Last night I did something blasphemous and actually switched on TV - since I am too busy reading, writing and listening music, it is something I can easily live without and in fact I am proud that during my last 6 months of sailing it never even occurred to me to watch it - however, there was some show with my beloved Croatian singer Josipa Lisac invited so I had to see her. The subject of the show were people who are trailblazers, originals who succeed in spite of their surroundings. In all probability these people had it hard, because majority never immediately accept those who stand out too much from the crowd, for various reasons (looks, originality, eccentricity, whatever). I was almost afraid this will be some freak show, because I heard about some Bosnian bearded guy in a dress and watched in apprehension but everybody in the audience (including me) were in for surprise.
When time came for his entry, Božo Vrećo appeared in a full regalia, covered with tattoos, big beard and wearing a long dress that completely overshadowed even great Lisac herself (his own mother often jokes that he looks like he is actually Lisac's son) - we all stared with wonder in this most unusual apparition and than he started singing. OMG. I actually thought that I had a stroke, because there was such a strong disconnection between my eyes and my ears. The guy sings like a dream, like an Angel, with incredibly beautiful voice, doing all those intricate and difficult ornamentation's typical for Bosnian Sevdah music (kind of local Fado, extremely soulful style that goes back for centuries way down to Turkish invasion of Balkans) and to be honest, his singing and voice are nothing less brilliant than any of the celebrated Sevdah giants. Now, I came from completely different part of the country and it took me decades to slowly discover Sevdah, because it was something associated with rural, mountainous Bosnia and her cultural tradition far away from me. There is also a very bad reputation connecting new "folk" artists who perform new music very popular with masses (often weepy, cheesy hits) but Sevdah is pure form, true traditional music and is a thing of wonder & magic. I had already discovered Sevdah titans like Zaim Imamović, Himzo Polovina, Safet Isović and majestic Nada Mamula (and Beba Selimović) and they all deeply affected me, it is kind of music you get drunk and weep, often also beautiful poetry (with half of ancient Bosnian expressions I don't understand). There is also a new, young singer Amira Medunjanin who also carefully follow this tradition but this guy was completely new discovery and we were all forced to accept his wondrous, God-given talent in spite of his most unusual looks.
Of course I did my quick Internet search and found out that this singer has been around for few years already as a part of traditional Bosnian folk group Halka and judging by his first pictures, he was initially just another slim and willowy young thing who somewhere along the way metamorphosed into full-blown whirling dervish (and very androgynous indeed) but is this a clever marketing trick or his real inclination is something we still have to decide for ourselves. What is definitely sure is that guy possesses truly magnificent, natural and beautiful voice, cherishes traditional music and even composes his own Sevdah (that sounds exactly like ancient) and probably encounters disbelief and surprises on daily basis. Half of audience is shocked, another half delighted - I must admit falling into second category because as I am listening Halka recordings right now, I would love his music even if he is blind, one legged hunchback.
I have deep suspicion that TV show was actually carefully planned introduction of Božo Vrećo to large Croatian TV audience - he was not only incredibly gifted but also charming and natural guest and for once I have to admit that even Josipa Lisac was overshadowed by him, which was not a small feat because she is celebrated national treasure and veteran who impressed & influenced countless generations trough decades, but this time all eyes - for once - were not on her.
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