There’s a rising tension beneath the surface of this album. It’s there in the title: Srce Uzavrelo (“My Heart Is Boiling”) — a statement of emotional temperature that is the theme for the album. Zoster, the long-running Mostar group known for their offbeat reggae beginnings, sound like they’ve taken that pressure, and let it simmer into something more fiery and guitar-driven.
This was their fourth album, released in late 2014, and the sound is noticeably sharper than what came before. The reggae influence lifts slightly, replaced with some grungy alt-rock textures, hints of surf rock and even electronics. The production feels layered and confident. There’s experimentation, but it’s subtle, compounded with catchy hits.
Gavrilo opens with a slow chant: Sarajevo… A whisper at first, then rising, it’s a track that is equal parts playful and explosive. It’s the most direct use of the album title (“my heart is boiling”). Gavrilo Princip is invoked — not in judgment, but as a volatile figure open to interpretation. Hero or anti-hero, his presence adds edge. The frontman, Mario Knezović, has spoken about the album being full of “temperamental” similar to him.
The mood shifts quickly. Brod Koji Tone grinds in with electronic accents and a darker, more ominous rhythm. It’s not the catchiest track, but it lingers — a sort of warning shot. Then comes KO Kain I Abel, and suddenly things feel brighter, warmer. There’s a surf-rock groove beneath the grit, and Knezović’s voice turns poetic: half-sung, half-spoken, like he’s muttering into the wind. “I’m going to the bottom with it,” he insists, over and over. There’s no clear object — a belief? a feeling? a country? But it resonates.
By the middle of the record, the genre lines blur. Ja Znam Da Izgledam plays tricks with folkloric instrumentation, while Sudbina leans back into that woozy, sun‑burnt surf rock. There’s mischief in these tracks. When Knezović sings, ‘I only come to kidnap, cheat, screw up,’ it lands like dark humour, reminiscent of an Azra track.
Some of the slower songs — Plačeš, Osjećam Se — didn’t stick as firmly with me. They’re pleasant, even sweet, but the emotional pull isn’t quite there, at least not beyond the language barrier. One might have been enough. But they can serve a purpose — to cool things off before the final act.
And that’s where the album really turns. Mi Nemamo Neprijatelje creeps in on distorted pulses and echoing drums. It’s one of the best tracks here — a slow build that ends with a guitar riff that’s not quite a solo, but feels like one. The lyric — “We have no enemies, only friends. Our enemies have us.” — sits heavy, especially in the context of a region still navigating so many wounds. It’s optimistic, but uneasy. That balance is where the record lives.
Volio Sam Te and the reprise of Brodom Koji Tone round things out. The former is catchy, confident, surf-rock‑tinged — fun without feeling lightweight. The band knows how to thread these tones together without overdoing any one mood. It’s a hard trick to pull off: being emotionally sincere without turning sombre.
Zoster don’t chase big moments on Srce Uzavrelo; they just let the temperature rise, slowly, track by track. We have some hit tracks, but also novel experimentation and slow ballads. It’s not an album trying to aggressively dominate or define a scene — it feels more like a message in a bottle, floated out from Mostar with its own logic, its own language, its own questions.
