VI. FIELD REPORT: Serbian Sounds: New Music for a New Era [01.06.2001] Belgrade's eclectic Ring Ring Festival ended this week, a fine occasion to indulge in the musical climate of Serbia. The glorious Mediterranean spring has replaced the dank Mediterranean winter, and the reconstruction of Belgrade's downtown following NATO bombings has returned the city to a nearly-functional state. Now with Milosovic's recent imprisonment following his ousting, Serbia is filled with the kind of inspiration and hope that has not been felt since the waning days of Tito's rule. Though the Serbian market is dominated by domestic top-40, funk, and "ethno" (a rather foul formerly officially sanctioned hybrid of techno and Balkan folk) a handful of innovative artists are reaching wide audiences. Pop phenomenon Rambo Amadeus's brutal and clever lyrics combine with pop-punk music to deliver songs which miraculously find critical respect as well as popular appeal. Local heroes Darkwood Dub, Jarboli, and Sila have all grown from underground roots to wide acclaim and wide audience throughout Serbia. Folk music and increasingly innovative uses of the Balkan ethnic musical tradition thrive in post-Communist Yugoslavia. From the traditional group Ognjan i Prijatelji, to the scorching improvisation of violin enfant-terrible Lajko Felix, to the juggernaut of the Boban Markovic Orkestar (made famous by the soundtracks they provided for the Kusturica's films Arizona Dream and Underground), the growing climate of diversity has made for fantastic growth in folk music culture. Meanwhile, a great experimental scene is percolating. The internationally renowned composer, Boris Kovac has been grafting minimalism, folk music and jazz into what he terms "contemporary naivete" for years. His recent recording, The Last Balkan Tango with the Ladaaba Orchestr (short for LaDanzaApocalypsaBalcanica), treats Balkan music to a hefty dose of Kurt Weil. Farther to the fringe, Zrenjanin duo Blank Disc use tape manipulation, samplers and electronics to generate ragged abrasive sound-scapes that make Pansonic seem like Soft Cell. Rascep, which shares some members with Blank Disc, is less iconoclastic, but no less challenging: their electronics, drums, bass, guitars, and turntables combine into a dark, brutal experimental rock. Horkeskart, a small choir and orchestra ensemble generate some of the strangest apparently naive experimentalism we've heard: "Holly cows (sic), children from the moon, cheaters and the blue rabbit: all together against the audition. Let's do the streets!!!" The shining light throughout the last dark decade of Yugoslav history has been tenacious independent radio. Most famously B92, but also lesser known stations like O21 in Novi Sad, has persevered in providing new music as well as a forum for voices of political opposition. B92 returned to the airwaves last fall, hours after Milosovic's overthrow, after going underground through the end of the 90s. Now these stations continue to provide good cultural and political information in a society hungry for the news that it had missed out on for most of the 90s. The stations also provide a crucial forum for a discussion for a culture struggling to make sense of its recent history. For more information about B92, and the radio station's role in Yugoslav history, see Matthew Collin's new book, This is Serbia Calling (Serpent's Tail PBK Ł8.99). To hear some of the music mentioned above, including CDs by Darkwood Dub, Jarboli, Sila Lajko Felix, Boban Markovic Orkestar, Boris Kovac, Blank Disc, Rascep, and the recent B92 compilation, "Srbija: Sounds Global", do a search for music from Yugoslavia at www.tamizdat/org/rpm.
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