Remembering Yugoslavia

Rock'n'Retro

December 14, 2020 Peter Korchnak Episode 20
Remembering Yugoslavia
Rock'n'Retro
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Show Notes Transcript

...or New Yugoslavism in Contemporary Popular Music in Former Yugoslavia

Parallel to Yugonostalgic enjoyment of Yugoslav-era music across the region, another related musical phenomenon emerged in the 1990s: original music glorifying Yugoslavia.

In this episode of Remembering Yugoslavia: the music of New Yugoslavism.

Thanks to the generosity of their creators, performers, and record labels, the episode features 12 songs:

  • Zaklonišče Prepeva - "Jugoslavija Blues" (1998)
  • Zabranjeno Pušenje - "Jugo 45" (1999)
  • Tijana Dapčević - "Sve je isto samo njega nema" (2005)
  • Magnifico - "Land of Champions" (2007)
  • HZA - "Dragi Tito" (2007)
  • Mirko - "Druže stari" (2011)
  • Gužva u Bajt (GUB) - "Jugoslavija" (2009)
  • Roy de Roy - "Titovka" (2011)
  • Priki - "Yustalgija" (2012)
  • Dubioza Kolektiv - "Walter" (2013)
  • Željko Vasić & Ana Bebić - "Jugoslavija" (2015)
  • Amadeus - "Jugoslavija" (2015)


The Remembering Yugoslavia podcast explores the memory of a country that no longer exists. Created, produced, and hosted by Peter Korchnak. New episodes two to three times per month.

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[JINGLE - ALTERNATE VERSION]

PETER KORCHNAK: This is Remembering Yugoslavia, the show exploring the memory of a country that no longer exists. I’m your host Peter Korchnak.

Wherever you travel around former Yugoslavia, except perhaps Kosovo, you’ll hear Yugoslav-era music on the radio or on various compilations or at festivals, parties, and concerts, including reunion tours. There are in fact radio stations that play exclusively or at least predominantly Yugoslav-era popular music. It’s all one sonic memoryscape.

Of course, 30-plus-year-old songs on the radio or band reunions aren't all that unusual around the world. But in the countries of former Yugoslavia, listening to music dating back to the socialist period can carry political connotations.

In some republics more than others, socialist Yugoslavia was either scrubbed from official history as if it never existed or as if it had no impact on the present, or it was vilified, as the prison of nations, as the communist dictatorship, what have you. Remember what the historian Hrvoje Klasić said, back in Episode 10, “Croatia’s History Illness,”

[01:14]

HRVOJE KLASIĆ: Everything what happened between 1945 and 1990 is percepted [sic] as a bad time, as a prison, especially for Croatians. So because of that, everything connected with Yugoslavia and communism became bad. So today, it’s very hard to talk about good aspects of that 45-year period.

[01:41]

PETER KORCHNAK: Listening to Yugoslav-era music has been viewed as an expression of Yugonostalgia or as a subversive political statement, expressing opposition to the nationalist and capitalist politics of the present. Recall what the Slovene scholar Martin Pogačar said in Episode 6, “Yugoslavia as Cultural Subversion.”

[01:56]

MARTIN POGAČAR: Everybody who would say anything positive about Yugoslavia was labeled Yugonostalgic.

[02:02]

PETER KORCHNAK: —very much a negative label, almost an insult.

Parallel to these developments another related musical phenomenon emerged in the 1990s: original music glorifying Yugoslavia.

In this the 20th episode of Remembering Yugoslavia: the music of New Yugoslavism.

Sexy Young Pioneer women, Tito, and Valter also make repeated appearances.

[BACKGROUND MUSIC]

[02:27]

PETER KORCHNAK: Thanks to the generosity of their creators and performers, I have 12 songs of New Yugoslavism on the playlist for you today, the chief reason for this episode’s extraordinary length.

To make sense of this phenomenon, I’ve recruited the help of various sources. The main analysis comes from the 2013 book Rock’n’Retro: New Yugoslavism in Contemporary Popular Music in Slovenia by Mitja Velikonja. This episode’s title is courtesy of this superstar of Balkanologist and Yugoslavist studies and an all around good guy. He told me he wanted the book to be called “Sex, Drugs, and Red Stars” but his editors weren’t too impressed. I’ll call out other sources accordingly. There actually isn’t all that much written on the subject.

