Early Electronic Music Tendencies in Yugoslavia
In the period following the Second World War, during which Yugoslav composers were obligated to write music of a traditional and national character as mandated by socialist realism, the rest of Europe and the US were undergoing a significant musical shift by embracing new technologies and adopting avant-garde techniques, such as integral serialism, aleatory, micropolyphony, and musique concrète. For instance, Pierre Schaeffer was already actively experimenting with creative radiophonic methods in 1942. He started recording the sound of trains, which he planned to turn into music with the technologies available at the Studio d’Essai in Paris.Footnote 1 These experimentations culminated in Schaeffer’s six “noise études,”Footnote 2 and the first one, Étude aux Chemins de Fer – a “collage” of recorded sounds – represents the earliest example of musique concrète.Footnote 3
Experimentations in radiophony and musique concrète quickly spread throughout Europe and the US, accelerated by the emergence of new electronic music studios during the 1950s and 1960s, fueled by the Cold War and wartime technologies. The first such studio was the Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) Electronic Music Studio in Cologne, founded in 1951, which hosted the world premiere of the first German electronic music at the Neues Musikfest Köln in May 1953.Footnote 4 Soon after, many other studios appeared, most notably the Groupe de Recherches Musicales (GRM) in Paris, Radio Audizioni Italiane (RAI) in Milan, Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center in New York, the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and Electronic Music Studio (EMS) in London, Institute for Psychoacoustics and Electronic Music (IPEM) in Ghent, Helsinki Electronic Music Studio, Polish Radio Experimental Studio (PRES) in Warsaw, and the Experimental Music Studio of Czechoslovak Radio Plzeň.
Meanwhile, in Yugoslavia, composers genuinely interested in electronic music during the 1950s could only read about tape music and other technologies in magazines from abroad or festival reports written by a handful of Yugoslav composers who managed to travel abroad during the period of cultural isolation.Footnote 5 Thus, for most Yugoslav composers, the first and most meaningful exposure to electronic (and, in general, contemporary) musical trends was the inaugural Music Biennale Zagreb in 1961, nearly two decades after Pierre Schaeffer’s first ventures into this domain.
“I Longed to Compose Electronic Music … ”
Vladan Radovanović, Serbia’s most celebrated avant-gardist and founder of the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade, vividly remembers the challenges he and other Yugoslav composers faced while trying to access the technologies in the early postwar decades:
I longed to compose electronic music much before it was even possible to compose in this domain in Yugoslavia. Unfortunately, there were simply no opportunities for it anywhere, even less so in Belgrade. When I went to Zagreb in 1961 for the first Zagreb Biennale, I met Branimir Sakač, who was also oriented towards avant-garde music and who composed the first musique concrète piece in Yugoslavia, which also had some electronic elements in it. During that encounter, I asked him if there was a possibility that I could take a peek inside their electronic studio and do some work. He refused my request very politely. [Laughter]. Such “willingness” for collaboration by Croats was to be expected.
I began to wonder: What can I do? So, in 1960, I bought the best tape recorder one could find here [in Yugoslavia] – it was a four-channel Telefunken – and I started to make tape compositions. I knew I was late – if we consider that Club d’Essai was formed in 1942 and that Pierre Schaeffer’s Cinq études de bruits premiered in 1958, my works were created twelve years later. I wish I could have done it earlier, I wanted to, but there were simply no means and no possibilities.
I worked by myself for two years on my tape piece, trying to cut it and splice it, but I didn’t have the right tools. Then someone told me that by using scissors to cut tape, I was generating magnetism – that is, I was magnetizing the tape, which created “clicks” in my tracks. I was trying to find antimagnetic scissors, but I could not find them in Belgrade. There was a pair at Belgrade Radio, but I did not have access to any of their tools or machines, and I was not allowed to do any work there. I suffered greatly while making these compositions, but they turned out not so bad. I mean, they are acceptable. They are short little pieces.Footnote 6
The pieces Radovanović refers to in his recollections are Inventions (1960–1961), one of the earliest examples of tape music in Yugoslavia, and certainly in Serbia, which he created using the Telefunken Model 77 Magnetophon Tape Recorder – a four-tube, four-track stereo recorder. Three years later, he completed Sferoön (1960–1964) – a radiophonic work in which the sound source is derived from mixed choir, recitative choir, filtered piano, and electric organ. Radovanović was not the only composer in Yugoslavia writing electroacoustic music in the early 1960s. Several others created electroacoustic compositions – mainly in the domain of tape music – in private studios in Belgrade, Novi Sad (Serbia), and Zagreb. Most notably, Sakač wrote Tri sintetske poeme [Three synthetic poems] in 1959, the first concrete music piece in Yugoslavia, and Jahači apokalipse [The riders of the Apocalypse] (1962); Ernö Király wrote Poema o zori [A poem about dawn] (1960) and Nebo [Sky] (1962); Josip Kalčič composed Improvisations for Organ (1962), Anagram for orchestra, choir, and tape (1964), and Phonochronia for symphony orchestra and tape (1964); Darijan Božić wrote Trije dnevi Anne Frank [Three days of Anne Frank] (1963); Aleksandar Obradović wrote Epitaph X (1965) and Microsymphony (1967); Natko Devčić composed Columbia 68 in 1968.
Specializations at Electronic Music Studios Abroad
With limited means of using reel-to-reel cassette recorders and no access to radio studios, Yugoslav composers quickly exhausted all possibilities of what was musically achievable on their own in the domain of electronic music (i.e., tape cutting and splicing) at the time. The next logical step was to find ways to attend workshops specializing in the use of new technologies at one of the newly established electronic music centers that were flourishing around Europe and the US.
Groupe de Recherches Musicales
Ivo Malec was one of the first Yugoslav composers to depart for the West to work in the domain of electronic music. Malec headed to Paris in 1955, where he remained for the rest of his life. During his first visit, he met Pierre Schaeffer, whom he considered his “only true master.”Footnote 7 He collaborated with Groupe de Recherche de Musique Concrète (GRMC) – a French organization devoted to electroacoustic music production, concert-giving, research, and teaching.Footnote 8 Commissioned by the French Radio and Television Broadcasting Company, Malec composed his first purely musique concrète piece, Mavena (1956–1957), a spoken cantata based on a text (thirty-six sentences) of the same title by a Croatian writer, Radovan Ivšić (1921–2009). Reminiscing about Mavena decades later, Malec described it as his “first, extremely naïve” composition, although “a significant piece in the technique of musique concrète.”Footnote 9 He further elaborated that he marked his own path by “manipulating the voice of the actress and, at the same time, wanting to provide the text with a musically coloured dimension to fit it into the sound surrounding with sound logic.”Footnote 10
In 1958, Malec played a pivotal role in reforming the GRMC into Groupe de Recherches Musicales (GRM) together with Schaeffer, Luc Ferrari, François-Bernard Mâche, and Iannis Xenakis.Footnote 11 During this period, Malec composed his first radiophonic tale, Les Douze Mois (1960).Footnote 12 At GRM, Malec worked on the typology of musical objects before being appointed to head the research in experimental instrument making.
Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center
Nearly a decade after Malec had left for Paris, Rajko Maksimović, Natko Devčić, and Aleksandar Obradović went to the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center in New York City. Maksimović represents the first generation of Yugoslav students to study in the US under the newly established Fulbright program partnership between the two countries. In 1965, Maksimović left for Princeton, where he studied electronic composition with James Randall (1929–2014), a pioneer of electronic music at Princeton University. Obradović joined a year later (1966–1967) to study with Vladimir Ussachevsky (1911–1990), a cofounder (with Otto Luening) of the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, and Devčić arrived the following year (1967–1968).
During his one-year residency at Princeton, Maksimović also had the opportunity to work intensively at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, where he learned to operate “six-ton generators, several filters, some other machines, and two to three tape recorders.”Footnote 13 Maksimović recalls that on one occasion he spent an “entire night at the studio trying to ‘produce’ two to three minutes of some sound.”Footnote 14 It is through Maksimović’s detailed and descriptive autobiographical writings that we learn the extent of electronic music techniques that Yugoslav composers learned at the Center during this period. He recollects:
At that time, Milton [Babbitt] was constructing the first synthesizer in the world, which occupied two rooms!
And the applications of computers for music had just started. In order to confirm what I had learned with Jim [Randall], I decided to take a solo section from the prelude of my violin Partita and perform it using the computer! From today’s perspective, this seems like child’s play, nonetheless, it was fascinating. For each individual sound, I had a “card” (the size of a postcard) that I punched in several places, and with it, I determined all musical parameters: height (frequency), loudness level, the force of the attack, and finally, tone color, i.e., the number of individual aliquots it comprised.Footnote 15 Then, I inserted a stack of cards (equivalent in width to three decks of playing cards) into a “reader,” which effortlessly transcribed on paper everything that I punched on the cards.
In this transcribed form, it was easy to visually spot any errors during punching, as a number would appear out of place in a column. After checking everything and making any necessary corrections, I would feed my deck of cards to a computer operator (a machine that occupied half the hall!). Then, a computer would transfer all that data onto a digital one-inch tape. Then, I would place that track inside a machine called a convertor, and behold – coming out of the speakers, I could hear my violin Prelude!Footnote 16
Soon after learning how to operate a computer, tape recorder, and other machines at the Columbia-Princeton Music Center, Maksimović created his first original electronic piece, Two Bashô’s Haiku Poems (1966) for voice, flute, violin, piano, and a stereo tape recorder. The piece was premiered in Princeton (to great success, and with John Heiss on the flute).Footnote 17 Upon his return to Belgrade in 1966, the piece was broadcast on the Third Program of Radio Belgrade, the primary (and only) outlet in Yugoslavia for avant-garde music at that time, and a month later, it was performed at the festival of new music in Opatija, Croatia. Although Maksimović completely abandoned writing electronic music after his return to Serbia, his Two Bashô’s Haiku Poems holds a significant place as one of the first live-performed pieces for voice, instruments, and tape in Yugoslavia.
During his residency in New York, Devčić composed Columbia 68. Although Devčić’s piece was scorned in Zagreb for being “made out of ‘remains’ of other composers’ tapes at the New York studio,”Footnote 18 Alice Shields, the sound engineer who worked on this piece with Devčić, explains the nature of creative processes at the Center in the 1960s:
The attitude Ussachevsky promoted at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center was the transformation of whatever sound material one started with. The point was to transform the original material either through timbral, rhythmic, durational, or pitch development. So, Natko’s choice of the original source material was not the point: as viewed through the aesthetic of the Center at the time, the point was what the composer like Natko did with that material to transform it into a new piece of music. The process of musique concrète in electronic music during the 1960s and 70s at the Center for many composers involved “found objects,” as in visual art. So, any recorded material could be considered valid to transform and organize into an electronic composition. Other non-musical sounds were often chosen as source material as well. Or these could be any electronically generated sound or any recorded sound whatsoever, either generated by oneself or someone else. So, any recorded material whatsoever was considered valid to start a composition with.Footnote 19
Radovanović has similarly contemplated the notion of novelty – that is, “modernism” – in the works of Maksimović and Obradović created at the Center. He remarked:
Obradović’s Electronic Toccata and Fugue [created in New York in 1967] had a classical form and a classical method of construction. The fact that it is a toccata and a fugue – a toccata in two voices and a fugue in which you can hear the theme in two or three voices – already in itself means that it is “classical.” In Rajko’s Two Haiku Poems, a chamber music piece for several instruments to which he added a tape part – it is tape that represented something “modern,” dare one say “avant-garde”; in Obradović’s piece, only the source he used is what represented certain modernity, but the method of construction and the form itself, in my humble opinion, represented something completely traditional.Footnote 20
Musicologist Vesna Mikić posits that generally speaking, the first generation of Serbian (and Yugoslav) electronic music composers of the 1960s was primarily interested in three processes: finding different ways of transforming vocal and instrumental media; expanding the traditional sound that is based on traditional media but with new technological means; and reinterpreting old techniques with new electronic media.Footnote 21 Within this context, we can understand the notion of novelty and impetus for innovation in the works of composers like Obradović or Maksimović. However, it should not be overlooked that these early electronic music endeavors by Yugoslav composers coincided with the current trends pursued by composers at electronic music centers in Europe and the US. The only serious disparity was that Yugoslavia could not afford its composers the opportunity to explore the field of electronic music in their own country. Thus, it was not the curiosity, creativity, or ideas that were lacking, but the means.
Experimental Music Studio of Czechoslovak Radio Plzeň
Ludmila Frajt, the first woman composer of electronic, as well as film and radio-drama music in Yugoslavia, approached electronic music from a different perspective. As a music producer, first at Avala Film (1946–1952),Footnote 22 later at Radio Belgrade (1952–1958), and then at Yugoslav Radio Television (1958–1972),Footnote 23 Frajt already had ample experience working in music and film studios, using a variety of machines and techniques like sound editing. By 1968, Frajt had collaborated on thirty-five films and had composed music for twelve movies, already mastering a variety of processes.Footnote 24 For instance, she was recording music on a tape using a cassette player, editing the recorded tape with the picture (typically done on an editing table), recording three types of the sound source in the film (music, dialogue, and noise) on three different tapes, and then editing, mixing, and synchronizing the three tapes into one. She was synchronizing sound with picture frame by frame while adjusting the volume levels of the noise, dialogue, or music.
