The Dissolution of Yugoslav Rock
by Kim Simpson
Throughout the 1970's and the 1980's, Yugoslavia boasted some of the
most
diverse and progressive rock music in Eastern Europe. During this
period,
state-run record labels like Jugoton and PGP RBT generated healthy
amounts of
rock recordings which were distributed and promoted throughout the
republics.
With the 1991 breakup of the pan-Yugoslav market, however, large-scale
record
production and distribution have been stifled
considerably. As a result, only a small influx of independent labels
throughout the region currently keep any hope alive for an eventual
revival
of Yugoslav rock and its audience (Janjatovic "Yugoslav" 1).
The music, drawing from a variety of ethnic influences, well reflected
the
country's make-up: a federation comprised of six independent republics,
each
having a culture and historical background different from the others.
Another
contributing factor was the way in which Tito's independent brand of
Socialism helped Yugoslavia maintain a (perhaps psychological) sense of
being
the most "westernized" of the Eastern bloc countries (Doder xiii).
Before 1991, both Zagreb-based Jugoton and PGP RBT in Belgrade actually
specialized in carrying various acts from all six republics. And while
the
labels, being state-run, weren't completely free from government
control,
they were granted generous amounts of leeway in relation to other
Eastern
European countries like Hungary, where specific rock groups were
officially
banned by the government on a regular basis (Pareles 13). But after the
breakup of Yugoslavia, the record industries of each republic have been
affected in different ways with only one common denominator-- an
isolation
from their neighboring republics (Janjatovic "Yugo slav" 1).
In the case of Croatia, musical isolationism appears to be the national
motive. Shortly after Croatia declared its independence in 1991, the
Jugoton
label transformed itself into Croatia records, cutting all non-Croatian
acts
from its roster. Oddly enough, the newly "democratic" government has
taken
tighter control over its company than was ever taken by
the communist regime, approving primarily music with nationalistic,
war-conscious themes. The result, naturally, has been a steady stream of
musical output with little to offer in the way of surprise (Meares).
Recently, one of the most popular releases by Croatia records was a song
called "My Homeland," recorded by "Croatian Band Aid," a group of
well-known
Croatian musicians. The song featured hymn- like music accompanied by
lyrics
that not only assert that "the stars are shining just for you/ the sky
is
always blue, mother country" but that "Europe is with us." The song more
or
less served in opening the floodgates for releases by Croatia records
with
strictly nationalistic overtones. After "My Homeland," for example, the
label
followed suit with the equally popular "Rock for Croatia," a 26-song CD
including many of the most well-known rock musicians in Croatia
(Janjatovic
"Yugoslav" 1).
According to Sinisa Skarica, director of the Croatia Records company,
the
releases are intended to boost people's morale. Not surprisingly, the
music
is popular with the Croatian troops, as the company has also made it a
point
to release material--songs like "Croatia Must Win" and "Go Guards, Smash
the
Bandits"--geared specifically for them. Musically, many of the songs
contain
elements of military marches or old traditional folk melodies identified
with
wars of the past (McKinsey 7).
In spite of such obstacles as heavy government control and a limited
market,
however, an active rock music scene still does exist within Croatia,
encouraging the emergence of privately-owned record labels. For example,
the
second annual Porin music awards show, the Croatian equivalent to the
Grammies, was held last April (Janjatovic "Global"). Considered the
"most
authoritative measure of recognition in the Croatian record business,"
the
winners are chosen among the nominees by a "distinguished panel" of more
than
400 music business professionals (musicians, publishers, record
executives,
and journalists). While this year's event, which was shown on national
network TV, was dominated by established rock group Parni Valjak, the
potential for recognition of more multi- cultural acts on independent
labels
is still a possibility within the show's framework.
One of the most appealing trademarks of independent labels throughout
the
entire Yugoslav region is their willingness to carry acts from different
republics. Blind Dog records in Zagreb, for example, recently signed
Lola V.
Stain, a Macedonian band special izing in the Byzantine-tinged folk
music
characteristic of their homeland. Their CD, entitled "The Loft" after a
novel
by Croatian novelist Danilo Kis, is a testament to the continued
association
of many Southern Slavs with their neighboring republics (Janjatovic
"Global").
Interestingly enough, the Communist-run country called Yugoslavia,
comprised
of Serbia and Montenegro, has the most promising independent record
scene of
all the former republics. An explanation for this may be a slightly
lower
sense of war hysteria since most of the fighting has taken place in
either
Bosnia or Croatia. Whatever the reason, several new and energetic labels
have
made considerable strides in balancing the nationalistic tendency of
popular
music in Serbia (Janjatovic "Labels"). One of the more notable releases
to
come out of Serbia recently is an eight CD compilation from Komuna, the
first
privately-owned record company in Serbia. The compilation, selected by
Belgrade rock critics Bogica Mijatovic and Petar Popovic, contains the
best
of 25 years of Yugoslav Rock. The CD's serve not only as a comprehensive
retrospective of a distinct musical era, but a sampler of the various
ethnic
influences that ran throughout the music (Janjatovic "Global").