According to Mitja, New Yugoslavism is the “ideological discourse of imaginary Yugoslavia that materialized only after its physical counterpart had been destroyed.” It is a “construction of images relating to the Yugoslav political system, social order, cultural production, everyday life, and Partisan fighters’ resistance.” It is found in Yugonostalgia, cyber communities, websites, retro-marketing, first-hand memories, second-hand images by post-Yugoslav generations, and “music that speaks about ‘those times.’”

New Yugoslavism stands against not one but two Others: the Balkans and capitalism. So Yugoslav socialism versus ethno-nationalism of the successor states and neoliberalism of their economies. Yugoslavia’s modern, urban, multicultural, egalitarian self versus the backward, rural, chauvinist, patriarchal, self. Rock’n’roll versus narodna muzika and turbofolk.

The dozen represent a cross-section of New Yugoslavist music. These are songs I managed to get permissions for. I’ve embedded their videos and lyrics and their translations as well as a number of other songs in the episode blog post which also contains the transcript and which you can find at RememberingYugoslavia.com/Podcast. That said, even with those additional tracks, New Yugoslavist music is but a small note in the overall musicscape in the region.

I’m using all of these songs with permission, from artists themselves and from their record companies. Whether they’re a rapper from a small town in Slovenia releasing albums independently or a top Yugoslav act from Sarajevo working with major labels, they all were so generous as to let me play these songs for you for free. So please buy their music! I’ve included links to purchase tracks and albums in the episode blog post (they’re mostly Amazon, Apple Music, and Bandcamp FYI).

[05:10]

One last and perhaps the most important thing: This episode, like all the past and upcoming episodes of Remembering Yugoslavia are brought to you by...you. Thank you to everyone who has signed up to support me and Remembering Yugoslavia on Patreon.

Today I welcome new patrons Ana, Mikal, Rebecca, and Stacy. If you like the show and would like to support it with your hard-earned cash in 2021 and beyond, join these and other generous people at Patreon.com/RememberingYugoslavia.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

[05:30]

PETER KORCHNAK: Though the songs of New Yugoslavism are original and made from the late 1990s on, they echo a Yugoslavist strand of pop and rock in the 70s and especially the 80s as the country hurtled toward disintegration. In socialist Yugoslavia, Western-influenced pop and rock music represented a generational response to the dominant culture. Rather than fighting it like the governments in the Eastern Bloc, the party quickly moved to neutralize its political potential and incorporated it into the mainstream. There was also a strong current or tradition of popular music glorifying Yugoslavia, Tito, Partisans, socialism, from major acts playing original compositions to alternative, punk, or new wave bands covering Partisan or revolutionary songs. It is in this latter musical relay that the music of New Yugoslavism carries the baton.

Our musical journey today begins in the late 1990s with two songs whose emotional register underscores the charges of Yugonostalgia.

Zaklonišče Prepeva, which translates roughly as Shelter Singing, is a Slovenian band that plays Yugo rock. Rather than Slovenian, they sing in Serbo-Croatian, sending a clear message about their neo-Yugoslavist leanings.

The song “Jugoslavija Blues” is the bonus track on the 1998 album Novo Vreme, Stare Dileme, or New Time, Old Dilemmas, which is in itself very telling and which is in fact the song’s opening line. On the album’s cover the band poses before a red flag featuring a yellow hammer and sickle inside a five-pointed star. Visual references to socialism like these are a common characteristic of neo Yugoslavist music. On top of that the album contains a cover version of the 1978 generational anthem, “Računajte na nas” or “Count on Us” as in, you, the communist party, can count on us, the youth. You heard a cover of the song at the end of the last episode “Happy Birthday, Yugoslavia!”

The neo-Yugoslavist heart of the song beats in the chorus variations: “We'll mess everyone up, from Washington to Rome / Long live Yugoslavia (They used to say) / Live happily in freedom, let our love guide you / Yugoslavia” or “Death to Clinton and Jacques Chirac, We'll cut everyone's head off / Long live Yugoslavia (They used to say) / Live happily in freedom, let Tito lead you along the way / Yugoslavia.” The anti-Western sentiment reflects a common charge in the region that Western powers were behind or at least did not prevent Yugoslavia’s disintegration. A whole another story; for now, we’ll let our love guide us, Yugoslavia.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Jugoslavija Blues” by Zaklonišče Prepeva (1998)

[11:29]

PETER KORCHNAK: The next band is perhaps the most famous in today’s lineup. Zabranjeno Pušenje, or Smoking Prohibited, is a legendary Yugoslav band founded in 1980 in Sarajevo and still going strong. Their 1999 song “Jugo 45” or “Yugo 45” became the band's fastest-selling single. Over a distinct nostalgic buildup it narrates in the band’s signature storytelling style a story of the titular car. The Yugo is a stand-in for Yugoslavia and the story a sketch of its history in Bosnia and Herzegovina, from socialism to war to the post-Dayton world.