Frajt’s experience in radio and television studios in Belgrade inspired her to think about new ways to enrich and expand her sound palette. Thus, in the early 1960s, supported by Yugoslav Radio Television, Frajt took a course in electronic music at the Darmstadt Summer Course, one of the first composers in Yugoslavia to participate in the program. Soon after, in 1967, she went to study at the Experimental Music Studio (EMS) of Czechoslovak Radio Plzeň,Footnote 25 where she joined Josip Kalčič, who was working on his Improvisation II (1967) at this time.Footnote 26 Established in 1967, EMS in Plzeň was the first professional electroacoustic music studio in Czechoslovakia, whose creation was mainly the result of the activities of Vladimir Lébl, Miloslav Kabeláč, and Eduard Herzog. The Plzeň studio, very much like the GRM, pursued the exploration of the psychoacoustic aspect of sound that correlated to Schaffer’s “solfège theory” (the transfer of sound and the hearing experience without using verbal codes).Footnote 27 During her residency in Plzeň, Frajt completed her first electroacoustic composition, Asteroids (1967) – a collection of three short studies of a “static character,” inspired by the cosmos, for which she created the source of transformed sound with instruments.Footnote 28
A page from her sketchbook of the first study of Asteroids illustrates that Frajt orchestrated the work for prepared piano, organ, cembalo, and several pitched and nonpitched percussion instruments. From the notes in the marginalia and visual cues in the score, we can infer some of the methods she used to enrich and expand the sound source. For instance, Frajt inscribed “noises, one over the other” (šumovi jedan preko drugog); on other pages, she noted, “only noises remain until they vanish” (ostaju samo šumovi dok se ne izgube). Frajt’s sketchbook for Asteroids indicates how she applied the editing techniques she learned in studios in Belgrade to her electronic compositional process. She uses the same terminology in her sketches, such as “šum” (noise), the term that is used to refer to one of three sound sources in music editing for the film. Also, we note Frajt’s application of visual cues to describe the sound. Further, the notes in the marginalia also suggest that Frajt thought about electronic music from a practical viewpoint, not just for the sake of processing the sound, but for achieving a desired sound effect and experience.
Unlike other Yugoslav composers, who moved in avant-garde circles and sought to catch up to the newest trends, we can surmise that it was not necessarily the Yugoslav avant-garde movement of the 1950s and 1960s that brought Frajt to Plzeň. Rather, the impetus behind her curiosity and interest in learning specific avant-garde procedures was more practical – she was looking for applicable methods to expand her musical palette and organize her musical material.
Polish Radio Experimental Studio
Vladan Radovanović, an avant-garde composer in his truest sense, not only pioneered electroacoustic, radiophonic, electronic, and computerized music in Yugoslavia but also introduced polymedia arts, tactilism, hyper-polyphony, and art synthesis, among his many other lifelong innovations in the fields of music, art, and poetry. It was only natural that, after exhausting all his means with a cassette recorder, Radovanović sought ways to pursue further specialization in the domain. In 1966, he managed to secure the funding to go to the Polish Radio Experimental Studio (PRES) for one year. Radovanović recollects his first impressions of Warsaw:
My trip to Poland was my first time outside of Yugoslavia. Although Poland was a country in the Eastern Bloc, to us, Yugoslavs, it seemed like a Western Bloc country at that time. Yet, when I arrived there, I had never seen such a level of poverty. I walked into a grocery store to buy a box of chocolates, and there were only two choices. Yugoslavia had dozens! It was the same case with clothes, food, and everything else. But in terms of its cultural life, Poland has reached a much higher point than Yugoslavia. Serbia, especially, did not even come close to attaining that level; Croatia was just starting to get closer to it with its Zagreb Biennale, but Serbia was still far, far from it. I could buy music scores that I’d only heard of but had never seen in Yugoslavia. There were so many concerts where I could hear new music – everything that was created at the PRES, but also in other studios. They especially had a strong collaboration with Schaeffer’s studio in Paris.Footnote 29
Radovanović’s description is in line with Lisa Cooper Vest’s observation that PRES “did not only serve as a site for creating music” but also “began to function as a clearinghouse and a repository for cultural knowledge, including scores and recordings (sometimes gifted by foreign guests).”Footnote 30 Founded in 1957 by Józef Patkowski, a musicologist, acoustician, and chairman of the Polish Composers’ Union, PRES was the first electronic music studio in the Eastern Bloc.Footnote 31 Equipped with a simple tone generator, a rectangular pulse generator, an oscillograph, high-pass and low-pass RFT filters, two Sander-Jansen SJ100 K tape recorders, and a Poland-produced mixing console with four output limiters,Footnote 32 PRES allowed composers to create music from both European studio models – a French model of previously recorded sounds (i.e., musique concrète) and a German model of electronic music. The Studio’s mission, released in November 1957, announced its “technical conditions for experimentation”: (1) the introduction of new, ready-to-use sound elements for radio plays and for programs that combine music and spoken word; (2) the construction of new equipment for sound effects, and the use and the possible construction of electronic instruments; (3) acoustics; (4) musique concrète; and (5) independent scientific research in this field.Footnote 33
The first autonomous musical composition created at the PRES was Włodzimierz Kotoński’s Etiuda konkretna na jedno uderzenie w talerz [Étude concrète on one cymbal stroke (1959)], followed by Krzysztof Penderecki’s Psalmus (1961), Andrzej Dobrowolski’s Muzyki na taśmę nr 1 [Music for tape, no. 1 (1962)], and Bogusław Schaeffer’s Symfonia: Muzyka Elektroniczna [Symphony: Electronic music (1964–1966)], among others. In addition to composers working at the Studio, PRES also employed creative sound engineers, including Krzysztof Szlifirski, Eugeniusz Rudnik, and Bohdan Mazurek. Radovanović’s experience of working with the PRES engineers was not favorable, as he recalls:
The engineers who worked in the studio knew the inner workings of the technology and techniques, but they knew nothing about forming musical structures. This created certain conflicts. So, a composer either had to sit down and learn everything that he needed to operate the technology himself, or if he was willing to compromise through collaboration, the engineer could learn the language of music, to an extent, to understand the needs of the composer.
In order to avoid such conflicts, I decided to learn everything I could myself, which I did over the period of three months. I learned how to use all tools and build my models, which I intended to use later – to multiply, cut, splice, flip in different directions, and so on – so that I could create my own compositions when I returned to Belgrade.Footnote 34
At the PRES, Radovanović was working on his Electronic Study (1966–1967), one of the earliest electronic music compositions in Yugoslavia. Only one page of the music score survives.Footnote 35 In it, we observe some of the composer’s techniques. The straight line down the middle divides the tape into equal segments of 1 cm in length. Along this continuous timeline, Radovanović inserts and combines various segments of cut and spliced tape at particular time points. Each cut tape segment shows a certain sound Radovanović is working with, denoted by the treble clef and specified pitches (mostly chords and clusters). Below each segment, Radovanović labels the track from which the sound source is derived; for instance, the first one reads “tr 449.” Above, Radovanović labels the manner in which he manipulates each sound source, using techniques such as inversion, retrograde, and retrograde inversion, and their transpositional levels. Thus, the first segment is labeled as an inversion at the interval of the major third (i.e., interval class 4, or I4).
While making his own models (using filtered sine, triangular, and square waves, and other types of noise and sound) and acquiring all of the necessary skills to operate the technological devices at the PRES, Radovanović notes that he managed to create something quite “unusual” at that time:
During my exit interview, it was noted that with my piece, I did something that was not so typical, something that had never been done before. That is, first, I formed my electronic composition completely independently on my own. Even Penderecki came to me and said, “Mr. Radovanović, you are working alone, by yourself!” I explained to him my aesthetic and ethical reasons … Also, I didn’t use the twelve-semitone system but rather a system based on non-octave scales, meaning the octave ratio was something other than 2:1. Further, my piece was nonthematic. I created structural figures – let’s say, like a figure based on ten sine waves that has its own shape and means for expanding – but it is not a “theme.” It doesn’t have a successive arrangement of frequencies, but it has a structural appearance of a large number of voices, a particular sound form. I used it as an element that can be repeated. So, its construction was like a brick structure except that it could be divided at different places. That was the structure of my composition. It’s neither thematic nor athematic.Footnote 36
The Formation of the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade
It was during his residency at PRES that Vladan Radovanović realized that it was absolutely necessary to establish an electronic studio in Yugoslavia that would afford Yugoslav composers the place and the means to create works in this new electroacoustic medium. Promptly upon his return from Warsaw, Radovanović took the initiative of securing the funds for this mission. In 1972, he cofounded the Electronic Studio of the Third Program of Radio Belgrade (henceforth EMS Radio Belgrade) with Aleksandar Acković (editor-in-chief of the Third Program of Radio Belgrade) and Paul Pignon.Footnote 37 Radovanović served as the Studio’s director until his retirement in 1999.
Toward the end of his studies at the PRES, Radovanović had already begun to develop concrete plans about establishing a similar type of electronic studio in Belgrade, outlining four primary objectives. First, Radovanović deemed it essential to create a space for Yugoslav composers where they could realize projects in the domain of electronic music without having to go abroad.Footnote 38 Radovanović also emphasized that some of the composers who specialized at the music centers in other countries did not necessarily have a good experience:
When Aleksandar Obradović returned from New York, he showed me his Electronic Toccata and Fugue and told me that when he first arrived at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, Ussachevsky just showed him the space and the equipment and said “Good luck!” He told me that he didn’t know how to do anything. He started cutting and splicing tape on his own but didn’t know that he needed to use antimagnetic scissors. PRES, for instance, had only antimagnetic scissors. But Obradović didn’t know anything about it so he was cutting tape with a razor blade, so wherever he made a cut, he could hear a “click.” He was not aware that he was creating that noise himself. I learned those basics in my first class at the PRES – how to cut, splice, use special glue, and use tracks to align tape. I even knew about all this before I went to Poland – in 1960, when I was working on my Inventions.Footnote 39
Radovanović’s second objective concerns the different ways it is possible to structure the sound material for electronic music, without imitating the manner in which the vocal-instrumental music structures are built. Third, Radovanović believed that it was necessary to allow and enable composers to be thoroughly trained so that they could realize their electronic works without the aid of sound engineers:
The model should not be Penderecki’s collaboration with his audio engineer, but the composer’s personal mastery of the necessary knowledge for the realization of his own electronic work. It was clear to me that the work can truly be your own only if you realize it yourself.Footnote 40
Lastly, influenced by American composer Arthur Maddox, Radovanović believed that the computer was the future of electroacoustic music, so he envisioned establishing a computer studio in Belgrade. But that goal proved impossible to achieve in Yugoslavia at that time, due to high costs.
With these specific criteria in mind, Radovanović set out to find an institution that would agree to fund the creation of such a studio in Belgrade. He first approached the Composers’ Association in Serbia and the Association of Yugoslav Composers, both of which turned him down. Next, he went to the Music Academy, where Obradović was on the composition faculty and was politically well connected (which, at that time, meant that he was a member of the Yugoslav Communist Party). Even though just a few years prior Obradović himself had gone to New York to study electronic music, he had since abandoned all avant-garde tendencies, conforming to the demands of socialist realism and “moderated modernism.” Thus, Obradović, too, turned down Radovanović’s proposal, deeming it unrealistic and unfeasible, stating that no such funds existed in Yugoslavia, no means, no faculty, and, in his opinion, no demand for such music in Serbia.
This attitude was not unexpected – Radovanović had anticipated that he would encounter resistance both from the composers’ unions and the ultratraditional Music Academy. After all, the avant-garde had been scrutinized in Yugoslavia ever since the end of the war, and during this postwar period nearly all Yugoslav composers, and in Serbia all except Radovanović, had abandoned writing in the electroacoustic medium since their return from abroad. However, Yugoslavia was investing in the rebuilding of the country after the war, not only in its infrastructure but also in its social and cultural programs. This nation-building was the essence of Tito’s model that he wanted to portray as successful to the rest of the world – self-governed communism. Thus, while funds were available, they were still quite limited, and no institution was willing to invest in something that, in their view, had no prospect for profitability.
Nonetheless, firmly believing that electronic music was the future of the field, Radovanović continued to pursue his vision. He was also acutely aware that Yugoslav composers had already been severely hindered by the country’s traditional institutions and by those who blindly followed the socialist doctrine, so time was of the essence. Radovanović’s last resort was the Third Program of Radio Belgrade. Dedicated exclusively to contemporary and experimental music, this studio was founded in 1965 as the fourth of the so-called third radio programs in Europe and the first one in the Balkan region, as Hristina Medić notes.Footnote 41 Although it was modeled after the third programs of BBC Radio and WDR, the first editor-in-chief, Aleksandar Acković, managed to offer a distinctive and interesting concept.Footnote 42 To Radovanović’s pleasant surprise, Acković was enthusiastic about his proposal and vision, and by 1970 he had secured some modest funds for the creation of an electronic studio. Radovanović recalls, “The funds were secured for an adequate studio, definitely not for the state-of-the-art facility.”Footnote 43 Acković recommended that Radovanović should first visit several centers in Europe and survey their technology before making any decisions. Radovanović agreed to visit the GRM in Paris and the Electronic Music Studio in Stockholm and suggested that Paul Pignon visit the EMS in London.
