The other K-pop: Dua Lipa, Rita Ora and the Kosovan chart takeover

The fields above the Kosovan village of Bërnicë e Poshtme offer a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside. Blue skies are cut through with silhouettes of the mountains surrounding Pristina, Kosovo’s capital. The horizon is punctured by thin, silvery minarets and red-roofed houses. As day turns to night, this scenic backdrop turns to black, as the stages light up and the bass starts to thud.
This is the Sunny Hill festival, a four-day pop music fest organised by international star Dua Lipa and her father, Dukagjin Lipa. The crowd here looks like a screenshot of TikTok’s For You Page: trendy crop tops and wide-leg flares abound, with many attendees under 18. Vesa and Urta, both 17, live in Pristina and are attending the festival for the first and second time respectively. “The nightlife here is crazy,” they enthuse. “We love the vibe and the energy.”
Having only declared independence from Serbia in 2008, Kosovo is the youngest country in Europe in more ways than one: the average age of its citizens is 29.5, possibly aided by the fact that young Kosovars until recently could not take advantage of freedom of movement inside the EU. Its population of 1.8 million is less than a quarter of New York City’s, its land mass only 3% of Germany’s – which makes the small Balkan country’s outsized impact on international pop music even more remarkable.
In Dua Lipa and Rita Ora, two of the world’s leading chart-topping female singers are of Albanian Kosovan heritage, born to parents who fled the war-torn region in the 1990s. Lipa and Ora both sing in English, but Albanian-language artists from Kosovo too have had breakthrough successes in Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, India, Australia and the US – a vibrant homegrown scene born of resilience and creativity in the aftermath of the Kosovo war.
“With limited recreational activities available, the youth have channelled their energy into music and the arts,” explains Gent Osmani, whose company Fole Publishing distributes and markets music videos for Albanian and Kosovan stars.
One of them, Dhurata Dora, has more than 860m views on YouTube with her breakout hit Zemër, a 2019 collaboration with Algerian rapper Soolking, which has charted in Belgium, Switzerland, and France. Dora’s 2021 collaboration with Congolese-French singer GIMS, Only You, was certified gold in France and platinum in Switzerland, and her performance with Voice of Albania star Yll Limani was arguably the stand-out Albanian-language performance at Sunny Hill this year.
Singing lyrics mostly centred on love and betrayal, Kosovar pop stars often collaborate with artists from Albania or the diaspora, churning out regular YouTube videos filled with summery aerial shots and brightly coloured dresses. They include everything from typical Balkan melodies (such as Albrim Llapqeva’s Malli), to hip-hop tracks (such as Buta and Noizy’s I Kom Pa), to catchy pop tunes (including Era Istrefi’s Bonbon”, which has been viewed nearly a billion times on YouTube.)
Traditional Balkan instruments feature frequently, such as the gajde, a wood-and-sheepskin bagpipe whose humming sound is used to hypnotic effect in DJ Gimi-O, Ricky Rich and Dardan’s Habibi [Albanian Remix].
Kosovo’s distinctive pop and rock scenes date to the time it was still part of Yugoslavia. Back then, “Kosovar Albanians had a lot more freedom, mobility, and access to the outside world than Albanians from Albania did”, says Robert A Saunders, an American academic who researches identity in post-Soviet countries. “And certainly for a generation that was birthed in violence, that were raised by parents who had gone through the war, Kosovars carry an intergenerational impact of being a maltreated minority. If you look at American hip-hop and the themes of that music would really hit home with a Kosovar Albanian population.”
As Kosovar pop music continues to spread across the globe, the question is how much of its success still benefits the small country from which it originates.
According to Dukagjin Lipa, the economic impact of Sunny Hill festival on Pristina is about €20m in one week. Many hotels in the city are booked out during the festival time. But with tickets priced at €200 per head – just under half the average Kosovar’s monthly salary – the festival is out of reach for many locals. About 45% of those who attended the festival this year travelled from abroad.
On 1 January this year, Kosovar passport holders gained the right to visa-free travel within the EU. Some fear this could trigger a brain drain. Still, visa liberalisation will also facilitate the free movement of ideas and international collaboration, in music and beyond. At the festival, teenagers Vesa and Urta say they would like to study at universities abroad, but plan to return to Kosovo afterward. “I think Kosovo is the best choice to live in. We have all our friends here, you can go out in the middle of the night and feel safe.”
At Zone Club, one of Pristina’s most popular night clubs, the party runs late into the night. While doors open at 11:30, the first performer isn’t scheduled to arrive until around 2am. Nineteen-year-old Agnesa, whose parents are from Kosovo, is sat in the quiet outdoor area with her friends. She takes an optimistic view of the country’s music industry. “I’m really proud of all the pop stars from Kosovo. Because Pristina is small, you often see them in VIP areas of clubs or walking downtown. The scene is very accessible.”
She now lives in Germany, but insists the music of her roots still beats in her heart. “I grew up with the music here and really loved it, I think every Albanian can relate to that feeling.”