“They say the wonders of the world are the African pyramids, the great rivers of India but no miracle equalled the one when the old man parked in the garden the Yugo 45,” the song begins.

Then there was a party, the whole neighborhood came and half the family. The family used the car for those classic Yugoslav past times like shopping trips to Trieste or vacations at the Adriatic. Friends and relatives, who with their names and forms of address are stand-ins for a Bosniak, a Croat, and a Serb, used the car, too, to sell apples at the market, to drive the pregnant wife to the hospital, to visit prostitutes.

But then, all of that stopped and people could no longer fraternize. The family fled. They returned to live in an apartment in a different town. The old man, he became a joke and a cantonal minister.

But, the narrator concludes, “In my head I still have the same picture, the same flash: the old house, the small garden, and in it the Yugo 45.”

The video supports the story with heavy retro styling like furniture, clothes like Young Pioneer uniforms, and newsreel footage from Tito to the notorious presidential trio signing the Dayton agreement.

The message is clear: life was better before. Along with retro, this critical comparison of the present with the past is an important characteristic of neo-Yugoslavist music, persisting like that image of the Yugo.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Jugo 45” by Zabranjeno pušenje (1999)

[18:01]

PETER KORCHNAK: In this century, a Skopje-born, Belgrade-residing pop star Tijana Dapčević scored a huge one in 2005 with “Sve je isto, samo njega nema” or “Everything’s the Same, Only He Is Gone” which remains one of the best examples of New Yugoslavism.

There’s the construction of the song: each stanza is in one of the ex-Yugoslav languages, often using regionalisms, slang, or exaggerated accents. And it’s about that constituent peoples, with cultural references and common stereotypes.

The Bosnian recalls how he was Valter and built a railroad in work actions but now democracy isn’t going too well. The Croat watches a famous soap opera and there’s a linden tree. The Montenegrin is lazy, wanting each day to be a non-working day except Fridays on which he wants to make preparations for the weekend, and he also wants Podgorica to be a country’s capital (at the time of the song’s release, Montenegro was a year away from independence). The Macedonian still keeps Tito’s picture on the wall. The Slovene sates his nostalgia by traveling to other former republics for coffee or to lay wreaths at Tito’s grave. The Serb complains his country no longer has the sea.

He in the chorus, “Everything is the same only he is gone” is of course Tito in a godlike pronoun. And, in an awesome Yugonostalgic music reference “Brega has put Bijelo Dugme back together,” meaning Goran Bregović, the main man of that legendary Yugoslav band, reunited them for yet another tour.

Then there’s the video. Dapčević portrays a newscaster wearing a different stereotype-evoking costume to match each nationality. During the chorus, she performs American Idol-style in front of a jury of military men with a backing band comprising women in Young Pioneer uniforms, altered to include mini skirts. Women in Young Pioneer uniforms in the background are one of the visual hallmarks of New Yugoslavism. It’s all a retro party up in here. Which is precisely the point.

Whereas in the West retro has primarily a cultural dimension, in former Yugoslavia, retro, indeed every look at the past, has a distinct political dimension. Retro’s references to the known past, Yugoslavia, point to there being no vision for the future in these lands.

According to Mitja Velikonja, retro is one of the passivization strategies neo-Yugoslavist music employs in order to steer away from controversial aspects of Yugoslav history and to neutralize opposition to it.

“Sve je isto…” exemplifies a number of these passivization strategies. Even as the song highlights important aspects of Yugoslavia, it distances itself from them by parodying them, by turning them into a caricature. The references actually serve to dismiss the past. The cosplay uses Yugoslav political symbols as mere aesthetics. And because retro is turned up to 11 on the parody dial, there’s no mistaking this is all just for fun.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Sve je isto, samo njega nema” by Tijana Dapčević

[25:11]

PETER KORCHNAK: Maja Maksimović uses the next song to introduce the theme of yugonostalgia as “an omen of a better future” in her 2017 paper on the subject, “Unattainable past, unsatisfying present.”

