Tvoje láska je věta vedlejší Taková normální – A Scrappy Pop Punch from 1983 That Still Hits
Alright, let’s get real here. Vojtěch Šmíd didn’t exactly reinvent the wheel with Tvoje láska je věta vedlejší Taková normální, but damn if this album doesn’t have a raw charm that sticks to your brain like gum on a hot summer sidewalk. Released back in '83 in what was then Czechoslovakia (now split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia), it’s pure unfiltered pop—no frills, no apologies, just straight-up earworms for anyone who digs that retro vibe.
Now, I’m gonna cut through the crap and focus on two tracks because life’s too short to talk about every song. First up: “Tvoje láska je věta vedlejší.” This one? It’s got teeth. The lyrics hit hard without trying too hard, y’know? Like, they’re not Shakespeare-level deep or anything, but there’s something brutally honest about how Šmíd lays out love as this kinda secondary thing, almost like an afterthought. And the melody? Ugh, it’s so catchy it feels illegal. You’ll hum it while brushing your teeth, curse its existence by midnight, and still wake up singing it the next day. Hate-love relationship much? Yeah, thought so.
Then there’s “Taková normální,” which is basically the polar opposite of its title. There’s nothing "normal" about this track—it’s sneaky good. The beat has this weird bounce to it, like it’s daring you not to tap your foot. Plus, the chorus slaps harder than most modern pop songs ever could. Honestly, if someone told me this came out last year instead of nearly four decades ago, I’d believe ‘em. It’s timeless in the best possible way, even though it probably wouldn’t win any Grammys today.
Look, this album ain’t perfect. Some parts feel dated, sure, and yeah, it’s super low-budget compared to the studio magic we’re used to now. But screw perfection—it’s got soul, man. Soul you can only find when artists weren’t overthinking things and just made music because they had no choice.
Here’s the kicker, though. Listening to this record feels like stepping into a time machine—but not one of those fancy sci-fi ones. More like some busted old DeLorean held together with duct tape and hope. And honestly? That’s what makes it unforgettable. It reminds you that sometimes, art doesn’t need to be polished or groundbreaking to matter. Sometimes, it just needs to exist.
So go ahead, give it a spin. Just don’t blame me when these tunes refuse to leave your head.
