Album Review: Ja Sam Ranjen Kao Ptica by Bajo Roganović I Orkestar Mirka Kodića
Alright, let’s dive into this gem from 1988. Ja Sam Ranjen Kao Ptica is one of those albums that feels like it was made for late-night drives or quiet moments when you just wanna sit and feel stuff. It’s folk music with a Yugoslavian soul, brought to life by Bajo Roganović and the killer arrangements of M. Kodić (props to him—he really knew how to make an orchestra shine). The vibe? Earthy, emotional, and kinda timeless.
Now, full disclosure—I’m not gonna pretend I understand every word in these songs. But sometimes, music doesn’t need translation; it hits you right where it counts. Take “Ja Sam Ranjen Kao Ptica,” the title track. Man, this one sticks. The melody feels raw, almost like a cry, but there’s also this strange beauty to it. You can tell Roganović isn’t just singing—he’s feeling it. Like, imagine someone pouring their heart out after losing something they loved deeply. That’s what this song does to you. And the backing orchestra? Smooth as hell. They don’t overdo it—they let the emotion breathe.
Then there’s “O Najdraza Zeljo Moja.” This one’s softer, more tender, like a love letter set to music. The strings are so warm they could probably melt snow if you played it outside. There’s something about the way Roganović delivers the lyrics—it’s like he’s whispering secrets only you’re meant to hear. Honestly, I found myself hitting repeat on this track more times than I care to admit. It’s got this haunting quality that lingers long after the last note fades.
The rest of the album follows suit—tracks like “Otisla Si Iz Zivota Mog” and “Spremam Se Na Dalek Put” keep the mood reflective and grounded. But honestly, even if you don’t speak the language, the melodies alone are enough to carry you through. It’s like the kind of music your grandpa might’ve listened to back in the day, except it still feels relevant today. Weird, huh?
So yeah, Ja Sam Ranjen Kao Ptica isn’t perfect. Some parts drag a bit, and sure, it’s not exactly party music. But who cares? Albums like this remind you that music doesn’t always have to be flashy or loud to leave a mark. Sometimes, all it needs is honesty—and maybe a damn good orchestra.
Oh, and here’s a random thought: listening to this makes me wonder what Yugoslavia would’ve sounded like now if things had turned out differently. Would we have gotten more albums like this? Food for thought, I guess.
