Stories of powerful voices: women in Serbian music.

Iva Nenić, assistant professor of ethnomusicology at Faculty of Music in Belgrade, introduces us to the role played by women in Serbian music history, their value, what means being a female artist in a male-centered culture, and a focus on female group performance: a communitas in various shapes and sizes.

BELGRADE - The history of female musicking in Serbia and in the Balkans is a fascinating tale of many interesting strong, fierce, sometimes almost stubborn women - singers, instrumental musicians, composers, great stars and outstanding amateurs alike, whose endeavors frequently haven't been visible enough in a male-centered official culture of past and present, but who, despite many obstacles, continued to adamantly pursue their artistic interests. In order to turn this neglected history of female musicianship into a true her-story, a narration that highlights many forms of female participation, active role and continuous presence in musical practices of various kind, one should look not only to the contemporary worlds of music where indeed many fascinating female performers, authors and sound-makers can be found, but also to the past, to forgotten stories and hidden figures. The past always resonates in present, and yet present isn't fully coloured by the echoes of the past, although many paths and possibilities are already forged in the experiences of those before us. The legacy of those invisible ties is a common trope of a "first" woman - first female composer, first female gusle player, first female rock band and so on, that regardless of the musical genre fascinatingly stretches not only through the years, but through decades, even centuries, effectively ensuring that talented women are 'left out' from the history, or in a few lucky cases, put on the fringes of the official narration of the past (see Nenić 2015). Of course, this trope is not only common in Serbia but elsewhere, but what makes it special in this context is the stark contrast between the barriers of patriarchal culture preventing or channelling female creativity, and the passionate effort by many female musicians who succeeded in carrying out a chosen musical activity, and behind whom lurk nameless shadows of other less fortunate women who also strived to sing, play and make music, but whose histories are for some reasons forgotten or erased. Regardless of that fact, there is virtually no genre of either traditional folk, classical and popular music of various kind in Serbia, where female performers didn't leave their distinctive mark so far. The following discussion will not cover many genres and particular instances of female musicianship, but as a mosaic of several high and popular musical worlds where female musicians take part, will try to give to a reader a glimpse into a rich tapestry of female creative endeavors in Serbian culture.

Being a female artist in male-centered culture.

