Against the rule, against the line, with the head through the wall, the mischief in the neck and a target in front of his eyes: Destilacija lives out the artistic freedom of the fool to the last corner. Rocker General Mario Batkovic has forged an unholy alliance, Yugos and virgins, rap and carrot pants, beer and stupid water. Everyone has his own grind and there are 14 of them. A horde of madmen with balls to try something out. Style boundaries melt away like ice cubes in a whiskey glass, the sound -cocktail freezes the marrow in the spine and chases the pulse high into the rock'n'roll sky, where the angels purr Bosnian-Emmental lullabies. Crazy. And precisely because the project seems doomed to failure, Destilacija is carried by the rage of the rodeo bull, whose blood is already being driven from the flank by the spears - who continues to fight with the courage of despair. To the last drop.