Other young and agile independent labels, like Sorabia and Carlo, have
gotten
a jump on the major state-run company, PGP RBT, by signing much of the
newest
talent emerging throughout the country--most of them winners at the
"Fast
Bands of Serbia" festival. The festival, held for the first time this
year at
Belgrade's Youth Centre, was a four-day event full of rock videos and
live
performances, providing exposure for new bands like Dza Ili Bu and Bad
Musicians' Kids. For the past two years, these acts have been taken
under the
wing of a Television Serbia program called "Afirmator," allowing them to
make
their own videos. The festival offered a chronological presentation of
film
and video clips from the mid-60's to the present, then turned the stage
over
to up and coming local bands (Janjatovic "Labels").
The emergence of private record companies in Serbia has been a godsend
to
consumers who previously relied on the state-run record companies which
have
been "all but silenced," according to Belgrade rock critic Petar
Janjatovic,
by international trade sanctions (56). Labels like PGP RTB have been
reduced
to leasing out their plants, rather than letting them sit unused, since
the
availabillty of repertoire from Western labels has been altogether
halted by
the embargoes against Serbia and, with few exceptions, the company is
producing no Yugoslav records.
As Stanko Terzic, director of the company for the past fifteen years
puts it,
"I thought music knew no frontiers, but it is simply being prevented
from
reaching us." According to Terzic, the sanctions are "banning
cooperation"
and "making it impossible for PGP RTB to pay for licenses" and keep
Serbian
music fans up-to-date with what's going on in the world. "Young
audiences are
the biggest losers," he adds, "and I hope the sanctions will be
alleviated in
the field of culture." Terzic also believes the sanctions have prevented
the
label from saving the integrated rock scene that used to thrive in
Yugoslavia
(qtd. in Janjatovic "Labels" 56).
When foreign capital can again flow into the region, Terzic hopes that
PGP
RTB can step up CD production. "I'm also optimistic about reviving the
market
through what used to be Yugoslavia. Aside from the fact that it is in
our
common interest, obviously the music, emotions, and affinities of young
people throughout the former Yugoslavian republics are the same (qtd. in
Janjatovic "Labels" 56)."
Another result of Serbia's isolation from the rest of the world that
must be
mentioned is the immense popularity of "Turbo Folk," a homegrown musical
hybrid of Turkish and Slavic folk melodies, "disco beats, and Arabic
yowling," according to Belgrade critic Petar Lukovic (qtd. in "Balkan").
Turbo Folk singers are generally leggy women dressed in short sequined
minskirts, pushup bras and heavy makeup who socialize in the public
spotlight
with political figures and military thugs (Block 16).
Originally, in a period of particularly high Serbian chauvinism and
xenophobia, the form was endorsed and even promoted by the official
media as
an all-Serb alternative to outer influences. So popular has the genre
become,
in fact, that most discotheques have been replaced by "folkotheques,"
where
Turbo Folk is played exclusively (Chazan, Christian Science Monitor, 4).
If Turbo Folk has any one message in particular, according to Lukovic,
it's
"We're okay, sanctions cannot hurt us" (qtd. in "Balkan Blast" 88). The
lyrics vacillate between "dismal love songs," nationalistic boasting, or
just
plain boasting ("Coca-Cola, Marlboro and Suzuki/ Discotheques, Guitars
and
Bouzouki/ Nobody has it as good as me," is the chorus of one of the most
well-known hits) (Block 16). And while political boasting of the more
hard-
headed sort is actually part of Serbian tradition, as in songs such as
"Ko to
Kaze Ko to Laze Serbija je Mala (Whoever says that Serbia is small is a
liar)," never before have political themes been incorporated to such an
extent into the songs of the country's pop stars (Waters 7).
Naturally, Turbo Folk, funded largely by mafia money, is the most
thriving
record industry in Serbia. And inspite of recent campaigns led by
President
Slobodan Milosevic and Cultural Minister Nada Popovic-Persic to stamp it
out
and reintroduce Western culture into the Serbian mainstream, public
appetite
for the form doesn't appear to be fading (Nelson). As record executives
like
Nesa Jovanovic, business manager of ZAM, Serbia's largest folk recording
label see it, the "music is big business because it makes people happy"
(qtd.
in "Balkan Blast" 88). Even unfavorable critics like Lukovic see the
eventual
stamping out of Turbo Folk unlikely, as "the music was promoted as a
sedative
for the Serb population" in the first place (qtd. in "Balkan Blast" 88).