Radovanović first went to the GRM, where he met with his expatriate colleague Malec. At the meeting, Radovanović showed him the score of his Electronic Study that he completed at the PRES, which Malec programmed in the upcoming GRM “Cycle acousmatique” concert series in Paris. Malec was so impressed with Radovanović that he even inquired about the possibility of him staying to work at the Paris studio (which Radovanović declined). After this visit, it was clear to Radovanović that building a studio in Belgrade on par with the GRM was unrealistic. Next, Radovanović continued to Sweden to visit Tamas Ungvary’s EMS Stockholm. Knowing beforehand that Yugoslavia could not possibly afford such a state-of-the-art computerized studio, Radovanović went there just to see “the world’s most advanced hybrid studio” in person.Footnote 44 Radovanović describes his impressions:
EMS Stockholm was the absolute top, equipped like a spaceship. I just wanted to see it firsthand. And I thought to myself, “Just imagine if we could install something like this in Belgrade, how incredible that would be!” But I was very well aware that it would be too expensive and that the sophisticated machines were not so easily accessible to a “classical” composer with a “classical” background. Tamas Ungvary explained in detail how it all worked and gave me an estimated cost, a figure that was so astronomical. Forgive me, I forgot the amount because I get startled every time I think about it. I came back to Yugoslavia with all this information, not expecting that we would ever find a solution that the Third Program would accept.Footnote 45
Meanwhile, Paul Pignon was still in London, where he met with Peter Zinovieff, a British composer and engineer, whose Electronic Music Studios created the Voltage Controlled Studio 3 (VCS3) synthesizer, with circuitry by David Cockerell, case design by Tristram Cary, and input from Zinovieff. The VCS3 was designed as an affordable, small, modular, and portable, yet powerful and versatile electronic music studio, rather than an electronic instrument. Zinovieff gifted the VCS3 to Pignon, who brought it to Belgrade. Radovanović recalls seeing the device for the first time:
Wow, this small “sofa chair” – it looked like one – contained more devices than what fit inside two entire rooms at the PRES. It had synthesizers, shapers, filters, and so on. I suggested that we propose some additional elements that would not exceed $20,000 in cost (which was about a quarter of the price of what other studios offered). EMS accepted our proposal and constructed the machine to our specifications. We called it Studio Belgrade.Footnote 46
The machine was delivered to Belgrade in July 1971. It was the Synthi 100, the first customized device that the EMS London had created.Footnote 47
The Incredible Story of the EMS Radio Belgrade Synthi 100
The Electronic Music Studios (London) built and sold only thirty-one Synthi 100 devices, and quite incredibly, EMS Radio Belgrade managed to secure one model (Figure 4.1). For the Belgrade Studio, it was an ideal solution – the Third Program had ample budget to support Pignon and Radovanović’s specifications, and EMS London had the technology that they had already developed for the VCS3 with the capabilities to expand it further.Footnote 48 Radovanović confirms, “We received a remarkable version of Synthi 100. It was incredibly large – the size of a chiffonier, and we could barely manage to move it inside our studio room. It had two patch panels and a lot of elements.”Footnote 49
Vladan Radovanović (left) and Paul Pignon at EMS Radio Belgrade with the Synthi 100, 1971 (RTS Treći program Radio Beograda [The Third Program of Radio Beograd]).

Figure 4.1a Long description
Vladan Radovanović, photographed left, wearing a light suit, shirt, a tie, and his thick, dark-framed glasses, and Paul Pignon in the center, wearing a dark long-sleeved shirt and jeans, at EMS Radio Belgrade with the Synthi 100. The photograph dates from 1971. They are standing over Synthi 100, working. Radovanović is taking notes with his right hand, while pressing some buttons on the control panel with his left hand.
EMS Radio Belgrade’s Synthi 100 and other equipment, ca. 1972–1973 (RTS Treći program Radio Beograda [The Third Program of Radio Belgrade]).

The Synthi 100 is a hybrid analog and digital synthesizer. Its design includes multiple VCS3 modular systems with eight voltage-controlled oscillators, twelve voltage-controlled filters, two monophonic keyboards, digital sequencer cards, and a computer interface, as well as an additional Vocoder 5000 that could also be procured for it. Pignon sums up the many (and relatively inexpensive) advantages of the Synthi 100 in one word: flexibility. He elaborates, “This [flexibility] is achieved especially by the well-designed patching system … which allows series and parallel combinations of any number of any devices, and by the sequences and the way it is integrated into the system as a whole (with convenient keyboard control or data input.”Footnote 50 Further, the VCS3 can be linked up with the Synthi 100, providing various extra modules it requires.
Unfortunately, without the necessary funds for the Synthi 100’s maintenance, barely ten years had elapsed before EMS Radio Belgrade would become obsolete. By the start of the Yugoslav Wars (in the 1990s), the then-director of Radio Belgrade ordered the defunct Synthi 100 to be discarded. Miroslav Savić, a composer who, as a student, defected from the Music Academy due to its resistance to modernism and flocked to the Electronic Studio to study with Radovanović, recalls:
The Synthi 100 was discarded in the hallway with the intention of being thrown away. The attitude from the “top” was – “it’s old, it’s obsolete, it’s trash.” Zorana Hrašovec [the engineer who worked at the studio since its founding], who was still working there and was assigned the role of Synthi’s “caretaker,” called me and asked me if I could put it in my basement because the Radio was getting ready to throw it away. Naturally, I agreed. We had to devise a plan on how to actually do it secretly, away from the sight of the police – even though this instrument was going to be thrown out, the Radio and the police would not allow anyone to take it. So, the plan was: Once the Synthi was discarded on the street, we would show up in some sort of uniforms so that we would look like legitimate workers. Meanwhile, we made an arrangement with the movers – they would pick up the discarded Synthi and put it in their truck, and then we would meet somewhere in the city and move it into our truck, and in exchange, we would buy them beer. [Laughter]. But luckily, [Slobodan] Milošević ruptured, and we didn’t have to proceed with the plan. Our wish was only to save the Synthi until better days returned.Footnote 51
Although the Synthi survived its demise at Radio Belgrade, it remained inoperable until September 2017, when Pignon returned to Belgrade and, together with Svetlana Maraš, the Studio’s composer-in-residence at the time, repaired it.Footnote 52 Savić recalls, “For many years, the Synthi 100 and Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade functioned as a museum.” Maraš explains that after the wars, while the Synthi was still inoperable, “the analog synthesizer was protected by [the] Museum of Science and Technology as the ‘cultural heritage’ of Serbia, and [its] historical importance is immense.”Footnote 53 The Studio celebrated its reopening with a live concert on March 2, 2018, which featured compositions by Pignon, Maraš, and an Italian artist, Nicola Ratti.
The Operations and Collaborations at the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade
The EMS London delivered the Synthi 100 in July 1971, designing the synthesizer according to Pignon’s and Radovanović’s specifications. EMS Radio Belgrade became operational in December of that year, officially opening its doors in January 1972. Radovanović was appointed the head of the Studio while Pignon, with his expertise in the field of physics, which was a great asset to the Studio, served as a composer and an instructor, a role he maintained until the late 1980s. In addition to Radovanović and Pignon, the Studio also employed two engineers – Milan Orlić, who stayed quite briefly in this role, and Zorana Hrašovec, who remained until the studio became defunct.
Since most of the composers who were coming to work at the Studio were either past or current students at the traditionally oriented Music Academy, and the structure of the Studio’s Synthi 100 was rather complex, Radovanović had to model the process of realizations of composers’ works after PRES. He viewed this process as necessary in order for composers to master electronic media and be able to realize their electronic compositions. Since the Academy was not adequately preparing its students in the domain of technology, it was Radovanović, Pignon, and Hrašovec who taught and worked with the new generation of composers in Yugoslavia. Radovanović explains the process at the beginning:
We had to establish two modes of working at the Studio. For composers who did not work in the electronic medium or for those who found it more difficult to master the necessary technological processes, we provided basic training and then developed a plan of collaboration with the studio staff. Thus, for a composer to realize a composition, the composer first needed to explain his ideas in words and graphics. Based on that information, the coauthor (the implementer) proposed “instruments” and methods of organization, that is, he translated all of the composer’s suggestions into a series of technological actions. […]
The second type of collaboration, which was more crucial for expanding the composer’s experience, entailed educating composers at the level at which they could realize their works mostly independently, without collaboration with a coauthor.Footnote 54
Thus, composers working at the EMS Radio Belgrade were introduced to a new (and collaborative) process of composing: from the idea (concept) to sketching the project (music score) to the sounding of the project (realization and real manifestation) to the performance of the piece. Through this process, the composer became the performer, conductor, and listener.
Pignon explains the technical aspects of the teaching activities in more detail, offering a glimpse of the inner workings of the Studio. He writes:
The courses are primarily intended to equip composers for independent work in the Studio. However, some effort is also made to give them a sound background in electroacoustics in general. Completion of the course is a condition for being allowed to work alone. The material covered by the course is gradually being assembled in a rather copious manual, divided into: Basic Electricity and Electronic Acoustics and Tape Recording; Individual Modules of the Synthi 100; Basic Patches and Work Procedures; Advanced Patches and Procedures.Footnote 55
EMS Radio Belgrade quickly gained popularity. Composers across Yugoslavia were coming to Belgrade to be trained by the Studio’s staff and to realize their works. Some of the first-generation composers included Vojin Komadina, Kalčič, Frajt, Dušan Radić, Srđan Hofman, Lojzet Lebič, Jakob Jež, Sakač, Devčić, Davorin Kempf, and Josip Magdić. The success of the Belgrade Studio curriculum, its model for collaboration, and the opportunity to work on the Synthi 100 spread beyond the borders of Yugoslavia. Composers from France, Belgium, Spain, Poland, and Italy, including Nicole Lachartre, Iván Pequeño Andrade, Peter Beyls, Georg Katzer, Zoltán Pongrácz, and Iván Patachich, among others, were also flocking to Belgrade to create electroacoustic music.Footnote 56
As musicologist Luca Cossettini observes, just looking at the CD released on the thirtieth anniversary of the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade, it is striking to see Radovanović’s name on nearly every track, either as the author or the coauthor.Footnote 57 For Cossettini, this acknowledgment is revealing about the production system at the Studio – it confirms Radovanović’s role, as well as his expertise and knowledge of the technology.Footnote 58 Further, it informs about the process of composing electronic music during this period – that the process of composing and realizing electronic music was a collaborative task.
With the interest in the Studio rapidly increasing, Pignon and Radovanović added more advanced courses to enable composers to achieve true independence. But as Pignon notes, this new training program went beyond just realizing a composer’s current needs; rather, it recognized the potential of networking and the continuous shaping of the Studio. He explains:
Fortnightly seminars were recently started, where topics of current specialized interest (e.g., arising out of a just finished or still unfinished composition) and discussed after an introductory presentation, e.g., by the composer whose work is discussed. Judging by the initial results it seems that these seminars will fulfill an important function in gathering together all those connected with the Studio and in molding a general physiognomy of the Studio, as [envisioned] by Radovanović.Footnote 59
The Studio was more than just a workshop or “a factory” for electronic music; rather, it provided the space for composers to think about electronic music in new ways, which allowed the field to develop and grow. Savić posits that what sets the EMS Radio Belgrade apart from other studios is that it was open and accessible to everyone: “It wasn’t reserved just for the elite, no committee decided who could or could not come. Everyone had access and equal opportunity. It was truly an incredible privilege.”Footnote 60
Indeed, Radovanović and Pignon welcomed into their Studio anyone who showed any interest in the electronic music medium of any style. Radovanović elaborates on their open-access policy:
Overall, everything created at the Studio was “modernist.” Not wanting to impose our own artistic views on the Studio production, we opted for a stylistic openness, while not neglecting the conditions given by the very nature of the media. Thus, projects of maximalist and minimalist orientation were accepted, as well as those [projects] directed towards the conceptualization of music, provided that the electroacoustic medium was in some way essential.Footnote 61
By 1987, the Studio’s Synthi 100 was becoming outdated and virtually nonoperable due to the lack of funds for its maintenance. Further, Radovanović was looking for means to modernize the studio by computerizing it. Only after Radio Belgrade appointed a new director was Radovanović finally able to secure the necessary funds to purchase the Studio’s first computer. He recalls:
I had to wait some fifteen years to get the means to computerize the Studio. We wanted a new 1987 Apple computer, but we were told that, unfortunately, it was too expensive. So, we had to opt for a more modest brand, which soon after had already become extinct. It was an Atari Mega ST2 with synthesizer modules by Yamaha TX816, running on Notator SL – one of the first computer programs.
Eventually, around 1988–1989, we got one more PC with AudioLogic 3 and a complete manual. It was a very precise, complicated, and difficult program to master. By this time, Paul Pignon had already left Belgrade. So, Zorana Hrašovec and I read the manual ourselves in English and were trying out things in vain, but we managed the best we could. At some point, I was finally able to operate both the computer and the program. Then, we thought of an idea to connect the Synthi to the computer, but we never managed to do it successfully.Footnote 62
The conditions at the Studio were worsening as the Yugoslav Wars were looming. From 1991 until 1997, everything seemed to be falling apart – no composers from outside Serbia were coming to the Studio, and consequently, all activities, including lectures and concerts, were canceled. The first guest to visit the Studio after a long pause was Thomas Wells from Columbus, Ohio, in 1997, and by personal invitation from Radovanović. Before his departure back to the US, Wells gifted the Studio his personal NeXT computer. Finally, the Studio acquired an Apple computer, fulfilling Radovanović’s lifelong dream.
The Legacy of the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade
The Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade was the first electronic music studio in Yugoslavia and the Balkan region and home to the legendary Synthi 100. Despite its incredible history, it remains virtually unknown to scholars outside of Serbia, excluded from the historiographies of electronic music.Footnote 63 Nonetheless, its legacy is indisputable and invaluable. Resisting the pressures of socialist realism and moderated modernism, Radovanović pressed on with his vision and, with support from Aleksandar Acković, Zorana Hrašovec, and Paul Pignon, achieved his goal of establishing a modern, “third-generation” electronic music studio in Yugoslavia. The delay in founding the EMS Radio Belgrade was actually in some ways advantageous – while nearly all other studios across Europe had only analog equipment at the time they opened, the Belgrade Studio was able to incorporate the new, third-generation digital-analog technology, making it one of the most advanced studios in Europe.
