TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 75 Tamburaši of the Balkanized Peninsula: Musical Relations of the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić” in Croatia and Its Intimates Ian MacMillen Oberlin College and Conservatory Of all the terms that have emerged from studies of Southeastern Europe over the past century, “balkanization” still seems to be the most widely accepted and publicly recognized. Its connotations of rupture and fragmentation reflect the focus of much recent political discourse, journalism, and scholarship on the creation of separate, often mutually hostile, nation-states out of republics such as the former Yugoslavia. Just as notable, though, are instances in which the independence of a nation-state has been cause for intensification of communal ties and intimacy across the very borders it has erected.1 These situations offer insights to one of the great challenges of the study of traditional music in this and any region: how to account for the transnational movement of ensembles and musical styles without losing sight of the varied roles of specific countries and borders. The present article addresses this challenge by examining diverse types of divisions and intimacies in relation to musical nationalism and other forms of belonging that have intensified since 1991 through networks of tambura ensembles centered in the independent Republic of Croatia.2 Focusing on the regional and international activities of the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić” from Osijek, Croatia, it presents the concept of “national intimates” as an approach to transnational nationalism that accounts for the interconnectedness of the processes of balkanization, diaspora, mobilizations of national minority status, and constructions of national music.3 A Brief History of Tambura Music in the Lands of the “Southern Slavs”4 For several centuries, tambura chordophone-type instruments moved throughout Southeast Europe with Ottoman forces during their occupation of the region. The solo tambura (which took a wide variety of shapes, sizes, and names) became common throughout much of present-day Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia and Serbia by the 18th century. Research on the early years of the tambura’s diversification into a family of instruments and on its combination in ensemble Balkanistica 27 (2014) 76 IAN MACMILLAN settings typically cites the small orchestra that the musician Pajo Kolarić founded in Osijek in 1847 as the first documented tambura ensemble (e.g., March 1983). Josip Andrić, however, has argued that groups performing on multiple tamburas have existed since the late 18th century among the Bunjevci (a group of Catholic Slavs whom Croatians generally consider Croats and who live predominantly in the northern Serbian province of Vojvodina).5 According to Andrić, the Bunjevci combined the previously solo instruments in ensembles that they modeled after, and intended as a local folklore alternative to, the Hungarian Romani violin and cimbalom bands then popular in the area (Andrić 1958: 13). Such tambura ensembles were particularly effective at promoting local culture and language in the 19th-century nationalist Illyrian movement, which sought to assert Slavic identity (specifically, of the local, Catholic Slavs) in the face of Austro-Hungarian cultural and political domination in the middle of the 19th century (March 1983: 106). Even after Austro-Hungarian rule put an end to the movement, amateur tambura ensembles continued to spread to other Croatian urban centers such as Zagreb, where many members also began to play professionally, and throughout towns and villages in present-day Serbia and Bosnia and Herzegovina (Ibid.: 120). As thousands of emigrants began to leave these regions in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to escape poverty and/or political oppression, many tambura musicians — both professionals and amateurs — took their instruments, repertoire, and knowledge of the orchestral tradition with them to places like New Zealand, Australia, and North and South America (Ibid.: 121). By the creation of the first Yugoslavia in 1929,6 amateur, professional and semiprofessional ensembles throughout the region and abroad had come to employ a variety of combinations of the most common tambura instruments. These range from the small, usually round-bodied, lead prim tambura (also known as bisernica or sometimes simply tamburica) to hourglass-shaped secondary melody tamburas (e.g., the čelović, the čelo and the basprim, also known as brač), harmony tamburas (i.e., the kontra, also known as bugarija), and finally the largest, berda (also known as bas), which resembles a double bass in appearance and function.7 A functional tambura group almost always featured a minimum of berda, kontra, basprim, and one other melodic instrument, but many ensembles had one, two or three additional tamburas. Some bands incorporated violin and/or accordion into their lineups, although this was less common in the East Croatian region of Slavonia, where many Croat patrons associated these instruments with Roma from Vojvodina and with Serbian musical practice rather than with Croatian national Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 77 identity (see Pettan 1998: 16-18). Musicians to this day use plectra for all tambura types and, with the exception of berda and kontra players, typically play with tremolo all note values longer than an eighth note. The berda and kontra players most typically play alternating strokes on, respectively, the strong and weak beats of the bar and only join in playing tremolo at the very end of a song. In the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, tambura ensembles operated in a variety of private and public contexts. Amateur and professional groups continued to perform at private wedding events and at restaurants, kafane (‘coffee houses’), and taverns across much of the republic (with the greatest concentration in the area triangulated between Zagreb, Sarajevo and Belgrade/Novi Sad). Official town and city orchestras performed diverse repertoires of folk music, classical compositions, starogradske pjesme,8 and international light popular songs. Folklore ensembles also formed as parts of the amateur KulturnoUmjetnička Društva (‘Cultural-Artistic Societies,’ hereafter referred to by the common abbreviation KUD) that the socialist government established throughout the republic to promote the folk traditions of its many nations.9 The early socialist period was a time when many tambura schools were founded as well, and in 1954 the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić” — the case study to which I will turn in the following section — commenced its training of young musicians on these instruments. These KUDs and schools trained many of the musicians who went on to perform professionally in the state folklore ensembles (e.g., Lado in Zagreb and Kolo in Belgrade) and the radio tambura orchestras of Belgrade, Sarajevo, and Zagreb (see Shay 2002). In promoting the musical cultures of the many Yugoslav peoples, and in performing for them in both public and private events, the members of most of these ensembles became accustomed to traveling throughout much of Yugoslavia, to interacting and performing for and with diverse ethnic groups, and to realizing in this manner the ideal of bratsvo i jedinstvo (‘fraternity and unity’) promoted by the Yugoslavian state.10 The initial dissolution of Yugoslavia in the early 1990s created a great upheaval in Southeastern Europe’s multi-ethnic networks and scenes of tambura music. In addition to disrupting established musical events and their associated movements of musicians and audiences, the federation’s breakup displaced large populations, including many tambura musicians, to “ethnic homelands” (many Serbs born and living in Croatia, for example, left as refugees for Belgrade), as well as to more distant countries. Refugee tambura musicians and enthusiasts from a variety of ethnic backgrounds joined much longer established expatriate Balkanistica 27 (2014) 78 IAN MACMILLAN communities in countries such as Austria and the United States. Many Croats and Serbs from the war zone along the current Croatian-Serbian border, for instance, settled in Austrian Burgenland towns such as Parndorf (Pandrof in Croatian) or in the Burgenland or Baranya regions of Hungary. There, Slavic enclaves had survived since their founders moved north some twelve generations ago in order to aid Austria in conflicts with Ottoman forces. In cases such as Parndorf, the communities that received refugees of the 1990s war already had strong tambura traditions in place since at least the 1930s, as well as long histories of interaction with musical professionals, ensembles, and institutions in Yugoslavia (Schedl 2004: 39). The wars of the 1990s thus had great significance for expatriate communities as well: they both disrupted patterns of musical interaction with Yugoslavia and sent new waves of tambura musicians and audiences into the midst of older diasporas. The period following the outbreak of war in 1991 witnessed a transition in the manner in which foreign communities relate to Southeastern European territories and impacted their musical practices, including tambura music. Croats in Austria and North America had long involved themselves in the political realms of Yugoslavia through means such as feeding separatist rhetoric, acting as political and cultural ambassadors for their countries of citizenship, and eventually supporting the most recent wars financially (Hockenos 2003: 84-85). Firsthand interaction with people inside the territories of the former Yugoslavia was relatively limited during the early 1990s, however, and often members of the new diaspora (with fluency in the Croatian language and personal contacts in their former hometowns) were those who led efforts at reconnecting, this time with the newly established Republic of Croatia. Tamburaši (‘tambura players’) played a key role: rising professional stars such as Osijek singer-songwriters Miroslav Škoro and Vjekoslav Dimter wrote some of the most successful patriotic songs of the 1990s while collaborating with tamburaši in North America and helped to establish Pittsburgh-born Jerry Grčevich as a tambura legend and much sought-after performer in Croatia after their albums’ popularization during the war. Amateur musicians such as Zoran Mileta of Vukovar, who settled in Parndorf, Austria, have been instrumental in forming relationships with tambura societies in eastern Slavonia (particularly