Along with the launching of a "Year of Culture" campaign, Cultural
Minister
Popovic-Perisic intends to attack what she refers to as "pseudo folk
music"
by taxing not only the actual recording of Turbo Folk, but store
cassettes as
well. She also plans on introducing a bill that will aim towards
destroying
for good the music's monopoly over radio and television. Popovic-Perisic
even
hopes to persuade the "noveau riche" who have funded Turbo Folk to
donate
some of their earnings to the "Year of Culture" cause, offering tax
incentives to all contributers (Block 16).
Needless to say, the Beograd intelligentsia supports Popovic-Perisic and
her
campaign. But another faction that appears to be standing behind the
Cultural
Minister are the fans of Yugoslav rock who still remain in Serbia. These
people believe that the stamping out of Turbo Folk just might give way,
once
again, to a rock scene that was put on hold so suddenly ("Balkan
Blast").
Many rock fans still bemoan the breakup of groups like Riblja Corba,
Crvena
Jabuka, and Plavi Orkestar--groups who once sold up to 500,000 copies of
their albums and toured the entire country two months at a time
(Janjatovic
"Yugoslav").
While a considerable amount of independent recording activity is taking
place
in Croatia and Serbia/Montenegro despite countless troubles, the
recording
industries of Bosnia-Hercegovina and Macedonia don't appear to be as
resilient. Needless to say, the violent situation in Bosnia is highly
unfavorable to most indus tries of any sort. And it's a shame--the
concentrated ethnic mix in Bosnia lent a rich, exotic air to much of
Bosnian
rock. Bands like Bijelo Dugme and Plavi Orkestar, two of the most
well-known
Yugoslav bands ever, have since broken up or moved out of the country.
Bijelo
Dugme bandleader Goran Bregovic, for example, one of the most creative
of
Bosnian rock musicians, moved to Paris and has been writing music for
film
director Emir Kusturica as well as others (Janjatovic "Yugoslav").
In the case of Macedonia, a sickly recording industry has been balanced
out
by a legacy, similar to Bosnia's, of colorful rock laced with
traditional
folk melodies and instruments. Established Macedonian bands like Leb i
Sol
remain popular throughout the Yugoslav region, having recently defied
ethnic
assumptions by playing three sold out shows at Belgrade's Sava Centre in
celebra tion of their "Live in New York" CD. Another group, Anastasia,
has
also found wide recognition by writing and performing the music for the
Macedonian film "Before the Rain," the soundtrack of which has been
released
by Poly Gram records (Janjatovic "Global").
Slovenia, the most western of all the former republics both
geographically
and culturally, has always been, as noted by journalist Robert Kaplan, a
bit
of a sideshow to the larger Yugoslav picture (13). In musical terms, a
good
illustration of this is Laibach, not only the prototypical Slovenian
band,
but also the most well-known Yugoslav band ever. Laibach has developed
its
worldwide industrial rock audience largely through its adherance to "New
Slovenian Art," a self-titled movement that smacks heavily of Western
artistic traditions along the lines of "art for art's sake" (Thompson
42-43).
The band is famous for dressing up in Nazi uniforms and re-working
classic
rock and pop songs, for example, into dark, "poker-faced," militaristic
marches (Suselj). While Slovenian musicians do have much to gain through
an
integrated Yugoslav audience, the example of Laibach shows that Western
acceptance may be found for them without the support of any of their
Slavic
neighbors.
Although independent labels continue to emerge throughout the former
Yugoslavia, the extent to which the Yugoslav record market may revive
itself
in a short period of time remains a tough question. According to
Slovenian
concert promoter Igor Vidmar, the country's emerging hard-currency music
market is only temporarily suspended. Vidmar, during a discussion on the
opportunities in Eastern Europe, said that Yugoslavia has a population
of 24
million with a strong interest in contemporary music--and convertible
dinars
to buy it with. Pointing to the fact that two regions have already
seceded
from Yugoslavia, Vidmar said he believed that when the situation
stabilized,
the nation would still be one market (Clark-Meads 76).
He further stated that there was already an "emerging network of
privately
owned record stores selling local indie product and imports." In
addition,
domestic record companies were well organized and "there are no record
pirates in Yugoslava," he declared. Vidmar outlined the geopgraphic
effects
of the civil war by saying it was highly localized and taking place
entirely
in Croatia. Vidmar appealed for the music industry and the world in
general
to take an approach to Yugoslavia that was as normal as possible as a
way of
calming militaristic attitudes. "Music can have a very positive role in
this
respect" (qtd. in Clark-Meads 76).
