Dubioza_kolektiv_ultra_mix_za_dusu_i_tijelo -

Damir, the keyboardist, was slumped against the window. "I think I’m seeing double," he muttered. "And not the good kind of double where we get paid twice."

"This one?" Damir asked. "The one we recorded during that three-day wedding in Mostar?" "The very one," Vedran grinned. "Press play." dubioza_kolektiv_ultra_mix_za_dusu_i_tijelo

They passed a sleepy police checkpoint. The officer, usually ready to pull over any suspicious-looking van, caught a glimpse of the band jumping in their seats. Instead of reaching for his whistle, he found his foot tapping against the pavement. The energy was infectious; the "Ultra Mix" was leaking out of the windows and into the night air. Damir, the keyboardist, was slumped against the window

Vedran, steering with one hand while trying to peel a cold burek with the other, looked at the dashboard. "We need something to keep us awake, or we’re going to end up in the canyon. Pass me the 'Special Mix'." "The one we recorded during that three-day wedding in Mostar

Damir ejected the CD and held it up like a holy relic. "Soul satisfied, body ready for the stage."

The "Soul" part of the mix hit first. It was a soulful, soaring vocal about freedom and the absurdity of borders, making everyone feel like they were part of something bigger than a broken-down van. Then, the "Body" part kicked in—a bassline so heavy it made the rearview mirror vibrate.