Sara Renar is a composer, musician, performer, and interdisciplinary artist from Zagreb whose work blends experimental music, theatre, sound art, and multimedia performance. She is a Porin Award winner for Best Vocal Performance, a multiple-time Porin nominee, and has previously been nominated for the Milan Mladenović Award. The eclectic Nježne riječi is her 2026 release and fifth studio album.
Sara’s record starts with an indie rock/art pop introduction in the form of the title track Nježne riječi. It’s warm and delicate, backed up by some funky guitar lines and some lovely vocals. The arrangements are genuinely pleasant to listen to; there’s a funky groove to sway to and a catchy chorus to sing along with. Very tasteful.
Još malo expands on the art pop side, shifting towards a more electronic sound with a strong bassline and auto-tuned vocals. It sounds slightly more futuristic, but it still holds that gentle melancholic touch that Nježne riječi thrived on. Sara’s strength here is her choice to allow the instrumentals room to breathe, as they are deeply layered with brass sections, electronic basslines, and stringed accompaniments — the vocals are the highlight, obviously, but they’re never overbearing. Nešto mi je palo u oči brings a breezy, spring-like vibe to the table that’s just as enjoyable.
However, from here, the record shifts slightly towards a darker register. Darkness Be Gentle is on the more experimental side — it’s slightly ominous and occasionally leans into heavier noise rock territory, which sounds strange considering the first three tracks, but the switch-up is not that intense; it’s short, gentle, progressive, and frankly, well-executed.
Bring back the noise / Vratite mi buku pushes that noise rock angle slightly further with more distortion and heavier guitar riffs. The backing bassline is gloomy, reminiscent of some dark jazz; the track as a whole has some film noir, nocturnal qualities to it — it feels dystopian, like a dark and deeply compelling metamorphosis. It’s experimental, it’s interesting, and it takes the album to the next level.
And then the album peaks with Pustinja / The Desert. What a track, by the way. It’s groovy, stylish, and the vocal delivery is effortlessly cool. The guitars, mixed with the piano and drumming, give off a sort of Latin rock, perhaps Americana, feel. The track is warm, hazy, and mysterious. I guess “the day Lynch died” is referring to David Lynch? I’m not entirely sure — it could just be some fictional character — but the curious artistry on the record and the mystery make me lean towards it being David Lynch, or so I’d like to think given the heavy focus on style and atmosphere.
Smile and Wave is the album’s one fully English-language track, which Sara has described as a satirical take on assimilation, artistic insecurity, and the unpaid labour often expected of contemporary artists, including the pressure to switch to English to reach a wider audience. Massive props to her for being upfront about it; it’s something I think about a lot when reviewing records from this region, as tracks written in the native language tend to feel more authentic to me, and in turn more enjoyable. The vocal delivery leans into cheesy satire through an exaggerated, radio-ready English-pop performance playing dress-up as the kind of music the industry craves.
Overall, I really enjoyed Nježne riječi. I’m not sure why I delayed reviewing the record for so long — I guess after listening to the first track in isolation, I had dismissed the record as simply an art pop/synthpop record, but it’s far from it. I was pleasantly surprised by the depth of the record and its experimental twist. Sara’s got herself a new fan, and I highly recommend giving this record a listen in its jazzy, atmospheric, and experimental entirety.
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