I quote: “‘There was a land of champions, a land called Yugoslavia,’ declares a recent musical hit that resounds across the entire former Yugoslav federation. Indeed, for some of its former citizens, even more than 20 years after it disappeared from the map of Europe, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia is perceived as an ideal place to live–a place of ‘champions.’ Despite awareness of Yugoslavia’s shortcomings, for these former Yugoslavs Yugoslavia represents a great country, respected around the globe: A place that knew how to take care of its people, satisfy their existential and social needs, and enable them to live in peace, solidarity, and unity.” End quote.

The author of that 2007 musical hit, the Slovenian artist Magnifico, covers the Animals hit “House of the Rising Sun” to create a magnificent paean to Yugoslavia. There’s rock, there’s Balkan brass and Mexican brass, Spaghetti Westerns arrangements… It’s both serious and playful.

An additional angle on the champions: a lot of people cite the successes of Yugoslavia’s sports teams, especially in basketball, handball, and water polo, as something important that was lost along with Yugoslavia.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Land of Champions” by Magnifico (2007)

[29:23]

PETER KORCHNAK: The next two songs have a lot in common despite a four-year gap between them. They’re both hip hop tracks; they both take the form of a letter to Tito; they both contain archival recordings of Tito; and they both concern themselves with the economy, war, and nationalism.

In the 2007 track “Dragi Tito,” or “Dear Tito,” the Tuzla-based rapper HZA is giving Tito an update on what’s happened since he died.

“Dear Tito, there is no more Yugoslavia, / mullahs, priests, hate screwed us over and thieves are now in power. / Streets don't carry your name any more / nothing is like it was before / all of Europe is laughing at us.”

Like in so many of these songs, the story is less about what was great before and more about what is bad now. So less nostalgia for the past and more a comparative criticism of the present.

In addition to targeting the economic situation in Bosnia and Herzegovina, especially corrupt privatization, HZA skewers ethnic nationalism: “Your body wasn't even cold yet when they already made plans / to divide Yugoslavia and Yugoslavs into clans. / I didn't know who was a Serb, who was a Muslim / they divided us like cattle, after all the years of being like one family.”

In the chorus, a Q&A: “Where are we now? In hell brother, that's where we are, nowhere. / I heard how we were Pioneers and swore to listen to Tito above all else and how we exchanged brotherhood and unity for false ideals.”

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Dragi Tito” by HZA (2007)

[33:57]

PETER KORCHNAK: In 2011, the Slovenian rapper Mirko penned his own missive to Tito titled “Druže stari,” or “Old Comrade.” Stari, or The Old One, was one of Tito’s nicknames. Mirko is writing to Tito because he has no one else to turn to.

Like HZA’s song, “Druže stari,” opens with Tito speaking. The quote here is, “We have spilled a sea of blood for brotherhood and unity of our peoples and we will not allow anyone to ruin this from outside or within.” The use of archival audio or video footage is a common technique that neo-Yugoslavist songs use to reference the past and establish the connection to it, even continuity with it. A decade after “Jugo 45,” Zabranjeno pušenje used an excerpt from Tito’s speech in the first track of their 2009 album “Muzej revolucije” or “Museum of the Revolution,” which too is a fine example of New Yugoslavism.

Anyway, Mirko first introduces himself: “Old comrade, I am a herald of the generation that came after you, the generation of mistakes, of the nation here and now. I grew up while your Yugoslavia was falling apart and experienced the system ending with wars.”

Like HZA, Mirko targets both rampant capitalism and nationalism. About the former he says, “No one listens to us, they only hear the rustling of currency,” and “Workers are in the mud, capitalism on the rise.”

The wars of dissolution he describes as the time when, “The singing of youth was replaced by the sound of rifles” and when “brothers slaughtered brothers.”

And like HZA, he also mentions the West having a hand in Yugoslavia’s disintegration and the role of the media therein. Again, a different story.

Finally, in the chorus Mirko too asks questions: “And now comrade tell me, there is no going back, so where are we going next? I don't expect you to say anything, my ears are silent, maybe you know everything.”

Very interesting for me are Mirko’s examples of memory politics practices. “Half the nation destroys these monuments to you / others have secretly kept your pictures.” And “I put a wreath on your grave every year to remind them of your heroism and of your mistakes. And so that you can finally rest in peace with a five-pointed star.”

