel their thoughts in real-time, except they’re doing it with style.
One track that sticks out is İyi Aile Robotu (Veli Konuşması). The title itself is intriguing—“Good Family Robot (Parent-Teacher Conference)”—and once you hit play, it lives up to its quirky name. The delivery is sharp, almost like a monologue from some dystopian play where parents are replaced by machines. You can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity while also wondering if there’s a deeper commentary on societal expectations lurking beneath the surface. It’s weirdly relatable, even if you don’t fully grasp every nuance.
Another standout moment comes from one of the untitled pieces—I’m pretty sure it’s Track 3, but who knows with this kind of project? This particular piece blends fragmented voices with eerie background noise, creating a collage of emotions. At times, it feels chaotic, like overhearing snippets of conversations in a crowded café. But then, just when you think it’s all over the place, there’s this sudden clarity—a single phrase or tone that cuts through the chaos and hits you right in the feels. It’s haunting, yet oddly comforting.
What makes Eylem Şiir memorable isn’t just its uniqueness; it’s the way it forces you to engage. This isn’t background music for scrolling through Instagram. Nope, it demands attention. And yeah, sometimes it’s hard to follow, but maybe that’s the point. Life doesn’t always come neatly packaged either, does it?
Kontra Fanzin has crafted something special here—something that blurs the line between art and activism, between performance and introspection. Listening to this album felt like being invited to a secret club where everyone speaks in metaphors and riddles.
Final thought? If you ever find yourself stuck in a rut of predictable playlists, throw this album on. Just don’t expect it to make sense immediately—or ever, really. Sometimes, confusion is part of the charm. Also, fun fact: I listened to it twice before realizing my cat was staring at me like I’d lost my mind. So, uh, maybe keep pets away during playback.
