A general practice musician, presently employed in the choir of the Novi opera. He previously worked as a teacher of music in schools around the area, at day; at night he'd play with a band (keyboards, primarily accordion).
There's a funny story about his tenure in one of those village schools. The principal was a comrade of old forging, she wouldn't allow logbooks to be filled with ballpoint - it had to be fountain pen. That kind of orderly and traditional. He would play at night, sleep until noon, teach in the afternoon. His car was like a boem's underpants - washed by rain, dried by wind. So she stops him in a corridor once and says his car is a disgrace to the school and that he should wash it regularly. "I tried, believe me, but after drying it shrank, I could barely close the doors." She stayed there for a while, jaw to the floor, and he went to his class. Epilogue: she arranged for some kids to wash his car when he's not looking.
He told me how, a couple of years before, the SSOJ of Zrenjanin organized a big gig in, wait for it, komitet. All the new bands, strictly punk and proto new wave. One of the bands at some point suddenly interrupts the play, the singer takes the mike to the front edge of the stage and shouts „folks! know what! eat my dick!“ and the band resumes play at exactly the same spot.
Some young politician from SSOJ comes to him before the next song, takes him aside and explains things. The singer nods, understands, okay, and the young politician leaves, happy that he handled a sensitive situation in a decisive manner. The singer takes the mike to the front edge again, and addresses the audience: „I was just informed that we have here, in the front row, comrade Bora from the komitet. That being the case, then, comrade Bora, eat my dick!“.
„The greatest insult to musicians is when someone asks them whether they're all from the same band“
18-XII-2019 - 2-II-2026