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Druže stari” by Mirko (2011)

[40:37]

PETER KORCHNAK: So far you’ve heard rock, pop, and hip hop. The next song offers the loudest proof that the music of New Yugoslavism spans genres.

Gužva u Bajt or G.U.B. describe themselves as “a punk band that follows drunk-punk ideals.” Though these Slovenes only aim to “enjoy life and things we love to do,” their 2009 song “Jugoslavija” offers commentary with political overtones. If a punk band singing praises to socialism sounds odd, punk bands did this in Yugoslav times as well, with covers of revolutionary songs.

One of the band members Vladimir told me in an email, “The song is about memories from the days when Yugoslavia was falling apart and Slovenia was becoming an independent country.”

It opens and closes with archival footage of a young soldier of the Yugoslav National Army at the outset of the Bosnian war; the clip in the middle is Slobodan Miloševič with a war-mongering speech.

For a punk song, the opening is paradoxical: “The night over Ljubljana is quiet and peaceful / A cloud covers the June sky / It’s quiet, only the wind is blowing / Memories of Yugoslavia.”

The final stanza testifies to how Vladimir’s generation saw the war: “The astonished faces of the children in the shelter / It’s full of laughter, fun, and games / We didn’t understand what was happening / Only that different flags were fluttering.”

The chorus punches it all up: “Goodbye Yugoslavia / Goodbye socialism / Brotherhood unity / This is capitalism.”

[COMMERCIAL INTERLUDE JINGLE]

[42:04]

PETER KORCHNAK: Speaking of capitalism.

Hi there, it’s me, Peter Korchnak, the creator, producer, and host of Remembering Yugoslavia, with a quick peek at the making of the podcast.

I interview people from Ljubljana to Skopje and beyond and spend a good amount of time and energy researching, writing, recording, and editing to bring you these stories and analysis two to four times a month.

It is your support that makes this reporting possible. Ensure I can cover the next important story and keep the memory of the country that no longer exists alive by supporting me on Patreon. Please go to Patreon.com/RememberingYugoslavia and become a supporter today.

Alright, back to the music.

[COMMERCIAL INTERLUDE JINGLE]

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Jugoslavija” by G.U.B.

[46:11]

PETER KORCHNAK: Roy de Roy, a Slovenian band based in Vienna has been described as “ambassadors of Polka Punk” who “sing about a paranoid society, the stupidity of nationalism, vain diasporas and the historiography of the Balkans.” In an interview for a Slovenian paper, the band’s singer once said what amounts to a manifesto of New Yugoslavism: “We never use the motif of 'memory' as an idealization of past times, but as a criticism of the present. Our nostalgia is not a longing for times as they were in the past, but for times as they could have been in the past.”

The title of Roy de Roy’s debut album, “Bohemian Bolsheviks,” is evocative in and of itself. The cover art of this 2011 release plays a major supporting role: on a red burst background is a stylized illustrated coat of arms constructed from a crossed guitar and trumpet, ears of barley, and a five-pointed star.

In the song “Titovka” the singer buys the eponymous cap from a street vendor in Sarajevo and wears it proudly even though people laugh at him. Titovka was a green side cap with a red star that the Partisans wore; a blue version was worn by Young Pioneers in Yugoslavia. When viewed from above, it has a very suggestive feminine shape. When someone, presumably his lover, takes the cap away, the singer says in the chorus, “You took my Titovka, give it back. Without Titovka I am alone.”

The archival clip in the middle of the song is the television announcement of Tito’s death. Thus immediately you can substitute Tito himself for the piece of headwear named after him.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Titovka” by Roy de Roy (2011)

[50:02]

PETER KORCHNAK: In 2012, another Bosnian rapper, Priki, made a splash with his video for the song “Yustalgija,” that’s why-you-stalgia. The song laments some of today’s realities and wishes for a better future but is essentially about love: “I believe in love as long as the sun is burning,” goes one line. And he sends some of that love to all the Yugonostalgics. But then the video adds another spin on it when it imagines what Yugoslavia may have looked like had the 90s wars never happened and the country never disintegrated.

Shot at the Petrova Gora monument, the first third of the video has Priki narrate how the alternate history went. The 90s wars never happened, the constituent republics resolved their conflicts peacefully, and continued living together in a common federation, progressing in a range of areas. Yugoslavia says NO to the EU’s invitation to join and to capitalism, and goes its own way.