The “state-of-the-art” facility in Belgrade’s Studio granted composers from all around the country an opportunity to gain knowledge and expertise in the domain of electronic music and realize their innovative projects in all types of electroacoustic music – concrete, electronic, synthetic, live electronics, mixed electronics, computer, multimedia creations with electroacoustic music and mental sound works.Footnote 64 Thus, Radovanović’s vision, drafted during his residency in Poland, was one of the principal factors that led to the creation of new generations of avant-garde and electronic music composers in the country. Looking back on this momentous feat, Radovanović recalls:
It was truly a heroic battle for Yugoslav culture to achieve something like this in an environment where music is consistently placed last. And then there was electronic music, which, within the domain of music, was itself placed last. So, we had to fight and advocate, which I did for twenty-eight years as the head of the Studio.Footnote 65
Over the relatively short period of some thirty years – from the Studio’s founding in 1971 until the US/NATO-led bombing of Serbia in 1999 – EMS Radio Belgrade was home to some thirty Yugoslav composers and ten international composers. Seventy-seven works of independent electroacoustic music were realized, twenty-three radiophonic, mentalistic,Footnote 66 and sound-poetic works, and over ninety examples of functional music. The works created in the Studio boasted thirteen national and international awards. When taking into account the context under which the Studio operated – as Radovanović puts it, how slow, time-consuming, and arduous the production of electronic works was in the precomputer era – these achievements are even more remarkable.Footnote 67 A sample of such achievements by two prolific composers – Radovanović and Frajt – will be examined in the following chapter.
Introduction
While Yugoslav composers of electroacoustic music were pursuing the same interests and trends in the 1960s as were current in Europe and the US, they had limited means to develop their skills. Constrained by the lack of access to professional facilities and technologies, postwar economic hardships, and Yugoslavia’s cultural isolation of the 1950s, all experimentations in electronic music during this period, of which there were very few, were in the domain of tape music. Thus, when innovations in electronic music in Yugoslavia are examined within the broader context of explorations taking place in other countries, Yugoslav composers lagged behind Europe and the US. Yet, within the context of the Yugoslav music scene alone, these tape compositions were considered the most extreme kind of avant-garde. These early electronic composers were not necessarily “shocking” or “avant-garde” due to their sound, medium, or techniques, but rather because they challenged the widely accepted currents of traditionalism and neoclassicism. Mirjana Veselinović-Hofman defines this phenomenon as a “local type of avant-garde,” a movement that changes the musical environment in which it appears due to local musical, psychological, and social contexts.Footnote 1 Because of the new medium’s perceived “shock effect,” the traditionalists objected to electronic music, associating it with concepts of alienation and dehumanization.Footnote 2
During the 1960s, Yugoslav composers were still under the political pressure imposed by the lingering ramifications of a socialist doctrine and overall resistance toward any modern trends in the arts. For instance, while Rajko Maksimović was interested in electronic and avant-garde music in the 1960s, after returning to Belgrade from his residency at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, he completely abandoned the electroacoustic medium and, eventually, all avant-garde tendencies. He conformed to the conservativism of the Music Academy, where he was on the composition faculty, which, like all art institutions in the country, was heavily traditionally oriented. He was convinced that it was impossible to convey any musical ideas in electroacoustic or avant-garde styles, affirming that “in electronic music, there is no communication!”Footnote 3 Maksimović’s stance accurately aligns with the attitudes of music critics and most Yugoslav composers at the time.
However, from the 1960s onward, Yugoslavia was culturally opening up toward European and American currents through radio broadcasts of experimental and avant-garde music on the Third Program of Radio Belgrade (founded in 1965) from festivals at Darmstadt, Paris, Warsaw, and Yugoslavia’s own successful Music Biennale Zagreb. At last, with access to the newest compositional trends from abroad, conditions in Yugoslavia were improving for the acceptance of electroacoustic music. A small number of Yugoslav composers, dedicated to originality and innovation in music, maintained the course of explorations of modern techniques and various media. Among them, two pioneers of electronic music notably stand out: Ludmila Frajt, Yugoslavia’s first woman composer in this medium, and Vladan Radovanović, a visionary and a leading figure in the Yugoslav avant-garde music and art scene, founder of the Electronic Music Studio in Belgrade,Footnote 4 and one of the earliest Yugoslav electronic music composers.
Ludmila Frajt
Ludmila Frajt (1919–1999), a Serbian composer of Czech descent, came from a prominent musical family. Most notably, her grandfather, Václav Frajt, played the bassoon in the theater orchestra in Plzeň under Bedřich Smetana and the National Theater Orchestra alongside Antonin Dvořák.Footnote 5 Her father, Jovan (Jan) Frajt, who settled in Belgrade in 1903, was an active violinist, conductor, composer, and organist and the founder of the first music publishing house in the Balkan region, Edition Frajt. Her brother, Vojteh, was an internationally renowned violinist.Footnote 6 Ludmila Frajt acquired her first musical experiences at home, often participating in musical events at the family residence, which featured performances by her family members as well as Czech musicians who lived in Belgrade. They played music in a variety of genres and styles, from classical and jazz to Czech, Serbian, Macedonian, and Dalmatian folk music.Footnote 7 These early childhood musical experiences served as a foundation for Frajt’s affinity toward folk idioms, and, as Jelena Novak notes, her “vivid preoccupation with the contemporaneousness of the sound experiences she lived with” pushed the limits of how she understood musical sound, free of stereotypes.Footnote 8 Frajt’s affinities toward folklore were further affirmed during her studies at the Music Academy in Belgrade with Miloje Milojević and Josip Štolcer-Slavenski, both of whom meticulously wrote down and kept a record of folk songs, which they often incorporated into their music.Footnote 9
Frajt started her official music studies in composition, piano, and conducting in 1938 at the Music Academy in Belgrade, which was founded in 1937, making her one of the first composers trained in the country, and certainly the first woman to matriculate with a professional music degree. Her professors at the Academy were the most prominent composers in Yugoslavia at the time, who were educated in Prague: Petar Konjović, Stevan Hristić, and Kosta Manojlović, in addition to Milojević and Slavenski. Even though all her professors at the Academy composed in a traditional, neoclassical style, they knew contemporary techniques, which they had learned abroad. Frajt’s exposure to modernist techniques during her formative years was critical to her pursuit of and curiosity toward new sounds.
Immediately after graduating from the Music Academy in 1946, Frajt was appointed chair of the Music Department at Avala Film, the first Yugoslav postwar film production company, where she remained until 1952.Footnote 10 As a member of the Communist Party, Frajt held powerful positions in the music and film industries. From 1952 until 1958, she became deputy editor-in-chief of Radio Belgrade, and from 1958 until her retirement in 1972, she was secretary of the Music Commission at the Yugoslav Radio Television. Her experience working for film and radio allowed her to experiment with unusual musical ensembles. For instance, she added the sound of silver spoons to her string quartet Silver Sounds (1972), children’s toys in a Lullaby (1971), and prerecorded taped sounds to the choral piece Bells (1981).
Frajt’s achievements represent some of the many firsts for women composers in Yugoslavia (and the Balkan region). She was the first woman to graduate from a university with a degree in composition. Self-taught in the genre of film music, Frajt was the first woman in Yugoslavia to write soundtracks and elaborate film scores, comprising thirty-five collaborations, one long-motion picture soundtrack, and eleven documentary film scores.Footnote 11 While newer scholarship is finally starting to recognize the role women played in the creation and shaping of the first electronic music centers in the 1950s and 1960s – such as the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center – Frajt was the first woman in the Balkan region to write electroacoustic music, and one of the first composers in the country to study at Darmstadt.
Even though Frajt was a member of the Communist Party, her expressions and experimentations were not driven by the demands of the Party and its doctrine. That is, no composition in Frajt’s oeuvre bears any characteristics or influences of the pressures of socialist realism – as Ivana Medić notes, these types of compositions aggrandized Tito, communism, the National Liberation War, or the reconstruction of Yugoslavia.Footnote 12 Rather, Frajt’s use of Serbian folk elements in her music, for instance, is born out of her sincere affinity toward folklore, a style to which she was exposed as a child, especially the vocal tradition. Frajt organically adopted these traditions as part of her contemporary musical expression, as evident in Tužbalica [Lamentation] (1973), Kres [Bonfire] (1973), and Ekloga [Eclogue] (1974).
Frajt was driven to push the limits of musical sound and broaden the medium of her musical expression. It is this curiosity (with support from the Yugoslav Radio Television) that led Frajt to study at Darmstadt in the early 1960s and then at the Experimental Music Studio of Czechoslovak Radio Plzeň in 1967. Although Frajt never moved within any avant-garde music circles, she applied certain avant-garde techniques to her works. She was particularly drawn to Lutosławski’s aleatory textures, Penderecki’s use of clusters and nonstandard treatment of instruments, and Ligeti’s micro-polyphony. Thus, Frajt’s music is imbued with both modernist and folk techniques. For instance, in her works, the harmony is dissonant (closer to expressionist sound, but also modal and polymodal), with a prominence of the major second, a characteristic of Serbian vocal folk music. Her music often features clusters and micropolyphony, but unlike Ligeti’s mass sound, Frajt’s clusters are based on the heterophonic treatment of melodies, which she derives from the vocal folk idiom. Frequent metrical changes in her works are characteristic of both folk and modernist tendencies. Also, her application of aleatory techniques, such as the use of an untampered harmonic system and heterophony, also derives from Balkan folk music.
Frajt is primarily known for her works based on folk idioms, music for children, and film scores. She is somewhat recognized in Serbia for her remarkable ability to combine avant-garde techniques with her lyrical and intimate style, use of folklore, and the expansion of sound sonorities. Nonetheless, her contribution to electroacoustic music remains mainly unexplored.
Nokturno (1975)
After her studies in Plzeň, where she composed her first electroacoustic piece, Asteroids (1967),Footnote 13 Frajt realized three other electroacoustic works at the Electronic Studio (EMS) Radio Belgrade: Nokturno (1975), Figure u pokretu [Figures in motion] (1979), and Zvona [Bells, for choir and tape] (1981). All three works mirror postserial structures in electronic media, whereas Nokturno and Figures also evoke “pointillist techniques.”Footnote 14
Nokturno is the first work composed by a woman using the Synthi 100 at the EMS Radio Belgrade. Very little is known about this work, other than a general observation that it evokes a “nocturnal” atmosphere, as implied by the title of the work, an effect that Frajt sought in several of her other works, such as Pesme noći [Songs of the night] (1970), Silver Sounds (1972), and Three Nocturnes (1982).Footnote 15 The review of Nokturno by Pavle Stefanović, following its performance on the Third Program of Radio Belgrade in 1976, illustrates how little even the most prominent critics and writers of new music understood electronic music.Footnote 16 Without discussing any technical aspects, Stefanović rather describes a vivid picture these electronic sounds evoked in his mind:
Suddenly, on the last night of the Festival, Lida [Ludmila] Frajt presents her electronically recorded Nokturno. While she does not write programmatic music, she nonetheless invites me, the listener, to a faraway Asian jungle. On a hot evening, monkeys, always scared, grin from the tree tops high above, frightened birds chirp, insects buzz, the beasts growl, and imaginary night fairies rustle their legendary wings. The night of dreams and silence is full of noise. Here I am, suddenly, thanks to Lida, in the mystery of the night, in the eternal poetry of our human, living world, which will one day cease to exist, which will die out. Thus, suddenly, here is tenderness and comfort for all the pain in the world, an authentic human tenderness [realized] through notoriously “inhumane” electronic music!Footnote 17
Stefanović’s vivid (and absurd) imagery tells us absolutely nothing about the piece or Frajt’s innovative techniques. Hristina Medić offers a bit more detail about this work, noting that the four-tone clusters that form the foundation of the piece flow throughout the entire work and change their color. Various spatially dispersed events appear on top of the continuous cluster, evoking the atmosphere of the night with its “visions, dreams, and pronounced emotional tone.”Footnote 18 Some of the sounds are purely electronic, while others are recognizable sounds from nature, such as a bird screech or a thunderstorm (although some of these are also electronically derived).
While very few documents pertaining to Nokturno survive, three pages from Frajt’s autograph documents shed some light on the composer’s creative process. On page two, starting at the 1’30” mark of the roughly nine-minute piece (Example 5.1), we observe Frajt’s use of electronically simulated sounds, a technique that is, as Svetlana Maraš notes, “aesthetically, if not technically linked to the sound world of musique concrète.”Footnote 19 On the top of the page, Frajt inscribes “light breathing” [lagano disanje] for the male voice [m. glas], while the female voice [ž. glas] (third system), produces “a light whisper” [lagan šapat]. A few seconds later, another male voice enters with an annotation, “a bit faster breathing” [malo brže disanje]. All three voices are layered on top of continuous electronic clusters produced by the tape [traka]. Events emerge and disappear in various instruments, all evoking nocturnal sounds – effects that are either quiet or muted with such designations, or sounds one would hear at night, such as the muffled cry of a bird, the fluttering of the wings, a child crying, and rain with thunder.
Ludmila Frajt, Nokturno (1975), autograph score, p. 2.

Example 5.1 Long description
The notation on this 18-stave paper is sparse, with only three notated pitches and rests and a handful of non-pitched noteheads. The page features verbal annotations, as well as dynamics, crescendo, and decrescendo annotations, and dotted and wavy lines.