Indeed, it appears as though the only forces actively at work at
reuniting
the republics within Yugoslavia are rock musicians: Recently, concerts
in
Berlin and Prague featured Serbian bands Catherine the Great, Electric
Orgasm
and the Party-Breakers teamed up with other Croatian and Slovenian
bands. The
audience consisted primarily of refugees from all six republics. Serbian
band
Bad Musicians' Kids makes it a point to sing songs in Slovenian and
Croatian
as well as in Serbian. Another Serbian band, Dza Ili Bu, has a popular
song
called "Soon You'll Be Sweeping the Streets," in reference to Communist
government. Veteran Serbian band Galija recently released a single
covering a
song by Croatian band Film as well as a song by Indexi, a Sarajevo band,
and
the tenth release of the Serbian band Electric Orgasm is dedicated to
"all
our friends in Zagreb, Ljubljana, and Sarajevo, with whom we seem to
have
lost touch" (Janjatovic "Labels"). While such gestures may seem minute,
their
very existence in such hostile times are significant enough.
Also interesting is the development of gathering spots at dance clubs
throughout Europe for Yugoslavs of all "nationalities." The Nest in
London,
for example, holds gatherings for "Bosnians, Serbs, and Croats--gypsies,
students and refugees" every Saturday night. Politics are never
discussed,
and popular Yugoslav records, many of them reissues released by
independent
labels, from the 70's and 80's are played. It gives Yugoslavs an
opportunity
to talk about old times, sing folk songs they all know, and dance
traditional
dances from each others' republics (Ditmars 22). Such activity, not
surprisingly, is branded by Croatian and Serbian nationalists as
"Yugonostalgic," indicating a sense of betrayal to one's true homeland
(Moseley 21).
If there is to be a positive side at all to the conflict in Yugoslavia,
it
just might be this active emergence of private record labels, many of
them
run by "Yugonostalgists" who hold fast to the musical values that
initially
drove them into business, and provide those who remember a retrospective
look
at some of the richness and variety they used to have. As more and more
stress is put by each independent record company on carrying an
ethnically
diverse roster, more of this music may be availabe and play some minor
role,
perhaps, in reopening the perceptions of Yugoslav rock's original
audiences,
wherever they may be.
Works Cited
"Balkan Blast." The Economist. 9 Jul. 1994: 88.
Block, Robert. "Ethnic Cleansing's Balladeers Get Their Marching
Orders." The
Independent. 25 Sep. 1994: 16.
Chazan, Yigal. "Ex-Warmonger Milosevic Turns Culture-Vulture." The
Ottawa
Citizen. 8 Apr. 1995: 1.
Chazan, Yigal. "Popular Folk Music Strikes a Bad Chord Among Serb
Leaders."
Christian Science Monitor. 11 Jul. 1994: 4A.
Clark-Meads, Jeff. "Slavic Music Biz Ready For Battle Again; Civil War
Interrupts, Doesn't Deter, Promoter Says." Billboard. Nov 2/1991: 76.
Ditmars, Hadani. "The Good Old Days; Despite the Situation in Former
Yugoslavia, Serbs and Croats Still Meet in a London Club to Recall
Better
Days. Hadani Ditmars Joined Them." The Independent. Jul 13 1994: 22.
Doder, Dusko. The Yugoslavs. Random House: New York, 1978.
Janjatovic, Petar. "Yugoslav War Halts Growth of Local Music Biz."
Billboard.
11 July 1992: 1.
_________________. "Labels Unite Divided Market; New Bands, Scenes
Emerge in
Balkans." Billboard. Mar 13 1993: 56.
_________________. "Global Pulse: Croatia." Billboard. Apr 22, 1995.
Kaplan, Robert. "A Reader's Guide to the Balkans." The New York Times.
Apr 18
1993: 13.
McKinsey, Kitty. "Serbia May Be Winning War but Croatia Has Best Songs."
The
Gazette (Montreal). Dec 10 1991: 7B.
Meares, Richard. "Patriotic War Songs Replace Love on Rebel Croatia's
Airwaves." The Reuter Library Report. Nov 4 1991.
Moseley, Ray. "Media War Erupts i Yugoslavia." Chicago Tribune.Oct. 11
1991:
21C.
Nelson, Mark. "New Music of War Offers Serbs Escape With A Disco Beat."
Wall
Street Journal. 27 June 1995: 1A.
Pareles, Jon. "Rock Music of Eastern Europe: So Western, So Familiar, So
Old." The New York Times. Feb 28 1990: 13C.
Susmelj, Marta. "Laibach: The Ambassadors of 'Yugo Rock.'" Newsday. Feb
3,
1989.
Thompson, Mark. A Paper House: The Ending of Yugoslavia. New York:
Pantheon,
1992.
Waters, Tim . "Around the South Bay: A Big Name From Yugoslavia Wows 'Em
At
Revived Theater." Los Angeles Times. 25 Apr. 1985: 2.