The spomenik shots are interwoven with shots of fictional Yugoslavia of today. There’s the Yugoslavian National Theater, logos of Yugoslav brands across the urban landscapes, Tito statues on town squares...

The song’s chorus goes, “I wish everything will be ok with us / I wish the damn darkness will pass.”

I met Priki, or rather Haris Rahmanović last year in his hometown Bihać. Born in 1987, he hadn’t really experienced Yugoslavia as an adult. He was 5 years old when the war started and, he said, “war was a normal part of my childhood, I had nothing to compare life in wartime with.” After the war, he heard stories about life before the war and, he said, “all those stories built an image in my mind of Yugoslavia, when people weren’t going hungry, when they had jobs. And it all brought up questions of what could have happened if there had been no war, why we couldn’t have lived as we did back then. The song and the video is how I tried to answer those questions. It’s a very simple idea.” And yet, I noted, no one else came up with it.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Yustalgija” by Priki (2012)

[54:52]

PETER KORCHNAK: Valter has already made an appearance today. Now he’s going to be the hero.

Valter was the code name of Vladimir Perić, a storied Yugoslav Partisan commander in occupied Sarajevo during World War Two. The 1972 film Valter Defends Sarajevo fictionalized Perić’s wartime activities and immemorialized Valter as an iconic figure. At the very end of this one of the most popular Yugoslav movies of all time a Nazi German commander points to Sarajevo’s vista and delivers the notorious line: “You see that city? That is Valter.”

By the way, Zabranjeno Pušenje’s debut album was titled “Das Ist Walter.” The first track on the 1984 LP was that final line in the film.

Valter, spelled with a W, is the protagonist of the 2013 song by Dubioza Kolektiv, a Bosnian band known for its scathing social criticism. In this eminently danceable tune; Dubioza first count the ways people in power are doing it wrong. They have “a mouth full of false ideals”, they have “no honor or honesty” and while “others go hungry” they “fill their pockets.”

But, “a storm is coming” they warn. “Enough of this drought / I'll enjoy watching / Your dreams fall apart.” How is it going to happen? Well, my friends, “When we need him the most / Valter will come back / Valter is all around us / We are all Valter / When the time comes.” As a matter of course, theme music from Valter Defends Sarajevo gets a nod to underscore it all. And when the chorus repeats, over and over, “Valter will return / He’ll mess all of you up,” it’s on.

In the video, an elderly man dons a Superman costume, with a W instead of an S, and roams the city in search of food, even fighting other seniors for scraps at trash containers, while the band parties with champagne and chicks in a stretch limo. And so once again, the message of resistance is wrapped in the cape of party time.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Walter” by Dubioza Kolektiv (2013)

[59:32]

PETER KORCHNAK: The last two songs mark a turn in the music of New Yugoslavism. Here I’m going to rely on the analysis by Ana Petrov who has researched the interconnectedness of the discourses on love and Yugoslavia. If nostalgia is a manifestation of love for a homeland, Yugonostalgia is a special kind of it expressing love for Yugoslavia. And since it’s impossible to return home, the desire gets channeled into the remnants of Yugoslavia, including music.

Both songs are from 2015, they’re both named “Jugoslavija”, and in both Yugoslavia is a metaphor for lost love, for a relationship that’s as disintegrated as that country.

In the duet by Željko Vasić and Ana Bebić, the entire song is about the relationship. Yugoslavia is only used for comparison: “We used to be an example for others, but fatal destiny happened to us / Life is war and peace without any rules / Our love fell apart just like Yugoslavia.” The invisible, unspoken twist: Željko Vasić is a Serb, Ana Bebić a Croat. The video takes place in an elevator, where passengers include a range of fun-loving characters and, you guessed it, sexy Young Pioneer women.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Jugoslavija” by Željko Vasić and Ana Bebić (2015)

[01:04:09]

PETER KORCHNAK: “Jugoslavija” by the Serbian band Amadeus is a great deal more referential. It opens with Yugoslavia’s anthem and pipes that evoke Yugoslav shepherd rock, and its tune and arrangements are a throwback to 80s hair bands. But here, too, the country is a metaphor for love: “Our love was strong and beautiful like old Yugoslavia.” In addition, the ex’s eyes are as blue as the Adriatic and her soul is like Macedonia; and the chorus references the unofficial Yugoslav anthem “From Vardar to Triglav,” this podcast’s outro song. “Sarajevo, Zagreb, even Belgrade isn’t asleep / We are not together anymore and the whole city is talking about that / Everyone from Vardar to Triglav should know we are together no more...”

