Star Rating: ****

In a fairer world, the Balkans might now be making the same kind of headlines for their musical vibrancy that they made for their political and internecine troubles during the 1990s. Introduced by Martin Swan of Mouth Music, who got the music started with his Stobo Village Band's blend of Scottish-Irish melodies and eastern European metres, Serbia's Balkanopolis and Croatia's Kries showed that their respective strong identities have grown out of their tradition with the help of modern electric instruments.

But in both cases, there was no grafting on of standard western rock ideas - this was their own music. Kries was the more organic, playing a folk-rock that used ethnic pipes and string-driven things, as well as electric guitars and drums, and developing anthem-like songs with an insistent pulse.

Lyrical themes such as love forbidden by political circumstances and frontman Mojmir Novakovic's trance-like involvement produced a spiritual effect of considerable power.

Balkanopolis are less easily pinned down. There are elements of devotional singing - with an almost operatic quality - quicksilver melodies, dance rhythms and a sense of daring that takes them into the realms of jazz but with improvisations that come from their own traditions rather than sounding like retreads of, say, Herbie Hancock's keyboard licks.

Their frontman, Slobodan Trkulja, had played half a dozen instruments before too long had passed, adding brilliant close control on clarinet and tenor saxophone to his superb playing on various flutes and a set of pipes that resembled a cross between a kitbag and a toolkit.

Exhilarating stuff, and all the more so for its freshness and terrific unison playing by Trkulja and his guitarist.