STOP NATO: ¡NO PASARAN! - HTTP://WWW.STOPNATO.COM
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 2000 14:37:46 EDT
--------- COORDINAMENTO ROMANO PER LA JUGOSLAVIA -----------
RIMSKI SAVEZ ZA JUGOSLAVIJU
e-mail: crj@... - URL: http://marx2001.org/crj
http://www.egroups.com/group/crj-mailinglist/
------------------------------------------------------------
by Kim Simpson
Throughout the 1970's and the 1980's, Yugoslavia boasted some of the
most
diverse and progressive rock music in Eastern Europe. During this
period,
state-run record labels like Jugoton and PGP RBT generated healthy
amounts of
rock recordings which were distributed and promoted throughout the
republics.
With the 1991 breakup of the pan-Yugoslav market, however, large-scale
record
production and distribution have been stifled
considerably. As a result, only a small influx of independent labels
throughout the region currently keep any hope alive for an eventual
revival
of Yugoslav rock and its audience (Janjatovic "Yugoslav" 1).
The music, drawing from a variety of ethnic influences, well reflected
the
country's make-up: a federation comprised of six independent republics,
each
having a culture and historical background different from the others.
Another
contributing factor was the way in which Tito's independent brand of
Socialism helped Yugoslavia maintain a (perhaps psychological) sense of
being
the most "westernized" of the Eastern bloc countries (Doder xiii).
Before 1991, both Zagreb-based Jugoton and PGP RBT in Belgrade actually
specialized in carrying various acts from all six republics. And while
the
labels, being state-run, weren't completely free from government
control,
they were granted generous amounts of leeway in relation to other
Eastern
European countries like Hungary, where specific rock groups were
officially
banned by the government on a regular basis (Pareles 13). But after the
breakup of Yugoslavia, the record industries of each republic have been
affected in different ways with only one common denominator-- an
isolation
from their neighboring republics (Janjatovic "Yugo slav" 1).
In the case of Croatia, musical isolationism appears to be the national
motive. Shortly after Croatia declared its independence in 1991, the
Jugoton
label transformed itself into Croatia records, cutting all non-Croatian
acts
from its roster. Oddly enough, the newly "democratic" government has
taken
tighter control over its company than was ever taken by
the communist regime, approving primarily music with nationalistic,
war-conscious themes. The result, naturally, has been a steady stream of
musical output with little to offer in the way of surprise (Meares).
Recently, one of the most popular releases by Croatia records was a song
called "My Homeland," recorded by "Croatian Band Aid," a group of
well-known
Croatian musicians. The song featured hymn- like music accompanied by
lyrics
that not only assert that "the stars are shining just for you/ the sky
is
always blue, mother country" but that "Europe is with us." The song more
or
less served in opening the floodgates for releases by Croatia records
with
strictly nationalistic overtones. After "My Homeland," for example, the
label
followed suit with the equally popular "Rock for Croatia," a 26-song CD
including many of the most well-known rock musicians in Croatia
(Janjatovic
"Yugoslav" 1).
According to Sinisa Skarica, director of the Croatia Records company,
the
releases are intended to boost people's morale. Not surprisingly, the
music
is popular with the Croatian troops, as the company has also made it a
point
to release material--songs like "Croatia Must Win" and "Go Guards, Smash
the
Bandits"--geared specifically for them. Musically, many of the songs
contain
elements of military marches or old traditional folk melodies identified
with
wars of the past (McKinsey 7).
In spite of such obstacles as heavy government control and a limited
market,
however, an active rock music scene still does exist within Croatia,
encouraging the emergence of privately-owned record labels. For example,
the
second annual Porin music awards show, the Croatian equivalent to the
Grammies, was held last April (Janjatovic "Global"). Considered the
"most
authoritative measure of recognition in the Croatian record business,"
the
winners are chosen among the nominees by a "distinguished panel" of more
than
400 music business professionals (musicians, publishers, record
executives,
and journalists). While this year's event, which was shown on national
network TV, was dominated by established rock group Parni Valjak, the
potential for recognition of more multi- cultural acts on independent
labels
is still a possibility within the show's framework.
One of the most appealing trademarks of independent labels throughout
the
entire Yugoslav region is their willingness to carry acts from different
republics. Blind Dog records in Zagreb, for example, recently signed
Lola V.
Stain, a Macedonian band special izing in the Byzantine-tinged folk
music
characteristic of their homeland. Their CD, entitled "The Loft" after a
novel
by Croatian novelist Danilo Kis, is a testament to the continued
association
of many Southern Slavs with their neighboring republics (Janjatovic
"Global").
