Katma – Self-Titled
Belgrade’s Katma left behind one fierce self-titled album, a fast and uncompromising statement of feminist, antifascist hardcore punk.
It is always rewarding to cover underground DIY bands from overlooked regions, particularly the Balkans. Scenes that are rarely documented are just as vital as those that are already well established elsewhere. I initially considered covering the new STATICØ album, but a random thought crossed my mind. A name I had almost forgotten over the years. That name was Katma.
Katma were a short-lived band formed in Belgrade, Serbia. They originally started as a six-piece, recording demo EPs around 2010 and 2011, and began performing across the former Yugoslavia, as well as Romania and Greece. They later toured Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic, and Ukraine alongside fellow Serbian hardcore punk band The Truth, before going on an indefinite hiatus shortly after. Because they never properly recorded their own material during that period, Katma later regrouped as a quartet to record their only self-titled studio album. It was recorded at the now-defunct P3 Studio in the BIGZ factory and self-released, before the band ultimately disbanded once again.
Katma played fast and relentless hardcore punk, drawing influence from crust punk, anarcho-punk, and crossover thrash, while maintaining a firm commitment to antifascist politics. Within the tight and frantic hardcore structures, vocalist Ana shifts between rage-fueled screams, high-pitched yells, and unstable clean singing, often supported by gang vocals. Across eleven tracks, Katma’s lyricism functions as an axe aimed at societal falsehoods, viewed largely through a feminist lens. The album reads like a diary of resistance. Resistance against the system, against imposed expectations, and against internalized oppression.
The themes span societal predators (“Krvopije”), neoliberalism (“Moderan čovek”), everyday numbness (“Volja za”), class struggle (“Životinja”), introspective self-criticism (“Međa”), urban alienation (“Utvare”), and gender deconstruction (“On / Ona / Ono”), a track that fans of G.L.O.S.S. would likely appreciate. Elsewhere, the band confront nationalist militarism (“Mojoj naciji”), express indifference toward all forms of government (“Nije nam važno”), explore exhaustion as a political condition (“Pobuna postaje teška”), and reject nihilistic resignation altogether (“Nasmejani bogovi”).
In the span of five years, Katma released a single album that still lands as a lyrical slap in the face. Not to mourn or romanticize the past, but to awaken, confront, and revolt.
