Formed in the alpine town of Tržič in 1977, Slovenian duo Melita and Veno Dolenc created something quietly dreamy with their debut album — a poetic folk record that feels timeless and fleeting. Though often referred to as Sedmina, the record’s full title, Melita & Veno Dolenc, foregrounds the couple behind the music — both of whom would go on to have careers in art, music, and theatre after their eventual split. First released in 1980 and reissued in 2019 by Helidon, the album remains a glowing example of Balkan chamber folk, full of acoustic nuance and quiet emotional power.
Accompanied by surreal cover art — likely painted by Veno himself, who studied art in Ljubljana — the album alludes to more than just folk tradition. As noted by Matej Kranjec in the Helidon reissue: “Sedmina alludes to folk tradition and at the same time to passing and transience.” That duality of the eternal and the ephemeral are embedded deeply in the music, which floats between traditional Balkan instrumentation and a more contemporary, psychedelic folk atmosphere.
The opener Pesem o Tanji (“Song About Tanja”) sets the tone: a soft, delicate arrangement of flute, tamburica, and guitar that immediately feels both grounded and weightless. Tracks like Jutro (“Morning”) and Pesem (“I’m Singing”) drift by like mist at dawn — the latter standing out for Melita’s tense, slowly cresting vocals that swell with quiet emotion before settling again.
Across the album, the duo trade verses and often harmonise in a way that feels naturally intimate. On Magdalena, Melita begins with hushed reverence before Veno enters with a more rustic, traditional delivery that roots the song in its Slovenian folk heritage. Angel Varuh (“Guardian Angel”) is one of the album’s most psychedelic moments — layered acoustic guitars and soft vocals creating a hazy, dreamlike texture. Deklica z Vžigalicami (“The Little Match Girl”) returns to a chamber folk style, carried by piano and Melita’s expressive voice, delicate but firm.
The album’s side B continues in a similar vein. Veter, Beli Konj (“Wind, White Horse”) stands out as a wistful highlight, reminiscent of Nick Drake or Vashti Bunyan in its soft melancholy. Etuda adds a touch more drama with its piano-driven rhythm, while Ljubica dips once again into mild psychedelia. The closing tracks Ogledalo (“Mirror”) and Zaznamovan (“Marked”) lean toward darker folk – more Leonard Cohen than regional ballad, with lyrical guitars and a sense of quiet reflection.
At just over 40 minutes and 12 tracks, there’s a serenity and richness here that deserves rediscovery. The vocal blend between Melita and Veno is effortlessly elegant, the instrumentation understated but lush, and the mood one of warm introspection.
While it may lack the immediate hooks or political punch of other Ex-YU acts, Sedmina is best understood as an introspective experience. A minor gem in the Ex-YU canon, and one that rewards those willing to sit still and listen through.
