People's arms go up in the air, their eyes close and their bodies start to sway to the deafening, hypnotic rhythms.

The music, known as "turbo-folk," is unmistakeably Serbian but none of the ecstatic young Croats in the Sova (Owl) nightclub, who lip-sync the words of each song, seem to care.

Until recently for most Croats, Serbia was the enemy they fought in the 1991-95 independence war and all its products were shunned. Turbo-folk, synonymous with Serbia, was considered politically incorrect.

With its lyrics about unrequited love, adultery and revenge set to folk melodies, strong beats and synthesizers, turbo-folk started in the 1980s. It was generally ignored in urban areas, but became popular in rural parts of Serbia and Bosnia.

However, times are changing and turbo-folk blasted, or even ignored, by critics who say it has no musical value is conquering the very heart of the Croatian capital, where semi-secret folk clubs have mushroomed in the past year.

The daily Jutarnji List's rock critic describes it as "a mixture of mutated Balkan melodies, howling vocals, idiotic lyrics and sampled disco and house rhythms."

Not that that puts the fans off.

A survey in Jutarnji List showed that 43 per cent of 17 and 18-year-olds in the biggest Croatian towns regularly listen to turbo-folk, often at home.

"The youths are fascinated. It is a real turbo-folk fever. I have tried playing some different music, but the audiences would boo and go home. They want this," said Ivica Sovic, the owner of Sova nightclub on the outskirts of Zagreb.

"I can't really explain it. In the war years, no one dared play Serbian music. The war ended 10 years ago, we've had a long vacuum without that music and now folk is 'in' again," he said.

New culture

Contrary to what some might expect, his audiences are smartly dressed young urban Croats.

"In this era of wild capitalism, widespread frustrations over money, jobs and harassing bosses, a lot of young and middle-aged people born in towns deliberately confront the desirable cultural norms by going to turbo-folk clubs," said sociologist Drazen Lalic.

He said that war-related migration in the 1990s had changed the urban population's make-up and brought a new culture and turbo-folk music to towns.

And somewhat surprisingly, he added, turbo-folk was even more popular with Croat nationalists, who usually oppose everything Serbian, than with the liberals.

"Hard line Croat nationalists are by their culture very similar to Serb nationalists. Hence they are more prone to turbo-folk," he said. The fact that the languages are almost identical helps.

Turbo-folk is often associated with ostentatious nouveau riche, many of whom made their fortunes during the war.

Zeljko Raznatovic Arkan, the husband of top turbo-folk star Ceca, who is popular in Croatia, led the notorious Serb militia, the "White Eagles," in Croatian and Bosnian wars. He was gunned down in a Belgrade hotel lobby in 2000.

"Turbo-folk is today a mass synonym for folk music that glorifies the 'get-rich-quick' philosophy... nouveau riche wealth, big guns, big cars, fur coats and fake designer items," the Jutarnji List said.

The youngsters consider the image of turbo-folk stars as a cool new trend."

While the critics pan it and the sociologists muse on its popularity, the audiences in Sova and other clubs seem utterly indifferent to the origins of the music they adore.

"The times have changed. Everyone I know listens to turbo-folk. This music comes from Bosnia and Serbia but most young people do not know or care," said Petra Koscevic, a black-clad 17-year old.

Source:China Daily