Album Review: Prijateljstvo Zanat Najstariji by Koya
Released in 1991 under the Bitef Teatar label, Prijateljstvo Zanat Najstariji is a curious gem from Yugoslavia that blends genres like Stage & Screen, Rock, Pop, and Electronic with experimental and ambient styles. It’s not your typical album—it feels more like an artistic experiment than a commercial project. And honestly, that’s what makes it so intriguing.
Koya, the mastermind behind this work, wears multiple hats here: guitarist, electric pianist, composer, and even the artist responsible for the cover design. Collaborators Saša Lokner (performer), Banana on violin and flute, and others bring additional layers to the soundscapes. The result? A record that feels both intimate and sprawling, as if it’s inviting you into its own little universe while daring you to keep up.
Let’s zoom in on two standout tracks. First up is “ŽŠG,” which grabs attention right away with its moody atmosphere. The track builds slowly, layering subtle electronic textures with sparse guitar notes. There’s something haunting about how these elements interact—it’s not quite rock, not fully ambient, but sits somewhere in between. You can almost picture a dimly lit theater stage during this piece, maybe with shadowy figures moving across it. That visual connection isn’t surprising given the Stage & Screen tag; Koya seems to have crafted music that could easily accompany a surreal play or film.
Then there’s “Kliker II,” a track that sticks out because of its playful yet chaotic energy. Unlike the introspective vibe of “ŽŠG,” this one feels like controlled madness. Imagine glitchy beats meeting melodic fragments played on electric piano, all tied together by bursts of violin courtesy of Banana. It’s unpredictable, but oddly satisfying—like finding beauty in imperfection. This track reminds me why experimentation works when done well: it keeps listeners guessing without losing their interest.
The production quality leans raw, almost DIY, which suits the album’s ethos perfectly. Nothing feels overly polished, and that rough-around-the-edges charm adds authenticity. Sure, some transitions between tracks might feel abrupt, but hey, life itself doesn’t always flow smoothly either, does it?
Reflecting on Prijateljstvo Zanat Najstariji, it strikes me how ahead of its time this album was—and still is. In an era dominated by mainstream pop and predictable formulas, Koya dared to create something unconventional. Listening to it today feels like stumbling upon a hidden diary from another era, full of cryptic messages and vivid imagery. If anything, this album proves that art doesn’t need to shout to be heard. Sometimes, whispering loudly enough does the trick.
Oh, and fun fact? Knowing that Koya did nearly everything himself makes me wonder if he ever got any sleep during those days. Hats off to him though—what a wild ride!
