Mistura’s 'U l-Kotra Għajtet f’Daqqa': A Live Album That Captures a Band in Full Evolution
- Noel Mifsud
- Jun 9
- 5 min read
When Mistura emerged onto Malta’s music scene in 2012, it did so with a blend of blues and rock rooted in Maltese identity and language, led by Antonio Olivari and Malcolm Bonnici. Originally an acoustic-electric duo, Mistura evolved into a full band with Matthew Agius on bass and Mark Andrew Azzopardi on drums by 2015. Their transformation was not just musical but structural — becoming a loud, unapologetic, and deeply local rock act. This sonic evolution culminated in their 2016 live album U l-Kotra Għajtet f’Daqqa (And the Crowd Screamed at Once), recorded at the second edition of the Kotra Festival at Razzett l-Aħmar, Mosta.
In a blog post around the album’s release, Olivari wrote, “These last one and a half years we’ve gone through a lot as Mistura version 2.0… now that this version is coming to an end, it’s fitting that… it has an album too. And, of course, it’s a live album.” This album doesn’t just archive a concert; it captures a moment — volatile, humorous, honest, and raw.
The album comes alive through Olivari’s candid reflections on each track, offering a glimpse behind the curtain of both process and performance.
01. Kollox l-Istess (Everything’s the Same) “This is now the song we practically always open our concerts with,” writes Olivari. The track begins with him experimenting with delay effects while the rest of the band layers in gradually — a kind of organic soundcheck that morphs into a performance. “This bit should last no more than a minute… but here it dragged out to nearly 3 minutes… I risked getting a guitar or drumstick thrown at me to shut it off.”
At 2:40, the band kicks into the actual chord progression, and though Olivari was denied his signature Big Muff due to technical issues, he relied on the Mooer Triangle Buff: “It still lets me get that sweet feedback.” The song’s repetitive structure underscores its theme — the mundanity and loops of life — with what Olivari calls a “qżież,” or noisy, chaotic jam, reaching peaks at 5:25 and 6:24.
02. Sowxal Netwerk (Social Network) A track spearheaded by Bonnici, this one lets him take the lead on solos. “It’s Malcolm’s song and rightly so, he plays the solos here,” says Olivari. While it echoes Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven in its concluding D chord progression — a resemblance the band noted during rehearsals — they don’t mimic it outright. “We didn’t actually do it here… but I expect those chords to come in at the end,” Olivari admits.
03. Kliem Sabiħ Awto-Ċensurat (Nice Self-Censored Words) “This one really came alive live,” Olivari says. With lyrics that imply more than they say, it’s about subtext, nuance, and censorship — both imposed and self-inflicted. The climactic solo at 3:22 is a therapeutic moment for him. “Probably a cliché, but true,” he admits — one of those rare moments where the stress of being in a band makes sense.
04. Fil-Kju (In the Queue) Debuted during the Evenings on Campus series, this track stuck because of its blend of witty lyrics and groove. Olivari takes a moment here to give rare praise to his bandmates: “I really appreciate the three guys I play with – both technically and for the way they bring soul to the music.” For a song about queuing — symbolic perhaps of stagnation or bureaucratic waiting — it has surprising warmth and swing.
05. Tivvutax (Don’t Vote) A tongue-in-cheek yet pointed political statement, Tivvutax always gets a reaction. “The famous song that causes some poker faces among people who aren’t sure whether they agree with it or not,” says Olivari. Dismissive of criticism that the song is “anti-democratic,” he jabs: “If a song changes your opinion about whether or not you should vote, then you probably don’t deserve to vote anyway.”
Performed here with distortion-heavy guitars and a reggae-infused bassline mid-track, the song becomes a defiant anthem. “Malcolm changes his voice to mimic us playing metal – something none of us can actually do, except maybe Mark, our gentleman drummer.”
06. L-Għanja tal-Għala Biebu (The Song of Why Biebu) This song underwent a transformation from its origins into a straight-up hard rock piece. Olivari, ever self-aware, says: “I spice it up with lots of notes and gimmicks to make it sound like I really know how to play.” It’s a nod to showmanship in a track that plays with absurdity and irony — characteristics central to Mistura’s tone.
07. Issa Tard Wisq (Now It's Too Late) “This is my oldest song – over ten years old now,” Olivari reflects. Originally a softer, acoustic track with clarinet by Francesco Sultana, here it takes on a heavier electric rock form. “Still one of my personal favorites from all the embarrassing stuff I’ve written over the years,” he confesses. The song is elegiac and personal, wearing its age and sentiment proudly.
08. Ifraħ Għax Iblah (Rejoice Because You're a Fool) Written in response to crowd expectations and performance feedback, this was the band’s attempt at a proper “final song” for gigs. “This one will probably end up on our second album,” Olivari reveals. It’s the only new song on U l-Kotra Għajtet f’Daqqa, and it embraces irony, joy, and satire.
At 3:40, they pause to incite the crowd to dance — which leads, predictably, to awkward stares. “Except for a couple of drunk people who either try (and fail) to dance, or… throw up the burger they bought… marinated in beer,” Olivari recounts. “But actually, come to think of it, that gig was on Good Friday…”
U l-Kotra Għajtet f’Daqqa is more than a live album — it’s an artifact from Mistura’s most dynamic period. It captures the band at their most unapologetic and raw, willing to lean into technical imperfections and stage banter to show who they are, not just how they sound.
With songs rooted in the Maltese language and local concerns, the band continues to evolve their sound without abandoning their identity. As Olivari noted in one of his blog posts: “You can better appreciate what’s happening as the songs are being performed, and also get a sense of how we work.” That insight — and Mistura’s ability to reflect Malta’s pulse through fuzz pedals and satire — is what makes this album stand out.
The crowd may have screamed all at once (għajtet f’daqqa), but Mistura had already spoken — loud and clear.
Following U l-Kotra Għajtet f’Daqqa, Mistura released Reghbus in 2018 and MMXX in 2020. After a four-year hiatus, the band made their return in November 2024 with a new single titled “Grazzi bil-Quddiem.”
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