with the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić”). Many of the public tambura concerts now held in Croatia and within these diasporic communities have developed out of contacts forged or maintained by recent Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 79 immigrants, and their experiences of war and emigration have shaped the nature of these connections. “Croatia and Its Intimates”: The Territories of the Post-Secession Croatian Tambura Scene This period of tambura’s recent history also points to ‒ and partially accounts for ‒ the variety of foreign communities whose involvement in the international tambura scene is integral to Croatia’s relations to its citizens, its musical traditions, its geographical neighbors, and other parts of the world. This variety is apparent in musical style, but for now I will examine some of its ethnic, geographical, and historical dimensions. On the one hand, there are diasporic communities such as those I have just mentioned in Austria and North America. The historical depth and continuity of emigration from Croatia to these two parts of the world differs tremendously, however: while these as well as other destinations of emigration all boast numerous locations with multiple waves of immigrants (often integrated, as in the mixing of new immigrants and 12th-generation Croatian Austrians in Parndorf), the more distant continents have received them intensively but (only) recently in comparison to lands closer to the former Yugoslavia. On the other hand, there are communities of ethnic Croats outside of Croatia’s borders that consider themselves not so much a diaspora as the casualties of the balkanization of Southeastern Europe. Some, such as Croats in the southern Hungarian part of Baranya — a region that also crosses into northeastern Croatia and that is known there as Baranja — have lived as national minorities for generations, relating to their perceived ethnic homeland across Hungary’s national border but feeling very much in their own territory. Others in Bosnia and Herzegovina and in Serbia have a much shorter history as foreign nationals to the Croatian lands and feel perhaps even more strongly that their cities should lie within Croatia’s borders (and thus constitute what some Croatian nationalists refer to as “Greater Croatia”). The breakup of Yugoslavia in the 1990s added not just more borders but more kinds of border-crossings, informed by different histories. These crossings and connections complicate conceptions not only of balkanization but of diaspora as well. The use of the term “diaspora” to designate a people displaced from a nominal homeland far predates the modern nation-state,11 and as the latter entity has yielded some of its structuring capacity to late 20th- and early 21st-century processes of globalization in many parts of the world, scholars Balkanistica 27 (2014) 80 IAN MACMILLAN of migration have embraced more complex ideas of the relationship between displacement and place in studies of decentered diasporas (e.g., Gilroy 1993, Clifford 1997, Stephen 2007). However, in parts of Eastern Europe, the fragmentation of multinational republics into long-anticipated nation-states — the process often referred to as “balkanization” — has often served to re-center discourses on nation and displacement, for peoples not only in diaspora but also in neighboring territories newly separated by national borders from the “ethnic homelands” to which they feel they belong. Displacement and attempts to reconnect through a central territory have come to be sources of identification and commonality among peoples separated by more diverse degrees of time and space than the term “diaspora” connotes, particularly for recentralized territories such as the independent Republic of Croatia. I have found it productive to use the phrase “Croatia and its intimates” in order to account for and name the wide range of (musical) communities within and outside Croatia’s borders that relate to the Republic of Croatia as a national center (see MacMillen 2011a). These are not all diasporic communities, nor does all of the Croatian diaspora enjoy the same sort of intimate connections with musicians in Croatia as do the tamburaši I mentioned in Parndorf and Pittsburgh.12 These communities — rooted in their own localities yet continuously building and performing their ties to the homeland and, through it, to one another — are instead what I refer to as the intimates of the nation-state of Croatia. Their participation in the cultural and political affairs of the country, furthermore, demonstrates more than the familiarity or nostalgic longing for the “old country” typical of many nations’ diasporas. Croatia and its intimates keep their connections up to date through varied means of reciprocal influence and support that are apparent in such matters as political campaigns, insurance networks, religious missions, access to higher education, tourism, and, indeed, tambura music — the particular performance angle through which I have chosen to research these trends. The shared traditions, personal relationships, and stake in the future of the country that connect Croatia and its intimates are accompanied and facilitated largely, though not exclusively, by mutual recognition of a common ethnic heritage. There are, of course, Serbs, Roma and other ethnic groups, both within and outside Croatia’s borders, who have a great impact on tambura music within Croatia, its intimates, and the greater international scene. In fact, a closely related study might very well consider “Serbia and its intimates” as an equally significant if differently structured zone of tambura performance. Serbs, too, have long Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 81 claimed the tambura as their own and have upheld tambura music as a Serbian folkloric and national tradition in both the socialist and post-socialist periods.13 Serbian professional bands, radio orchestras and amateur folklore groups remain active in Serbia today, though they perform in Croatia far more rarely than do Croatian Croats in Serbia. The few Serbian tambura ensembles that have remained active in Croatia since the war participate regularly in folklore events for Serbs outside of Serbia, such as the “Days of Culture of the Serbs of Eastern Slavonia, Baranja and Western Srem” in Eastern Croatia and the international “European Festival of Serbian Folklore of the Diaspora” (Prosvjeta 2010: 3-5). These events celebrate tambura music and other folkloric traditions as practices that root the Serbian people in their territories of residence, including Eastern Croatia. In such cases, the Republic of Serbia often constitutes an “empty” center for its intimates in the sense that these events solidify Serbian connections outside of – rather than with – their nominal homeland (as discussed below, the few festivals in Serbia in which Serb ensembles from Croatia do perform are typically international, juried events whose multi-ethnic and competitive qualities hinder the potential for diasporic groups to use them to foster closeness with their “homeland” or with other ensembles). Croatian lands, and to a certain extent parts of Bosnia as well, often afford much more important sites of tambura activity to Serbian groups situated beyond Serbia’s borders, as it is there that they frame their performances explicitly in terms of their diasporic relations to their hometowns, to one another, and to Serbia. Yet, Croatia itself remains merely a non-central locus for music and networking to the Serbs who perform there, as their senses of connection, familiarity, and loyalty typically extend to specific Serbian communities and towns rather than to the larger geopolitical state entity. In fieldwork-based analyses of the tambura networks in these countries, Croatian ethnicity has surfaced as the most prominent – and often the only – precipitating factor for the intense intimacy that exists between tambura bands and the independent Republic of Croatia that I examine here. In selecting the term intimate, I wish not only to employ the noun’s connotation of a close personal friend as a metaphor or metonym for a closely connected and supportive foreign community but also to invoke the many nuances of the adjectival form. These communities are intimate with Croatia and its citizens in a variety of senses (in sharing personal relationships, in recognizing closeness through mutual influence, and even through sexual intimacy, as young men and women continue to find spouses and raise families in Croatian communities Balkanistica 27 (2014) 82 IAN MACMILLAN outside of their countries of birth). In using intimates, I intend further to acknowledge recent scholarship theorizing these sorts of intimacy in the close ties of people with shared investments and obligations, as well as at levels beyond personal relationships. Especially prominent within this literature is Lauren Berlant’s examination of the tacit rules, obligations, and fantasies that people bring to intimate relationships (Berlant 1998: 287).14 Although these tacit understandings often propagate “optimis[tic]” ideas about the way things should be, Berlant notes that intimacy “is also formed around threats to the image of the world it seeks to sustain” (Ibid.: 288).15 The war that accompanied Croatia’s secession from Yugoslavia simultaneously assured its status as an autonomous center and threatened its accessibility to Croat communities outside of its borders; the sense of connection that formed or intensified among these communities is key to their designation as Croatia’s intimates. In his work on “dark intimacy” in Southeastern Europe, Alexander Kiossev notes that connection and identification “take place in an unstable field, where various identity models are in competition; […] such conditions could create a feeling of uncertainty and anxiety [or could afford] individuals more opportunities and more “free space” for maneuvering” (Kiossev 2002: 178).16 During the war, the unstable status of the homeland itself and of its accessibility to Croats beyond its militarized borders strengthened feelings of uncertainty and anxiety over separation from the new nation-state with which many of them wished to identify. Some undoubtedly took advantage of this separation in order to explore alternative or plural models, maneuvering within the freer spaces of identification that they sometimes found beyond Croatia’s borders and employing identity strategically as they aligned themselves with minority, regional, and broader European organizations; others, however, sought to restabilize the model of national identification that had increasingly taken hold in Yugoslavia’s Croat population during the 1980s by reestablishing physical contact with communities inside Croatia’s borders. These latter individuals are largely the ones who, working with their contacts in Croatia, have made their own communities intimates of the young country. Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 83 Case Study: The Tambura Music Festival of the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić”17 Between September 2009 and June 2010, I conducted fieldwork in the East Croatian city of Osijek and worked with several institutions for the study of tambura. Two of these — the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić” and the Batorek Tambura School — feature orchestras that perform regularly in Croatia and abroad, and they will be the focus of this article. My longest tenure was as an instructor and rehearsal assistant with the children’s orchestra of “Pajo Kolarić,” and I will examine the history of this institution in the greatest depth. The children’s orchestra and the slightly older youth orchestra at “Pajo Kolarić” had several concerts during the 2009-2010 school year in Croatia as well as in nearby countries. Their most ambitious program is the weeklong Međunarodni Festival Hrvatske Tamburaške Glazbe (‘The International Festival of Croatian Tambura Music’), which they organize each year in early June in Osijek and in several other cities with strong Croatian communities, including Sombor (in Serbia’s semi-autonomous province of Vojvodina), Pécs (in southern Hungary) and Parndorf (the previously mentioned Croatian enclave in Austria). I attended most of the concerts of the 2010 festival and also researched its history in archives in Osijek and Zagreb. This confluence of youth and amateur orchestras dates back to 1961, when, seven years after its own founding, the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić” organized the biennial Festival Tamburaške Glazbe Jugoslavije (‘Festival of the Tambura Music of Yugoslavia’). The change in name to Međunarodni Festival Hrvatske Tamburaške Glazbe reflects a shift in the festival’s orientation and purpose from its former pan-Yugoslavian outreach to an embrace of Croatia and its intimates that is closely linked to the course of historical events in the late 1980s and 1990s. As of the 1987 and 1989 meetings, the festival still carried the original name, and the booklets published and disseminated to the participants and public in those years called attention to the representation of music ensembles from throughout most of the country of Yugoslavia. The 1987 booklet stated: “Our amateur-tamburaši from Subotica [Vojvodina], Varaždin [Northern Croatia], Samobor [Vojvodina], Drniš and Posedarja [Croatia’s coastal region Dalmatia], even all the way to Artiče in Slovenia, have demonstrated a high level of professional musicianship” (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1987: 1).18 The booklet to the 1989 festival proclaimed a welcome Balkanistica 27 (2014) IAN MACMILLAN 84 to “još jedno druženje tamburaša iz cijele naše drage domovine” (‘one more mingling of tamburaši from our entire dear homeland’19) and noted that nearly each of the Yugoslavian republics had a representative group (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1989: 5). Ensembles from throughout Croatia, much of Vojvodina, the Slovenian city of Artiče, and even Tuzla, Bosnia, performed at the festival, and the booklet expressed the organizers’ satisfaction that, despite the growing financial crisis (which led in part to the political changes across communist Eastern Europe in 1989), ensembles had valued participation highly enough to finance their own trips from across Yugoslavia and that the tambura movement was growing wider throughout nearly all parts of Yugoslavia (Ibid.: 7-8).20 The official message as publicized in this booklet esteemed the gathering of ensembles from the county’s different parts and peoples and expressed interest in continuing to reach across the Yugoslav homeland. This sentiment and its public articulation were in keeping with official Yugoslavian doctrine at the time, and also with the multi-ethnic nature of STD “Pajo Kolarić,” which was situated in the largely Croat city of Osijek but also had ethnic Serbs in its ranks, including the director (and future tambura luthier) Stevan Tatić.21 The next festival would have convened in Osijek in 1991, but the militarization and violence that escalated in the fall of 1990 and the winter and spring of 1991, and that eventually led to full-scale war in eastern Croatia following the secession of Croatia (and Slovenia) from Yugoslavia by June, prevented the organizers from holding it that year. In 1992, the organizers of the festival and directors of “Pajo Kolarić” — with the exception of ethnic Serbs such as Stevan Tatić, who told me in 2010 that it was no longer possible for him to work there due to the association of local Serbs with the attacks of Serbian militias — moved the event to Križevci, a town approximately 30 kilometers northeast of Zagreb that, unlike Osijek, had not sustained heavy damage from shelling by the Yugoslav army. In the front of the booklet to this festival, under the title “Nije Nam Uništen Duh” (‘Our Spirit Is Not Destroyed’), the president of the festival’s organization, Professor Frano Dragun, wrote: I would be happier if I could direct a welcome to you in our once beautiful and all too beautiful city, the Slavonian metropolis, the city on the Drava, the cradle of Croatian tambura, in Osijek. The barbarian hordes from the east and the domestic Serbian highway robbers have disabled us, those who, you see, already a full year are devastating all Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 85 that which not one army, since the Roman Empire and its Mursa [a Roman settlement on the site of present-day Osijek], had ruined. Destroyed is the gothic and baroque architecture, the art-deco and modern. But that which is highest, which is irreplaceable, the city of Osijek has lost more than 800 of its Osijekans, and it has left more than 4,800 cripples on the conscience of those who have none at all. After all that our spirit is not destroyed (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1992: 6; my translation). The organizers, who now included the mayor and other representatives of Križevci, called the event XV. Festival Tamburaške Glazbe Republike Hrvatske U Osijeku (‘The XVth Festival of Tambura Music of the Republic of Croatia in Osijek’), emphasizing its now explicitly Croatian orientation while also connecting it to its previous fourteen meetings in Osijek (and creatively downplaying the facts that this was the first time that the festival had assumed this name and that it was meeting in Križevci rather than in Osijek). Unlike the 1989 festival, which had lasted for four days, the 1992 festival held only three concerts over two days and featured some nine orchestras from unoccupied regions of Croatia. The only ensemble from outside Croatia to participate was the same ensemble from Artiče, Slovenia, that had attended the previous two festivals: the largely ethnically Croatian orchestra “Oton Župančić,” which performed as guests of the festival. The focus and reach of the festival was both geographically and ethnically much narrower than ever before and functioned as a bastion of Croatian culture, identity, and resilience during the wartime violence that Osijek residents had suffered firsthand.22 Over the years that followed, one can recognize an agenda for re-expanding the festival to its previous magnitude (however, in a different mold of interregional participation) in two successive trends: (1) the return of the festival and its outreach to those Croatian cities ravaged and/or occupied during the war; and (2) the inclusion of ensembles from foreign Croat enclaves (Croatia’s intimates). The first trend started later in 1992, when the organizers of the festival arranged for a special, non-juried performance in the Church on the main square of Osijek’s upper city by three of the festival’s participating orchestras: “Alberta Štrige” from Križevci, “Pajo Kolarić” from Osijek and “Ferdo Livadić” from Samobor (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1993: 6). Reflecting back on this special additional event in the booklet to the following year’s festival, president Frano Dragun wrote: Balkanistica 27 (2014) IAN MACMILLAN 86 The Quality and impressive performance in the Church of Saints Peter and Paul (popularly [known as] the Cathedral), the speech and holy Mass of the illustrious bishop of the Đakovo-Srijem bishopric – Dr. Ćiril Kos, as sponsor of the concert, will remain permanently in the hearts and memory of numerous Osijekans, church dignitaries, the government and other guests. At last the tamburica, as our Croatian national instrument, has quite successfully entered the sacral building (Ibid.; my translation). The return of the festival to Osijek thus reclaimed not only the bombarded city, where for two consecutive summers it had been impossible to hold the festival, but the Croatian Catholic Church as well. The separation and ostracization of religious institutions from public and official life under communism had prevented such concerts from taking place in churches for decades beforehand. It had also been difficult to perform nationally-oriented concerts (i.e., a concert honoring only Croatian musicians, instruments and folklore) within the doctrine of multinational Yugoslavian folklore practices, and holding a nationalistic23 concert in a church thus constituted a double act of reclamation of space formerly under Yugoslavian legal and/or military control (as specified by Dragun’s comment that “[a]t last the tamburica, as our Croatian national instrument, has quite successfully entered the sacral building,” Ibid). Local Serbs, furthermore, would be unlikely to attend a performance in a Croatian Catholic Church, and the selection of the “Cathedral” for the principally public concert effectively placed it in a space now out of reach of the “enemy,” whether construed as Orthodox Serbs or as atheistic Yugoslavs (I will return to the role of Catholic churches below).24 The reclamation of Croatian territory continued the following May when the full festival, still under the name Festival Tamburaške Glazbe Republike Hrvatske U Osijeku, returned to Osijek, where ever since it has continued to meet annually (twice as often as before the war). Frano Dragun wrote in that year’s booklet: “It will be