Nokturno was only Frajt’s second electronic work, and with it she already demonstrated a clear departure from her rudimentary Asteroids by greatly expanding the sound palette of electronically produced sounds (both musique concrète and pure electronics) that evoke the aesthetic of the nocturnal.Footnote 20
Figures in Motion (1978)
Figures in Motion is Frajt’s electroacoustic composition in which she incorporates repeated patterns and aleatory elements. The drastic departure from her previous works in this medium is apparent just by looking at the score (Example 5.2) – unlike in Asteroids and Nokturno, the score for Figures lacks any conventional musical notation.Footnote 21 Instead, the score is entirely characterized by visual drawings of shapes, that is, “figures” that represent a variety of melodic and timbral patterns we hear in this work. The annotations “L” (for levo, Serbian for left), “D” (desno for right), and “S” (sredina for “middle”) illustrate how the figures “move” in various directions as the piece progresses, giving a sense of “organized chaos.” The repetitive patterns in Figures, recorded on eight channels (indicated by numbers 1 through 8 on the score), change in timbre, rhythm, melodic range, sound density, and dynamics.
Ludmila Frajt, Figure u pokretu [Figures in motion] (1978), autograph score, p. 1.

Example 5.2 Long description
Drawn on a grid paper, it shows different shapes for each effect, such as dots, pebbles, small Xs, squiggly lines, oval lines, wave lines, square lines, and so on.
Figures in Motion is characterized by an interplay between aleatory and control – the changes in the repeating patterns are sometimes achieved by applying aleatory techniques, and at other times, they are preprocessed. While the use of the machine (computer) may contradict the notion of indeterminacy, Frajt explores the concept of randomness in machine realizations. The steadiest pattern in the work occurs at the very beginning, indicated by a small, oval “pebble” figure (second system, bearing the annotation “S”); here, the simulated sound of the piano plays a repeating pitch, B3, at a steady interval of four seconds. The last occurrence of this regularity, or any other display of steadiness or (predetermined) control, occurs about three minutes into the piece, evoking a sense of randomness.
Figures in Motion exemplifies how Frajt effectively assimilated many techniques of the Western avant-garde, including aleatory, Klangmusik, and electronic medium.Footnote 22 More specifically, by incorporating both determinacy and indeterminacy in carefully constructed pattern changes, Frajt illustrated her full control of each event. Unlike musique concrète works,Footnote 23 which by nature imply a precise control over each individual event, composers at the EMS Radio Belgrade could achieve works like Figures in Motion only after Radovanović’s Elektra (1974) – the first electronic composition realized at the Belgrade studio.
Bells for Mixed Choir and Tape (1981)
Zvona [Bells] is the only work in Frajt’s oeuvre in which the composer combines live performance (mixed choir divided into two groups) with prerecorded tape music. The song is set to the poem “Bells” by a Serbian poet, Svetozar Brkić (1916–1993), who dedicated it to Frajt. The tape part simulates the sounds of the heartbeat and bells, with which Frajt evokes the sounds that Brkić had experienced during his recovery at a hospital after suffering a cardiac arrest.
In this work, Frajt exploits many oppositions, such as live performance featuring natural voices versus the prerecorded tape music of electronically derived sounds, and determinant factors, such as specific pitches and rhythms or the durational intervals measured in seconds versus unmetered motives and indeterminate pitches (for instance, whispers or the heartbeat from the tape). She also juxtaposes male and female voices in various registers, as well as solo and tutti sections. Her textures grow from solo voices to up to sixteen polyphonic lines, with contrasts in the dynamics. The length of phrases (and musical material) features both short, abrupt motives comprising a couple of pitches, to longer, sustained, melodic lines. Frajt also explores the superimposition of avant-garde methods (such as aleatory, clusters, and the electronic medium) with traditional (a choral work in which textures alternate between heterophony and free polyphony) and folk (such as the predominant use of the interval of the second, which characterizes folk songs in the region, especially when used in two parts).Footnote 24
Ivana Medić observes that one of the main features of Frajt’s oeuvre is her interest in the sound of the human voice, more specifically of female voices and high, resonant pitches that we perceive as metaphors of silver sounds (as in Silver Sounds for string quartet and spoons, 1972) or children’s toys (Lullaby for soprano and children’s toys, 1971).Footnote 25 In Bells, the evocation of the sound of the bells is metaphoric – especially in the last section of the piece, where female voices sing in seconds and thirds while sounding the word zvonjava [ringing] – but also literal, with the electronically created sound of the bells emitting from the tape.
Vladan Radovanović
Vladan Radovanović (1932–2023) occupies a truly unique position in the Yugoslav artistic sphere. A pioneer of electronic music and polymedia art, and overall a leading figure in the country’s avant-garde music and art scene, he was always driven by the need “to express himself by doing what no one else has done before,”Footnote 26 never succumbing to the restrictions and demands of socialist realism.
Radovanović’s oeuvre, spanning seven decades, pushed the outermost limits of numerous art forms most innovatively and comprehensively, as Melita Milin suggests.Footnote 27 That is, in addition to his original compositional technique of hyper-polyphony and advances in the domains of electronic, electroacoustic, and computer music, Radovanović pursued many interests in other arts and media, as well as in their syntheses. An award-winning poet and an accomplished artist, Radovanović started synthesizing various parameters of music, painting, figurative drawings and abstract structures, transparent pictures, photography, literature, and poetry.Footnote 28 His research in the domain of the vocovisualFootnote 29 – a synthesis of the poetic and the visual – first resulted in works that synthesize word, sound, and image in a two-dimensional space, such as Portret-pejzaž [Portrait-landscape] (1954), which invites the observer to rotate the work by 180 degrees to read it, and the book Pustolina [Wasteland] (1968),Footnote 30 which combines the visual, spatial, and tactile features with the acoustic sphere.Footnote 31 Pustolina led to Radovanović’s three-dimensional creations in the vocovisual domain, including Poliedar [Polyhedron, 1968] and Kugla s tekstom [A sphere with text, 1971–1974]. In his other works, Radovanović also incorporated kinetic parameters, created conceptual projects (such as stream of consciousness, visions, improvisations, projects of events that examine their own creation), syntheses that entail word-picture, word-gesture, and polymedia. He also devised working with the body as an object, tactile, plastic, and meta-art, as well as transmedia, transmodalism, and metamusical projects.Footnote 32 Most of these innovations were created before they could even be achieved, performed, or understood in Yugoslavia.Footnote 33
Radovanović’s Hyper-polyphony
During the 1950s, the period when most Yugoslav composers rejected all modernist tendencies and composed in neoclassical styles, Radovanović was developing his own serial method – hyper-polyphony (or polyphony of polyphonies), which he first called “a principle of frequencies of non-repetition of tones.” Hyper-polyphony is a compositional style with several instrumental and/or vocal groups, in which not only are different parts within one group written in a highly polyphonic style, but the groups themselves are also polyphonically related. These pieces are typically maximalist in character, with a thick texture of many choral and instrumental parts. Their incredible complexity, in the way instruments and groups relate polyphonically, evokes the style of Ligeti’s “sound mass” compositions. Radovanović’s first composition written in this style is a radiophonic work, Sferoön (1960–1964), which Radovanović continued to regard as his “most avant-garde composition.”Footnote 34 Set to the text from Pustolina, the piece is scored for mixed choir, recitative choir, filtered piano, and electric organ. The title of the work implies “sound spheres” of each of these instrumental or choral groups, which can partition and combine in various ways, and sonically penetrate one another, as the composer explains in the score:
Segments of the same colour belong to the same structural layer. In the score of this realization of Sferoön, the filtered piano is green, the organ is shown in blue, the choirs in red, and the recitative in yellow.
Each sheet of the score, denoted with a Roman numeral, represents a segment of one of the four structural layers. The position of any segment relative to the other segments can be varied. A segment can also be divided into smaller fragments, provided this is technically feasible.
If it is desired to reorganize the score, segments whose position is to be changed can be simply cut out of the cellophane strip and stuck onto another strip.
In the recitative segments, the horizontal lines denote notes whose pitch is arbitrary unless otherwise indicated (but stays the same from the beginning to the end of the line). The only requirement is that when there are a number of lines together, each line should correspond to a different pitch.
In the recitative segments, a dot denotes a syllable spoken short, and a thick dash is a longer syllable whose consonant is emphasized.Footnote 35
The polyphony in this work (and all other subsequent compositions implementing this method) is guided by specifically defined verticalities. The principal vertical interval is a tritone, while perfect intervals are entirely avoided because, sonically, they do not appeal to Radovanović. Further, Radovanović avoids the repetition of an interval in the same register, allowing pitches to recur only after an adequate amount of time, with a specific system of interval succession.Footnote 36
While Radovanović’s method of hyper-polyphony results in works with an incredibly dense polyphony, similar to the works of Ligeti or Lutosławski, his compositions do not result in Ligetian clusters, glissandi, or canons.Footnote 37 Radovanović maintains (and often finds himself forced to reiterate) that he was not familiar with the method of micro-polyphony at that time, which Ligeti was developing in Apparitions (1958–1959).Footnote 38 However, even though during the period of Yugoslavia’s cultural isolation in postwar years Radovanović did not have any means to travel abroad to attend festivals and seminars on avant-garde music (like Darmstadt or the ISCM Festival in Cologne, where Apparitions premiered in 1960), or to participate in international discussions and the exchange of ideas, he did attend the Music Biennale Zagreb in 1961 and 1963, where the works of Ligeti, Lutosławski, Penderecki, and the “Polish School” avant-gardists were performed. Nonetheless, some Serbian musicologists argue that Radovanović worked in solitude and would only later find out that another composer had done something similar in another part of the world.Footnote 39 Milin similarly posits that Radovanović never achieved international recognition because he did not have the opportunity to present his hyper-polyphony at Darmstadt – by the time his “mass compositions” were presented in Warsaw at the 1968 ISCM, that aesthetic had already been introduced by others.Footnote 40 Through Radovanović’s explanations of his method of hyper-polyphony, as well as the score analysis, we see that the meticulously devised particularities of his method may be differentiated from Lutosławski’s or Ligeti’s. For instance, while in Ligeti’s micro-polyphonic works like Apparitions and Atmosphères (1961) the interval of the minor second predominates, Radovanović tends to work with wider vertical intervals and retain a clear intervallic relation between all parts. Even though Radovanović’s ideas are evident in the works of composers like Xenakis, Ligeti, Penderecki, and Lutosławski of this period, Radovanović’s notes and analyses reveal that he worked out the techniques meticulously, systematically, and thoroughly on his own.
Radovanović and the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade
Already at the start of his professional career in the 1950s, and more specifically after hearing Stockhausen’s Studie II (1954), Radovanović became fascinated by electronic music. Shortly after, he started his experimentations in this domain with Inventions and Sferoön, despite the limited means available to Yugoslav composers at the time. Radovanović spent six months at the Polish Radio Experimental Studio in 1966–1967, where he completed his Electronic Study. With a clear vision and a strong determination, he founded the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade, single-handedly changing the trajectory of Yugoslav avant-garde and electroacoustic music. Equipped with the “third-generation” digital-analog technology, it quickly became the national and regional center for experimentation in the electroacoustic medium. The Studio started its operation in December of 1971, and by 1972, it signaled a new period of electroacoustic music composition and collaboration in Yugoslavia.
The first composition that Radovanović created and realized at the EMS Radio Belgrade was Elektra (1973). Rather than employing a true synthesis of concrete and vocal-instrumental sound, Radovanović sought to create an illusion of such synthesis through a purely electronic source. Other notable vocal-instrumental electroacoustic works followed, including Vokalinstra, Audiospacijal, and Fluks for mixed choir and electronics (1989), as well as electroacoustic compositions Undina (1985), Timbral (1987), Yuevents (1990), Miks (1992), Ansambl (1993), and Nova 98 (1998).Footnote 41
In the early 1970s, Radovanović used the term “polymedia art” to describe the syntheses of arts in his projects. His earliest form of art synthesis was the recording of his dreams in the form of verbal text and a drawing. Radovanović started recording his dreams in 1953 and envisioned this act as a lifelong activity, seeking to produce the most faithful verbal and visual descriptions of his dreams as he remembered them. Radovanović had recorded over 2,000 dreams, and in about one-third of them, he synthesized the verbal-semantic and visual media elements.Footnote 42 Radovanović was not interested in the meaning or interpretation of his dreams but rather in how their recording reveals the presence of the “consciousness” of their poetic dimension and meaning. As such, these recordings are a symbol of the creativity of the unconscious and subconscious being made “aware” of their own selves.Footnote 43
In 1984, Radovanović realized his dreams in a radiophonic form, resulting in his musical-poetical polymedia work, Malo večno jezero [Small eternal lake], scored for actors, choir, orchestra, and electronics.Footnote 44 Small Eternal Lake captures Radovanović’s innovative and creative thinking. It is based on the composer’s transcription of his dreams, with the sound deriving from several acoustic and electronic sound sources: three actors (a woman, a man, and a Dreamer/narrator); SATB choir with soloists and orchestra (these sections often use the material from his previous works, Elektra, Evolucija [Evolution] for 18 strings [1970], Sonora, Vokalinstra, and Audiospacijal, as well as musical quotations from other composers’ piecesFootnote 45); two types of electronic sounds (pure electronic and nonelectronic sounds that are transformed in their frequency, amplitude, and timbre; and recorded ambient sounds that are not transformed, other than being transposed). All these heterogeneous sounds – vocal, instrumental, and electronic – are edited to convey the dreamlike state of the narrator, that is, the narrator’s transformation from the Dreamer’s subconsciousness into the composer’s consciousness. Thus, the sounds are manipulated, fragmented, and intertwined to differentiate between the internal and the external worlds of the dreamer, as well as the space between dreams.
