At the beginning of the concert, when the lights in the hall were gently dimmed and the sound of a wind instrument rose from the back rows, everyone turned with curiosity toward the source of the sound. Some audience members stood up to see the musician. Just as they caught sight of him, another appeared from a different corner, and then another from the back. Positioned among the audience, the orchestra members began accompanying one another one by one as they walked toward the stage.

As they moved toward the stage playing trombone, trumpet, and saxophone, two women in traditional Bulgarian attire entered from behind and took their positions on the left. The younger, dark-haired man sat down behind a large bass drum. Once all nine were on stage, Goran Bregović arrived in white attire, with his signature disheveled hair. Sitting in the middle of the orchestra, he picked up his distinct electric guitar. As he took his seat, nearly the entire audience burst into applause and excitement. The few who remained seated looked bewildered and out of place, because this concert at the Kongresshaus in Zurich, Switzerland, was a gathering of former Yugoslavs and the “others.”

Most of the Swiss audience members were bewildered because they had come simply to sit, listen, and leave. Yet here, the roles had reversed: the local had become the “other,” while the “other” virtually turned into the host. Unable to make much sense of the core “others”—who had arrived separately but were now dancing as if they were a single community—the locals joined in by dryly swaying their shoulders and nodding along. This is a unifying power unique to Goran. He began making music in 1966 at just 16 years old—a 60-year legacy of artistic creation. Unsurprisingly, he has mastered the art of connecting with his audience.

The Art of a ‘Cultural Yugoslav’

Born in Sarajevo to a Serbian mother and a Croatian father, he entered the world when his homeland, Yugoslavia, was at the beginning of a federal structure that peacefully united different ethnic, religious, and cultural identities. This richness of his native land influenced his musical style—which blends Balkan rhythms—and served as the primary inspiration for defining himself as a “cultural Yugoslav.”

In a European continent that had caused two world wars, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia was established in 1945 under the leadership of Josip Broz Tito following World War II. Pre-war “powers” like Britain, France, Germany, and Japan suffered military and economic devastation alongside the loss of millions of lives. The resulting power vacuum was filled by the two victorious superpowers: the United States and the Soviet Union.

In the power struggle known as the “Cold War,” the Western Bloc led by the US and NATO squared off against the Eastern Bloc formed by the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact. States that refused to align with either block joined under the umbrella of the “Non-Aligned Movement.” Tito led this initiative. Indeed, the movement was formalized at the 1961 Belgrade Conference, with Yugoslavia, Egypt, India, Indonesia, and Ghana among its founding members.

Although Yugoslavia positioned itself among these neutral states, its socialist system meant Western nations treated it as an actor leaning toward the East. Tito made immense efforts throughout his life to preserve the country’s ethnic and cultural diversity. After his death, although Yugoslavia tried to maintain its neutral stance, an empowered opposing Bloc treated it almost as “the Eastern Bloc’s outpost in the West.” These delicate internal differences and contradictions, stoked by external blocs, ultimately dragged the country into a conflict-ridden and bloody disintegration.

Yugoslavia Collapsed; He Reunited It Through Music…

Yugoslavia consisted of eight administrative federal entities in total: six constituent republics and two autonomous provinces within Serbia. Slovenia and Croatia declared independence on June 25, 1991. The Slovenes achieved their modern status after ten days of conflict, while the Croats did so after nearly four years of war. A few months later, on September 8, Macedonia declared independence following a referendum, separating without armed conflict. Bosnia and Herzegovina declared independence after a referendum on March 1, 1992, but was plunged into a bloody war until 1995. In this conflict—the bloodiest fought on European soil since WWII—over one hundred thousand people, mostly civilians, were killed. By the end of 1992, what remained of Yugoslavia continued under the umbrella of Serbia and Montenegro, though Montenegro peacefully separated following a referendum on June 3, 2006. In Kosovo, an autonomous province within Serbia during the Yugoslav era, armed conflict erupted in 1998–1999. The UN intervened to end the fighting. After years of UN administration, Kosovo unilaterally declared independence on February 17, 2008, and remains a partially recognized state today.

In summary, seven countries emerged from the former Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Conflicts and violence claimed countless lives, leaving deep scars and divisions among the people. Yet as Yugoslavia broke apart, he persisted through music in spite of all that was lost. If there is one person who succeeds in bringing together those who were torn apart back then, it is indisputably Goran Bregović.

