Raphael Rogiński has built his career on the intersection between music and research. Trained in jazz and classical music, but deeply involved in ethnomusicology and folklore studies, his work often feels less like composition in the traditional sense — uncovering old forms and reanimating them through improvisation. Bura continues that trajectory, but in collaboration with Serbian artists and traditions, resulting in one of his most focused and immersive projects to date.
Released by Instant Classic in June 2025, Bura is the outcome of Rogiński’s collaboration with the group Ružičniak Tajni, featuring Svetlana Spajić, Marina Džukljev, and Tijana Golubović. Recorded in Serbia in late 2024, the album draws from reconstructed traditional Serbian songs — sourced from oral tradition and archival material — alongside Rogiński’s own compositions inspired by Sufi poetry translated into Serbian in the 19th century.
The title Bura refers to the powerful northern wind that sweeps across the Balkans, and the metaphor is apt. This is music that has a grandiose sense of history, landscape, ritual, and memory. The sound is built on a careful interplay of guitar, voice, violin, piano, and synths. Spajić’s archaic vocal techniques anchor the record in deep tradition, while Golubović’s violin and voice add a raw, almost mythological texture. Džukljev’s piano work avoids conventional harmony, often acting as a shifting environment rather than a lead instrument, and Rogiński’s guitar moves fluidly between folk idioms and improvisation.
The album’s visual presentation sets the tone immediately. The cover art — with its woodcut-like texture and a stag crowned by massive antlers — feels ancient and tactile, reinforcing the sense that Bura belongs to another time.
Po moru je plovila galija opens the album in a restrained, ceremonial manner, introducing the vocal-focused approach that dominates much of the record. From there, Moj dragane unfolds slowly with the piano pulsing beneath the voice like the wind itself — crisp and biting. The vocal delivery feels almost incantatory, less concerned with melody and more with invoking an unsettling atmosphere.
Jalija offers a brief instrumental pause, led by Rogiński’s guitar. It’s understated but precise, functioning as a moment of reflection. That restraint makes Boga slavi all the more striking. Delicate and eerily quiet, the track carries a cold, wintry atmosphere. Something is unsettling in its stillness — a sense of old ritual. It recalls the quiet dread and folk mysticism found in writers like Olga Tokarczuk, where nature is not romanticised but observed as something unknowable and powerful.
As the album progresses, a strong sense of landscape emerges. Bura feels deeply rooted in wilderness — forests, animals, unseen presences. The music moves carefully, often leaving space between phrases; a rewarding approach without offering easy entry points.
Što me vikaš, Šefijo is one of the album’s emotional high points. Tense and gradually unfolding, the track builds through layered vocals and a striking violin line that adds a fragile urgency. There’s a strong folkloric pull here, but also a narrative tension that keeps the track moving forward. Without leaning into theatrics, it manages to conjure vivid imagery of medieval tales, landscapes, and folklore.
Overall, Bura is a carefully realised project that succeeds through clear and spacious production, resulting in performances that feel deeply considered as each element is allowed room to breathe. It’s an album that demands focus and patience, but repays it with a rich, immersive listening experience.
Bura treats folk material as something living and unresolved through an atmospheric, tense, and deeply layered record that invites you to listen closely and imagine freely, without ever losing its cultural grounding.
Where to Find Them
- Bandcamp: listen & support on Bandcamp
