Balkan Diasporic Soundscapes
The term “the Balkans” is usually not entirely synonymous with the more neutral “Southeastern Europe.” “The Balkans” represents an idea more than a particular region (Todorova 1997). In this study, I concentrate on soundscapes that relate to one part of the region, former Yugoslavia. These may not fully overlap with the Balkan space, an imaginary concept that probably cannot be precisely demarcated. Past attempts to conceptualize the post-Yugoslav space have ranged from the sketchy and over-ambitious “Yugosphere” (Judah 2009) to the more precise “Yugonostalgic cultural spaces” (Petrov 2018), as well as various rigorous attempts to analyze “transnational post-Yugoslavism” (Baker 2006). The distinct qualities of Balkan music also produce particular kinds of soundscapes. These are often characterized by high-pitched sounds, such as synthesizer imitations of zurla, specific rhythms, and a certain loudness. Musicologist Marin Cvitanović (2009) outlines some of the musical traits that reflect the region’s associations with not only war and conflict but also joy, passion, and fatalism. Here he also distinguishes between a primitive and aggressive “male” Balkans and a beautiful, proud, and resistant “female” Balkans. The area is conceived as Europe’s Other and its signature music is seen as exotic, especially in the urban landscapes of “old Europe.” Discussions among musicologists of the specific features of Balkan music tend to focus on the region’s Ottoman heritage (Pennanen 2008; Samson 2005). However, socialist modernization, especially in Yugoslavia, opened up cultural exchanges with the West and the South that today complicate this profile of Balkan popular music (Beard and Rasmussen 2020). More recent global cultural trends like hip-hop have also had important impacts on post-Yugoslav soundscapes (Cvetanović 2016).
Much research into Balkan music centers on a form of local pop-folk that is sometimes labeled neo-folk, commonly called “turbofolk” and perhaps most accurately described as “newly composed folk music” (Šentevska 2020). Similar hybrid genres are well documented in other Balkan countries and include chalga in Bulgaria (Levy 2004), manele in Romania (Haliliuc 2005), and several kinds of urban folk music in Greece (Tragaki 2019) and Turkey (Gedik 2019). Past research tended to oppose Balkan pop-folk and particularly turbofolk to rock and other western musical genres, however this supposed binary should be reappraised. A more fluid understanding would help reflect the habits of listeners who switch from one genre to the other depending on their context. In addition, both the rock and turbofolk categories have proven to be highly imprecise, a status reinforced by their growing absorption of other genres (disco and jazz in the case of rock, and Roma music in the case of turbofolk). Boundary-crossing music styles such as world fusion and gypsy punk often blend elements from both genres. Lastly, I would stress the increasing anachronism of projections of taste distinctions onto broader sociopolitical debates; it is unclear whether these demarcations make sense outside a certain generational and socioeconomic bubble. This is one reason why I focus on the variables of age and class.
A number of scholars have considered the music scene of former Yugoslavs in Vienna (Gebesmair, Brunner and Sperlich 2014). Musicologist Ursula Hemetek (2010) examined the musical practices of different immigrant groups in Vienna. While her earlier work focused exclusively on Bosnian music in Austria (Hemetek and Bajraktarević 2000), this Viennese study observed a cultural mosaic in which the former Yugoslav community was one of many parts. Cultural and social historian Wladimir Fischer (2003) has profiled the former Yugoslav music scene in Vienna. This work not only captures conflicts around diasporic belonging but also highlights issues related to cultural translation and the potential of folk music as a tool for resistance. While these themes are rich and provocative, they fall outside the scope of my current study. What is particularly suggestive about Fischer’s work for my project, however, is its attention to spaces and places where migrants from former Yugoslavia listen to music. Focusing especially on turbofolk, Fischer considers the subcultures involved in Balkan music consumption in Vienna. What may be added is that this consumption is linked with certain generations and tastes.