one of the — up to now — most massive Festivals. And rightfully so. Despite and in spite of the proximity of [the war’s] front line, of the economic hardships, and of internal and international tensions, WE are showing them our Croatian supremacy, so on the front line, thus also in culture” (Ibid.; my translation). The 1993 festival also featured a Mass with tambura music in the Church of Saints Peter and Paul in which performed the Folklore Choir and Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 87 Orchestra of the Croatian Cultural-Artistic Society “Osijek 1862” (Folklorni Zbor i Orkestar Hrvatskog Kulturno-Umjetničkog Društva “Osijek 1862”) under the direction of Duško Topić. The large number of orchestras that convened at this meeting of the festival from all regions of Croatia, even those such as Dalmatia where tambura music had not previously been performed as widely or even been popular on the radio, evinced the widening interest in the tambura for its role as a Croatian national instrument within “national integration ideology” and for reviving Croatian patriotic and religious songs banned under Yugoslavian governance (Bogojeva-Magzan 2005: 108-09). As Ruža Bonifačić has argued, this growing interest was due in part to the involvement in the war effort of semiprofessional and professional tambura bands such as Zlatni Dukati, who subsequently became the most popular musicians then active in the new country (Bonifačić 1998: 138). The widening of interest in tambura music within Croatia also extended to the involvement of Croatia’s intimates. In 1993, and for several years afterward, general sponsorship for the festival came from the Croatian Fraternal Union of North America. In the booklet to the XVIIth festival in 1994, which officially convened “under the auspices of the president of the Republic of Croatia Dr. Franjo Tuđman”25 with the slogan “Svi za jednoga – jedan za sve” (“All for one – one for all”), the president of the CFU Bernard Luketich published a greeting in Croatian that stated: “We are especially honored that this year’s Festival theme is ‘ALL FOR ONE, ONE FOR ALL’ because it has also been the slogan of our Union already for one hundred straight years. Our Croats, members of the CROATIAN FRATERNAL UNION have lived by that slogan even since their first arrival on this American continent” (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1994: 69; my translation with original capitalization preserved). Luketich made special mention of the city of Osijek, which he said had long been among the most important cities guarding the Croatian tambura tradition. As I discovered during my fieldwork in Osijek, he also had a close personal connection to the festival: the late Željko Čiki, who was then the assistant to the president of the festival, who later became its president, and who for several decades served as the executive director of the HKUD “Osijek 1862,” was also the godfather of Luketich’s grandson, Derek Luketich Hohn.26 In the following years, as Osijek’s own wartime sufferings became more distant temporally, attention to post-war rebuilding in the official publications of the festival’s organizers turned to those territories to the east, north, and south of Osijek formerly occupied by the Yugoslavian army and subsequently (until 1998) Balkanistica 27 (2014) IAN MACMILLAN 88 under the control of the United Nations Transitional Authority in Eastern Slavonia, Baranja and Western Sirmium (UNTAES). As Catherine Baker notes, Zlatni Dukati and their manager and music arranger Josip Ivanković began writing and releasing songs about the occupied and severely damaged East Croatian city of Vukovar (which was close to the hometowns of several of the members) during the siege itself, and they declared that they would be the first musicians to reenter and reclaim the city from the Yugoslavian forces (Baker 2010: 40-41). The use of musical events to reclaim occupied territories and to make these achievements audible on the Croatian media thus became a common endeavor in the mid-1990s. The booklet to the 1996 festival proclaims that the ability to organize tambura events in an independent Croatia no longer under siege was strong motivation for the celebratation of the festival and of their renewed work in promoting tambura music under its auspices. The booklet also, however, discusses the organizers’ desires to move the festival into occupied territories. Frano Dragun writes: This year’s XIXth festival we are holding in ever still complicated socio-political and economic conditions. A part of Lijepa naša27 that is situated immediately alongside us still is not free. Consequently we cannot also present a part of the program of our Festival in our Croatian and once beautiful [city of] Vukovar, the picturesque Ilok or the rich Beli Manastir. But, we firmly believe that we will realize our idea about the moving of parts of the festival program into the abovementioned Croatian cities for the XXth FESTIVAL IN 1997 (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1996: 9; my translation). In order to work on this idea, to support the ensembles that were then largely left to their own devices for finding musical and financial resources,28 and to promote further the spread of Croatian tambura music throughout the territories of Croatia, the organizers of the festival decided to reinstate the Hrvatski Tamburaški Savez u Osijeku (‘Croatian Tambura Alliance in Osijek’). They emphasize in the booklet that they were not creating but renewing the alliance, which was founded in 1937 but ceased to exist after World War II “due to well-known reasons” (iz poznatih razloga, referring to the abolishment of specifically Croatian institutions Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 89 under the post-war Yugoslavian government — Ibid.: 8). Plans for the upcoming festival’s move into the occupied territories were foremost among the concerns and hopes of the renewed alliance. They realized this idea not in 1997 but in 1998, when the transition of sovereignty over Croatian territories along the Danube River from UNTAES to the Croatian government meant that the organizers were able to schedule the XXIst Festival to meet in Vukovar and Ilok, as well as in Osijek. In the first publication of the Croatian Tambura Alliance’s new journal, Hrvatska Tamburica: Glasilo za Promicanje Tamburaške Glazbe (‘Croatian Tamburica: [Official] Organ for the Promotion of Tambura Music’), Frano Dragun noted that the concerts in both Beli Manastir and Ilok had been great successes, and that the congregation of Croatian tamburaši in Ilok had been particularly memorable because 90% of the musicians were able for the first time in their young lives to see the famed Ilok Bulwarks and the Church of St. Capistran (Dragun 1999: 17). They had planned to hold a concert in Vukovar, “the symbol of the Croatian opposition,” but the practical realities of playing in war-ravaged buildings prevented it, and so they convened in Beli Manastir and Ilok (Ibid.). The journal also included entries from several of the directors of ensembles that had participated, who noted the symbolic as well as direct importance to themselves and to their ensembles of performing in the formerly occupied cities. They also discussed their ensembles’ activities outside the festival, primarily in the context of playing for wounded and/or handicapped veterans. The unifying theme of this first publication of Hrvatska Tamburica was the movement of ensembles throughout the now fully sovereign republic in order to connect musicians from disparate regions with one another, with locations that had been damaged and/or kept out of reach by the war, and with the soldiers who had fought to protect and regain threatened Croatian territories. Hrvatska Tamburica’s mention of veterans and of foreign and occupied communities reflects a broader, national trend of invoking them in the media as inspiration and emblems for the fight for Greater Croatia. The Croatian Democratic Party (HDZ) had mobilized occupied territories and wounded veterans throughout the 1990s in order to foster nationalist sentiment and garner electoral support (see Ottaway 2003: 117-29). The HDZ and its most prominent politician, president Franjo Tuđman, had also repeatedly utilized tambura music to rally electoral and military support in the years following Croatia’s secession (Baker 2010: 26); perhaps the most memorable instance was the public lauding yet ultimate rejection of the applications for voluntary army service of the tambura Balkanistica 27 (2014) IAN MACMILLAN 90 band Zlatni Dukati, whom the HDZ instead enlisted to play at the front lines and for public meetings and charity events (Bonifačić 1998: 138). The activities of the Croatian Tambura Alliance members that Hrvatska Tamburica celebrated were in full compliance with and support of the state’s “strategic narrative” (Price 2011) of actively repairing and rebuilding the country through military and cultural programs that they believed would reunite separated territories and heal the population’s physical and emotional traumas. The journal’s articles also made mention of the second trend that I have identified above: the outreach of the festival and its participating ensembles to foreign territories (a project similarly in keeping with the aims of the HDZ, which relied heavily on financial investments from Croat populations abroad; see Hockenos [2003] and Baker [2010]). Frano Dragun writes: A special interest of last year’s Festival is, although not for the first time, the participation of a larger number of foreign tambura orchestras and small ensembles. For the Osijek public it was really a true delight to watch and listen to Czech performers – the Tambura choir “Brač” from Studenka, the TO [Tambura Orchestra] “Oton Župančić” Artiče (Slovenia), a TO from Nuremberg and the small ensemble “Senjo” from Kreševo (The Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina). Consequently it can be said with full authority that Osijek is once again recognized as the very source and center of an international tambura movement and of tambura music (Ibid.; my translation). The narrative of reclaiming Croatian territories through musical performance went hand-in-hand with the narrative of the return of Osijek and its festival to the status of an international hub and center of tambura music. Thus, among the many concerts held over the festival (now expanded to last nine days with one concert held each day), the ones that received special attention in both the booklet to the festival and the journal that appeared the