In the pulsating world of Balkan turbo-folk and chalga – genres often dismissed as lowbrow ...

ВГ Трамвай номер 5 · Естрадна мозайка · Song · 1981

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Un recorrido por el significado y la historia de la chalga: el latido irreverente de Bulgaria. Desde sus orígenes a sus fundamentos musicales y su impacto social. Pocas expresiones culturales generan ...

In the pulsating world of Balkan turbo-folk and chalga – genres often dismissed as lowbrow blends of folk rhythms, pop excess, and oriental flair – ancient Egypt has emerged as an unlikely muse. From seductive queens bathing in milk to pharaohs flaunting gold, motifs drawn from the Nile’s storied past have infiltrated music videos and lyrics, creating a fantastical escape amid the region’s turbulent history. A new study by Egyptologist Uroš Matić , published in the inaugural issue of the ISSE Journal, uncovers this “Egyptomania” in Balkan music, arguing it serves as both an orientalist fantasy and a tool for social commentary. Matić, a researcher at the Austrian Archaeological Institute, delves into how ancient Egyptian icons like Cleopatra, Nefertiti, and pyramids have been woven into turbo-folk (a high-energy Serbian folk-pop hybrid) and chalga (its Bulgarian counterpart, rooted in Roma wedding music). “Within the genres of turbo-folk and chalga, ancient Egyptian motifs are predominantly found in the music videos for the songs which do not necessarily always refer to ancient Egypt,” Matić writes. He contrasts this with rap, where motifs appear in both visuals and lyrics, but emphasizes that turbo-folk and chalga use Egypt to craft “a Balkan orientalist fantasy which does not differ much from similar global orientalist fantasies of ancient Egypt.” Turbo-folk exploded in Serbia during the 1990s Yugoslav wars, blending rural folk traditions with urban rap and dance beats amid economic isolation and rising nationalism. Chalga, meanwhile, flourished in post-communist Bulgaria as a rebellious outlet against suppressed “oriental” sounds. Both genres faced elitist scorn – Matić notes they were “persistently kept at the fringes of academic concerns” – yet they dominated airwaves, symbolizing working-class desires for sex, wealth, and escapism. A prime example is Serbian star Lepa Brena’s 1996 video for “Ti si moj greh” (“You Are My Sin”). Amidst the post-war gloom, Brena plays dual roles: a jealous queen inspired by Nefertiti and a seductive singer who triumphs in a magical duel. The video features dancers mimicking “Walk Like an Egyptian” moves, a fire eater, and a pharaoh’s court with pylons and winged suns. Matić points out the lyrics ignore Egypt entirely, focusing on love and sin, but the visuals create “an orientalist image of Egypt” as a land of mystery and passion. Fans on YouTube even claim it predates Michael Jackson’s Egypt-themed “Remember the Time,” inverting timelines to fuel Balkan pride. Fast-forward to 2011, and Seka Aleksić’s “Soba 22” (“Room 22”) video amps up the sensuality. Aleksić bathes in milk like a Cleopatra caricature, flanked by fan-bearers in Egyptian wigs and collars resembling ancient menat necklaces. A pyramid-shaped curtain looms behind her bed, blending Egypt with sponsor plugs for a Thai massage studio—complete with a misplaced Buddha statue. “The ancient Egyptian motifs in ‘Room 22’ are minimal, limited to icons like gold, wigs, fan-bearers, and the pyramid imagery,” Matić observes, tying it to Western tropes of Cleopatra as a seductress, rooted in Roman propaganda and Hollywood films like 1963’s “Cleopatra” starring Elizabeth Taylor. In Bulgaria, chalga’s embrace of Egypt is equally opulent. Galin and Azis’s 2016 hit “Na Egipet Faraona” (“Pharaoh of Egypt”) boasts lyrics like “gold like a Pharaoh” and bathing in milk, set against a video of sandy dunes and reed-flanked Nile scenes. Matić describes it as a “phallic reference par excellence,” with sexual metaphors rubbing a “golden lamp” to summon a genie. Chalga, born from post-communist freedom, uses Egypt to flaunt materialism, much like turbo-folk’s post-war glow-up. Matić argues these motifs aren’t mere kitsch; they reflect broader orientalism, where Egypt is exoticized as sensual and timeless. Yet, he critiques the genres’ critics for “Balkanism” – a term from Maria Todorova – viewing turbo-folk and chalga as backward obstacles to Westernization. “By leaving out turbo-folk, chalga, and rap from the studies of Balkan Egyptomania, one perpetuates a false image of ancient Egypt as a source of inspiration only for the middle class and the high culture of the region,” he writes. The influence extends to rap, where Matić sees more creativity. Serbian rapper Mimi Mercedez’s 2015 “Kleopatra” fuses 1990s fortune-teller Kleo Patra with the queen, boasting “I am ahead of my time, like Ancient Egypt” amid drug and sex references. Bulgarian Fyre’s 2019 “Tutankamon” equates success to Tutankhamun’s gold, celebrating post-Soviet swagger. As Balkan music evolves, Egyptomania persists, bridging ancient allure with modern grit. Matić’s work reminds us: in turbo-folk and chalga’s beats, the pharaohs still reign, offering escape in a region forever reinventing itself. Caption: – Pyramid formed by white curtains with a Buddha figure hanging on the wall. Svetlana Seka Aleksić in bed and two fan-bearers wearing Egyptian-style menat like necklaces. Music video for the song ‘Room 22’ by Svetlana Seka Aleksić (2011).

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ALT: Azis Chalga GIF