Our herstory of female musicianship in Serbian and Balkan culture could take different twists and turns. If classical music in European sense is concerned, then we can probably start from Julijana Dimitrijević, a piano player who wrote and published a piano composition in romantic style "In lonely hours" (Serb. U časovima samoće) in 1795, most probably being the first woman in Serbia to do so and even before the official appearance of pianos in the country (Novak 2011, 21). She probably wasn’t perceived as a composer, given the fact of her gender and also that her work was a ‘salon piece’ belonging to a popular European genre of Salonmusik that was during the first half of 19th century primarily seen as light, sentimental and easy music (Kokanović Marković 2017, 65).
Unfortunately, the lack of historical data regarding Dimitrijević, as well as many romantic female pianists-composers like Ida Dobrinković, Sida Velisavljević, Milica Preradović and many others (Novak 2011, ibid) kept them out of official historical discourses for long. In contrast to that, many girls and women were praised for their musical skills in 19th century by the audience and the press, so virtuosic playing was something that could be attributed to a woman. Sometimes the best players carried the affirmative title of veštak (Serb. the one who possess a skill, ‘master’) or veštakinja (fem. a mistress).
Many piano players like Jovanka Stojaković, who performed with a violin player Dragomir Krančević in 1872, were admired because of their exquisite performance coupled with the patriotic attitude displayed in the choice of repertoire: the press critique stated that “the audience graced the master and the mistress by cheering, flowers and wraths” (Đurić-Klajn 1956, 67). Yet not many books today mention those female pioneers who ventured into the new field of European classical music, and their other contributions, like composing, mostly aren’t seen as something worth more attention, other than mentioning, while instead their skills as salon piano entertainers were acclaimed as suitable for young and educated upper class girls, possibly adding a value to their marriage arrangements.
The number of female composers in the field of classical music multiplied greatly after the WWII, and some important female historical figures like Ljubica Marić (1909 - 2003), were indeed recognized and praised due to their talents and achievements regardless of gender. Marić obtained her composing degree in Prague, and she was also among the first generation of female conductors in Europe. Marić’s unique and multifarious approach to composing combining, among other things, Byzantine, archaic and folk-inspired motives and principles with high modernist expressivity and specific, refined and complex compositional style, led this Yugoslav composer to become an associate professor at the Faculty of Music in Belgrade and a full member of Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, as well as to win many important awards and reach high professional achievements during her lifetime (for more on Marić, see Masnikosa 2009). However, not many female composers were able to obtain such high positions within academia. And even if they succeed, the treatment of gender in academic discourses and the insistence on autonomy of music from the “context”, often hides the presupposition that supposedly gender-neutral nature of true artistry is tacitly equal with male, and, on the flip side, that certain characteristics of works by female composers can be related to their gender, even with most subtle hints.
For example, Marić had a quite unique relation to folklore – taking it as a creative source in almost philosophical terms, yet most of the time without direct quotes or reworking of folk melodies, and many of her (male) colleagues also incorporated folk elements in their works, but in her case, descriptions that noted “a personal, intimate leaning on a folk musical substance” (Vujošević 2009, 55) quietly stress that there is a link between “female”, “primordial” and “intimacy”, thus specifically framing the composer’s acts and preferences in line with some implied hints of gender.
The number of women who got a composition degree significantly rose up since Eighties and during the next two decades, and moreover, many of them either have forged successful careers abroad – Aleksandra Vrebalov, Milica Paranosić, Jasna Veličković, Jovana Backović, to name a few, or work and teach in Serbia, gaining international recognition via the staging of their works and by winning domestic and international competitions and awards, like Ivana Stefanović, Isidora Žebeljan, Anja Đorđević, Irena Popović Dragović, Branka Popović and many others (Novak 2011). Those composers who belong to postmodern orientation almost seem more diverse in their approach than their male counterparts, since they often do not hesitate to dwell into a realm of popular, film or theatrical music, and also to take a new, fresh look upon local (Serbian and regional) ethnic music heritage, often in a very original and non-conventional manner, paired with eclecticism, exploration of different media and various deconstructive tendencies. This “moving between the genres” or histories/traditions is a very specific gesture, and it couldn’t be related to some presupposed “gender essence” but to the overall social expectations related to the gender of a musician. Namely, since “serious” or “experimental” musical languages like those belonging to a particular school or a broader stylistic orientation of 20th and 21st century’s academic classical composing are often seen as predominantly devised by men in Serbia and elsewhere, an unspoken rule would be that female artists could either follow or, instead, more easily reach to “soft” expressive artistic languages (e.g. music related to general concept of folk tradition, “light music”, popular music genres etc).