Interestingly enough, the Communist-run country called Yugoslavia,
comprised
of Serbia and Montenegro, has the most promising independent record
scene of
all the former republics. An explanation for this may be a slightly
lower
sense of war hysteria since most of the fighting has taken place in
either
Bosnia or Croatia. Whatever the reason, several new and energetic labels
have
made considerable strides in balancing the nationalistic tendency of
popular
music in Serbia (Janjatovic "Labels"). One of the more notable releases
to
come out of Serbia recently is an eight CD compilation from Komuna, the
first
privately-owned record company in Serbia. The compilation, selected by
Belgrade rock critics Bogica Mijatovic and Petar Popovic, contains the
best
of 25 years of Yugoslav Rock. The CD's serve not only as a comprehensive
retrospective of a distinct musical era, but a sampler of the various
ethnic
influences that ran throughout the music (Janjatovic "Global").
Other young and agile independent labels, like Sorabia and Carlo, have
gotten
a jump on the major state-run company, PGP RBT, by signing much of the
newest
talent emerging throughout the country--most of them winners at the
"Fast
Bands of Serbia" festival. The festival, held for the first time this
year at
Belgrade's Youth Centre, was a four-day event full of rock videos and
live
performances, providing exposure for new bands like Dza Ili Bu and Bad
Musicians' Kids. For the past two years, these acts have been taken
under the
wing of a Television Serbia program called "Afirmator," allowing them to
make
their own videos. The festival offered a chronological presentation of
film
and video clips from the mid-60's to the present, then turned the stage
over
to up and coming local bands (Janjatovic "Labels").
The emergence of private record companies in Serbia has been a godsend
to
consumers who previously relied on the state-run record companies which
have
been "all but silenced," according to Belgrade rock critic Petar
Janjatovic,
by international trade sanctions (56). Labels like PGP RTB have been
reduced
to leasing out their plants, rather than letting them sit unused, since
the
availabillty of repertoire from Western labels has been altogether
halted by
the embargoes against Serbia and, with few exceptions, the company is
producing no Yugoslav records.
As Stanko Terzic, director of the company for the past fifteen years
puts it,
"I thought music knew no frontiers, but it is simply being prevented
from
reaching us." According to Terzic, the sanctions are "banning
cooperation"
and "making it impossible for PGP RTB to pay for licenses" and keep
Serbian
music fans up-to-date with what's going on in the world. "Young
audiences are
the biggest losers," he adds, "and I hope the sanctions will be
alleviated in
the field of culture." Terzic also believes the sanctions have prevented
the
label from saving the integrated rock scene that used to thrive in
Yugoslavia
(qtd. in Janjatovic "Labels" 56).
When foreign capital can again flow into the region, Terzic hopes that
PGP
RTB can step up CD production. "I'm also optimistic about reviving the
market
through what used to be Yugoslavia. Aside from the fact that it is in
our
common interest, obviously the music, emotions, and affinities of young
people throughout the former Yugoslavian republics are the same (qtd. in
Janjatovic "Labels" 56)."
Another result of Serbia's isolation from the rest of the world that
must be
mentioned is the immense popularity of "Turbo Folk," a homegrown musical
hybrid of Turkish and Slavic folk melodies, "disco beats, and Arabic
yowling," according to Belgrade critic Petar Lukovic (qtd. in "Balkan").
Turbo Folk singers are generally leggy women dressed in short sequined
minskirts, pushup bras and heavy makeup who socialize in the public
spotlight
with political figures and military thugs (Block 16).
Originally, in a period of particularly high Serbian chauvinism and
xenophobia, the form was endorsed and even promoted by the official
media as
an all-Serb alternative to outer influences. So popular has the genre
become,
in fact, that most discotheques have been replaced by "folkotheques,"
where
Turbo Folk is played exclusively (Chazan, Christian Science Monitor, 4).
If Turbo Folk has any one message in particular, according to Lukovic,
it's
"We're okay, sanctions cannot hurt us" (qtd. in "Balkan Blast" 88). The
lyrics vacillate between "dismal love songs," nationalistic boasting, or
just
plain boasting ("Coca-Cola, Marlboro and Suzuki/ Discotheques, Guitars
and
Bouzouki/ Nobody has it as good as me," is the chorus of one of the most
well-known hits) (Block 16). And while political boasting of the more
hard-
headed sort is actually part of Serbian tradition, as in songs such as
"Ko to
Kaze Ko to Laze Serbija je Mala (Whoever says that Serbia is small is a
liar)," never before have political themes been incorporated to such an
extent into the songs of the country's pop stars (Waters 7).
Naturally, Turbo Folk, funded largely by mafia money, is the most
thriving
record industry in Serbia. And inspite of recent campaigns led by
President
Slobodan Milosevic and Cultural Minister Nada Popovic-Persic to stamp it
out
and reintroduce Western culture into the Serbian mainstream, public
appetite
for the form doesn't appear to be fading (Nelson). As record executives
like
Nesa Jovanovic, business manager of ZAM, Serbia's largest folk recording
label see it, the "music is big business because it makes people happy"
(qtd.
in "Balkan Blast" 88). Even unfavorable critics like Lukovic see the
eventual
stamping out of Turbo Folk unlikely, as "the music was promoted as a
sedative
for the Serb population" in the first place (qtd. in "Balkan Blast" 88).
