Zelenkovac at 25 - Bosnia’s Most Beautiful Jazz Festival (You’ve Probably Never Heard Of)
A quarter-century of rhythm, resilience, and resistance in the woods. This is the story of a jazz festival unlike any other—deep in the heart of the Balkans.
This post is a bit longer than usual (but for good reason!)
I’ve packed this post with stories, sounds, and reflections from 25 years of jazz deep in the Bosnian forest. So if you’re short on time or prefer a more comfortable read, check out the post on the web
Hello, I’m David, a storyteller, wanderer, and long-time “in-betweener” living a slower, more thoughtful life here in the heart of the Balkans.
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If you were to ask me where to find the most soulful jazz festival in Europe, I’d point you to a place you’ve likely never heard of.
No big banners. No VIP zones. No giant LED screens.
Just a clearing in a pine forest, deep in the hills of western Bosnia. A meandering stream. A wooden stage. And music that seems to rise directly from the soil itself.
This is Zelenkovac.
And this summer, quietly, gently, just like the festival itself, it turned 25 years old.
Zelenkovac: More Than Just a Location
Zelenkovac isn’t a town or a village. It’s more of a concept. A living, breathing enclave in the forest about 15 km from Mrkonjić Grad. Not too far from where I live, but somehow it always feels like another world entirely.
Back in the late 1990s, this place was little more than an old family watermill, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. It belonged to Borislav “Boro” Janković, a painter with a big beard, an even bigger heart, and a vision that seemed just mad enough to work.
His idea? To turn the site into an art colony. A painter’s retreat. A place for conversation, canvas, and coffee, far from the politics and the post-war tension that still clung to Bosnia like morning fog.
But Boro didn’t stop there.
In 1999, from this artistic nucleus, the first sounds of jazz began to echo through the trees. A handful of musicians. A makeshift stage. A few dozen curious onlookers.
That was year one of the Zelenkovac Jazz Festival.
From Improvised Beginnings to Intimate Legacy
What’s remarkable is how little the festival has changed, and yet how much it’s grown.
Each summer, musicians from around the region (and well beyond) make the trek to Zelenkovac: carrying saxophones, guitars, double basses, and sometimes just their voices. They don’t come for the money or the fame. They come for the vibe.
Over the years, artists from Poland, Germany, Hungary, Slovenia, Serbia, North Macedonia, and even the U.S. have joined local and regional musicians in a celebration of rhythm, improvisation, and connection.
This isn’t jazz for industry insiders. It’s jazz for the people. For the trees. For the dogs sleeping under the sound desk. For the kids running barefoot past tents. For the babas who arrive out of curiosity and stay for the sax solos.
I’ve always believed that music belongs outside as much as in. And here, at Zelenkovac, jazz feels like it’s part of the forest.
Festival as Resistance: Building in the Wake of War
To really understand the magic of Zelenkovac, you have to understand the context.
In 1999, Bosnia was still wounded. The war had ended just a few years earlier. Cities were rebuilding. Communities were fractured. Hope, in many places, was still in short supply.
But in this little green corner of the Republika Srpska, “Boro” Janković planted a seed.
And music became resistance. A peaceful rebellion. A reclaiming of joy.
There was even quiet support from some unexpected places. Reports from the time mention that SFOR (the NATO Stabilisation Force), along with OSCE and ARC, lent backing to cultural events like this, seeing them as part of Bosnia’s long path back to unity and healing.
Not with money necessarily, but with logistics, visibility, and protection.
It may have seemed like a footnote in their mission. But to those in Zelenkovac, it mattered.
25 Years On: Holding the Line Against Commercial Pressure
Fast-forward to 2025, and Zelenkovac just hosted its 25th anniversary festival, this past August 7th to 9th.
Was there fanfare? Not really.
There were still muddy shoes. Still candles instead of LEDs. Still wooden signs guiding you to the “stage” or the “bar” or the little path that leads down to the stream.
But behind the scenes, there’s always effort. Running this festival is no small feat.
Funding remains humble: day tickets go for 20 KM (about €10), full passes for 50 KM, with camping around 20 KM. Everything else, sound gear, staging, seating, cleaning, promotion,is powered by goodwill, volunteers, and a deep belief in the cause.
Promotion is organic, often last-minute, and word-of-mouth. You’ll rarely see slick posters or international ad campaigns.
Accommodation ranges from rustic huts to tents to whatever soft patch of moss you can find.
And artists, more often than not, play for the love of it. For the chance to say they once played jazz in a Bosnian forest.
As an event organiser in another life, I know how exhausting, and expensive, this kind of grassroots magic can be. But Zelenkovac makes it work.
Just.
📻 The 2025 Line-Up: What 25 Years Sounded Like
This year’s line-up brought together a textured patchwork of sound:
From Croatia, the groove-heavy collective GroovosopherS
Deep Steady, a minimalist jazz ensemble from Hungary
Microdosemike, known for glitchy, ambient-jazz blends
And the hauntingly folkloric Vedan Kolod from Russia, blending Siberian tones with Balkan undertones.
and if reading wasn’t believing then watch the above video (with Boro!) ⬆️
They played on a stage made of timber. Beneath trees that have heard 25 years of improvisation.
One journalist from See Srpska wrote:
“Jazz umetnici po 25. put u srcu prirode” — Jazz artists for the 25th time in the heart of nature.
And that, really, is the headline every year.
Why Zelenkovac Still Matters
It would be easy for this festival to chase growth. To pave the roads. To add branding, mobile apps, sponsors, tiers of access.
But it hasn’t.
Zelenkovac has stubbornly remained what it always was:
A place to listen.
A place to slow down.
A place where young artists learn, old friends reunite, and time itself takes a break.
It reminds me, why I came to live in this part of the world in the first place.
It’s a Bosnia you don’t see in tourist brochures. It’s deeper. Softer. More curious.
Thinking of Going?
If you’re tempted to visit next year, here are a few tips:
Bring cash. There’s no ATM in the forest.
Prepare to camp. Even if just in spirit.
Leave your expectations at home. This isn’t Glastonbury. It’s something else entirely.
Take a notebook. You’ll want to remember what happens under those trees.
And if you’re lucky, you might just find yourself sat next to Boro, still painting, still dreaming, still quietly delighted that his little watermill became a jazz sanctuary.
☕ Final Sips
So here’s to Zelenkovac.
To a festival that never sold out.
To music that climbs trees.
To the sound of trumpets bouncing off bark.
To resilience, and rhythm, and rakija.
And to 25 more years of jazz in the pines.
Until next time, thanks for reading, and as always, thanks for sharing this moment from the Balkans with me.