following year were the two concerts of Croatian orchestras held in formerly occupied cities and the concert of foreign orchestras held in Osijek. The majority of the foreign orchestras that began once again to participate in the festival in Osijek, however, were themselves largely Croatian. Three out of the four foreign groups that performed at the 1998 festival — those from Slovenia, Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 91 Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Germany — were Croatian in orientation and by the ethnicity of many of their members as well. The Slovenian group had also performed in the 1992 festival in Križevci, and again in 1995 along with the tambura orchestra of the sports club “Sloboda” (‘Freedom’) from Tuzla, Bosnia, which also became a regular participant. The reestablishment of the festival’s international character involved a clear reconfiguration of its former official mission: the broadening of tambura music’s interest throughout the lands and peoples of Yugoslavia evolved into a practice of selectively inviting Croatian ensembles from outside of the country’s new national borders. These were almost exclusively in places where Croats had formed strong enclaves in the diaspora or in lands once imaginable as Croatian. The few exceptions, such as the Czech orchestra, were from lands and ethnic groups of relatively little political consequence to the former Yugoslavia and its history of disintegration.29 When ensembles and eventually the festival organizers within Croatia began to seek opportunities for performances and collaborations abroad, they also turned to Croat communities. A number of Croatian orchestras partnered with individual Croat enclaves (and with their respective religious or musical institutions). The Tamburaški Orkestar Osnovane Škole Matije Gupca (‘Tambura Orchestra of the Matija Gubec Elementary School’), in Zagreb, in addition to appearances at the Festival Hrvatske Tamburaške Glazbe and numerous charity concerts for war veterans in the 1990s, performed a tambura Mass in the Croat Burgenland community near Bratislava in Jarovce, Slovakia (known to Croats as “Hrvatski Jandrof”) (Ećimović 1999: 11). “Pajo Kolarić” similarly partnered with ensembles in Mohács (only a few kilometers north of Osijek in Baranya, but on the Hungarian side of the region) and in the Croat enclave in the Burgenland town of Parndorf, Austria. One of the greatest steps taken in this vein, however, came about through a relatively recent development in the organization of the annual festival that STD “Pajo Kolarić” and the Croatian Tambura Alliance hold. In 2009, for the thirtysecond meeting of the festival, they held two of the several concerts in Parndorf, Austria, and in Pecs (a larger Hungarian city not far from Mohács), and they changed the festival’s title to Međunarodni Festival Hrvatske Tamburaške Glazbe u Osijeku (‘International Festival of Croatian Tambura Music in Osijek’). Each of the concerts abroad had a local Croatian host ensemble that arranged for the performance space, advertised the event to nearby Croats, and also performed. Thus the festival took on an “international” character through networks of Balkanistica 27 (2014) 92 IAN MACMILLAN “Croatian” ensembles: one in the diaspora in Parndorf and one in Pecs, a city close to the Croatian border and with a longstanding and sizeable Croat minority (though some of these were refugees from the most recent war who never resettled in Croatia).30 The narrative of reclaiming occupied territories and Catholic churches as spaces for tambura performance and of reuniting with Croats displaced by diasporic travel and geo-political boundaries culminated in the replacement of the former pan-Yugoslavian reach of the festival with a new network spanning Croatia and its intimates: those “international” “Croatian” enclaves that have remained some of the most enthusiastic supporters of Croatian tambura music. Intra-Ethnic Diversity and Specificity versus Religious Solidarity In 2010, the organizers held concerts in Pecs and in Sombor. The latter city is situated in Vojvodina, the semi-autonomous province in Northern Serbia, and has a sizeable Croat minority. The ensemble from Parndorf continued to participate in the festival, and also performed concerts (with members of “Pajo Kolarić” in attendance) outside the festival in their hometown. The festival organizers, however, were seeking to build upon the international character of the festival and so had sought out contacts in Sombor and had not renewed the Parndorf festival meeting for that year. I attended the Sombor concert with the president of STD “Pajo Kolarić” Antun Žderić, his wife Gordana, and the secretary of “Pajo Kolarić” Vesna Mores. We traveled there in the bus of one of that day’s participating ensembles, the Tambura Orkestar Krste Odaka from the city of Drniš in the Dalmatian hinterland (approximately 30 kilometers from the Dalmatian coast of Croatia). After the concert, we dined with the members of other ensembles, including Dragutin Križanić, the director of the orchestra “Oton Kupančić” from Artiče, Slovenia, and soon a discussion on ethnic identification started among them and the hosts of the Sombor concert. Much of the Catholic Slavic population of Sombor identifies as Šokac (plural Šokci), a Croatian sub-ethnic group found primarily in Western Vojvodina and Eastern Croatia (in Slavonia, the region that incorporates Osijek). “Šokac” appears to have derived from a name that Orthodox Serbs in the region invented for their Catholic, Slavonian neighbors, and although these Catholics considered this a derogatory name as recently as the late 18th century, by the 20th century Šokci had appropriated it proudly as a marker of distinction from both Serbs and other Catholic (and even Croatian) groups (Fine 2006: 503).31 In the Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 93 discussion in Sombor, Antun Žderić declared that he had a Šokac background while Vesna Mores indicated that she did not, and it was evident from Žderić’s affirmation of commonality with Šokci in Vojvodina that, while Mores’s different heritage was not by any means a source of tension between them, Šokac identity did play a role in building relationships and undertaking collaborations between Croat musicians in Croatia and those in Vojvodina. The Sombor organizer who had brought up the issue also commented that, conversely, there was often ill will between them and the Bunjevci. The Bunjevci also reside in the Sombor region of Vojvodina and, although many of them identify as Croats, some of them identify as Serbs, with whom they associate closely and share some religious observances, despite generally practicing the Catholic rather than Orthodox faith. Antun Žderić agreed with the organizer’s assessment and commented that it had been easier to coordinate this concert with the Tamburaški Orkestar Muzičke Škole Petar Konjović (‘Tambura Orchestra of the Music School Petar Konjović’) because of the Šokci there. To a certain extent, people in central and coastal Croatia associate Croatian tambura music with the Šokci, who in Croatia are prominent only in Slavonia. This region has the greatest concentration of tambura bands and orchestras actively performing in public, and the Sto Tamburaša (‘One Hundred Tamburaši’) concert that the Hrvatski Tamburaški Orkestar performs each year in Zagreb bears the name Šokačka Rapsodija (‘Šokac Rhapsody’). Šokac identity is particularly important to tambura practices in Osijek, which city for several years in a row has organized a Međunarodni okrugli stol “Urbani Šokci” (‘International round table “Urban Šokci”’). In 2007, the theme of the 2nd annual round table was Šokci i tambura (‘Šokci and the tambura’), and participants from Slavonia, Zagreb, Vojvodina, and Hungarian Baranya (specifically the city of Pecs), including prominent organizers of “Pajo Kolarić” and of its festival such as the composer and musicologist Julije Njikoš, gathered to present their varied research and thoughts on the connections between Šokci and tambura music (Šokci i tambura 2008: 4-5). In subsequent years, however, the round table has explored ethnically more diverse themes. The 2009 round table held the subtitle Zemlja, Šuma, Šokci i Bunjevci (‘Earth, Forest, Šokci and Bunjevci’) and included scholars from other parts of the former Yugoslavia as well, including Belgrade (situated in Serbia proper, several kilometers to the south of the border between Serbia and its semiautonomous province Vojvodina). Large public tambura music events similarly include participants from throughout the reaches of the musical networks Balkanistica 27 (2014) IAN MACMILLAN 94 connecting Croatia and its intimates, and intra-ethnic divisions and tensions (i.e., those between sub-ethnic groups within the same overarching ethnic category) have largely subsided as the momentum for projects to build bridges across geographical divisions has increased through public and institutional support. “Pajo Kolarić” performs a wide variety of music, but the traditional folklore songs that they play in tambura orchestra arrangement (often with singing provided by an affiliated girls choir) are mostly from the repertoire of the East Croatian Šokci.32 One such song, “Ej Pletenice” (‘Hey, Plait of Hair’) appears in Example 1, below. As is characteristic of much Croatian traditional music, and of music in Slavonija in particular, the song is in a simple major key and returns to the tonic several times before arriving at a cadence on scale degree 2 (supported in the tambura accompaniment by a II7–V [i.e., V7/V–V] progression tonicizing the dominant chord). Songs such as this have several verses and, according to the prominent Slavonian tambura arranger and pedagogue Josip Ivanković, the cadence on the second scale degree and dominant harmony prepares for the immediate repetition of the melody and return to the tonic that are typical of songs in this area (Ivanković 1993).33 More specifically typical of the Danube region of eastern Croatia is the sudden triple grouping of beats in a piece otherwise characterized by duple metric division (I have notated this by means of a change of time signature to 3/4 in the 13th and 14th measures). Example 1: “Ej Pletenice” Such characteristics locate this and similar songs in the repertoire of “Pajo Kolarić” within the East Slavonian folksong traditions performed by the Šokci. They use these songs, however, in forming and strengthening relationships with Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 95 Croatian ensembles of significantly different