I wonder where the story begins for this exploration of Croatian music. Maybe with my mother’s recollections of a holiday on Lošinj Island in Yugoslavia, in August 1985, seven months before I was born. She bought me a terrycloth jumpsuit, unavailable in Poland – in that period, new things only arrived from German relatives. Or maybe it starts in Groningen in 2025, when the post rock tambura that Croation outfit Nemeček were using during their set at ESNS caught my attention.
Or maybe the real beginning was the day after Zagreb duo Dunjaluk’s performance at MENT last February? Initiated by Miloš Hroch, a group of Central and Eastern European tQ contributors had met in Llubljana, where Antonio Pošćić outlined the complexity of Balkan linguistic ties and cross-cultural intersections. This resonates with those of us who grew up hearing about Yugoslavia in the 1980s or 1990s. For many, the region still feels like a single cultural space, often grouped under the ‘Balkan’ label. And yet, it’s important to note, today Yugoslavia consists of several independent countries.
“Among ordinary people, especially in cultural and music circles, relationships across borders remain normal,” Pošćić tells me two weeks later via Zoom. Although Croatia and Serbia’s governments have historically been frosty towards one another for a number of reasons, “in alternative music circles, collaboration continues as usual. Serbian musicians perform in Zagreb, and Croatian artists perform in Belgrade. Culturally, we share language and many historical experiences, so cooperation continues naturally despite political tensions.”
Serbian popular music is very popular in Croatia, even as those tensions remain high. Many people who publicly express anti-Serbian sentiments still listen to Serbian turbo-folk or trap-turbo-folk when going out. Many top artists on the Croatian charts today are from Serbia. Someone may attend a nationalist concert one night and visit a club playing Serbian music the next. Cultural exchange continues regardless of political rhetoric.
A closer look at the underground also shows the Croatian music scene itself to be dynamic despite the country’s size. It spans indie rock, hip hop, electronic music, experimental sound art, and new takes on tradition. Most activity remains in Zagreb, the only city with a stable ecosystem of venues, festivals, and grassroots networks. This centralisation prompted initiatives like AJMO!, developed by We Move Music Croatia and the Ministry Of Culture, to bolster music scenes outside the main centres.
The contemporary scene also reflects deep historical layers of regional exchange, with cultural ties from the Yugoslav period still shaping the landscape. The legacy of 1980s ‘novi val’ (new wave; see a recent cassette from Death Is Not The End) continues to influence young musicians.
This blend of past and present is also evident in how traditional music remains central to Croatian culture. Many musicians see tradition not as fixed but as a living source for new ideas, and reinterpret it in current contexts. Instruments like the tambura highlight this change. “The tambura is simply part of the environment we grew up in, especially in Slavonia,” says Vedran Živković of Nemeček, referring to the easternmost region of Croatia, which borders Serbia. “Instead of treating it as a museum piece tied only to folklore, we put it in a new sonic context. We’ve turned the tambura upside down from its traditional use. We use it in a raw, experimental way, sometimes more like an electric guitar than a folk instrument.” Tambura spans Central Europe, making it hard to claim for one nation. Živković notes Nemeček’s interest in how the instrument is used beyond those ties. Instruments and styles reveal broad cultural exchange across the region, not just within single nations.
Traditions like sevdah are just as complex. An urban singing style linked most closely to Bosnia and Herzegovina, it has also long circulated across the former Yugoslavia. It emerged in cities where different communities met, and blends south Slavic poetry with melodic elements from Ottoman music. During the time of Yugoslavia, it spread through radio and recordings. After the war of the 1990s, it became a symbol of Bosnian identity. Many musicians still see it as part of a shared cultural continuum. Today, artists like Damir Imamović reinterpret and demystify the tradition to reach new audiences, its emotional depth continuing to inspire.
“It’s important to note that sevdah is a tradition that grew in the cities. Different nationalities and religions met, and traditions quickly adapted,” says Dunja Bahtijarević of Dunjaluk. “This is partly why sevdah worked well for radio throughout Yugoslavia. It is also why there’s been much ethnomusicological ‘weeding’ – separating ‘original’ elements from ‘distorted’ ones, ‘true’ from ‘fake’ songs. Since the 1990s war, sevdah has symbolised the ‘Bosnian soul’ and nationalist pride. But many performers avoid such divisions.”
Dunjaluk and others approach sevdah respectfully and maintain ties with Bosnian musicians. Bahtijarević views it as part of a continuum across Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, and Montenegro, united by language. “We are part of a wide cultural circle, not limited by borders. Music doesn’t depend on origins; it is for all,” she says.
“During Yugoslavia and before, musical connections in the region were freer – songs circulated as a form of communication,” guitarist Luka Čapeta tells me. “In Croatia, sevdah is mostly popular among older people. We aim to bring it to younger listeners and bridge the generational gap. These songs have timeless meanings, so bridges for communication still exist.”
