Released in 1974, Majko Zemljo is often cited as the first solo album by a rock keyboardist in the former Yugoslavia. And yet, beyond that milestone, the record carries a weight of its own. It’s fluid, groovy, and carefully assembled – loose in all the right ways, but never careless.
By this point, Tihomir Pop Asanović had already made a name for himself, notably through his work with Time, and the calibre of collaborators here says a lot about his standing in the scene. Josipa Lisac, Dado Topić, Petar Ugrin, and others appear throughout, not just as guests, but as integral parts of a sound that refuses to sit still. Jazz rock, Latin jazz, psychedelic rock, soul, and funk all weave in and out, bound together by Asanović’s unmistakable touch on the keys.
The title track, Majko Zemljo, is a personal favourite, and one of the finest entry points into this part of the EX-YU catalogue. Funky, slightly cosmic, and deeply satisfying, it’s the kind of track that makes you scrunch your face at how slick it is; the bass alone demands a rewind. It sets the tone for a record that’s built around groove and texture, full of sharp details and effortless solos.
There’s a spaciousness to much of the album, something cinematic and a little otherworldly. Tracks like Balada o Lišću and Berlin I feel like they’re floating just above ground. Balada o Lišću especially stands out, drifting between moody vocals and rich instrumental breaks, somewhere between space rock and early prog, but grounded by warm, expressive keys.
Tema Za Pop LP adds more of that beautifully arranged, sophisticated funk. It was around this point that I realised the album was scratching a very specific itch – a fixation on keyboards that started after catching Ezra Collective live in London. Asanović more than delivers.
His playing is a constant throughout; clear, expressive, and full of character. Ostavi Trag leans into something smoother and more sensual, led by soft, buttery vocals. It gives off the vibe of a smoky speakeasy – jazz club energy with just enough mystery. Then there’s Telepatija, bringing more momentum, all funky Latin grooves that wouldn’t feel out of place on Santana’s Abraxas.
Not every moment hits the same. Some vocal sections feel slightly flat, and a few parts drift into repetition. But even the less gripping tracks are held up by tight arrangements and top-level musicianship. There’s always something happening in the background to keep your ears busy – a trumpet line twisting into abstraction, a slick bass groove, a keyboard riff slipping into focus.
Majko Zemljo isn’t just an important release, it’s a genuinely enjoyable one. For fans of jazz-rock and fusion, it’s a rich, funky time capsule. For those just getting into EX-YU music, it’s a great place to start. It also offers a glimpse into how much depth the scene had by the mid ’70s, far beyond the bigger names and the mainstream rock acts.
It’s one I return to regularly, even though I’ve yet to track down a copy on vinyl. The record is versatile, but I find it’s best enjoyed in the evening, when you want something laid-back but still full of life. It doesn’t shout for attention, but it leaves an impression.