culturo-geographical location and/or origin. Their emphasis of Šokac repertoire and identity in performances situates them as a node in the broader musical and ethnic network spanning Croatia and its intimates that is musically and culturally distinct but that is also non-insular. That is, their music identifies them as belonging to a particular sub-ethnic group and region; in performance, they present the historical, cultural, and musical differences between their repertoire and that of other Croat groups for whom they perform in order to emphasize and celebrate the breadth and diversity of the network that they have worked to reestablish since its disruption by the war. It is within this network that they have once again been able to reunite with other musical Croat communities and to refamiliarize one another with their respective styles. Performances of the Šokac repertoire by “Pajo Kolarić” serve both to identify the cultural and musical distance to be bridged by the network and to aid in the bridging process by making this repertoire familiar. The bridging of these distances and differences requires significant investments of time, money, and physical – and often emotional – effort; rather than discourage the maintenance of such relationships, these investments add value to the intimacy fostered on performance trips. In this respect, the tambura ensembles that connect Croatia with its intimates have reformulated on a transnational, monoethnic plane the former Yugoslavian model of multiple nations performing their diverse repertoire for one another on a single stage (as well as the accompanying ideal of bratstvo i jedinstvo). On this transnational plane, Croatian tambura ensembles cultivate fraternity and intimacy through (and for) a sense of unity based on ethnic identity rather than on national citizenship. Typically, the connections that comprise this network consist not only of official and public relations but also of strong friendships. Antun Žderić, the president of the Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić,” is close with Zoran Mileta, who moved to Parndorf from Vukovar with his family in the early 1990s. Their relationship extends beyond coordinating the festival to include frequent visits in each of their regions. I first met Zoran Mileta during a preliminary research trip to Osijek in August 2008, when Antun Žderić hosted me on an afternoon excursion to a summer festival in Bački Monoštor, a town in Vojvodina with a considerable Croatian (Šokac) population. Zoran and his wife have friends in Bački Monoštor and had driven southeast from Parndorf to visit them, to see Antun, and to watch the festival. Antun took advantage of Zoran’s connections with musicians there to talk to the leader of a tambura ensemble in Monoštor about a possible musical Balkanistica 27 (2014) 96 IAN MACMILLAN exchange similar to the relationship between his “Pajo Kolarić” and Parndorf’s tambura society “Ivan Vuković,” in which Zoran plays. For several years, “Pajo Kolarić” has supported the Parndorf ensemble in camaraderie and by supplying them with sheet music and artistic evaluation. In late September of 2009, I accompanied Antun and the other leadership of “Pajo Kolarić” (including the late, former director and tambura scholar and composer Julije Njikoš) to a tambura Mass played by the society “Ivan Vuković” and delivered alternately in the Croatian and German languages in Parndorf’s Croatian Catholic church. Toward the end of the service — which consisted of a sermon delivered first in Croatian and then in German, readings and prayers for which Croatian and German were employed alternately, and tambura performances of various classical and popular settings of the Mass’s Ordinary — Julije Njikoš addressed the mix of locals and visitors from Osijek in first Croatian and then German, declaring that the orchestra had a commendable degree of technical expertise. The day concluded with a lunch catered in honor of the guests from Osijek and much relaxing and repartee over food and alcohol, and then Zoran finally saw us off on our drive home. Church concerts and tambura Masses are particularly significant because of their ambiguously public nature and because they represent one of the most common types of appearances made by “Pajo Kolarić,” whether as performers or merely guests and whether in Osijek, other Croatian cities, or abroad. On December 22, 2009, “Pajo Kolarić’s” children’s orchestra and girls choir performed for a similar Mass delivered in the Croatian and Hungarian languages at a Croatian church in Mohács, Hungary. They were hosted and joined in this Christmas performance by a small local tambura choir. At the end of the concert, and following several requested encores and curtain calls, the congregation came forward and crowded around the performers in the small space in front of the altar. Locals told the children and directors how it had “touched their hearts” to hear them perform certain traditional Croatian songs, such as “Ej Pletenice.” As in Parndorf, Croats in the local ensemble and congregation later received the Osijek guests for a meal in intimate settings, in this case in an interior room of the Mohács city center. Such church performances are typically free of charge and ostensibly advertised and open to the general public. In practice, however, the barriers of language and religion do tend to select for ethnically homogeneous congregations and audiences, simultaneously erasing intra-ethnic divisions in favor of shared religious identification as well as fostering intimate interactions. Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 97 That churches serve as places for Croat minorities to congregate outside Croatia’s borders is naturally no surprise. What is notable is that as performance spaces they help to extend a tendency found in Croatia: there as in Parndorf and Mohács, churches provide cheap, publicly open spaces for performing and listening to tambura music and serve to ritualize musical congregation. In doing so they help to articulate zones of practical intimacy in a context theoretically or officially open to the public (the Catholic Church is, after all, an international institution with a nominally universal outreach). This practice, furthermore, builds on the Croatian Catholic Church’s role as a sanctuary of Croatian nationalism during the socialist period, when it encouraged and harbored the performance of national music — including the singing of the Croatian national anthem — in church services; churches then, too, provided spaces that were accessible to but largely avoided by the atheistic and officially multinational Yugoslav regime (Bellamy 2003: 156). Churches as performance spaces in wartime and post-war Croatia have continued to foster the conflation of faith, ethnic identification, and national musical practice, and tambura performers who play in services are able simultaneously to celebrate the increase in religiosity, national consciousness, and ability to express both of these that has characterized Croatian society since the 1990s. Most specifically, church performances facilitate the formation of ethnically Croat tambura ensembles, not through any official means of segregation but through the practical, tacit, and at times even unintentional means that are intrinsic to intimacy at any level. When I asked the director of the children’s orchestra whether Serbian children did or could play in the ensemble, he replied that they were welcome to join but added that it could be a problem when performing in churches. I asked further about the presence of non-Croat musicians in general, and he said that they did not ask the children’s ethnicity, but he assumed that they were all Croatian. Whether ensembles in Osijek or Parndorf or Mohács are as ethnically homogeneous as their leaders assume (in my time working with these ensembles I was not able to identify any non-Croat members, though non-Croats seeking to participate in Croatian tambura scenes are not always open about their minority status), one of the main functions of the ensembles is to perform repertoire (much of it traditional Croatian music) that facilitates the demarcation of intimate zones in churches whose congregations continuously constitute and connect Croatia‘s intimates. It is in these spaces that musicians and audiences are most free to assume not just religious but ethnic ties to one another (i.e., that those around them Balkanistica 27 (2014) 98 IAN MACMILLAN are not only Catholics but Croatian Catholics and not, for example, Hungarians) and to kindle intimacy even before they enter into the gestures of personal introduction and acquaintance. The society’s ensembles also perform in other contexts, of course, and these provide instructive points of comparison to the tambura Mass performances. Along with a number of other tambura organizations in Osijek and the broader region, including HKUD-affiliated groups such as the orchestra of the Batorek Tambura School (Tamburška Škola Batorek), “Pajo Kolarić’s” orchestras participate in a number of Croatian tambura gatherings as well as in international tambura and/or orchestra festivals, most of which are quite public in their orientation and attendance. The Croatian events tend to be much more intimate and personal: the musicians spend the day leading up to the concerts competing in soccer tournaments, dining together, and rehearsing music that has been arranged for an ensemble composed of the combined orchestras. The international festivals (those held in Croatia as well as abroad, with the exception of the non-competitive festival of “Pajo Kolarić,” which is international only in terms of incorporating foreign Croatian communities) tend to be more competitive, juried events, and in my experience interaction happens largely among ensembles that are already familiar with one another (and thus tends to reproduce those intimacies that already exist). I pay significant attention to such youth orchestras in part because many of the rising professional bands in Croatia have formed while playing in these ensembles, and as a final example I turn now to one such professional group (Sedam Osmina — ‘Seven Eighths’) that emerged mainly out of Batorek’s orchestra and that began to participate in international festivals in the late 2000s. On November 7, 2009, I attended the juried International Festival of Small Tambura Ensembles in Starčevo, Serbia. Sedam Osmina competed and took awards for best ensemble and best soloist. I came to the festival with another ensemble, Vučedolski Zvuci of Vukovar; this group has declared