When examining Croatian cultural heritage, one often confronts broad labels like ‘Balkan music’ – terms that blend musical, historical, and political elements. Musicians and cultural workers note that, though common, these labels rarely capture the specificity and diversity of contemporary Croatian music. This underscores the need to move beyond stereotypes and highlight real influences. For many, ‘Balkan’ denotes a shared cultural space rather than a fixed identity. Croatian music reflects layers of Ottoman, Central European, and Mediterranean influences, creating a distinctive blend. Understanding Croatian music means seeing how these intersecting histories shape today’s crossroads, rather than reducing it to a single ‘sound.’
Ante Zvonimir Stamać of SHIP Festival and We Move Music Croatia suggests that the idea of a ‘Balkan’ sound is a complicated one. “For some artists, the Balkan sound as a label represents a shared regional identity. Others see it as a stereotype imposed from the outside. In the broader context, music from Eastern Europe often goes unseen by Western media unless it fits the box people expect us to be in. Because of that, we value every chance to have this discussion and to reveal unexpected gems of the Croatian music scene.’
Exploring history extends beyond live performances and local scenes – it also emerges through dedicated archival work. Fox & His Friends, a prominent Croatian label, champions the revival and restoration of lost Yugoslav recordings, with a focus on film, TV, electronics, and jazz. Their releases result from meticulous digging through private collections, broadcast archives, and film studios, often utilizing original reel-to-reel tapes. The catalogue reveals a broad panorama of Yugoslav musical culture from the mid-20th century onward, spanning electronic soundtracks, animation, disco, synth pop, and film jazz. The label showcases early synthesiser scores, Zagreb School Of Animation music, and composer compilations by Alfi Kabiljo and Ozren Depolo, with releases such as the symphonic soundtrack Nepokoreni Grad, recordings by Tomislav Simović and more slated for 2026.
Croatia’s alternative and experimental music scene thrives on a network of independent venues and cultural centres. In Zagreb, Močvara is the main hub for the underground. Other important venues include KSET, AKC Medika, AKC Attack, and Kontejner, all of which support experimental and emerging artists. Outside the capital, venues like Rojc in Pula and Azimut in Šibenik support regional scenes. The festival landscape is just as diverse. Large events such as INmusic Festival attract international audiences, while smaller festivals are continuing to back emerging and experimental music. The SHIP Festival in Šibenik links Croatian artists with international professionals. The Bear Stone Festival quickly gained fame for psychedelic and heavy rock, among a host of other notable events, all of which help create a solid foundation for Croatia’s independent culture.
NemečekProkletijeLack Of Records
When I saw Nemeček at ESNS in Groningen in 2025, the tambura stood out, even though it was hidden within their wall of sound and trance-like, fast-paced music. I notice the same effect on this album. In ‘Kuvet’, for example, jagged strokes on the instrument sit against pulsating bass and fluttering percussion, bringing this traditional instrument into the realm of progressive post rock. The trio’s music works on multiple levels: sometimes intense, sometimes subdued, and sometimes slow-burning, as in the album’s longest track, ‘Olovni’. The album tells a story and builds suspense in unusual ways. “In our music, the tambura can function like a drone instrument, a rhythmic texture, or even something closer to an electric guitar. In that sense, we try to free it from stylistic boundaries,” says the band’s Vedran Živković.
DunjalukVrbasSelf-Released
Dunja Bahtijarević and Luka Čapeta (whose forenames are combined to create that of their band) each approached sevdah from different starting points but found a shared artistic direction in reinterpreting the tradition. Čapeta initially had little familiarity with the style, but through exploring its connections to Middle Eastern music and discovering its emotional link to his own language, he developed a deep interest in it. For Bahtijarević, who comes from Bosnia, sevdah had long been important, yet she was searching for collaborators willing to approach the tradition in a new way. Their work together is based on a minimalist approach inspired by early forms of sevdah, which were often performed as intimate duets between a singer and a saz player. Drawing on that historical model, they reinterpret the music with contemporary tools, such as raw electric guitar and modern vocal techniques, aiming to expand the tradition’s expressive possibilities while remaining connected to its roots.
Vesna PisarovićPoravnaPDV
Vesna Pisarović first gained widespread popularity in the early 2000s as a pop star and Eurovision entrant. After achieving major popularity as a pop singer, she turned toward jazz, studying in the Netherlands and developing a parallel career in improvised music. She is widely respected in experimental circles for her genuine commitment, regularly participating in improvisation sessions and treating the field as a serious artistic practice rather than a side project. On this album, she reinterprets poravna, a rare and archaic form of Bosnian sevdah characterized by slow, almost monotonal melodic lines. On the record, she places this traditional vocal style in a contemporary context, combining it with free jazz and improvisation alongside musicians from the European avant-garde scene, including Tony Buck on drums, Clayton Thomas on double bass, and Axel Dörner on trumpet.
Mimika OrchestraMedzoterminaMenart
One of the most mesmerizing, complex, and visionary Croatian bands is Mimika Orchestra, founded in London by multi-instrumentalist/composer Mak Murtić and vocalist Maja Rivić. You could say this band plays ‘world music’, but it’s more about drawing on styles from different geographical areas, a bit like the Slovenian band Širom. On the one hand, you can hear influences of afrobeat; on the other, folk from the Balkan Peninsula; and on the third, jazz influences, as well as mystical and mysterious sounds. The whole album is like a journey on a flying carpet through time and space, and the large ensemble (sometimes numbering as many as two dozen musicians) does not make the music overly complicated, but extremely fluid, coherent, and engaging – with rhythm, brass section, charming guitars, rich arrangements in the manner of radio studios or film music.