The video, shot in a hangar, adds a few additional elements of New Yugoslavism: archival footage, Young Pioneer salutes, and a Tito quote about togetherness at the end. And yes, there are pyrotechnics.

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

“Jugoslavija” by Amadeus (2015)

[01:09:14]

PETER KORCHNAK: The turn I alluded to has to do with business. Commercialization of Yugonostalgia has a long history by now, as anyone who has seen a souvenir stand in the past two decades can testify. The songs “Jugoslavija” capitalize on that trend, as it were. They target Yugonostalgics with their titles and references and stereotypes. But then they both shift direction to deliver mere love songs. As a metaphor for love, Yugoslavia is used here as a pure marketing tool, to attract eardrums and eyeballs of those who care about it. Ana Petrov calls this “a love scam.”

The implication being, once nostalgia becomes commodified, its political potential diminishes. Indeed, in recent years, Yugoslav-era music has lost some of its subversive edge. Martin Pogačar again:

[01:09:59]

MARTIN POGAČAR: For one thing, I would say that if we look at Yugonostalgia as a movement—it’s gone.

[01:10:04]

PETER KORCHNAK: Though Yugoslav-era music, rock in particular, continues to evoke that disappeared country to many, I’d say it has become a much less controversial part of the soundscape. As years go by, Yugonostalgia’s 20-year-long tour nears its farewell show and Yugoslavia’s dangers fade out.

In fact, many popular acts, from Lepa Brena on down, have repositioned themselves as Yugoslav, express affinity to Yugoslavia, or reference that country positively. Indeed, writes Ana Petrov, “the farther the post-Yugoslav space goes from the end of Yugoslavia, the more the Yugoslav culture is being used and repacked for further commercial exploitation.”

Don’t get me wrong, the songs of New Yugoslavism do get play time, such as when Dubioza Kolektiv played “Walter” during one their online Quarantine Shows or Tijana Dapčević performed, “Sve je isto…” remotely online with a band.

You can hear this corona jam of “Sve je isto…” in the extended version of this episode available to Patreon supporters.

But other than Lepa Brena’s 2017 song “Zar je važno da l’ se peva ili pjeva,” which arguably falls in the love scam category anyway, I’ve found no examples of New Yugoslavism made after 2015.

So what to make of New Yugoslavism?

[BACKGROUND MUSIC]

[01:11:20]

On the personal level, I’d attribute the music of New Yugoslavism to the artists, most of whom were born in the 70s and 80s, dealing with their middle age. It is at that life stage that we look back on our past, not without some nostalgic longing, evaluate the present, and critically look to the future to decide how we want to spend the rest of our lives, perhaps remixing some of that past into the new version of our selves.

On the macro level, Mitja Velikonja somewhat disappointingly concludes, “this music has limited political and cultural reach.”
The main contribution of this music is “by questioning and counterbalancing Yugophobic discourses” by means of “parodic glorification of the former socialist Yugoslavia.” The music raises and at the same time lightens a delicate topic. Parody, after all, is a form of resistance against something in that it lampoons it. On top of that, the party-party tone of many of these songs has a therapeutic, cathartic impact.

From another angle, this music juxtaposes life in Yugoslavia, where we had so much in common, with nationalism, which separates people. Togetherness versus otherness, so to speak. By presenting a positive image of Yugoslavia it rehabilitates it, albeit in a musealized, retro form, and presents it as a historical, already realized alternative to today. Indeed, though the music may be politically harmless, it does raise the question of what ifs.

Let the great Mitja Velikonja have the final word on New Yugoslavism: “It points to the real, although miserably failed alternative, so that we can become aware of those alternatives that are available today.”

[OUTRO MUSIC]

[01:13:18]

PETER KORCHNAK: That’s all for this episode of Remembering Yugoslavia, thank you for listening and rocking out. Find additional information, videos and lyrics to all the songs played as well as a bunch of others, and the transcript of this episode, at RememberingYugoslavia.com/Podcast.

Thanks to all the musicians and their record labels who so generously granted their permission for their songs to be featured. Special thanks to Ivana Beronja and Maja Pupovac.

Outro music courtesy of Robert Petrić. Additional music by Ketsa, Nosens, and Puh, licensed under Creative Commons.

I am Peter Korchňak.

Ćao!