I usually steer clear of compilation albums — they often feel like greatest-hits cash-ins, more convenient than cohesive. But Indexi, released by Jugoton, is the exception. It gathers iconic singles from the early ‘70s, many of which never made it onto a proper studio album. And yet, taken together, they do feel like a complete world. A poignant time capsule of ’70s Sarajevo.

Indexi — or The Indexes — were one of the earliest and most influential Yugoslav rock bands. Formed in Sarajevo in the early ‘60s and shaped by the Beatles, they were always reaching toward something more authentic and more expansive. Embodying psychedelic pop rock, which would blossom into progressive rock.

Svijet U Kojem Živim (“The World I Live In”) opens with a classic Indexi blend of shimmering melodies and catchy instrumentation. We get a taste for Davorin Popović — known simply as “Pjevač” (“The Singer”) — whose voice carries a soulful, and intimate power. Krivac Si Ti (“You Are To Blame”) follows with a more intricate arrangement — swirling Hammond organ, shifting rhythms, and a brush with prog that never overreaches.

Budi Kao More (“Be Like the Sea”) feels like a late summer memory you’re not quite ready to let go of — gentle, warm, but with a dash of sorrow. Longing, but never melodramatic. Just honest.

Then comes Da Sam Ja Netko (“If I Were Somebody”) — one of my most beloved tracks from the compilation. Even without a full grasp of the language, it tugs at the heart. The chorus lifts like a plea, the organ and guitar coil around each other like old friends. It’s devastating — but beautifully so.

Sve Ove Godine (“All These Years”) lifts the mood — catchy, Beatles-esque pop rock — it’s bright and buoyant. Sanjam (“I’m Dreaming”) brings us back into that wistful tone that’s so addictive. It was one of the first Ex-Yu tracks I ever fell for — and it still holds up.

The penultimate track, Plima (“Tide”), deserves its own article. Released in 1972, it’s a slow-building, bittersweet classic. An inspirational song about hope and waiting, about the tides turning. The legendary closing guitar solo — courtesy of Slobodan Kovačević (you might remember his work on Dnevnik Jedne Ljubavi, if not you can read here) — is among the most memorable in the entire Ex-YU scene.

The album closes with Balada — softer, more pensive, maybe even peaceful. It doesn’t try to end on a high or a low. Instead, letting the dust settle with a lovely ballad.

This album doesn’t shout to be heard. It lingers and hums beneath the surface. These songs — despite being released as singles — somehow form a cohesive emotional arc. Musically, this is a mixture of pop and psychedelic rock — but not the fuzz of the West Coast, or the acid-drenched weirdness of early Pink Floyd. It’s gentler, more forlorn, and often more refined. There’s restraint in the playing, but also bursts of pure expression.

Listening to Indexi feels like walking through an old street in Sarajevo — not as it is now, but as it might have been. Faded posters on the walls, distant music through open windows. Something poetic in the ordinary. A reminder that when music is done right, it doesn’t just echo history — it becomes it.