Dunja Knebl, Roko MargetaFaunaGeenger
Dunja Knebl is a singer and ethnologist known for reviving traditional folk songs from Croatia and the wider region. Since the 1990s, she has researched and performed archival material – often in archaic dialects – presented in minimalist arrangements that emphasise the storytelling and emotional depth of the songs. She focuses especially on songs collected by ethnographers in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Over the years, she has recorded more than 20 albums and played an important role in bringing traditional Croatian music to contemporary audiences. In her duo with multi-instrumentalist Roko Margeta, songs are reinterpreted through sparse, atmospheric arrangements using instruments such as bouzouki and guitar. Their collaboration combines historical material with contemporary sensibilities, creating intimate performances that recall artists like Shirley Collins or, in a different way, the Polish group Księżyc.
Roj Osa Meets Rob MazurekBeton KinoKopaton
Alen and Nenad Sinkauz are composers and multi-instrumentalists known for their work at the intersection of experimental music, improvisation, contemporary composition, and film scoring (they composed music for DJ Ahmet, which premiered at Sundance in 2025). They have become central figures in Croatia’s experimental music scene by moving fluidly between genres: from electroacoustic improvisation and avant-garde jazz to soundtracks and interdisciplinary performance projects. Last year, they recorded with Isabelle Duthoit, whereas Beton Kino is a result of a residency at the Split Youth Center under that name with Rob Mazurek. The music sometimes sounds very abstract; the drums serve as arrhythmic layers, whereas electronic elements are a great contrast to Mazurek’s horns and bells. Captivating and unconventional music that brilliantly blends acoustic sounds with electronic possibilities.
Roberto Vodanović CoporThe Story Is Done. InnocenceSirr-ecords
Roberto Vodanović, also known as Čopor, is a musician, visual artist, and multimedia performer associated with the experimental and underground scene, who works across music, performance, and visual arts, often combining sound experiments with high concepts. His latest album is a journey through time and space where the artist returns to his home island to create an imagined soundtrack from the past: empty beaches, the rhythmic pulse of the waves, the submerged silence of the depths. The result is an ambient piece that combines electronic layers with field recordings, becoming a meditation, a sound space, but also a kind of tribute to those times. It is the sound of a specific location – tangible on the one hand thanks to faithful recordings; and on the other through soundscapes and captivating, multilayered suites.
Živa Voda, Darko RundekAngel’s BreathMinart
Angel’s Breath was originally a collaborative album by Milan Mladenović, leader of the Yugoslav alternative band Ekatarina Velika, and electronic composer Mitar Subotić, recorded in São Paulo and released in 1994. It blends alternative rock, experimental electronics, and Latin influences with Mladenović’s poetic songwriting and has gained cult status as his final artistic statement. Živa Voda, a shape-shifting collective and Darko Rundek, former frontman of the Yugoslav new wave band Haustor, reinterpret this album in a more jazzy, psychedelic way using improvisation around motifs from the songs, exploring its core in an open way and using brass, guitars, percussion, and electronics to show the material in a new light. Long compositions offer opportunities to improvise and introduce new elements into familiar material, helping rediscover three-decades old music, and showing how open and playful it can still be today.
Zidar BetonskyI Gledam I Sanjam I Ne DamTajni Split
During the final months of the war in Croatia in the mid-90s, the Split trio Zidar Betonsky (formed by musicians from bands such as Rapa Nui, Mistery Lapsus, and Touch Friction) released I Sanjam I Gledam I Ne Dam. A raw snapshot of a group operating in a DIY underground context: drum machines, abrasive guitars, and the emotional intensity of 1980s cold wave and goth rock blended with elements of electro-industrial and noise-tinged guitar aesthetics à la Shellac or Fugazi. The songs reflect the atmosphere of Split in the 1990s – tense, introspective, and restless – while also pointing toward a broader alternative rock lineage. This important document of the city’s underground scene has now been reissued as part of the Tajni Split project and produced in collaboration with several independent labels. The record coincides with the band’s reunion of their original lineup after a 25-year hiatus.
TrobozankeŠokačko Kolo: Music from Eastern CroatiaAntonovka
In traditional villages, trobozanke were the best singers among the women belonging to the first choir. They sang in church, and those most confident in their voices stood closest to the altar, on a raised platform. The name for the altar was ‘trobozan’, hence the term ‘trobozanke’ for the distinguished singers. This material is included in the 164th release of the Moldovan label Antonovka Records, which specialises in preserving and documenting Slavic folklore. Although men never sang near the altar, the name Trobozanke refers to the entire ensemble, as its repertoire is mainly composed of women’s songs. They perform authentic Croatian music from eastern Slavonia, Baranja, Srijem, and Bačka. Traditional instruments such as gajde (bagpipes) and samica (similar to a bazouki or a tar) feature in the repertoire, and the ensemble is characterised by an archaic, raw sound, devoid of embellishments and studio smoothing.