itself the solitary permanently established tambura orchestra of Serbs in Croatia today, as tambura performance among Serbs in Croatia has otherwise been relegated to ensembles that form ad hoc for weddings and to the few Serbian KUDs that exist at present. I spent several hours with the orchestra’s members before the competition, and they, like Sedam Osmina, seemed content to keep interactions within their own group, then as well as during the dinner after the performance. The audience demonstrated similar isolationism during the performances, keeping their interactions at their Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 99 own groups’ tables and only occasionally calling out to musicians on stage whom they had come to cheer on. The event did not seem exceedingly formal and the lack of interaction, let alone intimacy, between the groups was striking in comparison to other events that I had attended. The festival was competitive, however, and the musicians, it seems, accepted the competition as the primary focus and single interactive component of the event, making no effort to socialize or to connect in other ways with the international group of ensembles present. According to Franjo Batorek, founder of the Batorek school, the participation of ensembles from Croatia in these festivals in Serbia ceased during the war and has only recently started up again. He added that the organizers of the festival asked him to serve on the jury and to suggest Croatian bands that could participate largely because this would qualify the festival for the European Union’s funding for multi-ethnic events. Otherwise, he indicated, there might not be much interest in the participation of Croatian bands. Still, organizers and tambura leaders in Croatia and Serbia alike are making attempts on their own. Batorek has organized a summer workshop for tambura students of many ethnicities and from as far away as Macedonia and the Czech Republic. Antun Žderić was quite interested when I mentioned a youth orchestra in Ruse, Bulgaria, that plays Farkaš tamburas, a system of instruments once popular in Croatia as well but now largely abandoned in favor of the Sremski or another similar system.34 We tried for more than a year to organize a first meeting of the two orchestras in either Osijek or Ruse, though the self-professed fear of foreign territories on the part of the Croatian parents and even of one ensemble leader has prevented a trip to Ruse thus far (the Ruse group was close to coming to Osijek to participate in the 2011 festival but withdrew because communication and translation problems delayed their receipt of their acceptance beyond the point at which they would have been able to organize the trip). Although non-Croatian performers from foreign countries – including Czechs but, significantly, excluding Serbs – have occasionally participated in nominally “international” tambura music festivals in Croatia, the lands in which these performers reside remain sources of discomfort for Croatian musicians who have grown (or grown up) quite comfortable within their familiar networks. Conclusion: Croatia’s Intimates as Spaces for New Musical Potentialities Balkanistica 27 (2014) 100 IAN MACMILLAN Traveling to areas where Croatian tambura players can be among intimates seems to allay such fears of foreign territories. Thus “Pajo Kolarić” has made several trips to Croat enclaves in Austria, Hungary, and the Netherlands, and Žderić mentioned a number of times that he would like the ensemble to repeat its 1979 tour of North American Croatian Fraternal Union lodges. This and the fact that foreign Croatian enclaves often have more regular interaction with non-Croat musicians underscore the importance of these communities and particularly of recent emigrants as international connections. Time spent in Croatia’s intimates facilitates (re)acquaintance with newly and long-foreign territories alike and, within these, sometimes affords opportunities for interaction with other ethnic groups. While tambura musicians in Croatia’s intimates prioritize building relationships with Croats from Croatia, they do also take advantage of the “more opportunities and more ‘free space’ for maneuvering” (Kiossev 2002: 178) outside Croatia’s borders by listening to and in some cases collaborating with other ethnic groups, including those such as Roma and Slovaks that are represented among Croatia’s minorities but that typically participate in separate systems of state-sponsored festivals specifically for minorities. Documentation of these practices is beyond the scope of this article, but their occurrence suggests that Croatia’s intimates may increasingly become important places for Croatian Croats to encounter the ethnically as well as geographically foreign. Furthermore, the special place that these territories have come to hold for Croatian tambura groups and the different interactions that are possible beyond Croatia’s borders demonstrate the need to readdress in two ways the processes of balkanization in the term’s own region of origin: by examining how divisive actions actually foster intimacies across emergent borders; and by examining how in subsequent years these intimacies have fostered new, non-geographical (or not simply geographical) zones, both exclusive and inclusive, frightening as well as intimate. While the war separated Croatian enclaves in other Yugoslav republics from their nominal homeland and caused them, the Croatian state, and many of its individual citizens and musicians to rely heavily on the support and patronage of the Croatian diasporas in nearby Austria and farther abroad in North America and Australia (rather than on one another), the activities of institutions such as the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić” have begun over the past twenty years to equalize the roles and relations allotted to these two types of foreign communities (what I have called “intimates”). The division of Yugoslavia and the subsequent attempts of ensembles within Croatia to reconnect with Croats across Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 101 its newly minted borders have created a more complex geography of connection than that for which the concept of “diaspora” accounts and so have prompted an expansion on the conceptualization of movement and migration of musicians within and beyond the nation-state. Notes 1. The complexity of the divisions and realignments conjured by the term was evident even in its beginnings. As Maria Todorova has noted, “balkanization” emerged at the end of World War I, the moment of the consolidation of the Kingom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes (known as Yugoslavia after 1929), “whose creation was, technically speaking, the reverse of balkanization” (Todorova 1997: 33). 2. I presented an earlier version of this article at the Second Symposium of the International Council for Traditional Music Study Group for Music and Dance in Southeastern Europe, held in Izmir in April of 2010. The paper that I presented appears in this symposium’s proceedings (MacMillen 2011b). The present article expands on this paper, developing the theoretical treatment of diaspora and intimacy much further, augmenting the participant-observation section with additional fieldwork conducted with the Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić,” and incorporating new information on the history and representation of this society’s festival gathered from its publications during a period of archival research that followed the symposium in Izmir. 3. I am grateful to the American Council of Learned Societies for funding a year of research in Croatia through a Dissertation Research Fellowship in East European Studies. This fellowship allowed me to conduct participant observation and archival research in Croatia as well as in Austria, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Hungary, and Serbia from July 2009 through June 2010. I also wish to acknowledge the Association for Recorded Sound Collections, whose Research Grant financed additional interviews and archival work in Zagreb and Osijek, Croatia, in March and April 2011. 4. Yugoslavia translates literally as “South Slavia.” By “Lands of the Southern Slavs” I refer to those territories that belonged to Yugoslavia (during any or all of the manifestations of this state entity). The history that I present, however, covers periods both predating and postdating the designation of some of these lands as “Yugoslavia.” 5. Drawing on fieldwork on the patriotic budnice songs of the Bunjevci in the district of Bačka in Vojvodina, Ana Hofman and Aleksandra Marković write that “there are different claims about their ethnic origin. One stream claims the Bunjevci are Croats, while another claims that they are Balkanistica 27 (2014) 102 IAN MACMILLAN an independent group, and finally others maintain that they are Catholic Serbs” (Hofman and Marković 2006: 316). Researchers have traced the migration of the Bunjevci to the Buna region (from which their name derives) in Bosnia and Herzegovina, whence they departed fleeing Ottoman forces several centuries ago (Baerlein 1922: 86). 6. The first Yugoslavia was succeeded by the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (19631992, though extant since the end of WWII as the Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia) and the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (following the secession of many former republics in 19911992 and lasting until its renaming as Serbia and Montenegro in 2003). 7. Multiple families of tamburas existed at this time, and many of them are still in use, though the Srem/Srijem system from Western Serbia and Eastern Croatia has become dominant. The shapes and sizes I describe pertain to this system of tamburas. Note that, in addition to supplying lower melody lines, the čelo may also serve as an accompaniment instrument upon which one plays arpeggios. 8. “Old-city songs.” Here and elsewhere, unless otherwise noted, I employ the term as it is commonly spelled in the ijekavian dialect, which for many decades now the Croatian state has used as its official variant of the language or language group now usually referred to as Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian (and formerly known as Serbo-Croatian or Yugoslavian). These songs remain prominent in Serbia to this day, where they are usually referred to as starogradske pesme (in the ekavian dialect). 