Along with the launching of a "Year of Culture" campaign, Cultural
Minister
Popovic-Perisic intends to attack what she refers to as "pseudo folk
music"
by taxing not only the actual recording of Turbo Folk, but store
cassettes as
well. She also plans on introducing a bill that will aim towards
destroying
for good the music's monopoly over radio and television. Popovic-Perisic
even
hopes to persuade the "noveau riche" who have funded Turbo Folk to
donate
some of their earnings to the "Year of Culture" cause, offering tax
incentives to all contributers (Block 16).
Needless to say, the Beograd intelligentsia supports Popovic-Perisic and
her
campaign. But another faction that appears to be standing behind the
Cultural
Minister are the fans of Yugoslav rock who still remain in Serbia. These
people believe that the stamping out of Turbo Folk just might give way,
once
again, to a rock scene that was put on hold so suddenly ("Balkan
Blast").
Many rock fans still bemoan the breakup of groups like Riblja Corba,
Crvena
Jabuka, and Plavi Orkestar--groups who once sold up to 500,000 copies of
their albums and toured the entire country two months at a time
(Janjatovic
"Yugoslav").
While a considerable amount of independent recording activity is taking
place
in Croatia and Serbia/Montenegro despite countless troubles, the
recording
industries of Bosnia-Hercegovina and Macedonia don't appear to be as
resilient. Needless to say, the violent situation in Bosnia is highly
unfavorable to most indus tries of any sort. And it's a shame--the
concentrated ethnic mix in Bosnia lent a rich, exotic air to much of
Bosnian
rock. Bands like Bijelo Dugme and Plavi Orkestar, two of the most
well-known
Yugoslav bands ever, have since broken up or moved out of the country.
Bijelo
Dugme bandleader Goran Bregovic, for example, one of the most creative
of
Bosnian rock musicians, moved to Paris and has been writing music for
film
director Emir Kusturica as well as others (Janjatovic "Yugoslav").
In the case of Macedonia, a sickly recording industry has been balanced
out
by a legacy, similar to Bosnia's, of colorful rock laced with
traditional
folk melodies and instruments. Established Macedonian bands like Leb i
Sol
remain popular throughout the Yugoslav region, having recently defied
ethnic
assumptions by playing three sold out shows at Belgrade's Sava Centre in
celebra tion of their "Live in New York" CD. Another group, Anastasia,
has
also found wide recognition by writing and performing the music for the
Macedonian film "Before the Rain," the soundtrack of which has been
released
by Poly Gram records (Janjatovic "Global").
Slovenia, the most western of all the former republics both
geographically
and culturally, has always been, as noted by journalist Robert Kaplan, a
bit
of a sideshow to the larger Yugoslav picture (13). In musical terms, a
good
illustration of this is Laibach, not only the prototypical Slovenian
band,
but also the most well-known Yugoslav band ever. Laibach has developed
its
worldwide industrial rock audience largely through its adherance to "New
Slovenian Art," a self-titled movement that smacks heavily of Western
artistic traditions along the lines of "art for art's sake" (Thompson
42-43).
The band is famous for dressing up in Nazi uniforms and re-working
classic
rock and pop songs, for example, into dark, "poker-faced," militaristic
marches (Suselj). While Slovenian musicians do have much to gain through
an
integrated Yugoslav audience, the example of Laibach shows that Western
acceptance may be found for them without the support of any of their
Slavic
neighbors.
Although independent labels continue to emerge throughout the former
Yugoslavia, the extent to which the Yugoslav record market may revive
itself
in a short period of time remains a tough question. According to
Slovenian
concert promoter Igor Vidmar, the country's emerging hard-currency music
market is only temporarily suspended. Vidmar, during a discussion on the
opportunities in Eastern Europe, said that Yugoslavia has a population
of 24
million with a strong interest in contemporary music--and convertible
dinars
to buy it with. Pointing to the fact that two regions have already
seceded
from Yugoslavia, Vidmar said he believed that when the situation
stabilized,
the nation would still be one market (Clark-Meads 76).
He further stated that there was already an "emerging network of
privately
owned record stores selling local indie product and imports." In
addition,
domestic record companies were well organized and "there are no record
pirates in Yugoslava," he declared. Vidmar outlined the geopgraphic
effects
of the civil war by saying it was highly localized and taking place
entirely
in Croatia. Vidmar appealed for the music industry and the world in
general
to take an approach to Yugoslavia that was as normal as possible as a
way of
calming militaristic attitudes. "Music can have a very positive role in
this
respect" (qtd. in Clark-Meads 76).