Returning to the movie Underground as a master reference for the issue of representation of Balkan cultural practices, film scholar Dina Iordanova (2001) has highlighted Kusturica’s approach to masculinity among other themes. This often features in both the semantic register of the Balkans (Jansen 2008) and the concerns of researchers seeking to capture the experiences of male migrants from the region (Urdea 2020). In the Austrian context, these individuals may embody a “problematic foreign masculinity” (Paul Scheibelhofer in Boehringer 2018). Iordanova (2001) also connects masculinity with the aestheticized violence of Underground and observes a strategy of self-exoticization. Arguably this strategy also drives representations of hysteria (Longinović 2005), sadism, and brutality (Matošević 2011) in the film and its reappraisal of bandit culture (Calotychos 2013).
To understand the soundscapes of Balkan Vienna, we must also consider the status of migrants from former Yugoslavia in Austria as a host country and Vienna as a particular migration hub. In the modern era, there have been several relevant influxes from the region starting with the onset of industrialization and the corresponding movement of labor to provide human capital (Faßmann 1986). In the same period, refugees from places beset by anti-Semitism and other ethnic and religious hatred began to seek asylum in the former Habsburg capital (Pollak 1997). These movements only intensified with the installation of new nation states after World War I, a change that also drove ethnic homogenization. The interwar, World War II, and Cold War periods were all profoundly impacted by the fairly new phenomenon of politically driven emigration (Bauböck 1996). Some eastern European countries relied on migrant workers and even forced their own populations to seek work in the West; the case of “foreign workers” (Gastarbeiter) in West Germany provides an instructive model (Gürses, Kogoj and Mattl 2004). After the fall of the Berlin Wall, new migration patterns emerged as more and more people fled from war and conflict-torn states and regions or took advantage of new migration schemes for highly skilled workers (Grečić 1996).
The specific patterns of migration from former Yugoslav states and regions are well researched. Here various scholars have highlighted considerations that go beyond the scope of this study (Bonifazi and Mamolo 2004; Gabrity Molnar 1997). Clearly, even if the relocation of migrants from former Yugoslavia to Austria can be explained in terms of the relative proximity of the two countries and the many crucial historical ties between them, the presence of these migrants in other host countries should also be taken into account. To date, several studies of this population’s musical imprint in Berlin and Germany have been done (Thaden and Praetz 2014; Rossig 2008). Other fruitful research has examined different aspects of former Yugoslav settlements in Australia and the United States (Čolić-Peisker 2008), France (Čačić-Kumpes 1990; Morokvasic and Kuzmanovic 1986; Roudy 2016), the United Kingdom (Munro 2017), the Netherlands (Jančić 2006), Sweden (Bäck 1988) and Switzerland (Iseni et al. 2014). Lastly, these migrants’ links with the cultural scenes in their home countries have also drawn attention, importantly also in a large volume focusing on the cultural historical imprint of the former socialist federation (Jelača et al. 2017).
The transnational diasporic experience involves ongoing ties to both the country or region of origin and the recipient city. As a result, commentators have suggested using the terms “migration” and “migrants” instead of “emigration”/”immigration” and “emigrant”/”immigrant”, which place the focus on one of those two poles. Bennett and colleagues (2009: 234-245) document different ways that migrants may interact within the space of a dominant culture. Here Schiller and Meinhof (2011) also note that certain individuals may acquire “transcultural capital.” In these cases, activities in “global space” (Massey 1991) may lead to distinct “cultures of migration” (Turco 2018). Some critics have also analyzed the music of diasporic soundscapes, and indeed this is now a well-established research field (Lidskog 2016). Others have foregrounded the nostalgic mood of diasporic soundscapes and so helped advance the notion of a “diaspora aesthetics” (Naujoks 2010). In analyzing the BalkanBeats global electronic music project, Pistrick and Isnart (2013) observe that the region’s musical soundscape may be recreated at practically any location. The Balkans is thus transformed from an imaginary locale to a “non-place” (Augé 1992), and this transition is achieved via music. This shift is both enabled and amplified by the growing connections between the home and host countries through online media. Today’s diasporic soundscapes mostly resonate online (Leurs 2015), a situation that must be reflected in any analysis. These online reverberations are thus central to my own analysis.
