Usnio Sam Usniju by Nenad Jovanović – A Folk Explosion That Still Echoes in 2012 Yugoslavia Vibes
Alright, let’s cut to the chase. Usnio Sam Usniju isn’t just another Balkan folk album; it’s a punch-to-the-gut reminder of what real music feels like. Released in 2012 under Jugoton (yeah, you heard me right, Jugoton’s still got game even this late into the game), Nenad Jovanović teamed up with producer Slobodan Nikolić and arranger Dragan Aleksandrić to deliver something raw, unfiltered, and brutally honest. If you’re looking for polished pop fluff, bounce off now—this one’s steeped deep in grit, tradition, and some serious drinking tunes.
The album kicks off strong, but two tracks hit so hard they’ll stay stuck in your head like gum on a hot summer sidewalk: "Ajd’Mo Jednu Meraklijsku" and "Pijan Sam Bez Čaše Vina."
Let’s start with “Meraklijsku.” This is the kind of track that makes you wanna grab someone random at a wedding, spin 'em around, then spill rakija all over their shoes. It’s upbeat as hell, with Orkestar Dragana Aleksandrića throwing down some brass-heavy madness that screams celebration. You can almost smell the grilled meat and hear the clinking glasses when this song drops. The energy? Unstoppable. And yeah, sure, maybe the lyrics are kinda cheesy, but who cares? When was the last time you listened to a tune that made you forget life sucks for three minutes straight? Exactly.
Then there’s “Pijan Sam Bez Čaše Vina,” which hits different. Like…way different. This one slows things down, digging into heartbreak territory where every note feels like a gut punch. Nenad’s voice cracks just enough to make you believe he’s lived through whatever sad sob story he’s singing about. It’s hauntingly beautiful, man. By the second chorus, you’ll either be reaching for a bottle yourself or calling an ex you swore you’d never think about again. No joke.
What really ties this whole thing together is how damn authentic it feels. Engineer A. Radojičić didn’t slap on layers of studio magic—he kept it rough around the edges, letting the soul of these songs shine through. And props to Dragan Aleksandrić for arranging everything with such fire—you can tell his orchestra gave zero fs about being perfect. They played like they meant it, and holy sht does it show.
But here’s the kicker: listening to Usnio Sam Usniju feels like stepping back in time—not just because it came out in 2012, but because it channels something timeless. These aren’t just songs; they’re stories passed down from generation to generation, wrapped up in booze-soaked nights and tear-streaked mornings. Listening to this album in 2023 feels kinda like finding an old vinyl record tucked away in your grandparents’ attic—it shouldn’t work anymore, but somehow it does.
And hey, if nothing else sticks with you after spinning this gem, remember this: music doesn’t need to reinvent the wheel to matter. Sometimes, all it needs to do is remind you what it means to feel alive—and pissed off, and drunk, and hopelessly in love—all at once. Now go pour yourself a shot and press play. Cheers.