Indeed, it appears as though the only forces actively at work at
reuniting
the republics within Yugoslavia are rock musicians: Recently, concerts
in
Berlin and Prague featured Serbian bands Catherine the Great, Electric
Orgasm
and the Party-Breakers teamed up with other Croatian and Slovenian
bands. The
audience consisted primarily of refugees from all six republics. Serbian
band
Bad Musicians' Kids makes it a point to sing songs in Slovenian and
Croatian
as well as in Serbian. Another Serbian band, Dza Ili Bu, has a popular
song
called "Soon You'll Be Sweeping the Streets," in reference to Communist
government. Veteran Serbian band Galija recently released a single
covering a
song by Croatian band Film as well as a song by Indexi, a Sarajevo band,
and
the tenth release of the Serbian band Electric Orgasm is dedicated to
"all
our friends in Zagreb, Ljubljana, and Sarajevo, with whom we seem to
have
lost touch" (Janjatovic "Labels"). While such gestures may seem minute,
their
very existence in such hostile times are significant enough.
Also interesting is the development of gathering spots at dance clubs
throughout Europe for Yugoslavs of all "nationalities." The Nest in
London,
for example, holds gatherings for "Bosnians, Serbs, and Croats--gypsies,
students and refugees" every Saturday night. Politics are never
discussed,
and popular Yugoslav records, many of them reissues released by
independent
labels, from the 70's and 80's are played. It gives Yugoslavs an
opportunity
to talk about old times, sing folk songs they all know, and dance
traditional
dances from each others' republics (Ditmars 22). Such activity, not
surprisingly, is branded by Croatian and Serbian nationalists as
"Yugonostalgic," indicating a sense of betrayal to one's true homeland
(Moseley 21).
If there is to be a positive side at all to the conflict in Yugoslavia,
it
just might be this active emergence of private record labels, many of
them
run by "Yugonostalgists" who hold fast to the musical values that
initially
drove them into business, and provide those who remember a retrospective
look
at some of the richness and variety they used to have. As more and more
stress is put by each independent record company on carrying an
ethnically
diverse roster, more of this music may be availabe and play some minor
role,
perhaps, in reopening the perceptions of Yugoslav rock's original
audiences,
wherever they may be.
Works Cited
"Balkan Blast." The Economist. 9 Jul. 1994: 88.
Block, Robert. "Ethnic Cleansing's Balladeers Get Their Marching
Orders." The
Independent. 25 Sep. 1994: 16.
Chazan, Yigal. "Ex-Warmonger Milosevic Turns Culture-Vulture." The
Ottawa
Citizen. 8 Apr. 1995: 1.
Chazan, Yigal. "Popular Folk Music Strikes a Bad Chord Among Serb
Leaders."
Christian Science Monitor. 11 Jul. 1994: 4A.
Clark-Meads, Jeff. "Slavic Music Biz Ready For Battle Again; Civil War
Interrupts, Doesn't Deter, Promoter Says." Billboard. Nov 2/1991: 76.
Ditmars, Hadani. "The Good Old Days; Despite the Situation in Former
Yugoslavia, Serbs and Croats Still Meet in a London Club to Recall
Better
Days. Hadani Ditmars Joined Them." The Independent. Jul 13 1994: 22.
Doder, Dusko. The Yugoslavs. Random House: New York, 1978.
Janjatovic, Petar. "Yugoslav War Halts Growth of Local Music Biz."
Billboard.
11 July 1992: 1.
_________________. "Labels Unite Divided Market; New Bands, Scenes
Emerge in
Balkans." Billboard. Mar 13 1993: 56.
_________________. "Global Pulse: Croatia." Billboard. Apr 22, 1995.
Kaplan, Robert. "A Reader's Guide to the Balkans." The New York Times.
Apr 18
1993: 13.
McKinsey, Kitty. "Serbia May Be Winning War but Croatia Has Best Songs."
The
Gazette (Montreal). Dec 10 1991: 7B.
Meares, Richard. "Patriotic War Songs Replace Love on Rebel Croatia's
Airwaves." The Reuter Library Report. Nov 4 1991.
Moseley, Ray. "Media War Erupts i Yugoslavia." Chicago Tribune.Oct. 11
1991:
21C.
Nelson, Mark. "New Music of War Offers Serbs Escape With A Disco Beat."
Wall
Street Journal. 27 June 1995: 1A.
Pareles, Jon. "Rock Music of Eastern Europe: So Western, So Familiar, So
Old." The New York Times. Feb 28 1990: 13C.
Susmelj, Marta. "Laibach: The Ambassadors of 'Yugo Rock.'" Newsday. Feb
3,
1989.
Thompson, Mark. A Paper House: The Ending of Yugoslavia. New York:
Pantheon,
1992.
Waters, Tim . "Around the South Bay: A Big Name From Yugoslavia Wows 'Em
At
Revived Theater." Los Angeles Times. 25 Apr. 1985: 2.
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