Vasil Hadzimanov at Audiokultura

Vasil Hadžimanov
Audiokultura
Arthemija
Skopje, Macedonia
May 22, 2025

There is a special kind of magic when a familiar artist plays in a familiar place but reveals something entirely new. Vasil Hadžimanov, best known for leading his dynamic jazz fusion outfit, the renowned Vasil Hadžimanov Band, stepped away from his usual group and into the intimate space of Audiokultura in Skopje for a rare solo piano performance. What unfolded that evening was not just a concert—it was an unfolding of emotion, memory, and musical storytelling, offered to a full house that listened in rapt silence.

Audiokultura itself played a quiet but meaningful role in the atmosphere. Once a workshop for high-end audio equipment, it has grown into something much more: a club, a boutique music store, and a living museum thanks to the donated collection of vinyl and books by the late playwright and professor Goran Stefanovski. It is a place of layers—of culture, history and intent—and it was the perfect setting for this kind of concert: intimate, reflective, alive.

Hadžimanov began with a piece that felt like an invocation. The opening track shimmered with ambient textures reminiscent of Harold Budd or Brian Eno—sparkling, romantic tones that slowly bloomed into a cinematic landscape. This was not just background music. It was filmic in scope, yet deeply personal—a quiet invitation into his world. What became immediately clear was that we were witnessing a pianist not only in full command of his instrument but also of narrative and mood. Hadžimanov's technical mastery is a given. But what set this evening apart was how he used that technique to shape tone, space, rhythm, and color, changing direction mid-piece, transitioning from flowing romanticism to barroom blues or folk-inspired introspection without ever losing the emotional thread.

He is, at heart, a storyteller. And each piece carried its own tale, layered with feeling and insight. One moment, he was cascading through sparkling runs with near-orchestral fullness; the next, he was offering a hushed phrase, so subtle it felt like it might float away.

This was "Nocturnal Joy," originally from his album Alive (MoonJune Records, 2016), and we heard his full dynamic range on display—the strength and clarity of his playing rising into crescendos, then dipping into shadowy quietude. The entire piano was brought into a single, cohesive voice—not showy, but deeply expressive.

"Ballad for Martha," dedicated to his daughter (now a professional opera singer), was one of the most moving moments of the evening. Tender, flowing, and emotionally rich, it felt like a father's private reflection made public. Its quiet depth brought to mind Avishai Cohen's "Remembering," with a hint of Chopin's lyricism, though the phrasing was unmistakably Vasil's. Each note was a sentence in a silent letter, every pause a breath of love.

Later in the program, he dipped into tradition with "Razbole se šimšir list," a sevdalinka that he approached with great respect and emotional clarity. It was gentle, melodic, and anchored in the kind of inner strength that folk music can offer when treated with care. He honored the melody but allowed it to expand into something wholly his own.

The tone shifted with a playful, slightly dissonant composition—a chance to see his hands dance across the keys with elegance and humor. This was the pianist as a one-man-band, shape-shifting within the song, exploring new textures without ever fracturing its soul. "Requiem for the Species," from his album Innerscape (Croatia Records, 2024), brought a different flavor altogether. It combined soft piano, gentle Arabic overtones and Debussy-like coloration with subtle electronics and synth loops dating back to the '70s fusion era. The juxtaposition was organic, not jarring—a reminder that jazz, at its best, is a living language.

The emotional peak came with "Od ljubov ne se bega," a song made famous by Vasil's late father, actor and singer Zafir Hadžimanov. Vasil treated the tune like a sacred text—not static, but alive, open to interpretation. In the spirit of Keith Jarrett, he wove new emotional threads into the familiar melody, turning it into a quiet meditation on love, memory, and legacy. The air in the room shifted; it was a moment heavy with tenderness and shared recognition.

For the encore, Hadžimanov offered "Ohrid." It was a farewell as delicate as mist on the lake that inspired it. With unusual twists and melodic turns, it flowed like a brook—playful, lyrical, and emotionally open. He carried the theme through realms of imaginative improvisation and back again, landing on a final phrase so tender it felt like a whisper. A perfect goodbye. What we witnessed that night at Audiokultura was not just a display of virtuosic piano playing. It was a revelation—a deeply personal portrait of an artist who, even in the absence of his band, filled the room with color, nuance and soul. It was Vasil Hadžimanov unadorned, and it was magical.

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