Mesečina…

Bregović wrote and composed the song “Mesečina” (Moonlight) in 1995 for Emir Kusturica’s Palme d’Or-winning film Underground. The song captures the darkness of war and the helplessness left in its wake with the lyrics: “There is no more sun / There is no more moon / You are no more / I am no more / There is no more / The darkness of war has engulfed us / Darkness has engulfed us.”
Even though he says, “I find it hard to love a country like my own homeland,” he continues his efforts, skillfully leveraging the unifying power of music. In his concerts—just as in Zurich—he guides people toward joy, enthusiasm, and dance, shouting: “If you don’t go crazy, you’re not normal!” After all, inviting marginalized Romani people and musicians from across all Balkan nations into his orchestra is not something that strikes people as ordinary.

Wedding and Funeral

The orchestra’s percussionist and drummer, Muharem Redžepi—who has also accompanied the songs for many years with his powerful, distinctive voice—is a Romani musician born in Kosovo. Meanwhile, the striking, call-like vocal performances in well-known tracks such as “Ederlezi,” “Bella Ciao,” and “Kalasnjikov” belong to the Bulgarian Radkova sisters. In an interesting and perhaps “unusual” blend, he names this ensemble the “Wedding and Funeral Band.” In Balkan culture, weddings are celebrations where joy, passion, and dance meet. Clad in white attire on stage like a host at a Balkan wedding, he conjures a celebratory spirit, joy, and life energy as if promising a wedding atmosphere, remarking: “Weddings and funerals always sit side-by-side for us emotionally. Musically, too, there is only a very thin line between them.”

In an interview, he described how conflicts shaped his life: “When the war broke out, I lost a large portion of my savings in a Yugoslav bank.” Describing his pre-war band Bijelo Dugme (which means “White Button”), he noted: “Under communism in Yugoslavia, making outbursts like that and stirring things up was important. The music we made back then was one of the few that stood apart from ‘official’ music and didn’t resemble it.” He emphasizes that he poured a lot of time—and even wasted time—on the band, as hardly anyone remembers it today. The true turning point that brought Goran Bregović global fame was his work for director Emir Kusturica’s acclaimed films, particularly his soundtrack for the 1988 movie Time of the Gypsies.

God is Not Your Babysitter, So Dance

Today, at 76 years old, even if he lacks a bit of his former tempo, he takes his audience on an enchanting journey across the Balkans and beyond. Among the audience members I spoke with during his concert in Zurich—part of his ongoing multi-city, multi-country tour—were Serbs, Bosnians, Slovenes, Macedonians, Croats, Albanians, Italians, Greeks, Spaniards, Bulgarians, Peruvians, Germans, Kurds, and Turks.

While blending traditional Balkan folk music with rock, pop, and brass instruments, he uses melodies and lyrics from Serbian, Croatian, Bulgarian, and Romani music. In doing so, his music transforms into melodies where voices are used like instruments, driving everyone in the audience to move and sing along.

In one interview, he remarked: “I think we are a bit more fragile compared to other Europeans. And sometimes I think we are overly emotional. We simply live in extremes—either extreme joy or too many tears, with almost nothing in between.” He added: “My music is the music of that small, unique world of the Balkans, born between Budapest and Istanbul, stretching along the border between Muslims, Catholics, and Orthodox Christians. It’s true these cultures have conflicted greatly with one another, but they have also deeply influenced each other.” Singing his songs in Romani, English, Greek, Bulgarian, Italian, and Serbo-Croatian justifies his choice to define himself not by a single ethnic identity, but as a “cultural Yugoslav.” In his performances, languages cease to be barriers formed by borders; instead, they become a bridge where boundaries are dissolved, the destructiveness of war is mocked with ironic wit, and words turn into a festive gathering.

Whether on album or on stage, Bregović remains the most iconic artist of the “Balkan Brass” genre native to his region. Consequently, he lets the audience feel not just a single nation’s identity, but the shared spirit of the Balkans. He titled his latest album, released in April, God is Not Your Babysitter. As part of his ongoing tour—much like his sold-out show in Zurich in May—tickets for his concert at the Dortmund Konzerthaus on September 11 had sold out weeks in advance. Inside the 1,500-capacity hall, as he concluded the show with “Bella Ciao,” I asked Vesna, a young Serbian attendee, what she thought of the performance. “I came thinking this might be his last concert,” she said. “Yet he performed on stage as if it were his very first. Enchanting.”

Both in Dortmund and Zurich, the audience greeted Bregović’s arrival on stage with wild enthusiasm at the start of the night, and stood applauding for minutes at the end to keep him on stage. Despite his advancing age, the energy of Bregović and his orchestra—delivering a fast-paced, captivating, and dance-inducing performance driven by Balkan rhythms—proves that his musical creation will continue to enchant for years to come.

This article has also been published in Turkish by Yeni Özgür Politika and in English by the Kurdish news agency ANF”.

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