For this composition, Radovanović selected several dreams from his collection Noćnik (1972), some of which exist only in prose, and a handful of others he had previously illustrated.Footnote 46 The sound of a ticking clock delineates the six continuous sections of this piece, namely, the transitions from one dream to another. These transitory sections represent the conscious and subconscious states of the Dreamer – the internal (dream world) and the external (real world). As the music and text (narration) during these transitions thins out, Radovanović superimposes the recorded “ambient sounds” from the Dreamer’s external world, such as the ticking of the clock, the blowing of the wind, the sound of traffic, sirens, or footsteps, into the internal world. These ambient sounds represent the external sounds the Dreamer subconsciously hears from the real world and absorbs into his dreams.
The piece opens with several “recorded ambient sounds” – a ticking clock [kucanje sata], which indicates that the Dreamer is falling asleep, traffic noise [šum saobraćaja], and wind hitting the window [vetar | udar okna], all of which occur in the external world of the dreamer. They quickly disappear once the Dreamer falls asleep, which is signaled by the audible sound of his breathing [disanje spavača]. Following this introductory setting, the first dream, “A Humongous Building” [Ogromna zgrada], is revealed. It is one of five dreams selected for Small Eternal Lake that Radovanović had previously illustrated (in 1954). Almost written in the style of a stream of consciousness, its description reads:
I am lying with my back against a protruding hill. My legs are hanging over the abyss, which pulls downward. The sand crumbles towards the abyss. In the distance, a steep hill with two peaks. On the lower one, a wooden cross. From the higher one, a mountaineer rolled down, so they buried him there. And then I see: behind the mountain, behind the horizon, behind the clouds, a huge building that rises. I am scared to look at its peak, it pierces the sky, which, together with the clouds, soars upward with a crashing sound. They ascend faster and faster toward the summit, which is so high that it now leans over me.
The Dreamer (labeled S in the score), who narrates the events in this dream, is joined by pure electronic sounds (E) and voices (female [Ž] and male [M]), who, via text painting, musically illustrate the events as they unfold in the dream. For instance, as the words read, “they ascend [uspinju se] … faster and faster towards the summit [sve brže ka vrhu],” the music rises in pitch and speeds up. The dream ends with a dramatic drop in frequency and density of electronic sounds, now reduced to a single low pitch, signaling the disappearance of the tall building from the Dreamer’s subconscious and our view (and hence the end of the dream).
Radovanović depicts the end of this dream not only sonically but also visually by using spatiality as a special effect. That is, for the listener to experience the impression of the deep space that the dreams imply, the sounds, voices, and effects are differently placed so that “one [sound] could be at the front, and the other one very far away” in order to create the effect Radovanović calls “presentness.”Footnote 47 With the electronic manipulations of tone properties and qualities, it is precisely this effect of spatiality that the listener feels at this moment of the Humongous Building – first, the overpowering height of the building, then its sudden vanishing from view with a steep drop as the dream abruptly ends.
One of the three radiophonic works in Radovanović’s opus (together with Sferoön and Yuevent),Footnote 48 Radovanović’s Small Eternal Lake goes beyond synthesizing different types of media to create art. It explores a dream world in order to portray events that cannot be reached while awake. As such, Radovanović’s sound structure in this piece, and its sonic manifestation of the conscious, the subconscious, and the state of being between external and internal worlds, allows the listener to access the Dreamer’s (i.e., Radovanović’s) inner self.
Radovanović’s Art Synthesis
By the early 1990s, Radovanović started applying the term “art synthesis” to his polymedia works, in an effort to emphasize the individuality, interdependence, and determinacy between the various media components. In postwar Yugoslavia, most of Radovanović’s radically innovative and complex avant-garde projects could not be performed (or understood even if they were) at the time they were conceived. As Ivana Medić remarks, these projects were created at the “right” time but in the “wrong” place; that is, Medić speculates that had Radovanović developed these concepts in one of the big European centers rather than in postwar communist and socialist Yugoslavia, he would have undoubtedly had a much greater public presence and a wider international recognition.Footnote 49
In addition to visual art media, Radovanović’s synthesis projects also employ light, kinetics, sound, and tactility, whose interaction exploits both complementary and oppositional relations of each element. Radovanović’s earliest art synthesis project is Taktizon–pokret–zvuk [Tactility–movement–sound], which, although created in 1957, remains unrealized.Footnote 50 As the title of the work implies, it involves three media elements: tactile, kinetic, and musical. For this project, Radovanović envisioned a partially lit, irregularly shaped winding tunnel with photocells on its walls. The participants would move through the tunnel (by crawling, walking, tumbling, sliding, etc.) and in the process activate the sound via photocells. Once they had reached a spherical chamber at the end of the tunnel, they would be able to listen to a fugue on a subject generated by the sounds they activated while moving through the tunnel (Example 5.3).Footnote 51
Vladan Radovanović, Taktizon–pokret–zvuk [Tactility–movement–sound] (1957).

Example 5.3 Long description
This page of the score contains two components. On top is a drawing of a tunnel that first curves upwards, then downwards and across, then upwards and across with five zig-zagging compartments, before a steep drop straight down in the center. Above each component of the tunnel are individual staves with a single whole note on them, outlining the theme of a fugue. Below the drawing is a music score. The top staff features the theme of a fugue, and below it, the theme is developed into a two-part and three-part counterpoint.
Several other unrealized polymedia works followed: Mali zvučni taktizon [Small sound tactility] (1963), Putanje [Trajectories] or Polim 2 (1969), Polim 3 (1971), and Elektrovideaudio (1976–1980). For instance, Polim 2 applies the visual, kinetic, and musical elements. The project involves four performers, each carrying a cassette player that emits precomposed electronic music. The performers move around an area of seven by seven meters and follow a path that is lit by spotlights (in four colors – red, yellow, blue, and green). The spotlights, installed on the ceiling or the floor, are controlled by operators who follow a visual score – a drawing of a participant’s trajectory path and a general duration of each light beam.Footnote 52
Radovanović’s ensuing projects illustrate the composer’s unceasing innovative thinking, searching for ways to incorporate new media components and the ways in which they can interact. For instance, in Lažno ogledalo [A false mirror] (1986), in addition to music, image, and movement, Radovanović adds gesture as another element. The music component itself is complex, comprising a live quintet, a prerecorded performance by the quintet, and prerecorded electronic music. The visual-kinetic element, likewise, involves multiple layers: five performers, who play, sing, walk around, and make certain gestures, both live and while being transmitted on the screen as a prerecorded video. At first, the movements of live performers replicate the movements on the screen, before they gradually begin to diverge. It is this gesture that represents the metaphor of the mirror – a reflection that presents an altered image of what it reflects.
Radovanović includes the medium of the video (i.e., a moving image) in his Varijacije za TV [Variations for TV], composed in 1977 and realized (broadcast on TV) in 1985. The music medium in this project comprises music written for three performers (flute, saxophone, and double bass), and altered music for the same three instruments, plus electronics and speech. On the right side of the audio-video score, Radovanović shows the notated parts with verbal directions. The top system is for the live performers, the middle is for the electronically produced altered parts for the three instruments, and the bottom is for electronic music (Example 5.4). The theme of variations is based on a twelve-tone series, which is then altered through nineteen variations according to various principles of imitation, inversion, fragmentation, and so on. Radovanović also explores the notion of imitation in the spoken text – for instance, in the word “muzika” [music], Radovanović removes certain letters to derive new words and symbolic meanings, such as “muka” [pain] and “muk” [silence], playing out the relation between sound, silence, and image.Footnote 53
Vladan Radovanović, Varijacije za TV [Variations for TV] (1977, realized in 1985), a page from the audio-visual score.

Example 5.4 Long description
On the left side of the page are three rows of drawings of a TV screen with three performers inside each, a bassist, a saxophonist, and a flutist, one for each variation, six, seven, and eight. Next to each TV screen is a text with instructions written in English. The top screen in Variation 6 says, The order of performers changes. The double bass player is to the left and begins to play first, the saxophone player second, and the flutist last. On the right is a music score for each instrumentalist with further directions, The double bass performs first, but performs the part for flute, the saxophone performs its own part, while the flute plays the part of the double bass. The middle screen, depicting Variation 7, reads, The picture simmers. The shimmering amplitude increases and decreases. On the right, next to the music score, the instructions read, Electronically produced parts for flute, saxophone, and double bass, with vibrato. The bottom screen, showing Variation 8, instructs, When the flutist brings the flute to his mouth, the picture of the performers suddenly turns into a vibrating drawing on paper. On the right, the composer indicates, Electronically produced parts for the instruments with the effects of vibrating paper.
Radovanović continued to create innovative and remarkable art synthesis projects throughout his career, each one notably different from the other, with this last project, A Galaksija odasvud sija [Galaxy A beams from everywhere], completed and realized in 2022, shortly before his death in 2023 at the age of ninety.Footnote 54
Conclusion
It is bewildering that some of the greatest and most original innovators of the postwar Yugoslav avant-garde have been neglected by scholars (even within the region) and shunned by critics, audiences, and institutions. Despite Frajt’s incredible achievements in the fields of electroacoustic and film music, there is virtually no scholarship on her oeuvre, even in her native Serbia. Aside from the four studies cited in this chapter, all in Serbian – Varsaković’s article about the ritual and nocturnal elements in Frajt’s music, Adžić’s analysis of Eclogue (1975), Ćirić’s article on Frajt’s film music, and Ivana Medić’s overview of Frajt’s catalog, only the latter one written in English – the noteworthy achievements by this remarkable woman remain unexplored, even within the borders of former Yugoslavia.Footnote 55 A principal reason for this omission, during the existence of Yugoslavia, is that there was a stark lack of interest and a strong disapproval of this type of music in socialist Yugoslavia. Consequently, peers and audiences lacked any understanding of the genre, and critics were unprepared to intelligently and cohesively write about it. Many composers of the older prewar generation, who now held prominent positions in universities and programming committees, shared the view of Dragutin Gostuški, a composer and music critic, who despised any avant-garde tendencies in music. In his 1959 article, he comments on the unpreparedness of the Yugoslav music scene to receive and understand new music (both serial and electronic):
Dodecaphony is beginning to appear in our country, either as a natural aspiration toward the enrichment of musical expression (as some think) or as an attempt toward forced solving of inner creative crisis (as I think). Be that as it may be, electronic (or concrete) music in our country is indirectly forbidden because practically there are no conditions for its creation. If dodecaphony is one step toward the contemporary, electronic music is at least two steps, and it seems it has bigger perspectives and more useful applications. If music has to be mechanized, then it should become mechanical at once.Footnote 56
While political and historical context offers explanations for why Yugoslav avant-gardists were ignored and rejected at the time, it in no way justifies such neglect in the scholarly community today. Radovanović’s creative force was not adequately recognized until Mirjana Veselinović’s 1991 monograph on his musical output.Footnote 57 Art historian Borka Božović most accurately sums up the general reasons for the neglect of Radovanović’s work in scholarship: “the lack of information, indifference, ignorance, fascination with foreign artists and with the latest fads, misunderstanding.”Footnote 58 Božović continues to marvel at the level of exclusion Radovanović faced:
In isolation, he created his own world and built a sophisticated art system. … There were no critics that could explain, observe, promulgate, or support Radovanović’s experiments, innovations, ideas, drawings, objects, photographic works, or video works. Even when some institutions for new art practice were formed, Radovanović was rarely invited to present his work.Footnote 59
As Ivana Medić remarks, while it is striking in itself that a remarkable avant-garde oeuvre such as Radovanović’s emerged in the conservative environment of postwar Yugoslavia, it is even more fascinating that even in such an environment, Radovanović persevered.Footnote 60 Serbian philosopher Milorad Belančić employs the term nesuđena avangarda (“nesuđena” translating to something that is just not meant to be) to describe Radovanović’s artistic will, drive, and calling.Footnote 61 Medić further adds three additional terms (i.e., factors) to describe the “impossibility” of Radovanović’s avant-garde in Yugoslavia: (1) “the unrecognized avant-garde,” referring to the fact that Radovanović’s truly innovative oeuvre was at complete odds with the social and cultural environment in Yugoslavia at a time when the country did not yet possess institutional or discursive tools necessary to acknowledge and validate his poetics; (2) “the invisible avant-garde,” concerning Radovanović’s “too abstract” avant-garde output, which did not and could not express the desired ideological values of socialist realism; and (3) “the irrelevant avant-garde,” implying that by living and creating his work in a culturally isolated socialist Yugoslavia, it was impossible for Radovanović to make his mark in any significant way.Footnote 62 But Radovanović’s intention was never to “make his mark” in history books nor to create a political statement by not adhering to socialist values and resisting the pressure from his conservative peers. Rather, his extraordinary oeuvre is the result of his continuous drive and persistence to create something new and push the boundaries of what is already there.
Within the borders of Yugoslavia, Radovanović’s works were groundbreaking. But even when viewed within a wider international context, his originality is remarkable. For instance, Dejan Đorić notes that Radovanović’s Pričinjavanja [Seemingness] from 1955 and Ležanje [Reclining] from 1957, and other projects that work with the idea as a material, accentuating the mental, or self-reflective, precede Henry Flynt’s “concept art” (1961) and Joseph Kosuth’s “conceptual art” (1965). Further, Đorić continues, Pravljenje svoga tela [The making of one’s body], created in 1957, two years after Kazuo Shiraga’s Challenging Mud (1955), is one of the earliest examples of physical art.Footnote 63 In the domain of visual arts, Đorđe Savić observes that Radovanović was the first artist who photographed a photograph of photographic paper and exhibited it.Footnote 64 Milin argues that Radovanović’s works in the domain of art synthesis constitute “a worthy complement to the oeuvres of artists who, from the 1950s onward, started to reflect on different ways of achieving a synthesis of the arts.”Footnote 65 As a case in point, Milin points out that although Radovanović may have been unaware of Edgard Varèse’s multimedia work Poème électronique (1958) or the architect Le Corbusier,Footnote 66 he was moving in the same direction independently with his own projects, most notably in Taktizon–pokret–zvuk (1957), which precedes Poème électronique. Whether we evaluate Radovanović’s creative output retrospectively or currently, both within Yugoslav and in broader contexts, it cannot be denied that he was a true visionary.