9. Tambura ensembles were particularly common in the KUDs of Croatia, Serbia, Bosnian and Herzegovina, and the province of Vojvodina. Ensembles such as narodni orkestri (‘folk orchestras’) that used instruments other than tamburas were also common in KUDs, and they often operated alongside tambura groups in those regions and even functioned in lieu of them as accompaniment for dancers in the KUDs of Macedonia, Slovenia, and the province of Kosovo (although I have also heard of ethnic Albanian societies adopting tamburas in Kosovo in the 1970s — Sugarman 2010). 10. Especially prominent as tambura performers were Croats, Roma, and Serbs, though many Bosniaks, Hungarians, Slovaks, and Slovenes were active as well. 11. The term’s usage dates, in fact, to the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible. 12. Since the mid-1990s, many scholars have questioned the broad, “promiscuous” use of the term “diaspora,” protesting that it has come to stand for too vast an array of migrations and displacements (Tölölyan 1996: 8). Given the plurality of migrations represented in most Croatian communities outside of Southeast Europe, I have found it especially important to eschew utilizing, and thereby broadening, “diaspora.” Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 103 13. Many Serbs even consider the Bunjevci (including those among whom Andrić states that the tambura ensemble tradition developed) to be Serbs who converted to Catholicism — see the discussion of Bunjevci identity above. 14. Although less applicable to this study than Berlant’s writings on intimacy, in my discussion of professional tambura bands in Croatia and its intimates in MacMillen (2011a), I drew as well on Michael Herzfeld’s work on cultural intimacy. This theory identifies alternative, non-official discourses that citizens employ in reaction against state ideologies or legal systems but that somewhat paradoxically reinforce reifications of the state (Herzfeld 2005: 50). In the present article, I focus on the concerns, actions, and discourses of entities working very much in parallel with and in support of the ambitions of the Croatian state; thus the usefulness of Herzfeld here is more limited (though there is certainly a common interest in intimacy above the level of familiarity and interpersonal communication). 15. Emphasis added. 16. Kiossev’s work also responds to Michael Herzfeld’s theory of cultural intimacy, but again my focus will be on other tenets of the former’s work on intimacy that I find more applicable to the present study. 17. The Croatian title of this institution is Slavonsko Tamburaško Društvo “Pajo Kolarić” and is often abbreviated STD “Pajo Kolarić.” For this article, I will use the English translation or simply “Pajo Kolarić” except when citing its publications. 18. In the original Croatian: “Naši amateri-tamburaši od Subotice, Varaždina, Samobora, Drniša i Posedarja, pa sve do Artiča u Sloveniji, pokazali su visoku razinu profesionalnog muziciranja.” 19. The gerund druženje derives from the verb družiti se, meaning ‘to mingle’ or ‘to be friendly with.’ Although in this instance the author of the booklet was stressing the active process of mingling, it is worth noting that druženje may have the more general quality of “intimacy” and is sometimes translated into English as such. 20. In fact, they only had room in the program to accept 27 ensembles (14 of them “pioneer” groups, i.e., organized through the Yugoslavian children brigades, and 13 of them “senior”) out of a total of 42 that had sent recordings and applications for consideration (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1989: 8). 21. In some of its early activities, however, “Pajo Kolarić” did promote networking through and between specifically Croatian communities. This was particularly the case when they ventured abroad (suggesting already an interest in what I am calling Croatia’s intimates). In 1979, in conjunction with the Matica iseljenika Hrvatske (“Register of Croatia’s Emigrants”) in Osijek, the Croatian Fraternal Union of North America put together a tour of three musical acts from Osijek, Croatia: The Slavonian Tambura Society “Pajo Kolarić,” the popular singer Krunoslav “Kićo” Slabinac, and the tambura band with which he then often performed, Slavonski Bećari Balkanistica 27 (2014) 104 IAN MACMILLAN (‘Slavonian Bachelors’ or ‘Slavonian Rakes’), led by prim tambura player Antun “Tuca” Nikolić. At that time, STD “Pajo Kolarić” had a singing and dancing folklore ensemble that performed with the orchestra, and Vesna Mores, the future secretary of the society, traveled to North America as a member of the folklore group on the 1979 trip. She recalled fondly to me over lunch at her house in Osijek the visits that they had had with Croatian families in the Midwest, including some of her own relatives, and commented that it had been a good way to build connections between tambura music enthusiasts and performers in the two countries. She gave me a copy of the book that had commemorated the tour and that praises the organizations and musicians involved: Đuro Šovagović’s Mostovi Preko Žica Tamburice (Bridges through the Strings of the Tamburica, 1981). 22. The Croatian National Theater in Osijek, where many of the concerts of the 1989 festival had been held, was partially destroyed by the bombing. The Yugoslav army did not occupy Osijek, however, but rather attacked it from nearby fields and villages under its control. 23. I use the standard anthropological understanding of the term “nationalistic” as relating to constructions of the nation and to the propagation of strong supporting sentiments among the broader society and nation. In Croatian, this term may also connote attachments to Nazi sympathizers in World War II who sought an independent Croatia through alliance with Germany, but I do not intend to invoke this meaning here. 24. Mirko Delibašić, a Serb tamburaš in Vukovar, Croatia, from whom I took bugarija (harmony tambura) lessons in 2009 and 2010 and whom I interviewed extensively on his ensemble’s reception in Croatia, told me that from the standpoint of Serbian Orthodox Christians such as his family (although he is not particularly religious) it is wrong to have instrumental music in a church. Concerts such as this one, and especially the tambura masses which soon became popular in Croatian Catholic churches, would have therefore alienated Serbs in yet another respect. 25. In the original Croatian: POD POKROVITELJSTVOM PREDSJEDNIKA REPUBLIKE HRVATSKE DR. FRANJE TUĐMANA (STD “Pajo Kolarić” 1994: 2). 26. I was a performing member of HKUD “Osijek 1862” from the fall of 2009 until February of 2010 and learned of this more personal connection with the Luketich family from conversations with Mr. Čiki and Mr. Topić. 27. The Croatian national anthem begins “Lijepa naša domovina” (‘Our beautiful homeland’) and “Lijepa naša” (‘Our beautiful,’ or more directly ‘Beautiful ours’) is a common term of endearment for the country among its citizens. 28. Many school, amateur, and professional ensembles in Croatia that had received institutional support and financial subsidies from the socialist Yugoslavian state struggled to remain active in the post-socialist era when governmental funding decreased dramatically. Indeed, as Maša Balkanistica 27 (2014) TAMBURAŠI OF THE BALKANIZED PENSINSULA 105 Bogojeva-Magzan writes, “[b]ecause of economic instability and great damage after the recent war in Croatia, the state budget could not sufficiently support the cultural needs of the country, so that many amateur and professional cultural and/or folk societies ceased to exist. Music schools in modern Croatia are no longer free, and the government no longer subsidizes tickets for concerts and theatre performances, so that art and culture slowly became reserved for those who could afford it” (Bogojeva-Magzan 2005: 77-78). In some cases, the war caused this change even more directly: many factories that had supported performing ensembles and provided them with leadership and rehearsal space were forced to close due to damage or losses in the workforce in the early 1990s, and they left their performing groups with no home institutions. Topić’s ensembles in HKUD “Osijek 1862” were able to continue their activities because the formerly socialized sugar plant that hosts them survived the war and was able to transition successfully to an LLC (Limited Liability Company) structure within the relatively more capitalistic system of post-1989 Croatia. STD “Pajo Kolarić” has similarly benefitted from association with the software company that is owned by this society’s president – and that employs one of the ensemble’s directors – though this association began after the end of the wars and is less official than that between the sugar plant and HKUD “Osijek 1862.” 29. It was generally assumed that ensembles in Croatia were monoethnic, as minorities typically found it easier to remain apart and, eventually, to establish their own minority folklore societies. 30. One Croatian tambura luthier, who was particularly displeased with what he called pointless patriotism and xenophobia and with whom I attended a domestic concert during the following year’s festival, chuckled disappointedly to me at what he took to be the paradoxical nature of a festival billed as focusing on tambura music that is simultaneously “international” and “Croatian.” He grumbled that this sort of “nonsense” was all too common. 31. Writing about Šokci in the early 20th century, Henry Baerlein argues that their name derives from šaka, or ‘palm,’ and that Orthodox Serbs used this term to identify their Catholic neighbors as those who crossed themselves with open palms rather than by clasping their thumb and first two fingers (Baerlein 1922: 88). John Fine, however, notes that others have suggested a Hungarian-language folk etymology for the word (Fine 2006: 503). 32. In addition to traditional music, the orchestras of “Pajo Kolarić” perform Croatian and international popular music, classical compositions, jazzm and a number of religious (Catholic) and holiday styles. 33. In this region, the tendency of melodies to end on the second scale degree may long predate the use of dominant harmony to accompany such a cadence, and Ivanković’s description is more useful for understanding the current tambura folklore aesthetic and its interpretation among musicians than for explaining its historical development. Balkanistica 27 (2014) IAN MACMILLAN 106 34. The Farkaš system of tamburas moved to Bulgaria in the late 19th century with Czech and Croatian musicians who sought to connect with their Slavic neighbors to the south after the end of the Ottoman occupation (see Dimov 2008). 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