Interesting example of this could be the oeuvre of Anja Đorđević (1970), a composer, arranger and a singer who avoids the traps of “strict academism” by making highly melodious, tonal, playful yet complex pieces. For example, her quintet “Šlageri sa šlagom” (Schlagers with whipped cream) for several years now accompanies Anja’s interpretation of famous schlagers, canzonas and other light popular pieces of the 20th century music, with new and funny lyrics and amusing, at moments exaggerated and intentionally sentimental vocal expression. Yet, this twist away from “serious” composing is no less important musical endeavor – the music is no less intricate and rich in musical and affective terms. This composer also contributed to more convenient classical music forms like opera (“Narcis and Echo”) or multimedia pieces (“Classifieds”), among her other works. It could be observed that many contemporary female composers successfully participate in academically favoured classical musical styles, but the fact that it was (and still is) tolerable for a female artist to dwell into genres that were seen as less “serious”, perhaps allows them to more freely move between the musical languages, traditions and styles, to be less “stiff” and more playful, with no less serious result at the end of a creative process. And today the approximate number of at least hundred female composers in Serbia (the number is probably greater, as the data I’m citing aims at those who are officially recognized, either by schooling or by their work in the public sphere), the diversity of their styles and approaches, and the fact that they are recognized both locally and internationally, supports the idea that the long process of female emancipation slowly but steadily works against the centuries-old obstacles preventing female creativity (Novak 2011, 31-32).
There are also women who compose, perform and actively shape some contemporary music genres in-between “elitist” and popular culture, such as Ana Popović – a world-known blues guitarist and singer, or Ana Ćurčin, a singer-songwriter with a guitar who pioneered Americana sound in Serbia in recent years. What is typical for many performers and authors is, again, the insistence by the official culture that they are almost sole female figures and thus unique, “rarities” in their chosen genres and fields of expression. However it is more of the fact that the genres like jazz, blues, country and Americana and similar Western popular styles already have a small-scale status in Serbian context, so a relatively smaller number of women in these genres also has to do with the size of a scene. And again, it is not any inherent “trait” attributed to female gender that somehow prevents girls to become successful players, but the overall treatment they receive precisely because of their gender, despite the formal equality and similar preconditions for girls and boys at first glance. If you dwell deeper, you see that at one point – and that is precisely the point when a talented youngster should become a professional who occupies a position of power and earns money - gender becomes a thing. I have seen it with young frula (Serbian folk pipe) players since 2000s: girls are often winners of folk music competitions and praised as excellent musicians, but many of them just disappear after they turn eighteen, because the environment becomes less supportive and the professional networks’ gatekeepers less willing to see female performers as leading figures or decision makers, so opportunities drop and the common paths to professionalism remain closed. Fortunately this situation is slowly changing, as young frula players like Neda Nikolić (1998) or Dajana Đokić (1999) are currently making careers, and many other girls will probably follow their footsteps, since in the last two decades the interest of young girls for frula playing became really massive, hopefully leading to the breaking of the wall between young amateur and adult professional occupation by women in folk music performance.
It remains important that female musicians should be aware of a specific female lineage in local culture, not as the only source from which they could draw, of course, but as an important, albeit invisible and often fragile, historical link that should be acknowledged and cherished. In other words, you are not alone in your own musical endeavors, although the official cultures repeats to you that you could be “the first” woman of your kind, or that, if you indeed succeed, your expression is a specific “female écriture” – the latter not indicating a feminist idea of female breaking the wall of denied expression, but some stereotyped idea of soft, gentle, nurturing feminine expression, which is a false, but still standing social construct.