The 1980s ushered in a new era of electronic music in Yugoslavia, a trend that has heavily permeated all spheres of music, not only art but also popular and film music. Although Yugoslavia, as a nonaligned country, welcomed influences from the West even in the earliest decades of the Cold War, after the death of President Tito on May 4, 1980, and the subsequent decline of communist ideals, Western technologies and trends infiltrated mainstream popular culture much more prominently. This was, perhaps, most evident in Yugoslavia’s vibrant, experimental, and internationally acclaimed new wave music scene of the late 1970s and 1980s, characterized by the sound of electronics. The earliest notable example is Oliver Mandić’s (b. 1953) track, “Šuma” [Forest] (1978), an electroacoustic musique concrète experimentation that combines layers of manipulated electronic sounds.Footnote 1 A year later, notable film composer Zoran Simjanović (1946–2021) composed the theme for the nightly news program Dnevnik 2, which aired in Yugoslavia from 1979 to 1992. This iconic electronic theme, synchronized with a digital figure of a rotating globe, illustrated the extent to which digital technologies were infiltrating the cultural life in the country.Footnote 2 The League of Communists of Yugoslavia recognized that technology and the implementation of personal computers symbolized progress, the image of Yugoslavia as a progressive nation that the Party wished to project internationally.Footnote 3 For its 1990 Congress, which would be the country’s last,Footnote 4 the Party promoted its assembly on a postage stamp that featured an image of the hammer and sickle – a communist symbol representing proletarian solidarity between agricultural and industrial workers – displayed on a computer screen, effectively blending the image of traditional communist values and innovation (Figure 6.1).
A postage stamp promoting the XIV Congress of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia [Savez komunista Jugoslavije, SKJ], 1990. Design by Jakša Vlahović.

Figure 6.1 Long description
The postage shows a computer with a monitor on top of it and a keyboard in front of it, in black and white. The monitor’s black screen displays a communist symbol in yellow, a hammer and sickle. The background of the stamp is in gradient purple color, white on the bottom, and purple on top. On the top right corner, in white letters, says, The 14th extraordinary congress of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia in Cyrillic. On the bottom left is the value of the stamp in Yugoslav dinars, 50000. Across the bottom is written, Yugoslavia.
New generations of composers at the Faculty of Music of the University of Arts in Belgrade (FMU; formerly the Music Academy) had already been flocking to the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade since its opening in 1972 to study with Vladan Radovanović and Paul Pignon. Witnessing the success and popularity of the studio, as well as the remarkable achievements of composers writing music in that medium – presenting their works internationally and receiving awards and other accolades – FMU finally understood the potential in supporting a studio of their own. Under the new leadership of Srđan Hofman (1944–2021), who at this time served as Dean of the Faculty of Music and Chair of Composition, and Vice-Dean Zoran Erić (1950–2024), the young composers took a radical step in transforming the once conservative department.
Unlike the traditionalists at FMU who vehemently opposed all forms of modernism (such as Rajko Maksimović, Aleksandar Obradović, and especially Stanojlo Rajičić), Hofman and Erić, who themselves took classes at the EMS Radio Belgrade in the 1980s and composed in the medium, recognized that electronic music was vital to the future of their field (Figure 6.2).Footnote 5 When asked about his colleagues’ opposition and resistance toward electronic music well into the 2010s,Footnote 6 Hofman explained:
Electronic music began as a direct manifestation of the tendency towards the radically novel, the expression of such a tendency, and it is by nature oriented towards exploration and research … It may, however, serve as a mere signifier [that] stands for everything that many of my colleagues considered to be musical blind alleys, misguided attempts with no sense of value, within whose frameworks it was, and still is, simply impossible to compose an artistically valuable work.Footnote 7
The composition faculty at the Faculty of Music in Belgrade, 1987. From left to right, back row: Zoran Erić, Vlastimir Trajković, and Srđan Hofman; front row: Rajko Maksimović and Aleksandar Obradović.

Figure 6.2 Long description
From left to right, back row, standing are Zoran Erić, wearing a dark sweater with a white collar, Vlastimir Trajković in a casual suit, and Srđan Hofman in a casual suit. Seated in the front row are Rajko Maksimović wearing a more casual dark sweater and Aleksandar Obradović in a more formal suit with a tie, with his hands crossed in his lap, looking very stern, while his other colleagues are smiling.
However, at FMU, the issue was not only that older-generation composers on faculty refused to write modern music and use new technological advances; they imposed their own aesthetic values and preferences onto all their students by refusing to accept modernist tendencies within the curriculum. Hofman further elucidates:
When such personal attitudes are transferred from the choice of a musical “language” for one’s own creative work to the imposition of a value system into which all young composers must fit in order to earn recognition, and especially if such personal attitudes are expressed as a tendency to radically revise the history of new music, then we find ourselves in the domain of politics.Footnote 8
Embracing their visionary stand, Hofman and Erić founded the electronic music studio at FMU in 1986 – Tonski studio [Sound Studio], which remained under Hofman’s direction until 2002. While only some fifteen years earlier Obradović turned down Radovanović’s request for FMU to support the founding of an electronic studio in Belgrade, arguing that it would be too expensive, too avant-garde for a traditional institution, and that no one would use it, now the very same institution was home to the first computer-based electronic studio in the country. Such a bold move by Hofman and Erić allowed a new generation of composers to access the newest technologies and techniques and finally to keep up with innovations and trends in the West. As a result, the Faculty of Music suddenly became the producer of progressive and innovative composers in Yugoslavia, among them Nataša Bogojević [Natasha Bogojevich], Vladimir Jovanović, Isidora Žebeljan (1967–2020), Milica Paranosić (b. 1968), and Tatjana Milošević (b. 1970).
Yugoslav composers, and even some from abroad, showcased their new approach to composition, one developed using the personal computer, at the First Festival of Computer Music in Yugoslavia, “Lična muzika” [Personal Music], which took place on June 1–5, 1987, at the Student Cultural Center in Belgrade, organized by the young composer, Miroslav Savić. In 1991, the “Kompjuterska umetnost” [Computer Art] exhibition, held May 8–23 at the Gallery of the Association of Fine Artists of Serbia [Udruženje likovnih umetnika Srbije], displayed the application of the computer and technology across all spheres of the arts.
Tonski Studio and the Transformation of Electronic Music in Yugoslavia
Tonski Studio reshaped the trajectory of electronic music in Yugoslavia. While Radovanović, the founder of the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade (EMS), already knew many years earlier that the future of electroacoustic music was computerization, realizing such a prospect in the 1970s was too expensive for Yugoslavia. The EMS Radio Belgrade would not receive its first computer until 1987 – an Atari Mega ST2 with synthesizer modules by Yamaha TX816, running on Notator SL. This machine allowed for the creation of algorithmic works based on stochastic principles, as evident in Muzika vatre [Music of fire] (1985–1988) and Saturnalije II (1988) by Marjan Šijanec, a Slovenian composer, engineer, and programmer with prior experience at the National Institute of Chemistry in Ljubljana (Slovenia) and the Vinča Institute of Nuclear Science (Serbia). In addition to developing his own programming language necessary to realize his compositions, Šijanec also introduced a new concept of using the computer as both a musical score and a conductor, and treating the computer, with all its analog and digital segments, as an instrument.Footnote 9
Tonski Studio, on the other hand, was a fully computerized state-of-the-art facility. The year it was founded, in 1986, it started as a modest analog studio with a Yamaha DX7 keyboard, a mixer, an amplifier, and microphones. The following year, the Studio acquired the leading equipment for analog tape recording: three Studer magnetophons (models A 807 and A 810) and a 24-channel mixer. In 1988, Tonski Studio was completely computerized with the acquisition of 32-bit Apple Macintosh II machines with a 24-bit Sound Accelerator soundcard, allowing for analog-digital conversion, working with sound on two channels, and producing CD-quality recordings.Footnote 10 Musicologist Ivana Janković observes that at this time, Tonski Studio was one of the very few Macintosh-equipped studios in Europe, and that while Macs were becoming standard in the US, European studios still preferred a more affordable Atari with a MIDI interface.Footnote 11 Hence, Erić’s vision of and insistence on equipping the Tonski Studio with Macs made the facility the center of Apple-operated machines in Yugoslavia.Footnote 12
Tonski Studio had two primary roles: It introduced new coursework in electronic and computerized music and sound production in its composition curriculum, and it also served as a recording and production studio for classical music that serviced both the FMU faculty and students. The first courses on electronic music at FMU were offered during the 1986–1987 academic year, taught by Hofman and Erić, and then in the 1990s by a new generation of composers and teaching assistants at the FMU – Paranosić, Bogojević, Goran Kapetanović, Svetlana Savić (née Kresić), and Milošević. Đorđe Petrović, a producer of popular music at the Production of Gramophone Records Department of Radio Television Belgrade (PGP–RTB), a major record label in Yugoslavia at the time, was hired as a sound engineer in the Studio. The Faculty of Music also established a guest residency program with composers from abroad, the first one taking place in 1992 with a week-long residency by Neil Rolnick from the US and later by Hans Ulrich Humpert from Germany.Footnote 13
According to Hofman, computerized music, as understood in the 1980s, had wide applications that concerned two genres of composition. First, it applied to vocal, instrumental, and vocal-instrumental compositions that were created as a result of an interactive compositional process employing an algorithm and a statistical model to calculate the values of musical parameters and make decisions for any given work. Second, it assumed a subgenre of electronic music in which compositions are created through interactive compositional process, in which the computer, with an algorithmic program and a statistical model, makes some decisions and calculates values about parameters of music structures and sound synthesis.Footnote 14 Thus, in Hofman’s understanding, computer music does not just participate in generating electronic sounds; rather, the computer has an active role in the compositional process of a work.Footnote 15 This realization shifted the focus of the computer from a means of sound synthesis and sampling to an instrument for real-time performance.
Equipped with advanced computer technology on par with Western Europe and the United States at that time, and with skilled engineers and programmers, a new generation of Yugoslav composers once again flocked to Belgrade, now to Tonski Studio, eager to learn these new technologies and techniques, something that the EMS Radio Belgrade could no longer provide on its obsolete machines. Hence, Tonski Studio of FMU brought Yugoslavia on a level with the newest compositional trends, such as digitalization, sonification, and sampling and allowed the composers to finally “catch up” to the rest of the world in “real time.”
A New Generation of Electronic and Computer Music in Yugoslavia
The beginnings of computer music in Yugoslavia can be traced to avant-gardist Radovanović, who in 1976 envisioned composing a piece using the computer. Unable to realize his vision in Yugoslavia, Radovanović went to the Institute of Sonology in Utrecht (the Netherlands), where he completed his piece Kompjutorija [Computoria] in 1977, using an 18-bit minicomputer PDP-15/20 and POD6 software – an interactive markup language developed by Barry Truax. Computoria, based on a discrete probability distribution, is Stochastic in nature.Footnote 16 Pioneered by Iannis Xenakis two decades earlier (in 1954), Stochastic process in music composition employed probability theory (with mathematical models, such as Markov chain) to introduce randomness and unpredictability into the musical structure that determines various musical parameters, like pitch, duration, and dynamics.Footnote 17 The work was performed on October 17, 1977, in Utrecht.
Radovanović continued to produce computer music projects, completing Undina (1985) for the Talking Back to Media music festival in Amsterdam and Timbral (1987), commissioned by the Mafilm Studios in Budapest. Both are purely electronic music works based only on electronically generated sounds that combine analog Synthi 100 and digital Yamaha DX 7 digital audio signals that were recorded on different technologies, both in Belgrade and abroad. Because Radovanović did not use a sequencer for Undina, he acted both as composer and performer; he performed all sound material in real time while recording it, channel by channel, on a multichannel magnetophon. Timbral manipulation is a dominant feature of both works. In Undina, named after the word in Serbian folklore that refers to a mythical water nymph, Radovanović explored the timbre of female voices and their wave-like motion. In Timbral, more explicitly, Radovanović mixed sound sources vertically rather than horizontally, to make each new timbral event stand out. Here, timbre is not just a musical parameter but a principal structural element.
Once EMS Radio Belgrade had obtained its first computer, Radovanović began to use it in most of his sampled-sound compositions, such as Fluks (1989) and Miks (1991), in which he treated sounds originating from other sources in an electronic medium. In addition to his compositions, Radovanović fully embraced the computer in all spheres of his creative output, including a visual graphic, “Svemir je kompjuter” [The universe is a computer] from 1989 (Figure 6.3). In this graphic, Radovanović makes a clear statement on the role of digital technology and the capabilities of a computer – the computer is a universe on its own, but also a means of connecting our (human) universe to that of the computer. On a metaphysical level, Radovanović explains the meaning of this work: “It should be noted that this flow is two-way: As much as the earthly computer produces the assumption of the universe as a computer, so the universe produces the assumption of the computer’s assumption of the universe as a computer.”Footnote 18 Musicologist Milan Milojković speculates that the graphic symbolizes “the position of a man, who is caught between the limits of tradition and the cosmic infinity.”Footnote 19
Vladan Radovanović, Svemir je kompjuter [The universe is a computer], computer graphic realized on Amiga and using Photoshop software, 1989.