Thus I believe it is important when Americana star Ana Ćurčin mentions Jadranka Stojaković, a Bosnian singer-songwriter and guitarist from socialist Yugoslavia who composed and performed many now evergreen urban pop ballads and whose songs helped shape Yugoslav popular musical culture and, later, popular music in post-war Balkans, as somebody whom she looks up to. This act of recognition shows that female musicians who are bracketed as “one and only”, often do not see themselves in that way (for example, Ćurčin cites Croatian female Americana performers like Sara Renar and others as important musicians who are a part of a same network). Or, when Ana Popović as a major star of global blues boldly states that she hopes that her music will motivate women to be energetic and successful and man to support them in such a task. Her playful, yet serious shout “corner-office ladies in business, politics, and the electric guitar!” (Popović 2019) is a call for women to fight the obstacles and cherish their inner passion, and more than once, this excellent world-known performer pointed out that the number of girls with a guitar in Serbia is raising while hoping that her experience and visibility will motivate some of them to stay on the path towards the publicly recognized musicianship.
The turn towards “popular” is sometimes in this case seen as related to gender – but, again, rarely do people perceive the relation of female musicians to popular musical cultures, especially if they take more conventional roles (e.g. singers) as a product of silent norm that pushes women towards less “serious” modes of musicking. Rather, this is wrongly seen as an expression of a supposed inner “gender essence” that somehow makes women more lyrical, simpler and unable to reach a romantic ideal of (male) artistic Genius. One can observe a similar model in case of early composers-pianists from 19th century whose musical activity wasn’t fully perceived as serious act of music making, but more as a leisure fulfilment. If they were indeed outstanding by all merits, in that case their playing and composing was compared to so-called “male standard” and those women were frequently seen as notable but rare exceptions. The same applies to female musicians, especially those who perform on musical instruments, in pop and rock music, who are a part of a gender-mixed bands: often they are admired for their looks and appearance on stage, and if their playing is complimented, it is usually a recognition that they can indeed “play like a guy” – in other words, be compared to a “male standard”. The case of a famous keyboardist and co-author of songs, Margita “Magi” Stefanović (1959-2002) from Yugoslav art rock band EKV (the acronym of Ekatarina Velika) is such an instance. Her keyboard riffs in EKV songs are intricate and unusually rich, as Stefanović was also a highly talented classical pianist, yet she (and often the press) did perceive her own role more of a stable background support, a “glue” for the sound and poetic collaboration of other male band members. And the compliments often would jump from her flawless playing to her good looks, so the expression “a dark princess of YU rock” or one of the earliest Belgrade’s graffiti “Margita is a boy” conflated the impressions of her mystique and unusual position of a woman within the rock band.
It is important to re-connect severed, yet palpable historical lines here: in case of Balkan preindustrial, agrarian musical cultures sometimes the same model of female exclusion, or “unusual” inclusion due to her outstanding qualities supposedly “beyond her gender” could be plainly observed, if one could know where and how to look. For example, ethnographic accounts from late 19th and early 20th century speak about women who played and sang with gusle (Serbian and Balkan bowed folk one-stringed lute). gusle are an instrument typical for heroic folk poetry, predominantly, but not solely, related to male performers. Today, the typical image of gusle performer depicts a strong man wearing a folk costume, whose singing and instrumental accompaniment represent the voices and heroic stories of the ancestors, often supporting the dominant narration of national history. But, since the 17th century when first foreign travellers mention female public performers with gusle, and especially in the 19th century, when first collectors of folk poetry and customs started to collect and publish folk songs and customs, many blind female gusle performers (as well as blind male ones) were noted as good artists and reliable sources of “folk wisdom”. Although they greatly contributed to the official songbooks and folk poetry collections, their importance is today still less visible in contemporary culture regarding gusle playing. Returning to the mechanism where male-centered musical culture pushes female performers to outskirts of one genre, or to close, but different musical cultures, it can be also observed that also contemporary female folk music players, like young and outstanding Bojana Peković (1997), although successful in male-dominated field of singing with gusle, turn to genre fusions and an expression between classical folk music repertoire and contemporary orchestral and world music arrangements of epic and composed pieces. This creative move in many cases adds value to the music of a female artist, but as a trope, a common figure, again, could be related to the invisible yet effective condition that women aren’t always wholeheartedly welcomed into domains that were historically seen as belonging primarily to men, so they migrate to more diverse and less gender-centered music environments. Still, it is problematic to see this mechanism at work for many reasons, as, firstly, many of the women in “male” domains like traditional epic poetry with gusle instrument, or in rock-oriented musical subcultures many times are indeed recognized as excellent by their immediate environment, yet silenced or put aside by official discourses. My own research into this lost history of female gusle playing showed that, contrary to the popular belief that female guslars were rare and weird, almost “abominations” of their gender, people of the past actually accepted them in many particular situations, contrary to the belief that they were always ignored and forced to stop playing. The fact that female gusle players from 19th and early 20th century could be not only accepted, but also cherished and sometimes payed for the quality of their performance often doesn’t show up in the official stories. I could cite many examples, like “aunt Naga”, a blind Montenegrin woman who was publicly performing with gusle in Montenegro and Serbia, traveling, riding a horse and earning food with her skill during the first half of the 20th century, or Đeva Jovanović, a gusle player from Western Serbia who performed a typical repertoire of heroic songs, traditionally associated with men. Both women were seen as true gusle masters in their lifetime, which was affirmed symbolically and materially at the final point of their lives, in their death: a Montenegrin player was buried somewhere in Serbia with her instrument, while the tomb of the other woman, Đeva, was decorated both with gusle and spindle, metaphorically stating that there lies somebody who was both a player and a woman. So even in an era when women were mostly child bearers and workers within the household, it was still possible that some of them could make different choices despite the strong patriarchal expectations, and that music allowed them to express and live unusual, yet sometimes even socially praised form of female identity. In such instances, one can see how the everyday culture of the past and the official cultural narratives, often serving a contemporary ideological purpose, can strikingly differ, and moreover, how we still today, despite the long stretch of modernity, often rely on the old stereotypes believed to be one and only “tradition” of the past – yet, that very past hold many different truths and fabrics of tradition.

Female group performance: a communitas in various shapes and sizes.
The ancestresses surely paved the roads for today’s female music artists, often against the idea that a woman shouldn’t publicly “expose” herself or that the female gender isn’t quite capable of artisanship and creativity that supposedly only men possess. One particular expression, singing, however, was allowed in everyday practices of preindustrial, agrarian Balkan societies, and although a woman could sing either solo or within an impromptu group on everyday basis, there was a sharp distinction between everyday singing that was accompanying field and domestic chores, leisure time and ritual occasions, and professional singing in public places, with the purpose of earning money. The vocal folk traditions of Serbia were numerous, and women were among the principal carriers of solo, unison (soloist and group) and two-part singing for centuries. We often don’t know their names, and only in 20th century when first folklorists and ethnomusicologists started collected “folklore”, the names of peasant women who were excellent solo singers or performed in groups, were written down for the first time. Throughout Yugoslav socialism, the institutionalization of folk music and dances allowed many village-based amateur groups of female singers to perform at local and regional folklore events, which in turn became a new way of maintaining of the folk singing, in new industrialized society when many social occasions of the past related to singing (harvest, communal working gatherings in households, ancient spring fertility rituals, etc) were quickly disappearing. A new turning point of village music culture happened with the folk music revival of the early Nineties, when many post-Yugoslav countries proclaimed the official politics of the search for the “lost” national cultural (and musical) roots. That ideology coincided with the resonances of global world music movement, with the latter often taking female peasant group or solo singing from diverse geographical locations as a valuable and “exotic” musical culture in worldwide terms. The folk revival in Serbia formed around local idea of the excavating of old cultural sources as unspoiled, archaic and aesthetically prized, as well in accordance to the idea to reach out to the old and forgotten musical practices as something fresh and opposed to mainstream Western culture, which was typical for world music ideology on global terms. First revivalist group of this kind, Moba (1993), gathered female singers of various occupations (ethnomusicologists, anthropologists, non-trained singers and later girls who went to the state school of music’s program of traditional singing), with an aim of reconstructing of old village music’s repertoire without any intervention and by relying on field recordings and immediate fieldwork experiences. This group continued to serve as a model for other revivalists, and together with some of the collectives that were formed later, like Pjevačka družina Svetlane Spajić (the Singing Company of Svetlana Spajić, led by the singer of same name), helped set highly professional standards for neotraditional folk singing. Those groups also worked much on the idea of female equality and sonorous togetherness of a specific kind, thus linking the ways of the past with the present in the context of a specific female expressivity in traditional Balkan culture. The ideal of equal importance of all singers and of subjugating of self to the group’s identity in the act of singing is often stressed as important by Moba and similar a cappella female groups: although there are two-part songs when one singer “leads” and other women “follow” by performing a second melodic line, it is very important that the vocal timbres of the singers sound as one and nobody stands out, that the non-tempered intervals are precisely intoned, and specific regional or local style of song is fully preserved. In words of Sanja Ranković, an ethnomusicologist, a professor of traditional folk singing and a singer who helped establish Moba, “it is not a mere inheriting of the melodies and the way of singing from the informants, but also a taking over of a part of their life experiences, wisdom and love that they pass over to us together on equal terms with their musical treasure”. ” (Vitas 2008, 11).
Quite different type of female sound collectives, albeit sharing the same amount of passion, are all-female bands belonging to pop, rock, punk and heavy metal genres. Again, there is a complex history of previous female bands from the period of Yugoslavia, like Boye (in Serbian, “colours”), a new wave alternative group from the city of Novi Sad, who started to perform in the late eighties. The presence of female rock bands and especially of those consisted exclusively of female members, grew rapidly after the turn of the millennium. There are several highly successful contemporary female groups that perform on numerous festivals, publish well-received CDs and that have a devoted audience, despite the still prevailing view that rock-oriented subcultures are more aimed at male performers and audience. To name a few, there is an all-girl punk band Vibrator u rikverc (“Vibrator in reverse gear”) from the town of Pančevo, that recently published their second CD (it can be downloaded directly here), melodic queer punk rock trio Replicunts who note prejudices towards female punk musicians (for example, their drummer is often complimented that she plays “in a male way” or asked how she chose her instrument in the childhood), yet fervently pursue their own music and say that they are not “a female band” – just a band, refusing to be seen first and foremost through their gender. A melodic death metal band Nemesis is particularly interesting, as the girls not only create politically engaged and musically powerful songs and actively and importantly contribute to local heavy metal scene, but also take a strong role in local activist and feminist scene. Nemesis’ drummer Selena Simić leads an informal female drumming group that performs during the 8th March feminist rally and, together with band co-member, guitar player Tijana Milivojević, also mentors Rock camp for girls, the only informal learning environment in Serbia of its kind, organized by FEMIX program, that for three years now brings together young girls who learn to play rock music in exclusively female surrounding. The lead singer Sanja Drča also helps deconstruct the common trope of gentle, high and lulling female voice, with her powerful, precise and ground-shattering death growl vocal style performed with almost unbelievable ease (listen to Nemesis’ song “Divine retribution” here).
There are numerous gender-mixed rock bands with active female members as well, so the participation of women in rock-oriented music is today by all means significant. Nevertheless according to the research by Tatjana Nikolić and Aleksandar Gubaš who statistically analysed the presence of female performers on five major Serbian popular music festivals, male performers still outnumber female ones – for Serbian major EXIT festival (fusion stage that covers local musical scene) the ratio is 7 : 1 (Nikolić 2016, 76). One can conclude that, although the obstacles from the past are diminishing, there is still work to be done on numerous levels – from excavating the forgotten gems of female creativity from the past, to the support not only aimed at mature female musicians who still need it, but also to the young girls that fearlessly crowd around various musical expressive possibilities – be it frula fast traditional dance melodies, an image of a rock guitar player making endless solos on stage, or a creation of her own music that won’t be judged in gendered terms.