Figure 6.3 Long description
On the bottom left side of the drawing is a computer screen, out of which a long and thin printout of slides in a sequence leads upwards towards the mouth of a woman, in the top right corner of the drawing. The printout is in color, set against the black background. It depicts five images. In the first, the text reading, The Universe is a computer, is written in black ink in the Serbian Latin alphabet. The next image shows a woman from behind, walking with a daughter on each side, holding their hands. They are wearing blue and green dresses. The next slide shows a satellite. The next slide depicts a galaxy, and the last slide depicts a solar system.
Following Radovanović’s creations in the domain of computerized music abroad and the arrival of computers in Tonski Studio (as well as in other private music studios around the country), Yugoslav composers began mastering the new technology during the 1980s, using new methods for sonification, such as employing a joystick to send and activate sound and applying the technique of sampling.
Electronic Music and Sampling at the Tonski Studio
As the first computerized studio in Yugoslavia, Tonski Studio drew a new generation of composers who collectively embraced an expansion of compositional possibilities with new technologies. One key feature of these new compositions was the technique of sampling analog sounds and their processing to generate different types of sonorities. The founders of the studio, Hofman and Erić, and their protégés, a new generation of women composers at the Faculty of Music – Bogojević, Paranosić, Svetlana Savić, and Milošević – defined the new sound of this era.Footnote 20
Like his peers, Hofman belongs to the generation of Yugoslav composers whose initial compositional development was grounded in predominantly neoclassical aesthetics but who were also exposed to diverse modernist phenomena. As Mirjana Veselinović-Hofman observes, Hofman first participated in “propounding,” then “overcoming,” and finally “contesting” the “neoclassical logic in Serbian music.”Footnote 21 Hofman showed an interest in musical modernism in the 1960s, and by 1974 he was attending seminars at Darmstadt and in 1975 in Cologne. His music is characterized by complex, simultaneous, and interwoven processes, which show the influence of both European serialism and extended digital techniques. His Rebus 1 (1988), Rebus 2 (1989), and Uzorci [Samples] (1991), some of the earliest works created at Tonski Studio, exhibit Hofman’s complex synthesis of these influences.Footnote 22
Rebus 1 (for electronics) is based on the principle of integral serialism, with Hofman controlling the melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, and timbral parameters of the piece. The work starts with an “explosion” of a cluster from which eight formations (i.e., sound formulas) emerge – eight motives, each comprising identical eight-note configurations, C, E♭, G, B, G♯, E, D, F. Each configuration features a statement and repetitions of the initial “formula” before splitting into two motives sounding simultaneously. Every time a motive splits, a new timbre is added to the initial one. The introduction of each configuration is signaled by the sound of the “exploding” cluster, but the spectral quality in motivic layering is different in each and the repetitions become shorter until the work dissolves into a whirl, both sonically and visually, as depicted in the score that features all eight formulas, eventually reducing to the basic eight-note motive at the center of the diagram (Example 6.1).
Srđan Hofman, Rebus 1 (1988), the ending.

Example 6.1 Long description
The music staff curves in the shape of an octagon. Each side of the octagon shows eight filled in noteheads with pitches of the row, C, E flat, G, B, G sharp, E, D, F, written in treble clef. Curved lines indicate the rotation of the row: the C of the first octagon maps onto the next pitch, E flat, in the next octagon, which then maps onto the next pitch, G, and so on. Inside this octagon is a smaller one, with each side containing one whole note, one side for each pitch of the row, now written in bass clef.
In the context of Yugoslav music, Rebus 1 was quite avant-garde – no other composer was using integral serialist techniques, let alone in combination with electronic/computer media. The work also draws on traditional elements (such as the thirds relations in the eight-note theme, which, when superimposed, creates triadic sonorities) and minimalist-style repetitions.Footnote 23
Hofman’s Uzorci [Samples] for flute, clarinet, AKAI 1000HD sampler, and Apple Macintosh computer is based, as the title implies, on several recorded musical samples. Specifically, Hofman used nine folk tunes from the Istria region of Croatia and the Homolje region of eastern Serbia, which he copied into the sampler (i.e., he digitized it) from vinyl records and magnetic tape. The folk tunes are sampled as literal musical quotations, hence recognizable, but also subjected to electronic transformations, rendering them unrecognizable. Veselinović-Hofman notes that Hofman selected these samples based on their internal acoustic qualities – melodies whose elements can be spectrally modified to yield a rich array of sonorities, and thus “defolklorizing” selected samples – stripping them of their national identity.Footnote 24
Hofman’s works from this period reflect the general inclinations of Yugoslav composers toward a postmodernist aesthetic that often evokes the past, characterized by the incorporation of musical quotations and folk motives. Postmodernist trends are evident in Erić’s compositions created at the Tonski Studio (and even more so in his works from the 1990s onward). Erić created two notable works at the Studio – Velika crvena mrlja Jupitera [The Great Red Spot of Jupiter] (1990) for amplified harpsichord, percussion, and live electronics, and Abnormalni udarci Dogona [The abnormal beats of the Dogon] (1991) for bass clarinet, prepared piano, computer, and percussion. Both works are from his five-part cycle, Slike haosa [Images of chaos], created between 1990 and 1997.
Erić’s Abnormalni udarci Dogona is also imbued with folk motives, featuring eighteen folk fragments whose manipulation yields eighteen “models.” However, his use of samples differs from Hofman’s approach, since no original material is actually present in Erić’s work. That is, Erić does not use original quotations of any of his samples; rather, he manipulates them into an already “interpreted quotation.”Footnote 25 As such, his composition is based on models of interpreted samples, abstracted from their original context.
Erić adds another level of originality in his two compositions – both works, created on Macintosh II and a computer-controlled MIDI, also use Design Studio and Adobe Photoshop software to produce a graphic notation score (Example 6.2). Thus, with the addition of computer graphics, Erić conveys to the live performers how to execute certain gestures. In the excerpt in Example 6.2, the page is divided into four columns, one for each instrument. On the left (mark 138), the percussionist is instructed to play “free abnormal cassa [bass drum] beats.” The bass clarinetist is asked to improvise, without a mouthpiece, sounds that evoke the images of various creatures – Jam-Due, inneu gammurugu (men with horns), inneu dullogu (men with tails). The third column denotes the computer part, while the last column is the score for the prepared piano.
Zoran Erić, Abnormalni udarci Dogona [The abnormal beats of the Dogon] (1991), graphic score, 138–161.

Example 6.2 Long description
The score has four columns and two rows. In the top, the leftmost column is narrow, and has a free-hand drawing of a drumhead (or perhaps a gong) with hand-written words, Free ABNORMAL Cassa Beats! The next column is wide, and features words in different fonts and shapes written across it. Some words are in regular type print, like directions on top that read, Improvisation without mouthpiece, while other words gradually increase in size and change angles and direction. The third column only contains initials P.G., denoting the computer music software part. The last column contains a single staff for the prepared piano part. On the bottom of the score, across the entire length, is a thick dark line indicating the computer part.
Erić’s works are among the earliest examples of live-electronics computer music in Yugoslavia that employ digital communication during the compositional process (such as mapping the MIDI to samples) but also during the performance of the work. The final sound of the composition depends not only on the manner the computer recalls and live-transforms samples but also on the performers’ interpretation of the graphic score and their interaction with the electronics. Milojković remarks that with these two works, Erić introduced a significant level of originality to Serbian (and Yugoslav) compositional practice – by using the computer as an instrument, necessary for the realization and performance of these works.Footnote 26 Erić presented his Abnormalni udarci Dogona and the novel approach to computer composition at the Music Biennale Zagreb in 1991. Occurring only two months before the beginning of the Yugoslav Wars, it would be the final edition of the festival before the disintegration of Yugoslavia, and certainly the last one for Serbian composers for decades to come.Footnote 27
Computer Music Festivals
The year 1991 was significant for Yugoslav composers – it was the last year of national and international collaborations before the collapse of the political state. The “Kompjuterska umetnost” [Computer Art] exhibition took place on May 8–23, 1991, at the Gallery of the Association of Fine Artists of Serbia (ULUS), just one month before the start of the war. It featured a concert of electronic music alongside visual exhibits, animations, and installations. The exhibition initiated the creation of the short-lived Association of Artists of Electronic Media in Yugoslavia, with a large representation of Slovenian composers who at the time resided in Serbia – Franc Curk, Marjan Šijanec, and Slavko Šuklar – and the MGM composer collective comprising Gordana Novaković, Šijanec, and Miroslav Savić. The event was organized by Predrag Šiđanin, who, for his work VirEvropeBeograd, participated from Novi Sad via a telefax projection alongside ten performers from different parts of the world. Other composers featured at this show were Erić (Abnormalni udarci Dogona and Velika crvena mrlja Jupitera), Hofman (Rebus 1 and Rebus 2), Radovanović (Miks and five computer graphics, including Svemir je kompjuter), Milimir Drašković, Boris Kovač, Miroslav Štatkić, Vojin Tišma, and Vladimir Tošić.Footnote 28
The exhibition featured other innovative approaches to computer composition. Šijanec incorporated twelve algorithms for his piece, Muzika kosmičkih modela [Music of cosmic models] (1988–1989), each generating a distinct piece based on one “cosmic model.” Savić’s audiovisual work Glas anđela [The voice of an angel] (1991) comprised a two-dimensional display of a computer-generated graphic of a renowned Serbian fresco, Anđeo na grobu Hristovom (Beli Anđeo) [Angel at the tomb of Christ (The White Angel)] (Figure 6.4). The synthesis of the audio and visual elements is realized with the colors of the fresco that correspond to a musical interval.Footnote 29
Miroslav Savić, Glas anđela [The voice of an angel] (1991). A computer-generated two-dimensional rendering of the White Angel (Angel at the Tomb of Christ).

On May 23, 1991, the same day the art exhibition ended, a three-day “Festival Muzika u Srbiji: elektroakustička muzika” [The Festival of Musics in Serbia: Electroacoustic Music] was held at the Belgrade International Theater Festival (BITEF), coorganized by the Composers’ Association of Serbia. It was the first time that the composers from two different (and rival) schools of electronic music in Serbia – EMS Radio Belgrade and Tonski Studio of the FMU – jointly presented their works at an all-electronic music event. As such, the festival featured compositions created during the 1970s and 1980s at the EMS, as well as the newest realizations from the Tonski Studio.
However, a few years before either of these festivals took place, and, remarkably, even before the computerization of the Tonski Studio, Miroslav Savić organized the first festival of computer music in Yugoslavia in 1987. Titled “Lična muzika” [Personal Music] to reflect the concept of creating music on personal computers, the event took place on June 1–5, 1987, at the Student Cultural Center in Belgrade (SKC). The SKC report from 1987 notes that the electronic music festival was particularly noteworthy for presenting the newest musical creations on the latest technology, and especially for attracting artists from across Yugoslavia (Đorđe Ilijin, Radovanović, Savić, and Šijanec) and from abroad. Most notably, Lars Gunnar Bodin from EMS Stockholm, a Swedish pioneer in the field of electronic music, and Luuk Trip from the CEM Studio (the Netherlands) gave lectures. Other composers in attendance whose works were also programmed were Serge Verstockt (Belgium), Werner Kaegi (Switzerland), and Larry Austin (US).
Miroslav Savić was one of the most active computer music composers in Serbia in the late 1980s. As editor-in-chief of music programming at the SKC and possessing a keen talent for national and international collaborations, he organized numerous festivals and thus played a pivotal role in the presentation of the newest electronic and multimedia techniques and technologies from abroad to Belgrade audiences. His efforts also allowed Yugoslav composers to be a visible and viable part of the (Western) European network of new, experimental, electronic, and multimedia music.Footnote 30
Conclusion
Musicologist Vesna Mikić postulates that Yugoslavia went through three periods of technological development in music. The first period, taking place between the two world wars, was characterized by the development of electronic musical instruments for use in the arts. The second period was marked by the founding of electronic music studios in Yugoslavia, starting with EMS Radio Belgrade in 1971–1972, as well as by the use of live electronics in the mid 1980s. The third period was signaled in 1986 with the introduction of the computer as an instrument for both the creation and performance of music.Footnote 31
However, just as computer music was gaining momentum in Yugoslavia – with the state-of-the-art computerization of the Tonski Studio and its newest Apple Macintosh machines and cutting-edge music and graphic software, soon followed by the computerization of studios at the EMS Radio Belgrade and other private studios around the country – in June 1991 the brutal decade-long Yugoslav Wars began, resulting in the total disintegration of the country. The wars ended in 2001, following severe economic sanctions imposed on Serbia by the United Nations (which lasted from 1991 until 2000) and the US/NATO-led bombing of Serbia in 1999, leading to yet another period of political, economic, and cultural isolation for Serbia. Unable to maintain the hardware and software technologies, both the Electronic Studio Radio Belgrade and Tonski Studio became dilapidated, and electronic music innovations in the country stalled. The transnational artistic connections that were nurtured through international collaborations and festivals were abruptly cut by the war. With no guest artists coming to Serbia (or the wider region) and thousands of others leaving to escape the ravages of war, the country was drained not only of its economic but also its intellectual power. It would take another decade for the country to recover, but the music scene in Belgrade (as well as in the rest of the country) would never recapture the glory of the prewar period. The most radical music scene in Yugoslavia emerged simultaneously with its technological innovations in the mid 1970s and 1980s – the new avant-gardes – as discussed in the following chapters.