Thank you, Iva!

Iva Nenić is an ethnomusicologist, feminist and cultural theorist with a PhD in Ethnomusicology from Belgrade’s University of Arts. Iva works as an assistant professor at the Faculty of Musical Arts in Belgrade and collaborates with other official research institutions and non-governmental organizations in Serbia (University of Arts in Belgrade, Petnica Science Center, Faculty of Political Sciences). Her invited lectures took place at universities in UK, Austria, Slovenia, Italy and Japan. Her research interests include music and gender, genealogies of traditions and contemporary culture, ideology and identification. She has published on these topics and her current research tackles the topography of popular culture in early 21st century after postmodernity, with an emphasis on issues of transgression, agency, memory and power. She believes that the academic research and activism should affect both the changing landscape of contemporary academia, as well as various contexts of everyday life where knowledge and exchange is needed and appreciated.

List of references
Đurić-Klajn, Stana. 1956. „Jovanka Stojković.” U Muzika i muzičari: izbor članaka i studija. Beograd: Prosveta, 59–78.
Kokanović Marković, Marijana. 2017. “Production of Serbian salon music in the 19th century in the context of the birth of music publishing”. SYNAXA – Matica srpska International Journal for Social Sciences, Arts and Culture 1: 59-75.
Masnikosa, Marija. 2009. “The life and work of Ljubica Marić – ‘multifariousness of one’”. New Sound 33(I): 11-35.
Nenić, Iva. 2015. “We are not a female band, we are a BAND!”: female performance as a model of gender transgression in Serbian popular music”. Muzikologija 19: 105-126.
Nikolić, Tatjana. 2016. Rodni odnosi na alternativnoj muzičkoj sceni Srbije i regiona. Novi Sad: Pokrajinski zavod za ravnopravnost polova.
Novak, Jelena. 2011. “Mapiranje kulturalne istorije kompozitorki u Srbiji – Vrisak preko asimptote”. In Žene i muzika u Srbiji/Women and Music in Serbia/Donne e Musica in Serbia, ed. by Fondazione Adkins Chiti: Donne in Musica, 19-34. Venice: Fondazione Adkinsh Chiti: Donne in Musica.
Vitas, Marija. 2008. “Udruživanje sa zadatkom negovanja srpske tradicionalne pesme: grupa Moba”. Etnoumlje 8: 11-13.
Vujošević, Nevena. 2009. „Period kreativne ćutnje ili nova stvarnost: harmonski jezik Ljubice Marić u Sonati za violinu i klavir (1948) – prinuda ili izbor?“ In Srpski jezik, književnost, umetnost: Zbornik radova sa naučnog skupa održanog na Filološko-umetničkom fakultetu u Kragujevcu 31. oktobra i 1. novembra 2008. godine. Knjiga III – Koreni tradicije u stvaralaštvu Ljubice Marić i novi žanr srpske muzike, ed. by Branka Radović. Kragujevac: FILUM and The City Assembly of Kragujevac. 53-67.
Popović, Ana. 2019. “Biography”. http://anapopovic.com/bio


Foto nell’ordine, la band femminile Nemesis (dal video “Divine Retribution”), Wonderland Serbia © Foto Aleksandra Radonich, esempio di gusla, la band femminile Boye.


Iva Nenić
(26 marzo 2019)

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